Chapter 2

CARE OF THE HAIR

Her luxuriant hair—it was like the sweep of a swift wing in visions.—Willis.

Pretty hair can redeem a whole host of irregular features. With little waves and kinks, and clinging, cunning tendrils that lie close to the temples, a "crown of glory" will transform an ordinarily plain woman into one passably good to look upon. If you doubt this, just create a mental picture of yourself in the last stages of a shampoo! Isn't it awful? The damp, straight locks hanging in one's eyes, and the long, fluffy strands, that aren't fluffy at all but as unwavy as a shower bouquet of macaroni, and the tag ends and whisps sprouting out here and there like a box full of paint brushes six ways for Sundays—well, one is always mentally thankful at such times that one's "dearest and best" isn't anywhere around to behold the horrible sight. But after awhile the long, damp tresses are patted and fussed over until they are dry, and then they're combed out and curled up and kinked and twisted, and, oh, my countrymen, what a change is there! The harsh lines of the mouth are softened, the eyes look bright and pretty, the complexion comes out in all its sweetness like the glorious rainbow of a week ago.

It makes all the difference in the world!

But of course you will straightway exclaim: "That's all right to say about those lucky girls who have nice long tresses, but how about us poor mortals whose 'crown' consists of eighteen hairs of eighteen different lengths, and all of them falling out as fast as they can?" To be sure, conditions do—once in a while—alter cases. But I claim, and always will claim—till the day comes when beauty matters won't matter at all—that every woman can have pretty hair if she will take the time and use the good, uncommon sense which seems necessary to acquire it.

You know, and I know, and every other woman knows, that women treat their hair as they treat their watches—to unpardonable abuse. Of course, one's hair isn't dropped on the sidewalk or prodded with stickpins until the mainspring breaks, but it is subjected to even deeper and more trying insults. One night, when the little woman is in a real good, amiable mood, the tresses are carefully taken down, brushed, doctored with a nice "smelly" tonic, patted caressingly and gently plaited in nice little braids. The next night it is crimped until each individual hair has acute curvature of the spine; then it is burned off in chunks and triangles and squares; it is yanked out by the handfuls, it is wadded and twisted and tugged at and built up into an Eiffel tower, and—after a few hours of such torture—the little woman takes out the sixty odd hairpins, shakes it loose, gets every hair into a three-ply tangle of its own, and then hops into bed! When she gets up in the morning she pulls out and combs out more hair than she can make grow in after seven months' careful treatment.

I tell you that is the one great trouble with women. They will not stick to one particular method. If they feel like fussing and coddling they will, but if they're tired or cross or in a hurry to get to sleep, well, they just let their hair take care of itself. One's tresses need regular care just as do plants or babies or people. Make up your mind that you have hit upon the best way to treat your hair and then stick to it, no matter whether school keeps or not.

To disentangle the hair use only a coarse comb, being sure that every tooth is smooth and firm, so that it will not tear or split the silky fibers. The fine comb is a thing of horror, and has no place upon the dressing-table. It irritates the scalp, bringing forth a prosperity year crop of dandruff and attendant unhappiness. Added to this, it splits the hair shafts and injures the roots.

Brushing the hair is sadly overestimated. A dozen or two strong strokes each night will remove the day's dust and dirt, will promote circulation and sweep out flaky matter. The brushing must be done firmly but gently, and not with the violent methods of a carpet sweeping machine. Really, it is simply appalling the way some women dress their hair. A few tugs and yanks with a comb of uneven, unsmooth teeth, a scattering brushing back of scolding locks, some singes here and there with a red-hot curling iron, a twist, a roll, a pat and the application of a dozen hairpins, and the hairdressing for the day is done.

Instead, the comb should be used with gentleness, not dug into the scalp, as is the practice of some mistaken beskirted mortals. There is an old saying to this effect: "Wash the scalp, but not the hair; comb the hair, but not the scalp," which saying, I leave to you, is good enough to paste in one's hat—or rather on the back of one's hair brush.

After the brushing each night it is an excellent plan to part the hair into small strands and wipe off with a cloth slightly moistened. This is a sort of sponge bath which tones and invigorates the growth.

Combs should never be washed, but cleaned with a stout thread. Brushes, however, must have frequent washings in warm ammonia water, taking care to keep the backs dry. They should never be put in the sunlight when wet, but left to dry in an open window.

Curling irons certainly do heaps of damage. Any woman who has ever found herself suddenly bereft of a nice fluffy bang, and in its place a stubby little burned-off fringe, will say that this is true, while those numerous hair-crimping girls who have known the humiliating and painful experience of having a hot curling iron do frolics down their backs can add startling testimony, and, what is more, show disfiguring scars as proof.

If the iron is used carefully and at proper heat, the hair is not injured. But certain it is that when the iron is smoking-hot it kills the life and lovely texture of the hair. Besides, how very ugly and unkempt those burned little ends look! It was surely not of such that Pope wrote:

Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare,And beauty draws us with a single hair.

Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare,

And beauty draws us with a single hair.

Soft papers in which the short locks are wound is a good method for the girl who singes her top-knot every time she tries to curl a few little tendrils. Kid curlers are all right, providing the hair does not become entangled in the small ends, and so have to be torn when the hair is taken down. There is a certain secret in the hair-curling process which is too intangible for written description. The hair must not be wound tightly and the effect must be loose, fluffy and natural.

