where she and her daughters intended passing their summer. Her
answer struck me as being characteristic enough to quote: "We
should much prefer," she said, "returning to Bar Harbor, for we all
enjoy that place and have many friends there. But the truth is, my
daughters have bought themselves very little in the way of toilet
this year, as our finances are not in a flourishing condition. So
my poor girls will be obliged to make their last year's dresses do
for another season. Under these circumstances, it is out of the
question for us to return a second summer to the same place."

I do not know how this anecdote strikes my readers. It made me
thoughtful and sad to think that, in a family of intelligent and
practical women, such a reason should be considered sufficient to
outweigh enjoyment, social relations, even health, and allowed to
change the plans of an entire family.

As American women are so fond of copying English ways they should
be willing to take a few lessons on the subject of raiment from
across the water. As this is not intended to be a dissertation on
"How to Dress Well on Nothing a Year," and as I feel the greatest
diffidence in approaching a subject of which I know absolutely
nothing, it will be better to sheer off from these reefs and
quicksands. Every one who reads these lines will know perfectly
well what is meant, when reference is made to the good sense and
practical utility of English women's dress.

What disgusts and angers me (when my way takes me into our surface
or elevated cars or into ferry boats and local trains) is the utter
dissonance between the outfit of most of the women I meet and their
position and occupation. So universal is this, that it might