The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1908-07-29

| uundu lcuiiliHlty eDD anu ilOW III ouCi
q ceaseless tide as in the Grand Cen
trail station, New York. And II yo,
cherish any priori concept of a con
sistent type of lovely women here l!
the place where you descend beneath
the waters of disillusion to come VI
washed and made clean.
Death as q leveler is a hide-bount
blue code as compared with the FIVE
minutes before-train-t revelation!
of the ladies' dressing-room.
Whatever is selfish or unselfish II
human nature, this hustling fol
trains, elbowing your neighbor out
of your way, crowding into the line
out of your turn at the Pullman
window, brings to the front in wo'
mans manner more than in a man S
because woman loses her self-con-
troll when she travels She is always
nervous and excited for no more
specific reason than that she is catch.
ing trains and has to run on schedule
time. She may have an hour and q
half to wait before her train Is called
and knows that this is so by the big
clock in the waiting-room, but she
wears hurried, harassed look and
breathes In short chest breaths for
fear she is going to miss it. Now q
man will look at his watch, set II
by the railroad time and-but that's
another story.
In the outside general waiting
room woman may sit and appear
to possess her soul in patience, but
within the sacred precincts of the
dressing-room she keeps the Record
ing Angel busy. A woman can not
spend five minutes here. without un-
lacing her innermost character.
In this bustling crowd nobody
knows anybody else, so 1t is just her
bed rock nature that comes out, her
manners after twenty centuries of
civilization being still so thin a ve-
neer that the least bit of elbowing
| iostles all courtesy out of the reckon
ing.
1t was long weary wait we had
settled down to, but when the five
hours were over we were as much
sadder and wiser about our sex as a
lifetime of casual intercourse would
have left us.
The curtain on this scene of disil-
lusion was raised on the six-o' clock
ers. These women were, on the
whole, a well-dressed, interesting
looking lot, out-of-town shoppers for
the most part who had spent the day
struggling over bargain counters,
dressmakers and the supercilious
'saleslady." All were tired to the
bone, of course, some keeping their
own counsel. but many frankly gar
rulous over their trials during the
day.
Each woman as she entered the
dressing-room paused fraction of a
second to locate the mirror, and thir-
ty-seven of the first thirty-eight wo-
men who entered made straight for
it. Now the waves of disillusion be-
gin to roll over you.
The soul of woman shines
through the way she does two things:
says her prayers and does" her
hair. There were home going few
who seemed satisfied when they as
certained the fact that their hats were
straight-which meant being very
much awry-readjusted refractory
lock Of hair, gave pat to a collar
and jab to tie or jerk to belt.
Next were those just coming into
the city. Here comes a woman who
walks up to the mirror. puts her
foot on chair-the lower rung
thereof-and takes from her stock
ing powder-rag. Glancing furtively
at her fellow-travelers to see If they
are looking, she dabs the rag at her
nose and each cheek, rubs it down
hastily, readjusts her veil and, with
a satisfied though somewhat apollo
getic air, turns away and is lost in the
crowd.
An increasing boldness as to type,
we notice, runs through these vary
ing degrees of making up" The
next woman is younger than her pre-
decessor, and to her the travel-traces
are more Objectionable. She is bet
ter dressed, her hat tilts at more
aggressive angle, and her manner is
more assured. In "its-none-of-
your-business" manner she walks up
to the mirror and lays down her UNI
brella and porte-monnaie. There is
swish of silk Innings, a glimpse of
open-work Isle thread, French
heeled foot, and with due delibera-
tion this fair bird of passage asserts
the stores in her stocking. These
are a few banknotes, the inevitable
powder rag, a tiny comb, pate-brun
pencil, and bit of rouge sponge.
She takes off her hat and veil, hands
them to the white-aproned maid in
attendance, and into the serious busi-
ness of over-lay she plunges. She
has come from Bridgeport and is on
her way to Chicago. What does she
care who watches her? With careful
forethought she dampens her fingers
with her tongue and messages cheeks
and nose just enough to give the
| powder a fair hold. Then on goes the