The great necessity for keeping the hair perfectly trimmed is to rid it of the split ends, for hair cannot be nice under such conditions. When the nourishment within each hair shaft does not extend the full length, then the hair cracks into several finer hairs, and one of these perhaps resumes the growth. That leaves a rough, bad shaft. The best way to keep the hair clipped properly is to twist it in rolls and to singe off all the little ends that stick out.

It is almost impossible to state positively how often the hair should be shampooed. Oily hair needs a thorough washing every two weeks, while drier tresses should not be given a bath oftener than once a month. Half the reason for falling hair, or hair that seems never to grow, is caused by improper shampooing. The scalp must be kept scrupulously clean. And I doubt very much whether the soap and soiled water can be thoroughly rinsed out without the use of running water, the bath spray being the most convenient means of getting this. How often, after washing one's hair, one finds a white, sticky substance clinging to the teeth of the comb! This should never be, and the hair must be continually washed until it is fluffy and soft and absolutely without any suggestion of the shampoo. When the hair is very oily a dessertspoonful of ammonia and a pinch of borax should be added to two quarts of warm water. This will soften the water and make the soap more easily rinsed out of the hair. The liquid verbena soap makes a delightful shampoo. Recipe can be found at the end of this chapter.

When shampooing, rub the lather through the strands gently, and with the finger tips remove all the little particles of dust and dandruff which may be clinging to the scalp. And may I gently suggest that you do not go at the task as if you were scrubbing a grease spot out of a rug? You must neither dig the scalp with your nails nor wring out your hair as you would a wash-rag. Try not to get your hair into a more mussed-up and tangled condition than is absolutely necessary. After using the bath spray liberally dry with warm towels, then—if possible—get some one to vigorously massage the scalp. This will almost invariably prevent one from taking cold. Never begin combing out your locks until they are nearly dry. A sun bath of twenty minutes is a good tonic.

Occasionally an egg shampoo is more beneficial than the usual one of soap. This is especially true when one has just recovered from a fever or when one's scalp is in an unhealthy condition or afflicted with dandruff. The rosemary formula is very effective.

Dandruff is nearly always the result of neglect. If the scalp is washed as frequently as it should be, dandruff is not so likely to accumulate, although it is a perfectly natural formation. When the hair is excessively oily or the scalp unusually crowded with dandruff, the weekly shampoo should not be neglected.

Blond hair should always be washed with the yolk of an egg, as that will make it keep its golden tints. Mixing the egg with a pinch of borax and a pint of warm water is a good plan.

Hair dyeing is one of the mistakes of unwise femininity. All dyes containing either mercury or lead are very dangerous. But why should women dye their hair? Goodness only knows. One might as well ask why women fib about their age, or why women shop three hours just to buy a pair of dress shields. There are some questions of life which we are destined never to solve. There is nothing lovelier than white hair. Combine with it a fine complexion and a pair of animated brown eyes and you have as picturesque a beauty as ever awakened emotions in the heart of man. But, nevertheless, women moan and wail over every stray gray hair. They go off downtown and proceed to lug home a cartload of mysterious bottles which they keep religiously away from hubby's investigating eye. I won't tell the result of the experience, for it is too well known. It is a certain episode through which half the women of forty years have passed—sooner or later. When comes the desire to transform those little threads of silver into deeper shades remember the charming lines of Bancroft:

"By common consent gray hairs are a crown of glory, the only object of respect that can never excite envy."

Unknown washes, as well as dyes, do great mischief. Good health, wholesome food and proper care of the scalp are the three most important essentials toward beautiful and luxuriant hair. There are some simple lotions, harmless and easily prepared, which will assist the growth and nourish the roots.

DRESSING THE HAIR.

It has always been a double-turreted wonder to me why romancers are forever harping about heroines with "tresses in artistic disarray." All the tresses in such condition that I have ever gazed upon have looked most slovenly and ofttimes positively waggish. How any one can think that a girl with a tangled braid hanging down her back, a little wad over one ear, a ragged, jagged fringe edging its way into her eyes and half a dozen little wisps standing out here and there in haystack fashion—how one can even fancy that such a head as that is pretty is more than I can explain. Clothes may make the man, but rational hairdressing goes a pretty long way toward making the woman. Observe my lady in curl-papers and my lady togged up for a dinner party. Comment is unnecessary, for you have all seen her—or yourselves, which is quite the same thing.

Those fortunate women to whom straight hair is becoming should never indulge in curls. There is nothing prettier than hair drawn loosely away from the face. It leaves displayed those lovely lines on the temples about which artists and poets go mad. As to the style of dressing one's hair, that must be left solely to one's taste. If the lines of the head, the shape of the face and the hair itself are studied a bit the solution of the most becoming coiffure is very easily solved.

A head that looks like a wax image in a hairdresser's window is certainly anything but pretty. Neither is it artistic, for the correctly crimped and waved side-locks are too mechanically planned to look at all natural. To nearly all women the plainer the mode of hairdressing the more becoming it is. That does not mean that you should comb your hair straight back and wad it into a funny little bump. Quite the contrary. Comb it back if you will, but have the coil loose and graceful. It is very bad for the hair either to be pulled back tightly or to be closely arranged. Ventilation is necessary, and, by the way, caressing and smoothing the hair with the fingers is a good tonic for its growth and beauty.

