Bath bags are simply luxuries. They are pleasant ones, to be sure, but they should never take the place of the flesh brush. It is best to follow the scrubbing with a gentle washing with a bath bag, for the almond meal and the orris root will give a charming, velvety appearance to the skin. They should never be used a second time, as the bran frequently becomes sour after a drying. So, if you are of an economical turn of mind, you will make your bath bags very small, just large enough to serve for one beauty bath.

A little starch thrown into the bath will sometimes whiten the skin. Salt is not cleansing at all, but is very invigorating and a pleasant tonic if one is worn out and languid. Turkish baths are splendid complexion-makers, but must not be indulged in too frequently. If the skin is dry and feverish, a dry bath—or massage—with oil of sweet almonds will promote a healthy skin and bring about good circulation.

Constant bathing is the best remedy for excessive perspiration. But this is not really effective unless a little benzoin is added to the water, and the armpits well dried, and dusted with powder afterward. A good bathing powder for this purpose is made of two and one-half drams of camphor, four ounces of orris root and sixteen ounces of starch. Reduce to a fine powder and tie in coarse muslin bags.

Remember that a coarse complexion, with black, disfiguring, open pores, can be almost entirely cured by keeping the pores of the body free from sebaceous matter. Have the bathtub carefully scoured each day, as the oils and dust washed from the body invariably collect on the sides just where the water reached. For the thorough cleansing have the tub half filled with warm water. Use a coarse rag, a bath brush and large, coarse towels. Before stepping into the water wash the face and neck well with castile soap and a camel's-hair brush, this being particularly necessary when the pores are clogged and acne has formed. Rinse thoroughly and dry with gentle pats. When using the brush, do not forget to let the scrubbing go well down onto the chest, lest your neck will be bleached white and nice only part of the way.

Once in the tub, go over the body briskly with the flesh brush, using plenty of good soap and not being at all sparing of elbow grease. This scrubbing is very invigorating, for it exercises the muscles and stirs up one's blood as well. After the scrubbing use the bath spray, letting the water get gradually chilled. The drying should be brisk and quick, and a warm robe of some sort must be donned while the hair is being combed for the night, the teeth brushed and the face anointed with a pure home-made cosmetic. Then go to bed. If you don't find a prettier, fresher complexion with you next morning, then I'll miss my guess, and will take up another occupation than that of doling out beauty advice.

Quireda Bath Bags:

One pound of fine oatmeal. One-half quart of new clean bran. Two-fifths pound powdered orris root. Two-fifths pound almond meal. One-fourth pound white castile soap, dried and powdered. One ounce primrose sachet powder.

Dipped in tepid water and used as a sponge these bath bags make a velvety lather that softens and whitens the skin in a way that warms the cockles of one's heart.



DIET _ "Good food is the basis of good conduct, and consequently of happiness; more divorces are caused by hash than by infidelity."—_Hetty Green._

The object of eating is nourishment to build up the nerves, the muscles, the blood, the tissues, and, in fact, the whole body. Judging by woman's mad devotion to things she should not eat, this is a piece of information which has never before been confided to her.

Let the food be well cooked, daintily served and delicately flavored—for all that aids digestion with persons of sensibility and refinement—but see to it that the ingredients are wholesome and of the best and freshest qualities. A fifteen-cent lunch at one of the tearooms, where dishes are prepared with some idea of the rules of hygiene, is much better than a twenty-five-cent course dinner at a cheap restaurant. This is a hint for the business girl who lunches downtown.

Ripe fruits, served upon green leaves, are always appetizing, even if there is nothing more than toast or rolls to go with them. Cereals, such as rice, barley or hominy (they must be steamed for hours), served with rich cream, make ideal luncheons. A baked apple, a bit of rice pudding, or a custard—they, too, are worth the while and the price. Eggs, either boiled or carefully scrambled, or made into an omelet, flavored with a dash of parsley, and chops or fish delicately broiled, are substantial viands. Soups or broths, breads, fruits and an occasional salad make desirable luncheons. A noonday meal of creamed potatoes and green peas is not to be despised, and it's a godsend to the poor stomach that has been heroically tussling with cocoanut pudding, fruit cake and chocolate rich enough to own a castle in Europe. Such dishes as Italian spaghetti, with tomato sauce and Parmesan cheese, or celery or cress salad, with no other dressing than the best olive oil and a teaspoonful of vinegar, will do very well.

There is no economy in buying badly cooked luncheons. Seek quality, not quantity, and, so far as health and good looks go, you'll find yourself getting along famously.

Rich foods, especially pastries, can bring forth an array of facial eruptions that is positively maddening to the poor victim. Ice cream soda, too, deranges the stomach and creates all sorts of disagreeable disturbances. Hot bread and rolls, indulged in to an appalling extent in southern households, can do more real damage to a good, fair skin than all the winds and wintry blasts that ever shook chimneys or swept friskily around corners and alleyways.

Overeating not only brings indigestion and creepy dreams, but invariably makes the complexion coarse, high-colored and overruddy. That does not mean that one should nibble at things and not demolish a "good square meal." Eating should be understood—rules laid down and religiously carried out.

Usually hygienic dishes and health foods comprise a complete list of one's special horrors. Most girls who have tried them say so. But just the same, there are dozens—yes, hundreds—of nutritious viands that are decidedly more palatable and appetizing than the sweets and indigestible doughy nothings that not only make of you a physical wreck but set you to wishing most heartily that the man who invented mirrors had died of the measles in his early infancy.

Rice is a good old stand-by as a builder-up of a run-down constitution. But you don't like it? Well, then, stew it with chicken sometime and you will soon discover what great possibilities are in this despised grain. Oatmeal, as it is usually cooked, is a thing of horror, to be shunned and avoided and run away from. But oatmeal left to slowly simmer for a full hour, and served half liquid, fluffed over with a bit of powdered sugar and covered with rich cream, is fit for a queen—most especially if the royal lady is ambitious for a fair visage with sweet, soft skin and cheeks just touched with the crimson of health.

A thick porterhouse steak, broiled quickly and well seasoned with salt, pepper and butter, or rare little chops of lamb, are always excellent tonics, as well as complexion tinters.

Very often a lack of beauty is nothing more than a lack of proper nourishment. The best cure in the world for a haggard, wan, white face is a proper understanding of good foods. Sometimes a tonic of iron is needed to brace the wearied physical state. Cod liver oil, which is so very disagreeable to most people, is the sure cure for the girl whose extreme slenderness causes her to lie awake nights to fret and worry. But when the oil is prepared with malt it is even better, and also less trying to swallow. A combination of malt and hypo-phosphates is excellent too, and will bring back the fire of energy to the eye, and the roses to the cheeks. A dessertspoonful taken before meals will stimulate and strengthen, and get the tired body into a better state to resist the wear and tear of ill health or overwork.

One beautiful woman of my acquaintance declares that the secret of her radiant looks is simply lettuce and olive oil. She eats lettuce summer and winter, and this queer complexion cure has certainly worked like a charm in her case. She buys the crisp young head lettuce, being careful to use only the inner leaves. Over this she pours two tablespoonfuls of the best olive oil and the very slightest dash of vinegar. Salt and the least wee bit of sugar finish the salad. The good qualities of lettuce are usually destroyed by rich, mustardy dressings, that breed acute dyspepsia and desperate despair over good looks. But olive oil and lettuce is as good a combination for rugged health and a fair face as one can find in a year's search from Cape Horn to the Yukon. Others besides the lovely lady of whom I speak have found it so. The secret, though, is, I fancy, in the olive oil, which is an excellent aperient.

A complexion-destroying habit is that of eating late lunches just before going to bed. An apple or an orange is a benefit—as is also plenty of cold, distilled water—but when it comes to gnawing chicken bones, devouring big slabs of rich cake or finishing up a dish of leftover salad, then is the time that kind relatives or guardians should step in, say a word and take a hand. The girl should be saved from herself at almost any expense.

Fruit is a panacea for many complexion ills. What a pity, then, that blind womankind persists in dabbing things on her nose instead of putting healthful, purifying beauty food into her stomach.

There is no reason in the world why fruit should be considered a luxury. It should be used as a staple article of diet. Surely that must have been the original intention. But alas, how many housewives will pay forty cents for a can of lobster that will upset stomachs, frazzle pleasant tempers, cause all sorts of complexion horrors and bring a perfect comet trail of nightmares and dyspepsia! And these same women will wrap themselves in a sanctimonious mantle of economy when the woman next door pays the same sum for a dozen great juicy oranges.

