Year: 1873

We have often thought, considering
how much we lose by shoes and how
very little we gain, that it is thousand
pities women do not bring in sandals
not the foolish ribboned pumps Of the
last century, but the real Greek sandal.
Without the hard and deforming shoe
every muscle of the foot is in motion
and visible at every step. 1t is quite
wonderful how pretty the feet appear
even when not very small. In reality
we lose nearly as much by the shoe as
the face loses by mask how much
we could easily see by covering the
hands with patent-leather or lined
French kid, and then expecting them
to entrance the spectator. We neUer
see a wOman's foot. We only see its
leathern case, which is about as much
part or an expresser of her foot as
violin case is of fine violin and if
women only knew the destinations of q
neat and delicate foot, whose outlines
have not been impaired by corns, nor
whose bones by generations of deform-
ity, no shoe would be worn again for
ever.


But the truth is, just as the pace of
an army must be regulated by the slow
est man in it, so the beauties of the
community must be disguised accord
ing to the plainness of the plainest
member. A deformed foot is hidden
by shoe, so all the pretty feet must
be hidden in shoes. An imperfect
figure is disguised by hoop or bus
tie, so all the sylphs must be huddled
into hoops and bustles. And, probably,
if any graceful little sylph refused to
be disguised, she would be called
"vain, ;" Shameless" and other pretty
names.


Every artist knows that any foot that
has ever worn a shoe is deformed. The
great toe is bent in toward tie rest of
the toes, instead of being boldly parted.
The other toes are crushed and shorten
ed. How seldom in real life does one
find the second toe longer than the great
one, its nuturaI length! If an artist
wishes to make studies of a beautiful
foot, does he choose out the smallest
footed lady of his acquaintance, and
copy those little 2lice of hers ? No !;
he goes off to the East, or to the fish
women on the shores of Italy, who have
never worn a shoe. There he studies
the free practical muscles, the firm
steps, the ineffably graceful movements.


What do we lose by the shoe? Form,
firmness Of tread, charm of appearance.
And what have we gained by the shoe :?
Perhaps cleanliness, and q certain
amount of protection for the foot against
cold, wet, and friction-this in the case
of men at least. Before shoes people
existed we'll enough without them,
though there were still fragile ankles
and tender toes. Stockings would be
as useful as shoes if the great toe were
protected by a sole of leather, wood, or
any other material, which, while being
in itself twice as servicable as our "pa-
per soles," could be padded with silk,
inlaid with ivory, or colored in any way
at once more beautiful and more useful.
The straps might also be ornamented.
Where warmth was needed, the stock
ing, of kid, India rubber, worsted, or
even velvet, would be quite as warm and
seryiceable as ordinary ladies boots.
The only difference would lie in their
ollupC, ttllIl lIlG lDoCllC6 VI COlllO. LAllI
what dangerous arrow might be adj
ded to our quiver of charms!


AS it is, our want of appreciation of
the real beauty of the body, or our ig-
norance of how to make the best use Of
our materials, reconciles us to all kinds
of foot diseases and disease little be-
hind the proverbial Chinese victim to
fashion and if our suferings have caused
the medical profession to advance with
rapid strides from the leech of old, we
may just hint that prevention is as good,
if not better, than cure.


There is only one kind of shoe-which
we may just name, en- DaSSant-that is
of a proper and sensible form. 1t is
that wide-ending shoe worn in the time
of Henry VIII, in whose capacious
front the toes might spread and be at
ease. But its ugliness will probably
hinder it's reinstitution, and nothing
really equals the sandal.