A few loose short curls about the face seem necessary to the good looks of the majority of women, but the heavy bang was shelved years ago. Wasn't it hideous? But perhaps you are too young to remember. Get out the family album, then, and see for yourself.

MRS. JOHN JACOB ASTOR

There are certain rules for hairdressing that were just as good in Eve's hairpinless age as they will be a hundred years hence. By keeping these rules in mind you can make a picture or a cartoon of yourself, just as you wish. The one thing to remember is that the lines and proportions of the face must be carefully considered and a mode of hairdressing adopted which will lessen and not exaggerate those lines and proportions. Be alert to your defects, and do not forget that what may be essentially appropriate for one woman will be dismally inappropriate for another.

Suppose a woman has a square, heavy jaw. She is just the one who flings defiance at prevailing fashions and clings to the dear old straight bangs deep over her eyes. The heavy chin makes a straight line, the heavy fringe makes another, and the result is that her face is as perfectly square as rules and measurements could make it. Let this deluded lady shake herself together and mend her ways. By making the top of her head appear wider the broad jaws will—according to all laws of reasoning—seem to be narrower. A few dainty puffs towering up prettily and a soft, fluffy fringe left flying out over the ears will not only add grace to the forehead but lighten the heaviness of the lower part of the face. A bow of ribbon or any other perky little headdress will detract from the straight cross lines.

Then there is the woman with the sharp chin, the woman of the wedge-shaped face. She invariably wears her hair over her ears and so elongates the V lines of her chin. By arranging the hair close to the sides of her head and putting it in a soft low coil on the top a much more pleasing effect can be got.

The same rule for the heavy-chinned woman applies to the chubby, fat-faced feminine mortal. The "roly-poly" visage looks less "roly-poly" when the front hair is drawn back and up in pompadour style and the long tresses piled into a nice little tower. The pompadour mode of hairdressing also holds good with the girl whose eyes are set too high. This helps along the old-time idea that the eyes of a woman should be in the middle of her head—that is, that they must be set midway between the bottom of the chin and the top of the hair.

For the women with eyes set too low an exactly opposite arrangement should be adopted. Instead of drawing the hair away from the face, bring it down to it. Part the hair and let it come low on the temples and brow.

I have never seen anything or anybody look much funnier than does a woman with a sharp-pointed nose and a pysche knot. The nose bumps out in the front and the wad of hair sticks out in the back with a similarity that is positively convulsing to any one with half an eye for the humorous. It gives one an idiotic longing to take a measuring rule and find out the exact distance from "tip to tip." Another waggish picture is made by the snub-nosed girl with her hair arranged à la Madonna. These long hirsute lamberquins on either side of her face make the poor little nose appear even smaller, like unto a wee dab of putty or a diminutive biscuit.

Don't caricature your facial defects. Don't get the lines of your head and face "out of drawing." Don't twist your hair up after every new fashion that chances to come along. Study the contour of your head from every side and then adopt that style of hairdressing which at once brings out the good points and conceals the bad ones. The most becoming coiffure is the one that gives the most artistic balance to the face. What will do for the fat, dumpy Miss Plump will make a human joke out of the lank, willowy Miss Slender.

SUPERFLUOUS HAIR.

If there is one blemish more than another that gnaws out our very heart supports and gives a good hard case of nervous chills, it is this. What woman can look at another so afflicted without a feeling of deep pity? There is something so masculine and altogether impossible in a bearded lady, even if she be merely a poor imitation of the real exhibited thing.

Unless proper means are taken to abolish it, superfluous hair should be left religiously alone. The more it is pulled out or irritated the lustier and heartier will be the growth that follows. As for cutting it—well! who does not know what the result is sure to be? A challenging Kaiser William mustache, maybe, or perchance a Herr Most style of hirsute trimmings. In applying creams of any sort to the face, it is wisdom to leave the upper lip untouched with the cosmetic, although one may feel perfectly safe in using home-made emollients which do not contain animal fats. Heat, rubbing and friction are all conducive to the pests, and such oils and fats as vaseline, glycerin, olive oil and mutton tallow or suet should never be used. Depilatories likewise should be shunned. The powdered preparations are usually composed either of sulphite of arsenic or caustic lime, and merely burn the hair off to the surface of the skin. It seems quite impossible for any such powder to kill or dissolve the hair roots without injury. The sticky plasters, made of galbanum or pitch, and which are known as "heroic" measures, are equally undesirable, since they are not permanent cures any more than the depilatory powders. The worst feature of these cures is that for every hair pulled out or burnt off a coarser one takes its place, and for every tiny, downy growth a fully developed hair appears. Of course, the plaster removes this soft lanuginous growth with the hardier one, and for that reason should be left severely alone. The tweezers are therefore less objectionable than the plaster, but this is such a painful way of getting happiness that I cannot advise it.

