St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1888-09-16
PAULINE PRY's PARAGRAPHS.

PAULINE PRY'S PARAGRAPHS.
"Behold, the melancholy days have
come, the saddeSt of the year." when
every woman feels certain that since
the time of the celebrated Flora Nc
FlimSey no one ever came quite as near
having nothing to wear as she does.
Summer clothes are too thin, winter
clothes are too thick, and fall clothes
are in the clutches of the dresSmaker.
Mrs. Smith goes to.the Grand in vel
vet wrap and white chip bonnet
and sits beside Mrs. Jones in
an Organdie dress and felt hat.
Mrs. Brown ShiverS in the light
weight coat the seductive salesman per
suaded her late last spring would be
Just the thing for early fall wear. and
Mrs. Green struggles and fails not to
know that she looks paSse in the last
seasons wrap she aid large sum for
because it was something she could
wear forever and not be out of style.
One might Just as well expect woman
to look the same by day that she does
by candle light as to hope that any kind
of garment bought this year will not
be inscribed with the date of
next year. If the proper thing
is rough cloth now it will be smooth
then; if it is short in front and long be
hind now, it will be short behind and
long in front then: if il bnttOnS now, it
will faSten blind" then, and if it is
blue now it will be sure to be green
then. None of these differences
amount to anything, a man will say, but,
to his wife, they are all that go to make
the feminine peace of mind which passes
masculine comprehension and comes
of the blessed consciousness of being IN
the style. "Therell be trouble in
heaven" says one knowing st. Paul
woman, ''if our white robes are made to
order after we get there. The last ar
rival will always be putting on airs be
cause hers is the latest thing out, and
the other angels will be so jealous
they'll stop singing psalms to say mean
things about her"
Tell me, Prudy, is there anything sug-
gestive of the book agent about the in
tellectual glare of this left brown eye of
mine? Is there anything about the right
one that would indicate a Sneaking
desire for family plate, jewels, old
clothes or cold VictualS? Is there any
thing about the meek and apologize air
with which invariably surround my Off
cial capacity that could possibly bespeak
me other than ! ana society reporter,
mindful of her lOwly station and care
fully adjusted to it? Nothing, my dear
you swear it? Then tell me what OH
earth allied the old lady on Summit
avenue, whose daughter was married
last Wednesday afternoon. Don't say
it is a case of mistaken identity-that
she is not lady, for | assure you,
Prudy, she lives in quite the style of
one. Like the tortoise, you would know
her by the house upon her back. But, ah!
it is for the reporter to learn that when
he thinks he has tortoise, he sometimes
catches a Snapping-turtle. The we'd
ding guests had commenced to arrive
when | appeared at the door. The Sery-
ants eyes were daZZled by the patent
leather tips of my new. shoes, and he
told me to walk right up stairs" in
the same automatically well bred, ca
terer tone of voice in which he directed
the others. l drew back my feet and
revealed my identity. Pm reporter;
] want
TO SEE MRS. TORTOISE"
'She has not come down yet" said
he. ''lf you go up stairs you will find
her"
Shaking the dust of my profession
from my plebeian feet, with reverential
tread l entered, and had proceeded to
the first turn in the stairs when a per-
son. who instinct suggested night be
Mrs. Tortoise, met me descending.
With an unasSuming air that Uriah
ueep never distanced, l said: II beg
your pardon. but are you Mrs. Tortoise?
! am a GLOBE reporter, l." L didn't |
finish. She made turtle-like dart at
me, grabbed me by the arm, and sky |
rocketing at me the words: You have |
no business i'll my house, get out of my |
house; this is quiet affair."" actually |
van me down stairs to the front door. |
What did | say? Did it ever occur to a |
person to say anything in the midst of a |
cyclone? When she had me landed Oh |
the door sill, she was inspired to |
explain, 81 don't mean TO be rude" ] |
humbly murmured, Thank YOU" and |
went my lonely way grateful indeed. |
Why, just fancy, Prudy, what would |
have happened had she really meant to |
be rude! She would have killed me |
where she met me and thrown me over |
the banisters. All! my dear girl, it's |
the stuff the early Christian martyrs |
We're made of that SuStains the life of |
ST. Paul society reporter-it is, it is.
-
All respectable and self-respecting |
girls make a night toilet as regularly as |
they do one in the morning. They |
wash off the powder from their faces, |
and if an eyebrow or two go with it |
illtA UOll L LIlllu. lIlC uOiiiliioul luCd VI |
the night toilet being perfect cleanli- |
ness. They brush their hair long ard |
carefully. and if the curl is quite out of |
their bang it does hot worry
them-that is, speaking of the |
majority. But the Inevitable exception |
exists here as everywhere. 1t is Prudy. |
"What are you doing, my pretty maid,"
I asked the first night l spent with her.
Putting my left eyebrow back, sir,
she said," was the answer. Then she
took up the curling tongs and went to
worse for damp day.
'Will you tell me the sense of re-
pairing drowned eyebrows, and of
standing there in your night dress curl
ing your bang just before you get into
bed?"
well. you see," she said soberly, 81
should be so awfully mortified to die be-