Grapes and apples are among the most nutritious fruits, and there is nothing in the world so good for a skin of oily surface or yellow hue as a grape diet. Besides, grapes are extremely appetizing, are very easily digested and are sure to agree with even the most delicate stomach. Ripe peaches have nearly all the merits of the grape, and, if in proper condition, are also quite unlikely to bring about indigestion or stomach disorders.

There has never yet been concocted a better spring tonic than strawberries. The reason why they are particularly excellent to enrich and purify the blood is because they contain a larger percentage of iron than any other fruit. It is a shame ever to embarrass and humiliate the luscious things by imprisoning them in the indigestible layers of a shortcake. A fluff of pure powdered sugar and a dash of whipped cream and you have a toothsome dish fit for the most finicky god that ever graced Olympia's pleasant realms.

The woman who has a dingy, muddy skin must pin her faith to oranges, lemons and limes. These are simply unrivaled as complexion clearers. The juice of the grape fruit is fine, too. Fruits of this class stimulate and make active the digestive organs, which, as you probably know, are the main seat of nearly all complexion ills. A breakfast of oranges and strawberries will do more toward making you a pretty, wholesome, healthy woman than almost anything else.

To be perfectly wholesome, fruit with firm flesh, like plums or apples or cherries, must be thoroughly masticated. The skin of raw fruit should under no circumstances be eaten. It is covered invariably with multitudes of minute germs which always swarm upon the surface of the fruit and multiply rapidly under favorable conditions of warmth. Before eating grapes or cherries all dust and impurities must be removed by careful washing in several waters.

But to sum up the entire question of diet, eat what you know will agree with you, and choose the blood-making, nourishing foods. Let fruit and vegetables predominate in your meals, but do not avoid meats entirely. Cake is not harmful unless very rich, but greasy pastries—like pies and tarts and things of that sort—are simply utterly, hopelessly impossible! Fats make the skin oily and coarse, pastries produce pimples and blackheads faster than you can doctor them away, and too much sweets will have about the same effect. Instead of buying candies, save your money and acquire a fine complexion along with a bank account. It will pay in the end.



SLEEP.

"What a delightful thing rest is! The bed has become a place of luxury to me. I would not exchange it for all the thrones in the world."—Napoleon I.

If womankind half realized the beauty benefits of plenty of restful, refreshing sleep, all femininity would be crawling into bed at sunset. I've often wondered why the great sisterhood that is praying and working and fretting for physical loveliness does not understand that more real help comes from rational, hygienic living than can be squeezed out of all the cosmetic jars that ever enticed weak feminine hearts.

Beauty sleep! Why, we've heard of it since the long-ago days when our blessed mothers sung it, lullaby-fashion, into our ears! As little girls it brightened the "sand-man" hour and made us go contentedly to bed. As women it should rightly continue its good work, and the dear Lord knows we need it more now than we did then, for—perhaps—the crow's feet have begun to show their ugly little tracks and the fine complexion of early girlhood is losing its luster and brightness, and is growing a bit dull and yellowed—like a leaf first touched with the autumn chill.

Perhaps you won't believe it, but there are right ways of sleeping and wrong ways as well. The girl who curls up like a shrimp is the one who will be writing to me in a great flurry and worry, telling me that her shoulders are round, and that she simply can't make them nice and square as they should be for the new tailor-made that is to transform her into a happy little Easter girl! The woman who is horrified to find wrinkles appearing like wee birds of omen does not have to tell me that she is a pillow fiend and sleeps with her head half a foot higher than her heels. It stands to reason that a pillow will push the flesh of the face up into little lines. There is no necessity for pillows at all, and girls don't need them for comfort any more than a little puppy dog needs patent leathers or overshoes. The bed should be hard and perfectly flat, with springs that do not sag or give and let the poor sleeper roll down in the middle in a jumbled-up heap. A hair mattress is the best for health and comfort, but others will do nicely if they are only perfectly flat and not too soft.

The first thing to do, then, is to dispense with the pillow. If this change cannot be accomplished all at once, then let your pillow be gradually made smaller and smaller until none at all is desired. Your sleep will be much better, and after the habit is once formed a pillow is looked upon with derision. I know foolish mothers who put their children to sleep on pillows as big as a school-girl's love for caramels, and the poor babies tumble and toss, and the next morning those mothers dose them for a pain in the "tum-tum." Alack-a-day! Babies don't need pillows—unless it be those little soft cushions of down that are as flat as pancakes.

But to return from babies to beauty. If your sleep is restless and you awaken with a dull headache and the feeling of weariness that makes you want to begin the night over again so as to get refreshed, you may be sure that something is wrong—either you are worried or troubled or are working too hard for your own good. Perhaps your digestion is out of order, or the room is not properly ventilated. It may be any of these things that keep you from getting the rest that is really so very necessary for health and comfort and good looks.

Heavy bedding is also distressing, and as good a maker of nightmares as deviled crabs or plum pudding. Light blankets make the best covering. Let the window be open at top and bottom, so as to have perfect ventilation. Don't eat an indigestible lunch before retiring; this is the greatest of all beauty follies. Lie on the abdomen, with your hands at your sides. This position will keep your shoulders back, will give you a good figure and a better carriage. When you have followed these directions and still find that you spend most of the night crawling around over your bed vainly seeking a comfortable and restful spot, then you can make up your mind that you need a good tonic and a doctor's counsel, for your nerves or your digestive organs are not as they should be.

To sum it all up in a nutshell: You must sleep well, and you must sleep a great deal if you wish to be the "woman beautiful." Sitting up late at night will cause grey hair as will nothing else. It makes those dark circles about the eyes, and causes the "windows of the soul," to lose half their luster and softness and beauty. Who ever saw a pretty woman with dull, lifeless eyes? She wouldn't be pretty were she so afflicted. By sleeping properly, the body is kept stronger and fresher, and thus the complexion is benefited greatly. Wrinkles do not come so soon, the skin does not take on that muddy, yellow hue as it would otherwise, and cheeks are pink and rosy with that greatest of all rouges—Health.

There's a heap of truth in all this. If you do not believe it, then give up late hours—be they for study or pleasure—and see if the problem won't work itself out nicely with you. I think it will. In fact, I am really quite sure of it.



EXERCISE

"Better to hunt in fields for health unbought Then fee the doctor for a nauseous draught The wise for cure on exercise depend; God never made His work for man to mend."

—Dryden.

It would have done your heart good to see her.

She came into the room with the briskness of a March flurry of snow. Her cheeks were poppy-red, her eyes sparkled with the mere joy of living. And she chuckled happily as she tucked back the curly scolding locks that were flying about, all helter-skelter, like feathers unloosed or fluffy chicks blowing away from the mother wing.

"Isn't it jolly?" she chirped, as she threw her muff on the floor and made a dive for Peter Jackson. Peter Jackson is a cat, as black as the ace of spades and as pugilistic a feline as ever walked a fence.

"Isn't what jolly?" I queried. "The weather or your sprightly self? Do you know, you'd make a splendid poster now for some new-fangled cork-soled walking shoe? Or perhaps a bearskin ulster for Klondike wear. I'm sure a feather boa concern would pay a fortune for your picture. I would I were an artist man, with a little brush and a little pencil and a little palette with nice little paint puddles on it——"

"What-in-the-world? Here I start in to dilate upon the joys of exercise and off you go, just like a musical top with your buzz-buzz-buzz, and your incomprehensible talk about little painters and little palettes and little paint puddles. I'm sure it's not a bit nice of you."

Peter Jackson was shoved to the floor.

"But walking is jolly!" she piped, "and I've just had the very gloriousest tramp and I feel as fine as a—what is it they say? Oh, as fine as a violin—I—I mean fiddle. I walked miles and miles—perhaps not quite so far—and the wind was blowing a blue streak right in my face. Ugh! first it made me shiver and creep up into my collar. But bimeby I got nice and warmy, and my cheeks tingled. I felt as if I could walk from here to the place where the sun goes down. Do you know, I never before realized how much fun it was to take a good tramp. I've half a mind to reform from my role of lazy-bones and walk every day, whether it snows, blows, cyclones, or turns warm, and fells us all with sunstrokes and heat prostrations."