There is no doubt but that electrolysis is the best cure. The only objection to this is that an incompetent operator will cause her patron considerable pain, and will also be likely to scar the skin. A dainty little woman who has been an expert in this work for years tells me that it is not at all necessary for the beauty patient to hold the little handles—I know not the technical term—of the battery, although this causes a little more careful work on the part of the operator. At the same time, it makes the operation less painful, and really not at all hard to endure. The general desire to have the work done quickly causes the scars. If the hairs are picked out here and there and not close together the skin can heal and the rest of the horrors be destroyed at the next sitting. To remove a very prolific growth several "seances" will be necessary. But the result will be clear, unscarred skin, and no future chance of the wee worries coming back to bring heart-hurts and mental agony.

To those who have any timidity at all about the electric needle, there is peroxide of hydrogen and diluted ammonia. Use one as a lotion one night and the other the next. This will often prove a permanent cure, while a better, less noticeable state is certain. The remedy is one, however, that will take time and patience. The superfluous hair will gradually become light-colored and almost white, and the ammonia will, if used persistently, deaden the growth. Do not expect the bleach to take effect right away, for it won't. If the skin is at all irritated rub on pure, thick cream.

RECIPES FOR THE HAIR.

Liquid Verbena Soap: Cut in small pieces one-half pound of pure imported castile soap. Put in porcelain kettle with two quarts of warm water and dissolve by boiling. When cold it should be of the consistency of rather thin cream; if thicker, add more water. Stir in one-fourth pint of alcohol and let stand several days in a warm room. All the alkali and impurities will settle to the bottom of the bottle, leaving the liquid as clear as crystal. Pour off carefully, leaving the residue for kitchen purposes. Perfume with a few drops of oil of verbena, or any scent one may prefer. A small quantity of this used in the shampoo is delightfully cleansing.Shampoo for Dandruff:Yolk of one egg.One pint of warm water.One ounce spirits of rosemary.Follow with thorough washing with liquid verbena soap.Egg Shampoo: Shake the yolk of an egg in a pint of alcohol, strain and bottle. To a bowl of warm water add two tablespoonfuls of the liquid.Dandruff Cure and Hair Tonic:Forty-eight grains resorcin.One-fourth ounce glycerine.Alcohol sufficient to fill a two-ounce bottle.Apply every night to the scalp, rubbing it in well. This is good for falling hair.Lemon Hair Wash(for blond tresses):One ounce salts of tartar.Juice of three lemons.One quart of water.Apply a cupful to the hair and scalp just before the shampoo.Quinine Tonic for Oily Hair:One-half pint alcohol.One-half pint water.Thirty grains of quinine.Apply every other night, rubbing into the scalp.Hair-curling Fluid: Mix one and one-half drams of gum tragacanth with three ounces of proof spirits and seven ounces of water. Perfume with a drop or two of attar of rose. If too thick add a little rose-water.

Shampoo for Dandruff:

Yolk of one egg.One pint of warm water.One ounce spirits of rosemary.

Follow with thorough washing with liquid verbena soap.

Egg Shampoo: Shake the yolk of an egg in a pint of alcohol, strain and bottle. To a bowl of warm water add two tablespoonfuls of the liquid.

Dandruff Cure and Hair Tonic:

Forty-eight grains resorcin.One-fourth ounce glycerine.Alcohol sufficient to fill a two-ounce bottle.

Apply every night to the scalp, rubbing it in well. This is good for falling hair.

Lemon Hair Wash(for blond tresses):

One ounce salts of tartar.Juice of three lemons.One quart of water.

Apply a cupful to the hair and scalp just before the shampoo.

Quinine Tonic for Oily Hair:

One-half pint alcohol.One-half pint water.Thirty grains of quinine.

Apply every other night, rubbing into the scalp.

Hair-curling Fluid: Mix one and one-half drams of gum tragacanth with three ounces of proof spirits and seven ounces of water. Perfume with a drop or two of attar of rose. If too thick add a little rose-water.

THE HANDS

"I take thy hand, this hand,As soft as dove's down, and as white as it;Or Ethiopia's tooth, or the fann'd snow,That's bolted by the northern blast twice o'er."—Shakespeare.

"I take thy hand, this hand,As soft as dove's down, and as white as it;Or Ethiopia's tooth, or the fann'd snow,That's bolted by the northern blast twice o'er."

"I take thy hand, this hand,

As soft as dove's down, and as white as it;

Or Ethiopia's tooth, or the fann'd snow,

That's bolted by the northern blast twice o'er."

—Shakespeare.

Pretty hands—like sweet tempers and paragons of husbands—are largely a matter of care and cultivation. Much more so, in fact, than most of us are aware. While tapering fingers and perfect palms count for considerable, the general beauty of the hand lies not in its correct outline so much as in the whiteness and velvety softness of the skin and the perfectly trimmed, well-kept nails. I have seen hands as plump as rotund little butter rolls, with fingers like wee sausages, and I have also gazed upon long, slender hands as perfect of form and proportion as any hand ever put into a Gainsborough masterpiece. And both have been called beautiful. Of course, we all know that the Gainsborough model is perfection, but nevertheless we can content ourselves with the knowledge that really ideal hands are as rare as a few other nice things in this world, and that we can struggle along very well with our good imitations providing we are able to keep them clean and well groomed.

