themselves. We can all perceive the discord; but how to produce
concord, that is the question. This one thing, however, is practicable
if sweetness cannot be increased, volume can be diminished. If you
cannot make the right kind of noise, you can at least make as little as
possible of the wrong kind. Often the discord extends to manners.
Public conveyances and public places produce so many girls who are not
gentle, retiring, shady, attractive. They are flingy and sharp and
saucy, without being piquant. They take on airs without having the
beauty or the brilliancy which alone makes airs delightful. They
agonize to make an impression, and they make it, but not always in the
line of their intent. Setting out to be picturesque, they become
uncouth. They are ridiculous when they mean to be interesting, and
silly when they try to be playful. If they would only leave off
attitudinizing, one would be appeased. It may not be possible to
acquire agreeable manners, any more than a pleasant voice; but it is
possible to be quiet. But no suspicion of defect seems ever to have
penetrated the bosoms of such girls. They act as if they thought
attention was admiration. Levity they mistake for vivacity.
Peevishness is elegance. Boldness is dignity. Rudeness is savoir faire
Boisterousness is their vulgate for youthful high spirits.

And what, let me ask just here, is the meaning of the small waists that
girls are cramming their lives into? I thought tight-lacing was an
effete superstition clean gone forever. But again and again, last
summer, I saw this wretched disease, this cacoethes pectus vinciendi,
breaking out with renewed and increasing virulence; and I heard
women--yes, grown-up women, old women--talking about the "Grecian
bend," and the tapering line of the slender, willowy waist. Now,
girls, when you have laced yourselves into a wand, do not be so
infatuated as to suppose that any sensible man looks at you and thinks
of willows. Not in the least. Probably he is wondering how you manage
to breathe. As for the Grecian bend, you have been told over and over
again that no Grecian woman, whether in the flesh or in the stone, ever
bent such a figure,--spoiled if it was originally good, made worse if
it was originally bad. You wish to be beautiful, and it is a laudable
wish; but nothing is beautiful which is not loyal, truthful, natural.
You need not take my simple word for it; I do not believe a doctor can
anywhere be