"Health is the vital principle of bliss, and exercise of health," said I, quoting Thomson.

"Oh, well," and my pretty, rosy-cheeked guest arose. "I must be going. You know how it is when one gets to preaching physical culture and spouting poetry. Ta-ta!" and away she went, like the fleeting memory of last night's dream.

* * * * *

If women paid as much attention to exercise as do men there would not be so many wrinkles and stooped shoulders among the feminine sex, and old age wouldn't rap on the door ahead of time. The girl who goes in for outdoor sport, who isn't afraid of walking a block or two, who loves the cold air and who revels in wheeling and swimming and skating, is the one who won't be an old woman in appearance while she is still young in years. Keep the muscles firm and healthy by exercise. This will not only improve your carriage and add to your general development, but will aid the digestive organs in their work and keep you animated and cheery. Who of us does not know the inspiration of a walk in the open air after a few days spent in the close atmosphere of the house? Fresh air is the elixir of life. We can't have too much of it, and—oh, my girls—think of the exceeding cheapness of it! It can be got for the asking, which is more than one can say for the various beauty pomades and lotions that beckon us toward poverty.

Walking and skating are the best exercises during the winter, but all kinds of exercises are acceptable, providing they are gone about in the proper manner. It is easy enough to see why thorough and regular exercise is absolutely necessary to health.

We all know—at least, we all should know—that the general size of the human body depends on muscular development. The same bony frame which makes a slim-jim girl that tips the scales at seventy-five pounds can be padded with good solid flesh until it boasts of a triple chin, fingers like wee roly-poly puddings, and a full 200 pounds in weight. The framework of the body counts little toward size.

The muscles are like the various bits of machinery which go to make up a steam engine. In performing their work they produce heat and motion. The fuel which supplies this force is taken into the body as food, prepared for use in the intestinal tract, and from there carried by the blood to be stored up in the muscles and various tissues as latent force. Through the circulation of the blood the whole body is heated by muscular exercise. It stands to reason that continual exercise of a certain kind will develop certain muscles. For instance, there's the arm of the blacksmith or the firmly developed legs of the danseuse. The same muscle that grows when used within certain limits will waste away when deprived of proper exercise.

In physical culture the object is the symmetrical development of all the muscles, not one at the expense of the other. So, for that reason, don't pin your faith to dumb-bells and Indian clubs and neglect more necessary exercise. If you do you will in time find yourself possessed of big Sandow arms that will make the rest of you look as spindle-like as a last year's golden-rod stalk.

Walking is as good a form of exercise as anything yet discovered. But walking as most girls and women walk won't do you one bit of good. You might just as well spend your time trying to count 700 backward or while away the hours talking 1880 fashions with the woman next door, for all the health or happiness or physical development that you will get out of it.

Corsets and bands and belts must be done away with. You must have full, free use of your lungs. Then, don't wear heavy petti-coats that will retard the free movements of your legs and make your hips ache with their tiresome weight. Dress warmly but as lightly as possible.

Above everything else don't stick your fingertips into a muff and waddle along like a little duck in sealskin and purple velvet trimmings. Your arms must swing easily at your sides. Thus equipped walking should not be a task, but a great, big, lovely joy, no matter if the frost does nip your nice little nose and make your cheeks feel as if they had been starched, dried, ironed and hung on the line to air.

English women who come to America can tell us a thing or two about long walks. Only the other day a pretty Englishwoman with a complexion like apple blossoms casually divulged the information that a walk of ten or fifteen miles was an old, old story to her. So, when I say that three miles a day—the three miles ought really to be covered inside an hour—is not a bit too much to give one's muscles the necessary exercise, I hope you won't lean back in your chair and gracefully expire. Some of you will gasp, no doubt, for a walk of five blocks to a suburban station is usually looked upon as a heroic martyrdom to circumstances and environments.

Alas, for woman's fickleness! And alas, for her playful habit of going to extremes! Suppose, for instance, that Polly Jones says she is going to take a nice long walk every day of her life; that she knows the bountiful blessings and benefits of a brisk tramp, and that she will take that tramp in spite of obstacles as big as the Auditorium or as immense as her longing for a cherry-colored silk petticoat.

The first day—and, mind you, she has not walked a mile for weeks, the lazy girl—she covers five miles in an hour and ten minutes.

And when she comes home she's such a wreck that the whole family is up in arms in a jiffy, and whisk out the tomahawks ready for war. That's the end of Polly Jones' pedestrian exercises.

And Daisy Brown. She does quite the same thing, only not so violently. The first day she walks four miles, the next two, and then comes a trip around the corner to get arnica and liniments for her poor, aching bones. Thus also terminates Daisy's stern resolution to take daily constitutionals.

But the wise woman. Daisy's and Polly's methods are not hers. Far from it! When she begins to walk for health and beauty she dons loose, comfortable clothes, and with swinging arms and head well back, strides along briskly and easily. Her first day's walk is scarcely a mile. The second tramp is longer; and gradually the distance is increased until the three miles are covered in about fifty minutes.

The wise woman does not take her exercise in the afternoon, but in the morning, an hour or so after breakfast, when the day is young and everything seems bright and hopeful and cheery. Then it is that the babies are out in their go-carts and carriages, and the "chillens" are trooping to school. It's heaps pleasanter than an afternoon walk when one has more of the worries and events of the day on one's mind.



It is the regularity of exercise—and living, in fact—that brings the best results. A stated time for baths, meals, rests and walks is the proper plan for those fortunate ones who are not rushed into a condition of decrepit antiquity trying to do fourteen different tasks in thirteen small, limited minutes. Some of us, the very busy ones, cannot have the necessary rests during the day, but baths and exercise can usually be arranged and carried out. They should be, for they are of more vital import than most of us realize.

Running is splendid exercise, but we city folk have few opportunities for exhilarating fun of that sort. A woman sprinting for a cable car might quite as well be a trained bear in a pink mosquito netting petticoat for the sensation and giggles she creates. With a bonnet perched over one ear or dangling dizzily from an escaping empire knot she is neither a dignified nor an inspiring picture.

So it's quite as well all around to run in one's own room. In fact, the best way to run is to run in one small spot and not go ahead. That sounds befuddled, but it is easily explained. Get into loose clothes, throw open the window, place your hands on your hips and go through the movements of running. It is best to be in stocking feet or light slippers, else that odious woman in the flat below may knock on the steam pipe as a signal for peace and quiet.

After fifteen minutes of mock running take an invigorating, tepid sponge bath with just a dash of benzoin in the water. After that comes vigorous friction with a rough towel. Then take a nap if you can spare the time. Of course one must guard against exposure to cold after one is heated by the exertion of exercise.

Dancing would be one of the best of exercises were it not for the close, ill-ventilated rooms, the tight clothes, the exposed shoulders and the nervous strain which is always on hand at large social affairs.

As for skating, there is nothing better. It makes a woman feel like a new man. I say that quite consciously, as, in my opinion, to feel like a new woman—that poor, long-ridiculed creature—would be more humiliating than joyful. Don't you think so?

Horseback riding is questionable exercise. The side saddle is apt to increase the tendency to curvature of the spine, while tight corsets prevent the good that would come to the heart and lungs and digestive organs. Swimming is good, particularly for nervous, high-strung persons. And the wheel? Well, that best of all exercises—for it is the best when indulged in by the wise woman, not the crooked-back, scorching, silly—is a story in itself.



STOOPED SHOULDERS

"Her grace of motion and of look, the smooth And swimming majesty of step and tread, The symmetry of form and feature, set The soul afloat, even like delicious airs Of flute or harp."

—Milman.

Stooped shoulders is one beauty ill that is wholly unnecessary. Any girl with real brains and a little energy and will power can make herself straight and bestow upon herself a good carriage. It is entirely a matter of doing and persevering. Most of us know remedies for our small failings, but how many of us apply them persistently until a cure is brought about? Few indeed, and more's the pity.

When starting the reform always bear in mind that the chest must be held upward and outward. When this is done it is not necessary to keep the shoulders back in a forced, strained position, and so make little crowfeet in the back of your gown. The benefits of holding the chest thus are more than one—or two, either, for that matter. If practiced continually it will strengthen the lungs. It will also develop the chest and neck as no masseure of miracle-working fingers can ever hope to. Breathing exercises are also excellent.