The poets have raved their wildest over the beauty of women's hands from the time when Adam had his first desire to write jingles—if he ever was so silly—to the present day of Kipling's entrancing verse. Shakespeare in his many tributes to the unfortunate young Juliet spoke of the "white wonder" of her hands, and there has probably never lived a versifier who has not, at one time or another, gone into paroxysms of poetry over "lovely fingers," and "dainty palms," and all that. And I don't wonder, do you? for a woman's hand—when it is beautiful—is certainly a most adorable thing. It should be soft and yielding and caressing—with small, dainty joints, a satiny surface and carefully manicured nails of shell-pink tint.

First of all, tight sleeves and very tight gloves must be condemned. Next, relaxation and repose are to be cultivated. A beautiful hand that fidgets continually is not to be admired for anything beyond its ceaseless efforts to be doing. Ben Jonson once said: "A busy woman is a fearful nuisance," and it's more than likely that he had in mind some fussy dame whose nervous fingers were everlastingly picking at things and continually on the wiggle.

The hand can easily be taught to move gracefully. The ordinary Delsarte movements of swinging the wrist backward and forward, of raising the hands high above the head, and the general exercises for the cultivation of gesture and expression are all good and can bring about the habit of spontaneous relaxation and activity. No gestures at all, though, are better than awkward ones.

Large joints are very unsightly. It is said of the Countess of Soissons that she never closed her hands for fear of hardening the joints. Funny, isn't it, to what extremes those old-time ladies went? And yet the Nordauites say we are degenerates!

Of Mme. Crequy it is recorded that "she was a woman most resolute," and in proof of that assertion the chronicler says that if no lackey were within call she opened the doors herself—without fear of blistering her hands! It was the desire for dainty, delicate white hands that first gave nice little boys the task of trotting after stately dames and carrying my lady's prayerbook or fan. Fancy one of those porcelain-like creatures of helplessness hanging onto the strap in a State Street cable car! Perish the thought! And what a jolly time Mme. Crequy would have had could she have indulged in a Christmas shopping scrimmage. After a few tussels with the swing doors that bar our entrance to the big stores, Mme. Crequy would have blistered her hands to the queen's taste and the poultice stage. There's no chance of a doubt about that.

BATHING THE HANDS.

With the hands, as with almost everything else in the strife toward beauty culture, cleanliness is the first great essential. You cannot keep your hands smooth and pretty without an occasional hard scrubbing. Unless the hands are unusually moist naturally, hot water should not be used. Have the bath tepid—just warm enough to be cleansing. Say a fond farewell to all highly-scented soaps and bring yourself down to a steady and constant faith in the pure white imported castile. I doubt very much if there is a soap manufactured which can equal this for its harmlessness and purity. The best way is to buy a large bar, letting it dry thoroughly, and cutting off small slices as they are needed.

Never fail to let the soapy water out of the basin and fill again with a clear rinsing bath. When drying be sure that the towel is not coarse or rough, and that it absorbs every particle of moisture. Very gently press back the cuticle around the nail. A little orange-wood stick or a piece of ivory will assist you when the skin is inclined to stick close to the nail. Let the hands have their most cleansing bath just before you go to bed, and then is the time to apply your cold cream or cosmetic jelly, which—in nearly all cases—is all that is needed to keep the hands soft and nice.

Wearing gloves at night is very uncomfortable and quite unnecessary. Lotions can be put on an hour or so before one goes to bed, and by that time they are usually pretty well absorbed into the cuticle.

If the hands are red use lemon juice, applying cold cream as soon as the juice is dry. For callous spots rub with pumice stone.

CARE OF THE FINGER NAILS.

There has been a great change in manicuring methods of late. The old steel implements of torture are banished, and the ivory instruments have long since taken their place. Steel should never be put to the fingers, except to use the scissors when the nails are too long, or to trim the skin in order to free it from hangnails. The best operators no longer cut away the cuticle about the base of the nail, and the manicure who does that nowadays is not a student of the French method of manicuring, which supplanted every other some time ago. The same effect—and better, in fact—is got by simply pressing back the flesh with the end of an ivory or orange-wood instrument. The gouging and snipping, so irritating to a person of nerves, is thus avoided. However, if you only know how, you can manicure your nails at home and they will look every bit as well as if you trotted downtown and spent half a day and a nice big dollar.

Fill a china wash basin with a suds of warm water and castile soap. Soak the hands for five minutes. With an old soft linen towel push back the skin around the nails. If there are hangnails snip them away carefully. Cutting the cuticle at the base of the nail was a barbaric feature of a new science which disappeared when it became more rational and refined. Never, under any circumstances, must the inside of the nail be scraped with a sharp instrument. Another thing to be avoided is the vulgar application of pink nail cosmetics. Who has not seen a pretty hand made hideous by nails all gummed up with red paste? Oh, yes, and claw-like nails! They, too, have been "called in," now that progress, good sense and civilization go marching on at a two-step pace.

The nails should be trimmed the same shape as the finger tips, and left neither too long nor too short. There's a happy medium that is easily discovered, because of its usefulness, its convenience, and its artistic beauty. A too-highly polished surface is also a vulgarity invented by the old-time manicure. A little powder rubbed briskly on the nail with a heavily padded polisher is a great improvement, but when the nails shine with door-knob brilliancy it's high time to call a halt. As for jagged, uneven nails—there's no excuse for them.

RECIPES FOR THE HANDS.

