him, and he will not know why he suddenly sees the whole picture
rise out of the past before his eyes, nor why his throat aches with
the memory of it.

I know one of these men, whose descriptions of a woman's dress are one
of the experiences of a lifetime. He loves the word bombazine. His
mother must have worn a gown of black bombazine during his
impressionable age. And he never will be successful in describing a
modern gown until bombazines again become the rage. This same dear man
brought back to his invalid wife a description of a fashionable noon
wedding, which consisted of the single item that the bride wore a blue
alpaca bonnet. It really would be of interest from a scientific point
of view to know what suggested that combination to any intelligence,
even if it were masculine.

I have more evidence to go on, however, when I wonder why the idea of
the cost penetrates this same man's brain when shown a new gown by any
member of his family, all of whom he is weak enough to adore. His
daughter will say, "Papa, do look here just one minute! How do you
like my new gown?" And the answer never varies: "Very pretty, indeed.
I hope it's paid for." He will say that of a cotton frock made two
years ago--he never knows--of a silk _neglige_, or of a ball-gown of
the newest make. The fashion produces no impression upon him, nor the
material, nor the cut. But let his daughter put on any kind of a pale
green dress, and stand before him with the question, "Papa, how do you
like my new gown?" While he is raising his head from his book he
begins the old formula, "Very pretty. I hope--" Then he stops and
says, "I have seen that dress before. Child, you grow to look more
like your mother every day of your life." And there is a little break
in his voice, and before he goes on reading he takes off his glasses
and wipes them, and looks out of the window without seeing anything,
and sits very still for a moment. It was the sight of the pale green
dress. When he came home from the war his lovely young wife, whom he
lost when she was still young and beautiful, came to meet him, holding
her baby son in her arms for his father to see, and she had worn a
pale green gown.

Why certain kinds of clothes are associated in the public mind with
certain kinds of women is to me an amusing mystery. Why are old maids
always supposed to wear black silks? And why are they always supposed
to be thin?--the old maids, I mean, not the silks. Why are litera