d tying them at the ends with ribbons was a
favorite style in the early part of the seventeenth century. In the
eighteenth century women used powder to such an extent as almost to
destroy the color of the hair, and during the past hundred years every
possible arrangement and non-arrangement has had a temporary favor.

I have nothing to say about the customs of the present day. If there
is any property in which a woman has undisputed right, it is surely
in her own hair; and if she chooses to wear it in an unbecoming or
inartistic style, it is certainly no one's business that I can
perceive. Assuredly not the men's, since I have already shown that
they, either through inability or selfishness, decline to wear the
thick, flowing locks with which Nature crowns manly strength and
beauty, and which are all women's admiration.

The majority of women have a natural taste in this matter, and very
few are so silly as to sacrifice their beauty to fashion. Two or three
rules are fundamental in all arrangements of the hair: one is that a
superabundance at the back of the head always imparts an animal
expression; another, that it is peculiarly ugly to sweep the whole
forehead bare. The Greeks, supreme authorities on all subjects of
beauty and taste, were never guilty of such an atrocity. In all their
exquisite statues the hair is set low. A third is that "bands" are the
most trying of all _coiffures_, and never ought to be adopted except
by faces of classic beauty. To add them to a round, merry face with a
nose retrousse is as absurd as to put a Doric frieze on an irregular
building. A general and positive one is that all hair is spoiled, both
in quality and color, by oiling, for it takes from it that elasticity
and lightness which is its chief charm and characteristic; the last
(which I have no hope ladies will heed just at present) is, never to
hide the natural form of the head.

Waste of Vitality

If we come to reflect upon it, in middle age we find that the one
great cause of departure from the ideal in real life is our liability
to take cold. Almost all our pleasures are bound up with this
probability, for when we have taken cold we are far too stupid either
to give or enjoy pleasure. And there is no philosophy connected with
colds. Serious illnesses are full of instruction and resignation, but
who thinks of being resigned to a cold, or of making a profitable use
of it?

"Chilly" is a word that of late years has co