Incorrect positions during sleep cause many stooped shoulders. The big fat pillow of our grandmother's day is the worst kind of a horror. No pillow at all is best, and after one becomes accustomed to sleeping that way it will be found much more restful and altogether comfortable. The best position for sleep is to lie face downward, with the arms straight at the sides. Of course, I am fully aware that most women sleep curled up like kittens, but they can change their ways if they will but try.

The woman with straight, good shoulders never carries her arms heaped full of bundles, for that draws them forward and makes them droop as dismally as an ostrich plume in a blizzard. Instead, the "budgets" are carried with the arms down at the sides. Neither does she clutch the back of her skirt in that bantamlike fashion practiced by the woman of less judgment. The back breadths of her new tailor-made are grasped about six inches from the belt, and held up just so that they clear the ground. Hats worn deep over the eyes are not desirable, this wise woman also knows, for however tightly they are pinned to one's back hair, they are mighty likely to keep one's body at an uncomfortable slant.

The plump woman who wears her hose supporters pinned to the front of her corsets seldom knows that the constant pulling of the elastics has a tendency to make her shoulders droop. Shoes of high heels and narrow toes are equally bad, for the wearer is plunged forward in an ungraceful and line-destroying attitude. The low-heeled, square-toed shoe—that is now in vogue—is the thing to wear, and blessed be the Lord for at last bringing womankind to a rational understanding of what she should wear on her much-abused little feet!

The tailor-made gown is serviceable as a promoter of good figures, for usually, unless one keeps one's shoulders back, the front of the bodice proceeds to lay wrinkles in itself and so spoil the good effect that women love as they do their pet jelly dishes and their Dresden teacups.

Other things to be remembered are: Always stand on the front or ball of the foot and keep the knees straight. Carry yourself so that a string extended downward from your chest would reach the floor without touching another part of the body. Do not push your head forward and do not be in a hurry so that you will waddle along like a little duckling with absolutely no grace or carriage. Dress comfortably, have your clothing well fastened, and your gown loose enough to give your lungs opportunity for the full expansion that, for the sake of your health, they should have. Make sofa cushions of your pillows and sleep always face downward, flat on the mattress. Last, but not least, don't be a woeful lady and amble along in a disconsolate, sloppy-weather fashion that is so utterly hopeless that I could never set before me the awful task of suggesting a remedy. One of the secrets of happiness and success is cheerfulness. Men and women and even babies like cheerful folk, while they will race their overshoes off trying to get away from the unhappy ones of dismal tales and many worries. Be cheerful, even though the laundress has washed your best handkerchief into a real-lace sieve, or the rains and snows of December have descended upon your best Sunday bonnet and made a pocket edition of a rag-bag thereof, or even if the gas range has blown itself and all the kitchen windows into the next block. Be cheerful at all hazards! It pays! Really it does!



BREATHING

"The common ingredients of health and long life are, Great temp'rance, open air, Easy labor, little care."

—Sir Philip Sidney.

Among the first lessons that the beauty student must learn is how to breathe properly. I know, my girls, that that sounds awfully stupid, but there are yards and acres of truth in it nevertheless, and the subject is well worth your while—you can depend upon that. Haven't you ever noticed that most of the women who have gone in for vocal culture have round, pretty waists? Almost invariably the singer is a woman of fine figure, well-poised head, firmly-set shoulders and easy carriage. And the reason is simple. She has learned from the beginning that she must breathe properly, that every breath must come from the abdomen and not from the chest, and that to breathe in that way she must hold up her chin and expand her lungs.

We often mistake carriage for fine figure. It is the woman who poises her head well and who keeps her shoulders back that attracts the eye of other women. There is something brisk and energetic and active about her that makes of her a sight good to look upon; while another woman with perhaps a much better figure will trail about with a down-in-the-mouth air and a slow, doleful gait that will give one the blues and an absence of appetite for weeks to come.

You cannot possibly breathe properly and have your shoulders stooped—at least you cannot make such a combination without a mighty big lot of discomfort. If you breathe as you should you will develop the chest and bust, give better lines to the shoulders and—unless you are naturally inclined to be plump and rotund—will make your waist become round and slender and pretty. If you doubt this, try for yourself and see.

I wish that I could impress my readers with the fact that improper breathing brings many ills. Breathing is a highly important function, and bad breathing not only produces symptoms of consumption, but makes the waist unduly large. The reason for this is that holding the chest up will keep all the internal organs in their proper places, and so not allow them to spread the waist in the unsightly way that usually denotes deficient vitality instead of the "Greek health" upon which physicians are wont to dilate. Good breathing strengthens muscles and makes the flesh firm. The reward is a perfect, round, slender figure and a trim waist.

Begin your breathing lessons in the morning just after getting out of bed, when you will have no tight skirts or bands to hinder the full expansion of the lungs. Raise every window and get all of God's blessed air that you can, and, above all things, let not this practice cease when the winds of winter blow as if from Greenland's icy mountains. The breathing exercise is all the better then. Place your hands on your hips and walk slowly across the room, your chest held upward and outward, and every breath coming deeply from the abdomen. After three trips you will find yourself pretty well tired out. Rest for a few moments and try again. The next morning make the exercises longer, and as soon as the muscles that hold your chest up become firm and strong there will be little exhaustion. Vary the exercise by standing still, taking as long a breath as possible and holding it for several seconds. This practice, indulged in for five or ten minutes every day, is most beneficial. But the main motive in all breathing exercises is to get into the habit of standing straight with the shoulders held back and the chest up. "Play" that you are trying to make your chest creep up and touch your chin.

One of the greatest injuries that come from wearing tightly laced corsets is the compression of the ribs. The unyielding steel and buckram will not permit a variation in the waist measure as a deep breath is inhaled or expelled. The proper and healthful corset is the one that expands or contracts with each respiration of its wearer, and that is why I am such an enthusiastic devotee of the corset waist with the elastic bands on either side. It matters not one bit how tight the clothing may be, so long as it is given elasticity and is yielding. This is absolutely necessary to perfect health and the proper development of a woman's figure.

With the breathing capacity increased, enlargement of the lungs and development of the chest are sure to be the results. But, be it understood, please, that this growth is not the work of a day or a week, or a month even. However, if it is continued religiously there will be a difference of five or six, or even seven, inches in your chest measure in the course of a year, to say nothing of the improvement in carriage and figure, and the health and strength that correct breathing will give.

There are a number of things to remember. The first is that one must secure breath control, the next that the best authorities condemn thoracic or upper chest breathing. Keep the chest up and out, and let the expansion be at the waist line. Inhale slowly and smoothly as much air as you can, swelling out the lower chest at the sides just below the arm pits as the air is drawn in. Hold this air five seconds. Then exhale it slowly and gradually, crushing in the ribs gently with the hands as the air goes out. During the exhalation be sure to keep the upper chest still. Do not let it sink, as it will be apt to if not restrained by an effort of the will. Exhale again and hold the breath for ten seconds, then for fifteen seconds, and finally for twenty seconds. This exercise will do for the first day. Increase the power of holding the breath by practicing regularly each day.

Be careful not to make any motion suddenly. In calisthenics of any kind the more slowly and carefully the exercise is performed the greater will be the benefit. But best of all, keep in mind that these breathing exercises are not only making you a pretty woman of pretty figure, but giving you that greatest of all beauty elixirs—health.



MASSAGE

"The love of beauty is one of the most firmly implanted qualities of the human mind, and only those who are mentally deficient fail to appreciate it. From the human standpoint there is no edifice so beautiful as that earthly temple which enshrines the soul."—Dr. Cyrus Edson.

Massage is as old as the hills. Most really good things are, I've found. The Grecian and Roman women preserved their wondrous, wholesome beauty by reveling in luxuriant baths and then undergoing vigorous massage by their stout-armed slaves. Massage is a natural alleviator and comfort-giver. The first thing a baby does when he bumps his precious head is to rub the injured spot with his little fist. Relief seems to come with friction. If one's temples hurt, the hands seem to itch and tingle to get to rubbing and smoothing out the aches there. And the reason for it is that friction makes active the nerves and blood vessels and exercises the tired or fretting muscles. Massage is exercise. If we were to cease using our arms the muscles would shrink and soon become incapable of movement. The skin outside would, of course, be affected by the general warpings of the tissues, and the result would be everything that is dreadful to the mind feminine—crow's feet, wrinkles, sallowness and lack of the tints and colors of health. You who have enjoyed the pleasures of a Turkish bath must know how new and robust and fresh you feel after the invigorating cleansing and pummeling by a strong and experienced masseuse.

