My young friend, Cora Lee, was a gay, dashing girl, fond of dress,and looking always as if, to use a common saying, just out of abandbox. Cora was a belle, of course, and had many admirers. Amongthe number of these, was a young man named Edward Douglass, who wasthe very "pink" of neatness in all matters pertaining to dress, andexceedingly particular in his observance of the little proprietiesof life.
I saw, from the first, that if Douglass pressed his suit, Cora'sheart would be an easy conquest, and so it proved.
"How admirably they are fitted for each other!" I remarked to myhusband, on the night of their wedding. "Their tastes are similar,and their habits so much alike, that no violence will be done to thefeelings of either in the more intimate associations that marriagebrings. Both are neat in person and orderly by instinct, and bothhave good principles."
"From all present appearances, the match will be a good one,"replied my husband. There was, I thought, something like reservationin his tone.
"Do you really think so?" I said, a little ironically, for Mr.Smith's approval of the marriage was hardly warm enough to suit myfancy.
"Oh, certainly! Why not?" he replied.
I felt a little fretted at my husband's mode of speaking, but madeno further remark on the subject. He is never very enthusiastic norsanguine, and did not mean, in this instance, to doubt the fitnessof the parties for happiness in the marriage state--as I halfimagined. For myself, I warmly approved of my friend's choice, andcalled her husband a lucky man to secure, for his companion throughlife, a woman so admirably fitted to make one like him happy. But avisit which I paid to Cora one day about six weeks after thehoneymoon had expired, lessened my enthusiasm on the subject, andawoke some unpleasant doubts. It happened that I called soon afterbreakfast. Cora met me in the parlour, looking like a very fright.She wore a soiled and rumpled morning wrapper; her hair was inpapers; and she had on dirty stockings, and a pair of old slippersdown at the heels.
"Bless me, Cora!" said I. "What is the matter? Have you been sick?"
"No. Why do you ask? Is my dishabille rather on the extreme?"
"Candidly, I think it is, Cora," was my frank answer.
"Oh, well! No matter," she carelessly replied, "my fortune's made."
"I don't clearly understand you," said I.
"I'm married, you know."
"Yes; I am aware of that fact."
"No need of being so particular in dress now."
"Why not?"
"Didn't I just say?" replied Cora. "My fortune's made. I've got ahusband."
Beneath an air of jesting, was apparent the real earnestness of myfriend.
"You dressed with a careful regard to taste and neatness, in orderto win Edward's love?" said I.
"Certainly I did."
"And should you not do the same in order to retain it?"
"Why, Mrs. Smith! Do you think my husband's affection goes no deeperthan my dress? I should be very sorry indeed to think that. He lovesme for myself."
"No doubt of that in the world, Cora. But remember that he cannotsee what is in your mind except by what you do or say. If he admiresyour taste, for instance, it is not from any abstract appreciationthereof, but because the taste manifests itself in what you do. And,depend upon it, he will find it a very hard matter to approve andadmire your correct taste in dress, for instance, when you appearbefore him, day after day, in your present unattractive attire. Ifyou do not dress well for your husband's eyes, for whose eyes, pray,do you dress? You are as neat when abroad as you were before yourmarriage."
"As to that, Mrs. Smith, common decency requires me to dress wellwhen I go upon the street or into company, to say nothing of thepride one naturally feels in looking well."
"And does not the same common decency and natural pride argue asstrongly in favour of your dressing well at home, and for the eye ofyour husband, whose approval and whose admiration must be dearer toyou than the approval and admiration of the whole world?"
"But he doesn't want to see me rigged out in silks and satins allthe time. A pretty bill my dressmaker would have against him! Edwardhas more sense than that, I flatter myself."
"Street or ball-room attire is one thing, Cora, and becoming homeapparel another. We look for both in their places."
Thus I argued with the thoughtless young wife, but my words made noimpression. When abroad, she dressed with exquisite taste, and waslovely to look upon; but at home, she was careless and slovenly, andmade it almost impossible for those who saw her to realize that shewas the brilliant beauty they had met in company but a short timebefore. But even this did not last long. I noticed, after a fewmonths, that the habits of home were confirming themselves, andbecoming apparent abroad. Her "fortune was made," and why should shenow waste time or employ her thoughts about matters of personalappearance?
The habits of Mr. Douglass, on the contrary, did not change. He wasas orderly as before, and dressed with the same regard to neatness.He never appeared at the breakfast-table in the morning withoutbeing shaved; nor did he lounge about in the evening in hisshirt-sleeves. The slovenly habits into which Cora had fallenannoyed him seriously; and still more so, when her carelessnessabout her appearance began to manifest itself abroad as well as athome. When he hinted any thing on the subject, she did not hesitateto reply, in a jesting manner, that her fortune was made, and sheneed not trouble herself any longer about how she looked.
Douglass did not feel very much complimented; but as he had hisshare of good sense, he saw that to assume a cold and offendedmanner would do no good.
"If your fortune is made, so is mine," he replied on one occasion,quite coolly and indifferently. Next morning he made his appearanceat the breakfast table with a beard of twenty-four hours' growth.
"You haven't shaved this morning, dear," said Cora, to whose eyesthe dirty-looking face of her husband was particularly unpleasant.
"No," he replied, carelessly. "It's a serious trouble to shave everyday."
"But you look so much better with a cleanly-shaved face."