Cosmetic Jelly: Take thirty grains of gum tragacanth, soak in seven ounces of rose-water for two days, strain through muslin and add one-half ounce each of glycerin and alcohol, previously mixed. This dries in a moment after application.Glycerin Balsam:White wax, one-half ounce.Spermaceti, one ounce.Oil of sweet almonds, four and one-half ounces.Glycerin, one and one-half ounces.Oil of rose geranium, eight drops.Melt the oils. Remove from fire and beat in the glycerin and perfume. Stir briskly until cold and white.Creme Duchesse:Benzoinated mutton tallow, three ounces.Oil of sweet almonds, one ounce.Glycerin, two drams.Rose-water, two drams.Oil rose geranium, twenty drops.Heat the tallow and oil of almonds in one vessel and the other three ingredients in another. Mix the two and stir until cold. On account of the mutton tallow, which might possibly cause a growth of superfluous hair, this cream is not desirable as a face cosmetic. The benzoinated mutton tallow can be made by taking one-half pound of the tallow and one-half ounce of the benzoin, and keeping at a high temperature until the alcohol has completely evaporated. Strain through muslin.Almond Meal:Orris root in fine powder, four ounces.Wheat flour, four ounces.White castile soap, powdered, one ounce.Powdered borax, one ounce.Oil of bitter almonds, ten drops.Oil of bergamot, one fluid dram.Tincture of musk, one-half fluid dram.Mix well and pass through a sieve.To make the hands soft: Take one quart of warm water, and in it soak one-half pound of oatmeal over night, then strain and add one tablespoonful of lemon juice and one teaspoonful each of olive oil, rose-water, cologne, glycerin and diluted ammonia. Rub into the skin three times a day.To plumpen the hands: One-fourth ounce tincture of benzoin, eight ounces of rose-water, and four ounces of refined linseed oil. Rub in morning and night. This is equally nice for the neck and arms.Wash:Rose-water, three ounces.Bay rum, 2 ounces.Glycerin, one-half ounce.Borax, one-half ounce.Amandine:Blanched bitter almonds, three and one-half ounces.Powdered orris root, three-fourths ounce.Powdered white castile soap, three-fourths ounce.Glycerite of starch, one and three-fourths ounces.Clarified honey, one ounce.Oil of lavender flowers, one-half dram.Oil of bergamot, one-half dram.Oil of bitter almonds, four drops.Beat the blanched almonds with a small quantity of water to a smooth paste, add the other ingredients, and mix intimately. A solution of cochineal will color it.

Glycerin Balsam:

White wax, one-half ounce.Spermaceti, one ounce.Oil of sweet almonds, four and one-half ounces.Glycerin, one and one-half ounces.Oil of rose geranium, eight drops.

Melt the oils. Remove from fire and beat in the glycerin and perfume. Stir briskly until cold and white.

Creme Duchesse:

Benzoinated mutton tallow, three ounces.Oil of sweet almonds, one ounce.Glycerin, two drams.Rose-water, two drams.Oil rose geranium, twenty drops.

Heat the tallow and oil of almonds in one vessel and the other three ingredients in another. Mix the two and stir until cold. On account of the mutton tallow, which might possibly cause a growth of superfluous hair, this cream is not desirable as a face cosmetic. The benzoinated mutton tallow can be made by taking one-half pound of the tallow and one-half ounce of the benzoin, and keeping at a high temperature until the alcohol has completely evaporated. Strain through muslin.

Almond Meal:

Orris root in fine powder, four ounces.Wheat flour, four ounces.White castile soap, powdered, one ounce.Powdered borax, one ounce.Oil of bitter almonds, ten drops.Oil of bergamot, one fluid dram.Tincture of musk, one-half fluid dram.Mix well and pass through a sieve.

To make the hands soft: Take one quart of warm water, and in it soak one-half pound of oatmeal over night, then strain and add one tablespoonful of lemon juice and one teaspoonful each of olive oil, rose-water, cologne, glycerin and diluted ammonia. Rub into the skin three times a day.

To plumpen the hands: One-fourth ounce tincture of benzoin, eight ounces of rose-water, and four ounces of refined linseed oil. Rub in morning and night. This is equally nice for the neck and arms.

Wash:

Rose-water, three ounces.Bay rum, 2 ounces.Glycerin, one-half ounce.Borax, one-half ounce.

Amandine:

Blanched bitter almonds, three and one-half ounces.Powdered orris root, three-fourths ounce.Powdered white castile soap, three-fourths ounce.Glycerite of starch, one and three-fourths ounces.Clarified honey, one ounce.Oil of lavender flowers, one-half dram.Oil of bergamot, one-half dram.Oil of bitter almonds, four drops.

Beat the blanched almonds with a small quantity of water to a smooth paste, add the other ingredients, and mix intimately. A solution of cochineal will color it.

THE EYES

"Tell me, sweet eyes, from what divinest star did ye drink in your liquid melancholy?"—Bulwer Lytton.

You would think, wouldn't you, that women would be good to themselves? But they aren't. Not a bit of it! They abuse their complexions with cosmetics as deadly as Mrs. Youngwife's first plum pudding. They "touch up" their tresses with acids terrific enough to remove the spots of a leopard. They paddle around in the rain like ducks in petticoats and overshoes, and then sit down and chat with the woman next door for a whole hour, so that the damp skirts can more properly inaugurate a horrible cold that will settle down and stay for six weeks or more. And their eyes—but that's a story in itself.