We all know about the system of decay and renewing which the skin constantly undergoes. It is much the same way with the muscles. The very tiny cells of which the muscles are composed are continually being repaired. As the wornout particles are rejected the new fiber is created. Does it not stand to reason that massage will facilitate this process, make the flesh firmer, restore vigor to the muscles and give new life to the entire system?

The muscles of the face, more than those of any other part of the body, are lazy and torpid. As the troubles of life descend, the wear and tear of bothersome existence begins to show. The circulation becomes defective, and this brings flabby tissues and a wrinkled, sallow skin. Then, oh, woe! woe! One feels as if one might just as well be dead and gone as to be trailing through life so afflicted.

Massage means "I knead." While the professional masseuse should be well informed concerning the muscles of the face and neck, the location of the veins and arteries, and the general formation of the skin, the little home body who wishes to rub away a few wrinkles or turkey tracks can easily dispense with the acquiring of so much knowledge. With knowing what "not to do," she will get along very well, although it has always been my opinion that the simplest and most satisfactory way to learn to massage one's own cheeks and brow is to go to a first-class professional for one or two treatments. If you keep your eyes open you will easily learn the simplest and most effective movements.

The first thing to remember is that massage will both create and reduce flesh, according to the treatment given and the time devoted to it. Severe rubbing and rolling of the flesh between the fingers will gradually dissolve the fatty tissues. The flesh will then become soft and flabby, and the skin will be likely to fall into tiny lines unless an astringent wash, like weak alum water (used hot), is applied to tighten and harden it slightly, and so make the flesh firm. If the massage is continued, the flabby flesh will also be reduced, especially when the astringent wash is applied to help the hardening process. When the face is to be plumpened or wrinkles removed, then rub the skin very gently with a rotary motion, which is not a mere rubbing but a kneading as well, and follow with light tapping movements. Never roll the flesh between the fingers unless reduction is the object. Also, never massage oftener than once every twenty-four hours, and then only for fifteen or twenty minutes.

So much for the don'ts. Before beginning the massage have the face perfectly clean. Wash with tepid water and pure castile soap. Otherwise the dust and powder are kneaded into the pores and the result is frequently extremely irritating.

The reasons for massage are many. It facilitates and stimulates the skin in its continual effort to throw off the tiny flakes of dried, dead cuticle. It is exercise for the muscles, and at the same time it inspires a livelier circulation of the blood. It is easy to understand then why massage is so beneficial for the face, and why it makes a rosy, healthy complexion. Massage alone will remedy many a complexion ill, for when the muscles are sluggish and torpid, the tissues weak and flabby, the circulation as slow as the messenger boys in the funny papers, and the skin sallow and wrinkled, all in the world that is needed is a little gentle patting and coddling and rubbing into a less lifeless state.

Great care must be taken lest the skin become bruised and irritated. For this reason a cream or skin food is used. Let me suggest that this emollient be of the good, pure, home-made kind, not the cheap cosmetic which has mutton tallow or lard as a principal foundation. The orange flower skin food (formula appears in the chapter on the complexion) is the best formula for this purpose, as it will, by absorption, fatten and build up the impoverished tissues, and at the same time strengthen, whiten and soften the skin. Mineral oils must never be used. Glycerin not only makes the complexion darker and rather yellow, but it dries the secretions of the skin very rapidly, and a dry, harsh surface is the sure result. Vaseline—as we should know from its reputation as a hair tonic—will not prove a happiness to one.

The skin food should be rubbed in all over the face and far down upon the neck with a firm, circular movement. When the cream is partially absorbed begin the manipulations, starting at the forehead. Place the thumbs on the temples and in that way hold the skin firm and taut. With the tips of the first and second fingers of both hands rub the lines transversely. If there be wrinkles across the forehead, rub up and down, holding the skin tight at the top of the forehead with the first fingers and manipulating with the second and third.

Another movement which is excellent for wrinkles is to place the first finger of each hand crosswise of the wrinkles about half an inch apart. Then push up a little fold. As the left hand finger pushes its way along the wrinkle, let the right hand one rub up and down, always keeping the line up into a little hill.

In massaging the lines about the eyes the movement should begin by rubbing the eyelid from the nose outward half an inch beyond the end of the eye, then returning below the eye toward the nose. This will make the massage sweep back crosswise of the crow's feet. Another movement is to hold the skin taut and then knead the lines firmly with the first and second fingers of the right hand.

If the chin is fleshy and you wish to massage it down to smaller proportions, you must dissolve the fatty tissues by picking up the flesh between the thumb and forefinger and rolling and rubbing as much as you possibly can without injuring or breaking the skin. Then, in order to keep the flesh from getting flabby the rotund little chin must be bathed in cold water, in which is a small pinch of alum, a piece the size of a bean being plenty for a pint of water. This alum bath, remember, is only to be applied when you are reducing the carbon or fat.

The "kneading" movement is very beneficial. This is done very gently with the thumb and forefinger only—precisely the motion used in kneading bread. The smoothing manipulation for the wrinkles is probably better explained as an "ironing out" motion. All lines can stand these two movements. Whenever the skin seems particularly dull of color and generally lifeless, then the patting comes in excellent play. This is merely a gentle tattoo over the entire face. Electricity is an excellent accessory to massage—but that is another story.

After the massage, wet a wash cloth in water slightly chilled, and lay over the face. This will close the pores nicely. Dry and apply powder.

I trust that my beauty students will easily understand the foregoing—it is certainly a difficult topic to explain lucidly. As I said before, it is a wise plan to go to some one who thoroughly understands the art and let her teach you. While massage can be given at home, it is more satisfactory if done by a professional whose knowledge of anatomy will assist her toward the best results.



DRESS

"Be plain in dress, and sober in your diet; In short, my deary, kiss me! and be quiet."

—Lady W. Montague.

The world has its full share of silly women—more's the pity—but there is not one who can hold a candle to the girl who trots about in the cold, bleak days of winter clad in summery undergarments fit only for the warm atmosphere of a baker's oven in August. So long as these exhibitions of utter absurdity continue we cannot consistently harp upon woman's recently acquired good sense in dress. It seems more and more the fad for girls to boast that they have never worn a vulgar outfit of flannel undergarments, but it is quite observable that these same girls are the very ones who are eternally grunting and groaning and coughing and fussing. And how can they help it? You can't have good health if you keep yourself in a semi-refrigerated state. A sleeveless vest of silk is not sufficient to keep one's body warm, even though the prettiest bodice in Christendom and the swellest of "coaties" cover it. Skirts of white muslin, with pretty frills and lacey trimmings that fall in soft folds and ruffles around one's feet, are mighty dainty things for the summer girl—but is there a colder sound than that of a starched white petticoat in the dead of winter? Bur-r-rr! it gives one the cold chills to even think of it!

Who has not beheld the stunningly gowned girl stalking majestically around the shopping district in a little tailor-made jacket topped off with a fur collarette? She tells herself that she is perfectly warm and comfortable, but you and I know better, my dear, for we have seen her unhappy efforts to crawl up into this same collarette, and we have beheld her shivering misery as a good stiff gust of January wind sends her flying around a corner.

I am a firm believer in the tailor-made gown, and I am of the opinion that style often counts more than real beauty with women of stately carriage and pretty figure. But nevertheless, I believe first in keeping warm and in protecting one's health. The girl in the smart little jacket could well afford to wear a winter coat over it on the coldest days, and even then she would not swelter from the heat. Really, it is torture for a woman of common sense to go along the shopping district and see her poor, miserable sisters who let comfort fly to the four winds of heaven while they revel madly in appearances. It's all very well, my girls, to look your best. But don't make sacrifices that will injure your health. I'd rather see a woman in a last winter's coat with the seams shiny than look upon a foolish but radiant creature in a bit of a cape that would keep her about as warm as would two good-sized cobwebs stitched together. The first woman would have the advantage of displaying evidence of real brains on the inside of her head. And beauty without brains isn't real beauty at all, but a sad, shop-worn, tear-wringing imitation.

