The Aberdeen weekly. [volume] (Aberdeen, Miss.) 1878-1933, 1907-03-01

the little 16-year-old chorus girl. /
To her he was just fat, old, yell
low man.
That was what be remained to
the end, but the fat, old, yellow
man had an exquisite taste in
dress and a lavish hand, and he
loaded her down with finery, and so
she stifed her scruples, physical
and moral, in mousseline de sole
which has been the winding sheet
of many another conscience beside
that Of this poor butterfly sand
paid the reckoning with her shame.
And the mother lived with her in
expensive apartments, where she,
too, dressed gorgeously, and was
blinded by chiffOns so that she
could not see where the money
came from that bought her finery
/ Nor does she appear to have had
any better eyesight in regard to
| Thaw, who she cheerfully allowed
to pay her and her daughters ex-
penses abroad, until they quarrelled
in London
Is not this the quintessence Of the
tragedy Of the love Of dress2 4 girl
selling herself for clothes and her
mother standing by sharing in the
spoils And now the end. Blood
| for every green dress. Wasted form
| every dark dress. Deathless jeal-
ousy for every green dress. Wasted
form and pallid cheeks for every
white dress. 4 crown Of remorse
and despair for every feather and
/ flower hat she had worn. Nothing
left but clothes whose splendor and
whose gayety will mock the misery
of the heart that beats under them
If Evelyn Nesbit was the only
girl who had sold herself for clothes,
and her mother the only mother
who stood by consenting, the matter
might well be let rest. In the week
of crucifixiOn she has undergone
on the witness stand she has settled
her account with retribution so
far as the world is concerned, but
the thing that is so terrible is that
in a greater or less degree the curse
of dress is upon all women, and it
is doing more to corrupt the sex and
undermine society than every other
mahgn influence combined
1t is a madness, an obsession, this
insane desire of women for fine
clothes irrespective of station
or wealth. 1t makes the
girl behind the counter earning an
honest living envy instead Of despise
the bepainted creature who buys
the $50 shirt waists she is selling,
= but cannot afford to wear. 1t makes
the stenographer crazy for picture
hats and silk stockings and diamond
earrings, easy prey of rich employer
who can crafty her desire for adorn-
ing herself. 1t makes the poor girl
ask herself if virtue and shabbiness
pays, and it turns many of those
who have not the courage to be bad
into grafters who hold men for pre-
sents of the things they have not
the money to buy. 1t makes the
extravaganza Of wives drive men to
stealing and suicide.
In this country the peril of clothes
is greater than elsewhere of our class
distinction. In Europe a washer
woman does not aspire to the pearl
and sables of duchness, but here
the poor wOrkIngwOman not only
aspires to dress like millionairess,
but, if she is young and pretty, only
too often sells herself in order to do
it,
Surely, with the awful warning Of
the fate of Evelyn Nesbit before
their eyes, it Is time for mothers to
see the danger that menances their
daughters and TO try to raise their
girls up with some higher am bition
than wearing hand-em broidered
shirt waists and real lace flounces,
and teach them that life has in it
some nobler purpose than merely
being an animated fashion plate.
There is a wicked French proverb
that says, in effect, that when you
have said clothes you have said all
there is of woman. The pity of it
is that this is so often true, and
that for clothes so many foolish
women are willing to sacrifice hon
or ana name and all that makes
womanhood good and sweet. And
Oh the pity of it, that the silly
girls who envy the Evelyn Nesbits
in their silks and laces and Jewels
cannot know that the world sees in
this fnery only the badge Of their
shame, and that a Paris gown worn
over a guilty heart becomes a verita-
BILE shirt of Nessus. There are
brides and brides to sell ones soul, .
ones decency, ones self-respect,
ones chance Of an honest love and
a clean name and a home Of ones
own for a few yards of velvet, az.
scrap or two of lace and a handful
of spangles-how poor the bride
And how great the payment
Little globules of sunshine that
drive the clouds away. DeWitt's
I ID