, 1890-07-17
FADS OF THE BATHERS.
somE WAYS OF sTEAMINe THAT BEAT
THE TURKISH BATH.

A Newspaper Writer Is Put Through a
Process Which Makes Her All the Coiors
of the Rainbow-An Ordeal Which to
the Uninitiated Is Akin to Torture.
The fads of progressive New York
women will kill me yet. Last week 1
took a pack" and / am nearly dead.
Lost twenty pounds and the power of
locomotion for tw~enty-four hours. Ny
lips and eyelids turned electric blue and
my complexion is a pale green with ecru
nothing. l wanted some medicine
big dose-with a diet of lettuce, prunes,
Graham rolls and hot water to see If /
could put down the rebellious biliousness
OF my skin and put on n silver gray
gown. L went to see the bathing mis-
tress in the Hoffman house. who used to
steam and knead the Jersey Lily and
who did several hundred dollars worth
of grooming for the beautiful Duchess
of Marlborough. She told me that /
fought to get packed"
Where TOP l asked.
Good looksl You can come here for
a night OIL 1 will go to your house and
give you a pack that will make your hair
curl"
gave her my card and made arrange
ments to be ready for her two days later.
Her parting command was: Take a
five meal fast to rest your system, and
you will be the color of a lily when I get
through with you" She did not say
what color or what kind of a lily ut the
time, but | ave since learned that the
model she had in mind was the tiger lily.
THE PACK" DESCRIBED.
took the fast, and the day she arrived
l was as hollow as a pipe stem, and the
weakness of the traditional cat was mus
cular vigor compared to the general gone
ness of my interior. A small mountain
Of comfortables and blankets was col
lected, my bed was stripped and covered
first with a rubber and then a pongee
sheet. Over this was laid a wet sheet
wrung out of boiling water in which 1
was folded like a prehistoric mummy.
The sensation was n little smart at
first, and l had a lurking fear that the
original hue Of whiteness was being
scorched from my spinal column. Salts
fed of my mistake l relapsed into a state
OF passivity and the mistress OF the bath
transferred the mountain of blankets
from the loor TO my bed. Then she put
a cool, wet napkin on my head, and
there | lay with the weight of Atlanta's
on my already cayed in anatomy and
every pore in my body streaming like a
country pump. l tried to think / was
having fun, for it was n day off and it
has always been my motto to make my
w sunshine.
Do what 1 could with my thoughts !
felt the blood pumping into my brain
and making violent and forcible efforts
to escape. The stately mistress of the
flesh brush made me keep still, chang
ing the cold cloths on my head, slipped
morsels of crushed ice down my throat
and encouraging me by frequent reitera-
tons that l was doing well and would
have n beautiful color. l stayed in the
pack three hours and perspired until !
thought there was nothing left of me
but the last breath. Then l dropped off
of something's don't know just exactly
what-and when l was about to get a
glimpse of heavenly things with a lot of
short wasted early empire girls and
small dimpled boysin feather trimmings
floating about in atmospheric noncha-
lance l was rudely shaken and told to
open my mouth. That ended the pack.
IhE SENSAIlOSS AfIERNA RD.
l was dosed with French brandy,
rubbed with alcohol, polished off with a
pair of bath mitts that had the grain of
radish graters and put to bed again be-
tween warm sheets.
The packer i've me a cup of bouillon,
a chop. "a roll and a glass of %claret, and
stayed with me until l finished the first
morsel of food l had tasted il fifty hours.
Bidding me keep quiet and stay in bed a
day or two she relieved me of a s. bill l
had been saving for n crimson parasol
and went off. When | looked in the
glass l saw a reflection that beggared the
horror portrayed by the i-mpersonators of
Violetta and Camille in their last Genes
l was a sort of OK heart red with n mot
ting of yellow fever and black plague
patches lone in the fashion that Limoges
vases are under glazed. My eyes were
on fire, the lining of my lids was white
n green, my nostrils were pinched and
my lips shriveled and were onion blue in
tint.
Briefly, l was a horror. l looked like
a resurrection. Mentally / was as idiotic
as the ushers in the Bible wedding. But
i had been packed" and there is some
satisfaction to n crack brain to know
that she has one less fad in the gamut of
fooldom to investigate. have given up
the ideal of n gray frock and buckled
down to a diet of rare roast beef, boiled
onions, rice pudding and vegetable soup,
for until l recover some of my lost flesh
| have no use for anything but n Spanish
scarf and an ulster.
But will you believe me VIXEN l tell
-. 49,
by the fashionably progressive women OF
New York every day in the week? It's q
fact.-New York World.
A Hosts ThoughtfuIness.