waste-paper basket; his
slippers will depend from the corner of the picture you had framed for
him on his last birthday; his dress-suit will be crumpled upon his
wardrobe shelf, and his _chiffonier_ be heaped with a conglomeration
of foils, neckties, dead _boutonnieres_, visiting-cards, base-balls,
odd gloves, notebook, handkerchiefs, railway guides, emptied
envelopes, caramel papers, button hooks, fugitive verses, blacking
brushes, inkstand, hair brushes--the mother who reads this can
complete the inventory, if she has abundant patience, and time is no
object with her.
Nevertheless, I repeat it--let him have his "den," and one in which he
can find more comfort and enjoyment than in any other haunt. We
mistake--the most affectionate of us--in attributing to our sons'
sensibilities the robustness or wiry insensitiveness that belongs to
their physical conformation. Timely gifts are not thrown away upon
them; each tasteful contribution to their well-being and happiness is
a seed set in good soil.
A dear friend, in whose judgment I have put much faith, put it well
when she gave her reason for rectifying only the glaring disorders of
her boy's apartments while he was out of them, and letting the rest
go.
"They must be clean and bright," she remarked, with tender
forbearance. "But I never meddle with his books and papers, or do
anything that will, in his opinion, mar the individuality of his
quarters. He likes to feel that they have the impress of himself, you
see. Rigid surveillance, or the appearance of it, would irk him. For a
long time it annoyed me that he preferred his imprint to mine. A pile
of pamphlets on the carpet within easy reach of his chair was a
grievance; his boxing gloves were an eyesore when left upon his table,
and he _might_ find some other place for his dumb-bells than the exact
middle of the room. Then, by degrees, I thought my way to the stable
verity whereupon I now rest, that _the boy is worth more than the
room_."
CHAPTER XXXV.
HOMELY, BUT IMPORTANT.
The French woman dresses herself with a view to pleasing the
cultivated eye. She consults her complexion, height, figure and
carriage, in color, make and trimming. Her apparel partakes of her
individuality.
The American woman wears her clothes, as clothing, and has them made
up of certain materials and in various ways, because dressmakers and
fashion-plates prescribe what are this season's "styles."
Dissimilarities as marked
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