It is my opinion that in choosing underclothing for cold weather finely-woven cotton is the best of all. Silk is not durable, and wool, even of the finest quality, will often prove irritating. Besides, so many of us spend most of our time in steam-heated homes or offices that woolen garments keep one too warm. The cotton union suit makes a very desirable undergarment. This should be high-necked, long-sleeved, and made to come well down over the ankles. For the girl whose particular worry is a nose of flaming red, let me say that in fleece-lined stockings, calfskin boots and warm overshoes lies her only hope of a less flamboyant nasal appendage.

There is no need of fourteen petticoats, notwithstanding the fact that really nice old ladies insist upon wearing that number. One skirt of silk or moreen, together with a tiny short one of white muslin and a pair of sensible, warm, woolen equestrian tights will make one more comfortable and will allay that immense swelling about the hips which much be-petticoated old ladies have. The tights, however, should be worn only when one is out of doors. During really cold weather no woman with sense enough to fill a one-grain quinine capsule will venture out of the house without thus properly clothing her lower limbs. Let femininity come to the understanding that in proper dressing and rational eating she will find the first and best materials for building her house of beauty. It's all very well to wear pretty, fluffy, lace-trimmed undergarments, but if you think that a wan, white, pinched little face pays you for such extravagances in silliness, then you are a ninny. Wear the fluffy things if you will, but put on the warm ones, too. In making a choice between the raiments of a ballet dancer and those of an Eskimo lady, I'd point the finger of approval toward the latter—at least at those times when the thermometer is lounging around the zero point.



THE THIN GIRL

"Beauty gives The features perfectness, and to the form Its delicate proportions."

—Willis.

Diogenes and his lantern had an easy, simple task. If they had started out together to turn their searchlight of discovery upon a woman who was neither too fat nor too thin, no doubt they'd been poking around in other people's affairs ever since. I once heard of a woman to whom the idea of gaining or reducing flesh had never occurred, but she died before I got a chance to look at her, so of course I am rather doubtful as to the truth of the story. To my mind she should have been made president of something or other or else been put on exhibition where the rest of suffering womankind could have gone and feasted their eyes upon such an impossible paragon. If there is not a general wail about over-weight or under-weight, then it's a thin neck, or big hips, or an inclination to too much "tum-tum," or skinny arms, or cheeks like miniature pumpkins—and goodness only knows what else. And by the time one particular horror is massaged out of existence another crops up like a spook in the closet of a "fraidy-cat" girl, and then the business is begun all over again.

Therefore, say I this: Don't worry yourself into your grave about too much flesh or a lack of it unless you find yourself taking on the extreme proportions of a skeleton lady, or a museum exhibit of unusual plumpness. A thin neck may be a bad thing—as all girls so afflicted can testify—but if that thin neck is rebellious, and pays absolutely no attention to tonics or massage or other coddling for which it should rightly be grateful, then merely say, "All right, if you insist!" And turn your attention to other things. What admirer of feminine beauty would not look upon a bright mind, quick, kindly wits, and sweet lovableness as a thousand times more acceptable than a neck as round and perfect as that of a Venus?

On the other hand, let me say that, if you will merely look after your health—exercise every day, be out of doors, eat proper foods and take your daily sponge bath—you will keep your chest broad and full, and your waist trim and neat. Breathing exercises every morning are excellent for this happy condition of affairs. It is my firm belief that women could mold their bodies as they would if they only had patience and perseverance—not so much in flesh-gaining or flesh-losing, but in being wholesomely strong and healthy. This is most necessary, not only to prolong life and make it pleasanter and more livable in every way, but to be what God evidently intended—a robust, well-developed and perfectly formed woman.

Thin girls must be lazy and plump ones busy. If you work hard and have the usual load of worries that half the women lug about with them as they do their powder rags and their purses, then you may never hope to revel in a vast amount of fat. Fretters are invariably thin; they simply worry off the flesh faster than nature can create it.

When a woman is unusually slender it is her duty to get fat, not any more for the reason that she will look prettier with the angles filled out than for the reason that she will be stronger and healthier and in a better condition to resist illness and fatigue. She should have at least ten hours' sleep out of twenty-four, and this must be healthy sleep in a well-ventilated bedroom, on a hard mattress, and with no high pillows to make her stoop-shouldered and of ungainly figure. A nap during the day is a good thing if one can afford the time. Absolute freedom from care and anxiety are necessary, but—alas—we cannot always regulate the antics of fate or circumstances that deny us these sweet privileges. The diet must be of the most nourishing, and should consist mostly of food containing starch and sugar, such as good fresh butter, rich milk, cream, fruits both raw and cooked, macaroni, fish, corn, sweet potatoes, peas, beans, ice creams, desserts without pastries, and nourishing broths. Cereals, poultry, game, chocolate and sweet grapes are all excellent. Avoid all spiced, acid or very salty foods. While plenty of outdoor life is most essential, a great deal of exercise is not. If there is any internal disease, especially the slightest inclination to dyspepsia or liver trouble, one cannot possibly gain flesh until the cause of the extreme slenderness is removed. When the body is plump in one part and fails in another, either massage or a gymnastic course is advised. Dumb-bells and Indian clubs will develop the arms; massage with a fattening emollient, together with loose clothing, tepid baths and breathing exercises, will increase the size of the chest and bust, while swimming, moderate bicycling and walking are good for nearly all plaints of the thin lady.

But until these changes are brought about—and it will take lots of time—do not fret or worry. Merely wear your clothing very loose, substitute a comfortable little waist for stiff, unwieldy corsets, and see that your gowns are made full and dainty. In this last particular you will have an immense advantage over the woman who would sell the shoes off her feet to be thin and "willowy."



THE PLUMP GIRL

"What's female beauty but an air divine, Through which the mind's all-gentle graces shine? They, like the sun, irradiate all between; The body charms, because the soul is seen."

—Young.

If one had to choose between being too fat or too lean, the wise woman would certainly take the smaller allowance of flesh. Jack Sprat might incite pleasant ridicule, but Jack Sprat's wife—lo! there would be naught but pity and tears for her! It is better by far to be the butt of jokes concerning "walking shoestrings" or "perambulating umbrella cases" than to waddle through life burdened to death with an excessive amount of flesh. The thin sister can pad out the angles, put frills and puffy things over the bony places, but alas for the fat one! She gets into clothes that are skin-tight, and she draws in her corset string until it snaps and gives at every breath and sneeze, and even then she does not look graceful and pretty, for the fat—like secrets—will out, and it rolls over and around like the little bumps and humps in a pudding bag.



Yet, after all, there's more hope for her than for her sister in misery. While some thin girls might revel in cod liver oil and nearly convert themselves into a hospital storeroom of tonics and fattening foods, they can't get round and rotund—the Lord seems to will it that certain persons are to amble disconsolately through life minus the proper allotment of flesh. But with the overplump lady it all lies within herself as to whether she is to be stout and buxom or of more artistic and beautiful proportions. It is simply a matter of getting up and hustling, a condition of animation frequently foreign to her nature, but not at all impossible to even the most unwieldy.

While a certain careful routine of living is necessary for a speedy change for the better, the two main points to remember are diet and exercise. To the girl who says: "But I can't diet. I get hungry. I love sweets and goodies, and have to have them," I must reply: "Well, then, be fat." What is worth having is worth working for, and the woman who is too fat for her own comfort and personal appearance invariably has ahead of her the dreadful bogy of additional flesh as the years go on. And surely that should be enough to inspire her to mend her ways.

In beginning the change—that is, in starting out on a regular system of dieting and exercising—you should remember that the reform must be worked gradually. One must go slowly into the more healthful manner of living. The severe methods of flesh-reducing cannot be too greatly deplored, and many a woman has lost her life by these extreme measures. I do not mean that they have died at their exercisers or that they fell exhausted because they did not have enough to eat, but that in their mad efforts to become thin quickly they undermined their health and laid a good foundation for physical disorders. Good health, with too much plumpness, is preferable to beautiful proportions and the listlessness and pain of ill health. So you can follow my advice with the greatest safety, as health—to my way of thinking—is greater than beauty, for the last depends upon the first, invariably.