"Looks are nothing--ease and comfort every thing," said Douglass.
"But common decency, Edward."
"I see nothing indecent in a long beard," replied the husband.
Still Cora argued, but in vain. Her husband went off to his businesswith his unshaven face.
"I don't know whether to shave or not," said Douglass next morning,running his hand over his rough face, upon which was a beard offorty-eight hours' growth. His wife had hastily thrown on a wrapper,and, with slip-shod feet and head like a mop, was lounging in alarge rocking-chair, awaiting the breakfast-bell.
"For mercy's sake, Edward, don't go any longer with that shockinglydirty face," spoke up Cora. "If you knew how dreadfully you look!"
"Looks are nothing," replied Edward, stroking his beard.
"Why, what's come over you all at once?"
"Nothing; only it's such a trouble to shave every day."
"But you didn't shave yesterday."
"I know; I am just as well off to-day as if I had. So much saved, atany rate."
But Cora urged the matter, and her husband finally yielded, andmowed down the luxuriant growth of beard.
"How much better you do look!" said the young wife. "Now don't goanother day without shaving."
"But why should I take so much trouble about mere looks? I'm just asgood with a long beard as with a short one. It's a great deal oftrouble to shave every day. You can love me just as well; and whyneed I care about what others say or think?"
On the following morning, Douglass appeared not only with a longbeard, but with a bosom and collar that were both soiled andrumpled.
"Why, Edward! How you do look!" said Cora. "You've neither shavednor put on a clean shirt."
Edward stroked his face and run his fingers along the edge of hiscollar, remarking, indifferently, as he did so--
"It's no matter. I look well enough. This being so very particularin dress is waste of time, and I'm getting tired of it."
And in this trim Douglass went off to his business, much to theannoyance of his wife, who could not bear to see her husband lookingso slovenly.
Gradually the declension from neatness went on, until Edward wasquite a match for his wife; and yet, strange to say, Cora had nottaken the hint, broad as it was. In her own person she was as untidyas ever.
About six months after their marriage, we invited a few friends tospend a social evening with us, Cora and her husband among thenumber. Cora came alone, quite early, and said that her husband wasvery much engaged, and could not come until after tea. My youngfriend had not taken much pains with her attire. Indeed, herappearance mortified me, as it contrasted so decidedly with that ofthe other ladies who were present; and I could not help suggestingto her that she was wrong in being so indifferent about her dress.But she laughingly replied to me--
"You know my fortune's made now, Mrs. Smith. I can afford to benegligent in these matters. It's a great waste of time to dress somuch."
I tried to argue against this, but could make no impression uponher.
About an hour after tea, and while we were all engaged in pleasantconversation, the door of the parlour opened, and in walked Mr.Douglass. At first glance I thought I must be mistaken. But no, itwas Edward himself. But what a figure he did cut! His uncombed hairwas standing up, in stiff spikes, in a hundred different directions;his face could not have felt the touch of a razor for two or threedays; and he was guiltless of clean linen for at least the samelength of time. His vest was soiled; his boots unblacked; and therewas an unmistakable hole in one of his elbows.
"Why, Edward!" exclaimed his wife, with a look of mortification anddistress, as her husband came across the room, with a face in whichno consciousness of the figure he cut could be detected.
"Why, my dear fellow! What is the matter?" said my husband, frankly;for he perceived that the ladies were beginning to titter, and thatthe gentlemen were looking at each other, and trying to represstheir risible tendencies; and therefore deemed it best to throw offall reserve on the subject.
"The matter? Nothing's the matter, I believe. Why do you ask?"Douglass looked grave.
"Well may he ask, what's the, matter?" broke in Cora, energetically."How could you come here in such a plight?"
"In such a plight?" And Edward looked down at himself, felt hisbeard, and ran his fingers through his hair. "What's the matter? Isany thing wrong?"
"You look as if you'd just waked up from a nap of a week with yourclothes on, and come off without washing your face or combing yourhair," said my husband.
"Oh!" And Edward's countenance brightened a little. Then he saidwith much gravity of manner--
"I've been extremely hurried of late; and only left my store a fewminutes ago. I hardly thought it worth while to go home to dress up.I knew we were all friends here. Besides, as my fortune ismade"--and he glanced with a look not to be mistaken toward hiswife--"I don't feel called upon to give as much attention to meredress as formerly. Before I was married, it was necessary to beparticular in these matters, but now it's of no consequence."
I turned toward Cora. Her face was like crimson. In a few momentsshe arose and went quickly from the room. I followed her, and Edwardcame after us pretty soon. He found his wife in tears, and sobbingalmost hysterically.
"I've got a carriage at the door," said he to me, aside, halflaughing, half serious. "So help her on with her things, and we'llretire in disorder."
"But it's too bad in you, Mr. Douglass," replied I.
"Forgive me for making your house the scene of this lesson to Cora,"he whispered. "It had to be given, and I thought I could venture totrespass upon your forbearance."
"I'll think about that," said I, in return.
In a few minutes Cora and her husband retired, and in spite of goodbreeding and every thing else, we all had a hearty laugh over thematter, on my return to the parlour, where I explained the curiouslittle scene that had just occurred.
How Cora and her husband settled the affair between themselves, Inever inquired. But one thing is certain, I never saw her in aslovenly dress afterward, at home or abroad. She was cured.
THE END.
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