An oculist once said that every dot in a woman's veil was worth $5 to the gentlemen of his profession. The eye is being constantly strained to avoid these obstacles in its way, and, of course, it is weakened and tortured. Think of a woman paying $1.50 for something that will, in time, destroy her eyesight just as sure as fate! I leave it to you if she's not a ninny? But women do these things in spite of everything—except when the overworked eyes begin to pain, and then they're glad enough to do almost anything for quick relief.

To keep one's eyes in good, healthy condition, rigid laws must be laid down and carried out, though the heavens fall and the floods descend and everything gets up and floats out into Lake Michigan. You must not read in bed, and you must kiss good-by to that becoming black veil of many dots and spots.

When you crawl out of bed in the morning do not dig your fists into your eyes and rub and rub until, when at last you do open those sleepy "windows of the soul," there is two of everything in the room, and big black spots are whizzing through the air. Pressure on the eyeball flattens the lens of the eye, and is sure to produce myopia, or shortsightedness. If the eyes are not inflamed at all they should be washed every morning in moderately cold water. In case of inflammation an application of hot water and milk in equal parts will be found most beneficial. Dry with a piece of old, soft linen, being sure to wipe inward toward the nose so as not to issue invitations to those horrors of womankind—crow's feet! Great care should be taken to keep all foreign substances, especially soap and other irritants, from the delicate skin of the lids, and particularly from the still more sensitive eyeballs.

Gaslight brings direful havoc to good eyes, especially when the flame is in a mood to flicker and splutter, as gas sometimes does. Take a faint, wavering light and a piece of embroidery and you have as fine a recipe for premature blindness as can be unearthed in a month of Sundays. Sewing in the twilight is equally disastrous, as is the habit of facing the light when writing or reading.

Few women realize the great need of resting the eyes occasionally, and the unhappy result of trying them to the utmost limit. The very moment that the eyeballs ache work should be suspended, no matter how necessary or urgent. Rose-water and plantain in equal parts makes a refreshing wash, and elderberry water is said to be good when there is a disagreeable itching.

If the eyes are hot and watery use hot water which has been poured over rose leaves. Witch hazel, that good old stand-by, is always refreshing and is especially good when combined with camphor water. It is best when applied at night and allowed to dry on the lids. Weak tea, which is the eye tonic of our grandmothers, is also splendid.

A lotion that has been tried over and over again and found excellent for tired and inflamed eyes, is made by rubbing one teaspoonful of pulverized boracic acid in fifteen drops of spirits of camphor and pouring over this two-thirds of a cup of hot water. Stir and strain, and use as needed.

To brighten the eyes, steep good green tea in rose-water, soak bits of absorbent cotton in the liquid, and bind on at night.

For granulated lids—and what is more maddening and painful?—make an alum paste. This is done by rubbing a small piece of alum into the white of an egg until a curd is formed. Apply to the lids upon retiring at night, tying a piece of soft linen over the eyes.

So many girls say that they look a fright in eyeglasses, and ask if they should wear them. Most certainly if the eyes are worn out and failing. An oculist of the very best reputation should be consulted. The fee does not exceed that of the quack, and the eyes are tested with greater thoroughness. Glasses must be chosen with the utmost care, as ill-fitting lenses can make a great deal of trouble. They are worse than no glasses at all. Then, after eyeglasses are put on, they must be changed now and then to suit the changing conditions of the sight. If the eyes are not in a bad state, wearing spectacles for a few months may strengthen them so that the glasses can be discarded. Also, if the oculist knows his business as he should, he can give you much valuable information concerning the care of your eyes.

THE GIRL WHO CRIES.

Now, about the girl who weeps. You don't see many of her these days. Women used to think that big, sad eyes, just ready to send forth a November gale of tears, was quite the proper thing, especially if there chanced to be a man about. Women of experience—and who should really know—say that tears are worn-out weapons for bringing masculinity to time. We later-day mortals go in for everything that bespeaks strength and backbone and a certain amount of strong-mindedness. When little wifey wife begins to snivel nowadays, Mr. Husband doesn't upset the furniture in his efforts to kiss away the tears. He is quite likely to straighten up and say: "Oh, brace up, Pauline!" or else, "Go look in the glass, my love, and see what a beautifully tinted nose you have!"

Yes, these are unromantic days, and there's no mistaking that fact! There's little room for the weepy, wailing woman whose big, inflated ambition is to dampen stunning neckties and deluge nicely laundered shirt-fronts. Of course, women must have their good, comfortable cries once in a while, but if they're wise they will retire to their own rooms and have it out by themselves. This is not quite so satisfactory as the old-time methods, for the reason that loneliness does not inspire an exhibition of woe, and if one doesn't look out one is apt to forget what one is boo-hooing about. But, take it all in all, it's safer and more in keeping with fin de siecle rules and regulations.

It used to be that a man would say: "Well, it breaks me all up to see a woman cry. I just can't stand it!" But now it's different. Instead, he remarks wearily: "Anything but a yowling woman!"