To-morrow, when you get up, throw on a loose, warm wrapper, and then open the window. Stand in the cool, crisp morning air, and expand your lungs a dozen times, holding your hands on your hips and raising yourself lightly on your toes. Vary this by walking across the room, taking long, full breaths from the abdomen. This practice is equally good for the thin girl, or any other kind of a girl, for that matter. After airing your lungs close the window and run into the bath-room, where you should have a quick sponge bath, rubbing the body briskly with a heavy towel. A quick alcohol rub can follow, just as one pleases. For breakfast let there be fresh uncooked fruit, especially oranges. Tea or coffee must be taken clear, as neither milk nor sugar should be indulged in by the beauty patient whose chief ambition it is to lose flesh. Toast must always be eaten instead of bread, and butter used sparingly at all times. Avoid fats, starchy cereals, flesh-producing vegetables and pastries. This is very simple, when you once make up your mind to it. Do not fancy you are thus left with nothing whatever to eat—like Mother Hubbard's unhappy dog. Meats, either cold or broiled, are good if eaten in moderation. Poultry, fish and game are all right. Asparagus, string beans, spinach and tomatoes are the most appetizing of vegetables, and in these four alone there will be sufficient variety, especially when salads of all sorts are included, although these must, of course, be taken without oil. Young onions are also excellent, as are condiments, dried fruits and acidulated drinks. A hot lemonade, taken every night, is good, but it must have little sugar, else the effects of the acid will be overbalanced.

As for exercise, walking is best of all. Running is very beneficial, but the unique witticisms of the average small boy will probably keep this form of exercise confined strictly to the house. Begin by walking half a mile for several days, then make the distance a mile, and keep increasing your daily walk until you cover at least five miles. That may sound like an impossibility, but don't you believe it, for it's not at all. In Great Britain a walk of fifteen miles is not considered half an effort, and who does not know that the English girls have the most superb complexions in the world? Besides this, they are healthy, wholesome, well-developed women, and that counts a good deal in the race for beauty. If the five-mile walk is too exhausting, then take a longer time getting to the point, when it will be exhilarating instead of enervating.

Sleep must be limited to seven hours, and daily naps are strictly tabooed. To those who prefer, mechanical massage can be given, and this will take the place of long walks, although they are really preferable, as the fresh air is necessary. Oxygen destroys or burns out carbon, and carbon is fat. The more exercise and fresh air, the more oxygen, and consequently destruction of fat by the one healthy means of remedying obesity. Soda phosphates and the various fat-reducing preparations are not desirable. The only way to cajole willowiness of body into coming in your direction is to diet and to take plenty of exercise. Do not drink much water. A little lemon juice added to it will make it less fattening.

There, now, plump lady, are your rules! Abide by them and your woes will surely disappear with a swiftness that will make you laugh.



THE WORKING GIRL

"Labor is life!—'Tis the still water faileth; Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth; Keep the watch wound, or the dark rust assaileth."

—Mrs. Frances S. Osgood.

It has often occurred to me that there are a vast number of plucky little bread-winning girls and women to whom even a tiny jar of creme marquise is a hopeless impossibility. For them is this chapter written.

In the first place, we all feel pretty sure that—in the great, wonderful beginning of things—it was never meant that women should work. We can't help knowing this when we look about us every night at six o'clock and see the weary, patient, brave little faces that line either side of the elevated trains or the crowded street cars. Women are not given to the solving of problems, so we won't go into the great "whys" or the "wherefores." That's a loss of time anyhow. But we will do heaps better than that. We will try to be hopeful and cheery, and learn how to make the best of the little happinesses that do come our way.

The working girl—and we all take off our hats to her pluck—needs more than any other class of womankind to take care of her health. She is out in all kinds of weather, she works hard, and ofttimes struggles through a daily routine that is harrowing beyond everything. After hours there is mending to be done, or a thousand and one little duties to keep her busy until, tired out and nerve-weary, she goes to bed to gain rest and strength for the struggles of the morrow. She cannot afford the little luxuries of the toilet that are so dear and near to the heart of womankind the world over. The joys of having her hair "done" or her pretty cheeks massaged are not hers—and the pity of it is that often enough the fault lies not within herself, but in the unhappy circumstances of fate that have placed her among the less fortunate sisterhood.

Let a large bar of castile soap be the working girl's first investment. I say a "large" bar for the reason that it is much cheaper when bought that way. A good-sized piece of the pure white castile can be bought at some of the drug stores for fifteen or twenty cents. This should be cut into small cakes and put on a high shelf, where it will become dry and hard and so it will be more lasting. With plenty of warm water, a few good wash-rags and this pure soap you will have a beauty outfit that will be more beneficial than all the rouges and eyebrow pencils that were ever put into the windows of beauty shops.

The bath should be daily. Now do not say that you have not the time, for the sponge bath—which will make the blood tingle and the flesh glow—can be got through with in almost no time. It is most imperative that the secretions of the skin and the dust gathered during the day should be removed. When the body is not kept scrupulously clean the complexion is sure to suffer, for there the pores of the skin are most susceptible, and eruptions and blackheads come from very slight causes. When the hands become rough and tender, and will not stand soap, prepare a little almond meal. This, too, is very inexpensive, for, instead of the powdered almonds, you can use the pressed almond cake, which is nearly as good and very cheap, and in place of the orris root wheat flour can be used. Take three ounces of the first and seven of the latter. If you can afford it, add a little powdered talcum. A cream for the face and hands, and one which can be used with perfect safety, is benzoinated mutton tallow. This is simply the best mutton tallow to which benzoin has been added, and both ingredients kept at a steady heat until the alcohol of the benzoin has been completely evaporated.

About the hair: The greatest secret of luxuriant locks is absolute cleanliness. There are many women who vainly fancy that they keep their pretty locks perfectly clean, when they really do not at all. Only plenty of running water can thoroughly rinse the soap or shampoo out. If the hair is at all sticky, or if a slight oily substance adheres to the comb, then the hair is not clean. (And let me say right here, combs and brushes too must be kept as scrupulously clean as the hair itself.) Castile soap makes the best shampoo in the world, especially when a little piece is dissolved in warm water and a tiny bit of ammonia or alcohol added, although for dry hair neither the alcohol nor ammonia is at all necessary. If a tonic is needed, then use the sage tea, which, however, must not be put on light, blond tresses. Common kerosene, if one can endure the odor, is an unsurpassed remedy for falling hair. Rubbing the scalp every night with the finger tips until the flesh tingles and glows is a most inexpensive way of stimulating the circulation, and frequently makes the hair grow long and nice and fine.

What one eats plays such a leading part in the beauty-getting efforts—but I have but little space left now to tell about that. Summed up in a nutshell, it is this: Eat very little pastry, and shun greasy foods or fat meats, like pork or bacon. Pin your faith to vegetables and fruit. A luncheon of two apples is of greater nourishment, and more, real value to good looks, than a repast of mince pie and coffee—two unspeakable horrors to any one who regards health and beauty as worth the having or the striving for.

As for the dress, I could write a seven volume treatise on that. It sounds prosy, I know, and very stupid, but let me tell you that it is the wise girl who buys for comfort, utility and wear, instead of style and elaborateness. A plain little fedora, if well brushed, makes a trimmer, neater appearance than a cheap velvet hat ornamented with feathers that have straightened out and flowers that have long since lost their glory in the rains and storms of autumn time. It is the same way with shoes and gloves. If one can possibly afford it, calfskin boots and heavy gloves should always be purchased. They will not only outwear two or three pairs of the lighter, less durable kind, but they will give warmth and comfort and a well-groomed look as well.



THE NERVOUS ONE

"The beautiful seems right by force of beauty; and the feeble wrong because of weakness."—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Of all the unfortunates on the face of the globe there is none so worthy of real all-wool pity and yard-wide sympathy as the woman of nerves. Yes, and her family needs a dash of consolation, too. One nervous woman can create more nervousness among other women than could a cageful of mice or a colony of cows suddenly let loose. It is not for herself that the fuss-budget should mend her ways, but for the great good of humanity at large.

We are all of us more or less nervous, and it is really interesting to observe what strange outlets woman's natural nervousness chooses.

"I'd walk from Hyde Park to the city hall at midnight and never be a bit scared. But let me stay in the flat alone after dark and I'm in a state of terror that would make you weep were you to behold me," confesses nervous lady No. 1.

"I have nerves of iron," pipes up nervous lady No. 2. "Except when there is a thunderstorm. Then I wish I were as dead as Julius Caesar."

"Well!" drawls nervous lady No. 3. "I don't believe in ghosts at all, but I'm scared to death of 'em. Sometimes I not only keep the gas burning all night, but I sit up in bed so as to be right ready to run away from 'em."

