Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-12-29

Il am Is
another little Paris girl whose father is a
New York broker. Ask her what she is,
land She will say: Il am Parisian!'
Both little girls speak true. and there
Nare hundreds such in Paris.
. When. after bending her life to the
Hench aristocratic regime, one of our
Women. married to title, whispers in
the cleaning to her little girl tales of her
own free childhood home across the
L,Atlantic, the child's heart yearns to be
one of us. But when two indulgent
Americans play with their little girl at
Ferris residence, the little girl picks up
delizhtful artificial ways, wider view,
and Hight and sweetness in both dress and
manner, and she says. II am Parisian!
All is so different. 1t was long before
1 could believe Partisan children were not
cold in winter.
Keep the pretty, fiimsy uriderwear-the
cambria day-chemise next to the skin,
the cambria drawers, the little made-to-
measure corset. Then, for winter, cover
corset with knit silk jersey tricot, and
substitute, perhaps, pretty flannel petit
coat for the gauzy trife-and you have
her winter wear.
When the girl grows up to long skirts
they will keep the warmth in-without the
flannel petticoat, bah! Ugly, ugly. And
she has the precious habit. But at first
IL
children in white Angora, Monaghan,
gray astrakhan or white bearskin. show
ing their pink bare skin twinkling be-
meath. bare to the knee from short sock
tops.
ii is in part to make them hardy-part
esthetic for the future. Here is a sin
cere tale / have told with approval to ap
preciative American mothers; why not in
cold print? The girl-child of American
parents grew up to eighteen In Paris,
To "a RI hna I'd SchnOl-and
into black melancholia.
Neither mother nor the family doctor
could learn why; but DIR. Albert Robin--a
confessor of the embarrassed-got it from
the girl-alone. With sobs and hesita-
tons the truth came out. Her tender
American parents had brought her up in
heavy knit winter combinations, and
the Paris girls laughed at them What
they said you must imagine. In word,
they were unfeminine, unacceptable; and
the marriageable girl mourned: Il am
used TO them; how dare l ask to drop
them
/ speak of furs. but half the time. in the
bleak parks. you see girls from ten to
fifteen with but muffs and boas. and
under expensive astrakhans you will find
gowns that might be summer party
dresseSt
On New Year morning. in such cloth
ing, the rich. elegant Partisan children
OF the colony and the nobility fairly
swarm in the Ice Palace.
Entrance costs 81 for the child, 81 for
the maid or governess. ] catch cold
IA the head at the Ice Palace; but l was
not brought up as kid in Paris. There
are red-hot stoves around the circnns
promenoir, where at hundreds of little
tables our Parislanized American women
taks their tea and mullins amid shining
silver of an afternoon. Seated on
hundred curving sofas, the small exiles
and half-nobles stick out their bare legs
while gorgeous-uniformed attendants put
their real skates on them.
over a vast central stretch of artificial
ly-made ice the tots skate to orchestral
music Round the walls are seen gay
colored frescoes of the Riviera. FLOODS
OF electric light give gay matinee eject