feel exasperated at him.
“AFTER” JENKINS
A grand affair of a ball–the Pioneers’–came off at the Occidental some
time ago. The following notes of the costumes worn by the belles of the
occasion may not be uninteresting to the general reader, and Jerkins may
get an idea therefrom:
Mrs. W. M. was attired in an elegant ‘pate de foie gras,’ made expressly
for her, and was greatly admired. Miss S. had her hair done up. She was
the center of attraction for the envy of all the ladies. Mrs. G. W. was
tastefully dressed in a ‘tout ensemble,’ and was greeted with deafening
applause wherever she went. Mrs. C. N. was superbly arrayed in white kid
gloves. Her modest and engaging manner accorded well with the
unpretending simplicity of her costume and caused her to be regarded with
absorbing interest by every one.
The charming Miss M. M. B. appeared in a thrilling waterfall, whose
exceeding grace and volume compelled the homage of pioneers and emigrants
alike. How beautiful she was!
The queenly Mrs. L. R. was attractively attired in her new and beautiful
false teeth, and the ‘bon jour’ effect they naturally produced was
heightened by her enchanting and well-sustained smile.
Miss R. P., with that repugnance to ostentation in dress which is so
peculiar to her, was attired in a simple white lace collar, fastened with
a neat pearl-button solitaire. The fine contrast between the sparkling
vivacity of her natural optic, and the steadfast attentiveness of her
placid glass eye, was the subject of general and enthusiastic remark.
Miss C. L. B. had her fine nose elegantly enameled, and the easy grace
with which she blew it from time to time marked her as a cultivated and
accomplished woman of the world; its exquisitely modulated tone excited
the admiration of all who had the happiness to hear it.
ABOUT BARBERS
All things change except barbers, the ways of barbers, and the
surroundings of barbers. These never change. What one experiences in a
barber’s shop the first time he enters one is what he always experiences
in barbers’ shops afterward till the end of his days. I got shaved this
morning as usual. A man approached the door from Jones Street as I
approached it from Main–a thing that always happens. I hurried up, but
it was of no use; he entered the door one little step ahead of me, and I
followed in on his heels and saw him take the only vacant chair, the one
presided over by the best barber. It always happens so. I sat down,
hoping that I might fall heir to the chair belonging to the better of the
remaining two barbers, for he had already begun combing his man’s hair,
while his comrade was not yet quite done rubbing up and oiling his
customer’s locks. I watched the probabilities with strong interest.
When I saw that No. 2 was gaining on No. 1 my interest grew to
solicitude. When No. 1 stopped a moment to make change on a bath ticket
for a new-comer, and lost ground in the race, my solicitude rose to
anxiety. When No. 1 caught up again, and both he and his comrade were
pulling the towels away and brushing the powder from their customers’
cheeks, and it was about an even thing which one would say “Next!” first,
my very breath stood still with the suspense. But when at the
culminating moment No. 1 stopped to pass a comb a couple of times through
his customer’s eyebrows, I saw that he had lost the race by a single
instant, and I rose indignant and quitted the shop, to keep from falling
into the hands of No. 2 ; for I have none of that enviable firmness that
enables a man to look calmly into the eyes of a waiting barber and tell
him he will wait for his fellow-barber’s chair.
I stayed out fifteen minutes, and then went back, hoping for better luck.
Of course all the chairs were occupied now, and four men sat waiting,
silent, unsociable, distraught, and looking bored, as men always do who
are waiting their turn in a barber’s shop. I sat down in one of the