Some people have contempt for the nervous ones. I have only pity. Any one who has gone through the tortures of hearing imaginary burglars three nights in the week for ten or twelve years on an endless stretch needs consolation and then a good, straight talk on the beautiful convenience of horse sense. Most women are always hearing burglars. Probably one in a thousand turns out to be a real, live housebreaker. Whenever the wise woman hears one fussing with the lock on the front door or trying to squeeze into the pantry window, she just says: "Same old burglar. He'll be gone in the morning," and he always is. That's a heap better plan than arousing the household and suffering the unmerciful torture that a family given to ridicule can inflict.

I heard a woman say the other day that she never knew what it was to be nervous until a certain ragman began to take pedestrian exercises up and down the alley back of her house. He carries a canvas bag over his shoulder, and he yells "Eny ol' racks" until that woman locks herself in a closet and stuffs sofa cushions into her ears. His "Eny ol' racks" has got on her nerves so that she is simply beside herself until that man takes himself and his yell out of hearing distance. To be sure, he yells through his nose, but why in the world that woman should make herself miserable about something she can't possibly help is a double-turreted mystery to me. The thing for her to do is to sit down placidly on the back porch and make up her mind that the ragman is not going to upset the tranquillity of her existence; that he hasn't any right to interfere with her happiness, and that she isn't going to be fool enough to let him. I'll wager a peseta against a gum drop that she could do it, too, and without half an effort, if she would only once be consistent and determined.

There is no use in beating about the bush. I feel sorry for the nervous woman at all times and every day in the week, but there's no chance of a doubt that the nervous woman is mentally unbalanced for want of courage and lack of will power. Some place, way back in the far corners of her intellect, there are numerous little sore spots that need the healing tonic of level-headedness and the bravery of belief in her own strength. Those wise gentlemen of pellets and pills tell us that when there is a defect in the structure of the nervous system, some certain region of cells not well flushed with blood is usually at the bottom of the infirmity. The cure, they say, is discipline and training, good food, exercise and plenty of sleep and good fresh air.



Sunlight is a glorious medicine for the woman of nerves. If I had a nervous fuss-budget under my care, the first thing I would do would be to feed her well. I'd give her nourishing broths and daintily-served vegetables, and little steaks and chops and plenty of fattening cereals and drinks. I would bundle her off to the parks every morning with sealed orders not to come back until she was dead tired and as hungry as a small girl at a boarding school. I would impress upon her mind the great need of throwing worry to the winds and taking in good, long breaths of God's blessed fresh air. Then, after feeding her some more, I'd make her take a nice, refreshing sponge bath and tumble early into bed. After several days of such treatment I'd corner her where she couldn't get away and lay down the laws.

"Now it's just with yourself," the lecture would begin with, "whether you are to be a jolly-hearted, wholesome-looking woman or a tailor-made gown with a bundle of nerves inside of it. No matter what comes, don't make yourself wretched by fretting. Every one has troubles. You can't escape them. Sometimes they come with a sweep-like tornadoes gone mad, and you'll say to yourself: 'My heavens! I wonder if I'll live through it all?' But you will, and between you and me, my dear, it's just as well to come out of the battle with a smiling face as with eight additional crow's feet and a new scolding lock of gray hair. Just say to yourself: 'I will not grind my teeth because the man next to me in the street car is chewing a toothpick. I am not responsible for his lack of manners. I positively refuse to have fits because the woman in the flat next to mine plays the flute eight hours a day. If it's convenient I'll move; if it isn't I'll not make existence a daylight nightmare.'

"School yourself!" I will continue. "Get lots of starch in you and a backbone that is a backbone! Don't fall down in a heap and mope over things you can't help. The agreeable things in life are as rare as sage-brush growing in Gotham, while the disagreeable is bobbing up eternally. So brace up, my friend, and make the best of it. Discipline yourself. Keep your mind fresh and bright, and your body strong and healthy. If you have hard work to do then do it with the least possible expenditure of worry and nerve-force. Be in the open air as much as you can, and above everything else dwell not on the unhealthy state of your nerves. Let self-mastery be your shibboleth and 'no nerves' your prayer."



PERFUMES

"Oh, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem, By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem, For that sweet odor which doth in it live."

—Shakespeare.

Women love delicate perfumes as they do silk stockings and violets. It's just "born in 'em," like their deep-rooted horror of mice and bills and burglars. From the time when the baby girl sniffs the sweetness of the powder puff as it fluffs about her soft, pretty neck until the white-haired lady lovingly fondles the lavender sachets that lie between the folds of her time-yellowed wedding gown, she loves sweet odors.

The true gentlewoman never uses strong perfumes, yet her hats and clothing and handkerchiefs always send forth a faint scent of fragrant flowers. The odor is so very slight that it does not suggest the dashing on of perfume, but, instead, bespeaks scrupulous cleanliness of body and garments, with perhaps an added suggestion of the soft winds that blow over a clover field. No perfume at all is far better than too much, for who does not look with suspicious eyes upon the woman who, when passing one on the street, seems to be in an invisible vapor of white rose or jockey club—strong enough to work on the streets?

There is a secret about it all, and such a simple one! It is merely choosing one particular odor and using it in every possible way. There is nothing sweeter than violet perfume, so suppose I illustrate with that? Begin by using orris root for your teeth, combined, of course, with the other necessary ingredients. Then, if you can afford it, get the expensive imported violet soaps, although as a matter of beautifying there is nothing better than the pure white castile. The odor of this, disliked by some, can be entirely done away with by using a little violet toilet water in the bath and touching the ear lobes with it afterward.

Then, between the folds of your gowns and in the crowns of your hats lay little violet sachets, always removing them before the gown or hat is worn, as the perfume must be faint and delicate. A few drops of essence of violet will scent your face powder, if it is not already perfumed, and bath bags of orris—and other good things—will add to your galaxy of sweet odors. If you use creme marquise or any of the other delightful cosmetics told about in our beauty book, add a little essence of violets to them while they are being mixed. Putting it all in a nutshell: Simply choose your favorite perfume and carry it out in every detail. For those who are fond of violet I will give the following recipes:

Creme de la Violettes: Place in a porcelain kettle one ounce each of white wax and spermaceti, cut in fine shavings. When melted add to this five ounces oil of sweet almonds and heat, but do not let boil. Remove from fire and pour in quickly one and one-half ounces of rose-water in which ten grains of borax has been dissolved. Beat briskly. When beginning to thicken, add one-half teaspoonful essence of violets. When nearly cold put in little jars. Use as cold cream or any general face cosmetic. It is more effective when applied at night, just after the face is bathed in warm water and while the flesh is pink and moist.

Perfume—Violettes de Bois:

Essence of violets, five ounces. Essence of acacia, one ounce. Essence of rose, one ounce. Extract of iris root, one ounce. Oil of bitter almonds, five drops.

Violet Lotion:

Alcohol, four ounces. Ammonia, one ounce. Essence of violets, one dram.

Add one teaspoonful of this to a bowl of water when bathing the face, neck and arms. Hard water is the cause of many bad complexions, and this will remedy that particular trouble of the beauty-seeker.

Poudre de Vicomtesse:

Talcum powder, seven and one-half ounces. Finest starch, one and one-fourth ounces. Powdered orris root, one and one-fourth ounces. Oil of orris, ten drops.

Violet Bath Bags:

Two pounds of finely ground oatmeal. Three ounces of almond flour. One cake of best white castile soap, shaved fine. One-quarter pound powdered orris root.

Take one yard of cheese cloth and make it into little bags about four inches square and fill with the mixture. These will make a soft white lather, and afterward the face, neck and arms should be rinsed in water containing a few drops of benzoin. Larger bags can be made for the regular bath.

For the Teeth:

One-fourth pound of prepared chalk, finely powdered. Three-fourths ounce pulverized castile soap. One ounce powdered orris root. One-half dram oil of sassafras. One ounce pulverized sugar.

Violet Sachet:

Black currant leaves, powdered, one-fourth pound. Rose leaves, one-fourth pound. Cassia buds, one-eighth pound. Orris, ground, one-half pound. Gum benzoin, one-eighth pound. Grain musk, powdered, one-fourth dram. Mix thoroughly and let stand for one week.

Violet Toilet Water:

Essence of violet, one and three-fourth ounces. Essence of rose, one-half ounce. Essence of cassie, one-half ounce. Alcohol, 14 ounces.

THE END