The Washington herald., 1917-02-11
MY FAVORITE PERFUME.

| am often asked the name Of my
favorite perfume, and II reminds me OF
a little colored maid mother once had
working for her ! asked her what her
favorite color was, and she said plaid.
1t is SO hard TO select one perfume out
OF all the world of fragrance, and be
content with il. Perfumes always bring
back memories to me. | never catch the
Whit of rose gersnium. but 1t makes me
think of lovely old-fashioned garden
that dipped 10 meet the shore up near
Scituste, Mass. / was only q little girl
then. and it was one of the few real va
cations that we children. Lottie, Jack.
and ], ever had
We boarded with a sweet old lady, the
widow of whaling captain. / know it
seems as IL every sailor was a captain
all the way from Nantucket TO Cape Cod.
but this old chap had sailed the Three
Cheers, and Jack used to name his toy
boats that for years. l never get the
scent OF rose geranium but what it is
blended with the salt air, old fashioned
white roses, hOneysuCkle clambering up
the gray old porch, and the mornin &
glory vines that nearly covered an old
pilot house We adored, maroOned high and
dry on the sandy shore from some long
ago wreck.
One day last spring. instead OF using
the machine, l rode down to the Fa-
nous Players Studio. on West Fifty
fifth street on a Riverside bus that
turned east toward Fifth avenue at
Fifty-seventh street At Columbus
Circle young girl got on. with little
bunch of trailing arbutus pinned to
her coat AS she sat down beside me,
the fragrance stole through the whole
interior of the bus. 1t made you think
of pine woods where you have to kneel
and scrape away the dry needles to
find the first arbutus buds, and of old
pastures where il grows close around
the gray rocks.
Across from me sat one of those
richly dressed, well-groomed women of
60 or more that New York seems to
specialize in. They may be grand
mothers, but they carry themselves
with the grace and youthfulness Of
perfume reached her, there came q
subtle change over her face Her eyes
sparkled and her chin lifted eagerly,
as she located the source of the per-
fume. and she leaned over TO the girl
and said:
My dear. where did you find the
arbutus? l am from New Engls nd,
and the season is late there. We
haven't any yet"
Il bought this from a little boy I'D
at the Circle. He has a whole tray of
it," said the girl shyly; adding. per
haps it is from the South. We find il
in the woods in North Carolina the end
of February"
And the little bunch of arbutus wa.
a link of sisterhood between those
two, the woman from Fifth avenue and
the little girl from Cardinals pine
woods. At the next corner the former
from the bus and walked
back 20 find the boy. l wondered what
lurked for her in that tiny
cluster of pink buds.
There was one picture we were taking
where we needed fresh wild flowers, and
it was too early for any real ones The
was at new location UP in
the Hudson Highlands, and our director
wired 10 New York for wild flowers to
be sent by special messenger.
Perhaps you have never tried to hunt
wild flowers In January In New York.
II makes one think of the old fairy tale
where the poor little stepchild was sent
out after Strawberries in the snow, and
found the house of the dwarfs. But /
have never forgotten the box that ar
rived the next morning, brought up to
us by a messenger from the studio. II
was filed with fresh violets. snowdrops
poets nsrcissus. ana long sprays of fiow-
ering currant We had all been working
hard up there in the cold and snow, and
when the cover was taken of the box