The poets have written lots of lovely things about tears. Notwithstanding that fact, there is an old German proverb: "Nothing dries sooner than a tear," which isn't so bad. And Byron, you know, said that the busy have no time for tears. Which, one must acknowledge, is quite true when one thinks how everybody is up and hustling these days. They're either wearing themselves down to skin and bone trying to earn a living and to reside in a $60 flat with electric lights and a real back yard, or else they're gradually killing themselves in an effort to enjoy life and to have a good, jolly time all around. However, that's neither here nor there. So let's jog along to more timely topics.

THE EYELASHES.

Who hasn't bumped into the woman who is woefully wandering around minus her eyelashes? My dear girls, you make the mistake of your life when you begin to snip and clip and tinker with those pretty little curtains that fall over your eyes. If eyelashes are cut in infancy they will grow longer, but when one gets big enough to wear long skirts and to do one's hair up high and wear a little bonnet with jet dofunnies on it, there's not much of a show for eyelashes being made longer by trimming. Touching the lashes with castor oil will increase the growth, and moistened salt is also good.

THE EYEBROWS.

The eyebrows must be kept well brushed, and by persistent care can be pinched into graceful lines. A heavy eyebrow can be trained with really little effort. The brush should be small and rather stiff and firm. It will at once cleanse and invigorate.

I cannot approve of penciled eyebrows. A professional in the "make-up" art can touch the eyebrows here and there and bring a marvelous change. But for the ordinary amateur it is better left undone. Besides, if coloring is applied, it is only a short time before the hair will fall out. And then won't you look pretty?

Eyebrows that meet over the nose are really very disfiguring, and the cure is so simple that there is no need of this blemish, providing, of course, that one can afford to take the necessary treatment. The electric needle is the only sure and certain cure, and two sittings will be sufficient to remove them for good and always. Be sure that you patronize only the best operator, as you will surely regret it if you don't.

Sage tea, with a few drops of alcohol added, will darken the eyebrows without injury. Cocoanut oil makes an excellent tonic to increase the growth.

THE TEETH

"Some ask'd how pearls did grow, and where?Then spoke I to my girl,To part her lips, and shew me thereThe quarrelets of pearl."—Herrick.

"Some ask'd how pearls did grow, and where?Then spoke I to my girl,To part her lips, and shew me thereThe quarrelets of pearl."

"Some ask'd how pearls did grow, and where?

Then spoke I to my girl,

To part her lips, and shew me there

The quarrelets of pearl."

—Herrick.

Femininity may be heir to many beauty woes, but ugly teeth is one trouble which is often caused by sheer neglect. How many of us can recall the days of childhood and girlhood without remembering the fibs we told to escape cleaning our teeth? The blessed mothers implored and begged and threatened and fussed, but we went our way joyful and serene, making all due preparations for future unhappiness. But when the girl began to think more about her personal appearance, and less of the frivolities of advanced babyhood—oh, that we were all back at that jolly time of life!—things were very different. The neglected teeth got good attention then, but often the mischief had already been done. I trust that the younger readers of this volume on beauty will remember that this is hopelessly true, and something not to be forgotten—like yesterday's toasted marshmallows or to-day's lesson in political economy.

I have heard it said that too much brushing will injure the teeth, but don't you believe it! The sooner you become accustomed to a moderately stiff brush, that will do its work well and thoroughly, the better. All foreign matter must be constantly removed, else decay will come as sure as fate. A perfect state of cleanliness cannot be unless the teeth have proper and constant attention. By this I do not mean that you must cease all other occupations and take up that of eternal scrubbing. Simply keep your teeth clean. Toothpicks must not be used excessively, cold water should not be applied—or very hot, either, for that matter—and all powders containing gritty substances must be tabooed. It is quite unnecessary for me to add that you must not bite thread or break nuts with your teeth, for all of us have had this bit of information dinned into our ears since the time when "little children should be seen and not heard" made life a worry and a care. I must confess, however, that I have seen women untie knots and do various bits of very remarkable mechanical work in this unique manner. My experience has been so broad in this particular line of observation that the expression "biting ten-penny nails" has never appeared to me to be much overdrawn.

If one seriously desires fine, beautiful, white teeth—and who doesn't?—one must treat them well. Just before going to bed, give them a thorough cleaning, using waxed dental floss to remove any large particles which may be between them. Use only a pure powder, the ingredients of which you know. Be sure that all powder is well rinsed away. See that your brush is kept scrupulously clean. Upon arising in the morning rinse the mouth with diluted listerine. This makes an excellent wash, especially when the gums are tender and liable to bleed. Brush the teeth with tepid water. After breakfast, luncheon and dinner, wash them again, letting the last cleansing be the most searching and thorough. Once in a while it is wisdom to squeeze a little lemon juice onto the brush. This will remove the yellow appearance that often comes, and will also keep your teeth free from tartar.

PRINCESS HENRY OF PLESS

Every six months visit your dentist and have your teeth thoroughly examined. The smallest cavities should be filled at once, and the pain will be less than when these agonizing crevices get so large that you feel that it's a flip-up between going to a dentist or jumping into the lake. I know that most of us women are cowards when it comes to seances in dentist chairs, but all such things—like house-cleaning and writing letters to folks you don't like, and entertaining your husband's maiden aunt—all these things are heaps nicer when they're well over with. They are the events which we prefer should ornament the past instead of the future.

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