Part 4 (2/2)

Dandruff Cure and Hair Tonic:

Forty-eight grains resorcin.

One-fourth ounce glycerine.

Alcohol sufficient to fill a two-ounce bottle.

Apply every night to the scalp, rubbing it in well. This is good for falling hair.

Lemon Hair Wash (for blond tresses):

One ounce salts of tartar.

Juice of three lemons.

One quart of water.

Apply a cupful to the hair and scalp just before the shampoo.

Quinine Tonic for Oily Hair:

One-half pint alcohol.

One-half pint water.

Thirty grains of quinine.

Apply every other night, rubbing into the scalp.

Hair-curling Fluid: Mix one and one-half drams of gum tragacanth with three ounces of proof spirits and seven ounces of water.

Perfume with a drop or two of attar of rose. If too thick add a little rose-water.

THE HANDS

”I take thy hand, this hand, As soft as dove's down, and as white as it; Or Ethiopia's tooth, or the fann'd snow, That's bolted by the northern blast twice o'er.”

--_Shakespeare._

Pretty hands--like sweet tempers and paragons of husbands--are largely a matter of care and cultivation. Much more so, in fact, than most of us are aware. While tapering fingers and perfect palms count for considerable, the general beauty of the hand lies not in its correct outline so much as in the whiteness and velvety softness of the skin and the perfectly trimmed, well-kept nails. I have seen hands as plump as rotund little b.u.t.ter rolls, with fingers like wee sausages, and I have also gazed upon long, slender hands as perfect of form and proportion as any hand ever put into a Gainsborough masterpiece. And both have been called beautiful. Of course, we all know that the Gainsborough model is perfection, but nevertheless we can content ourselves with the knowledge that really ideal hands are as rare as a few other nice things in this world, and that we can struggle along very well with our good imitations providing we are able to keep them clean and well groomed.

The poets have raved their wildest over the beauty of women's hands from the time when Adam had his first desire to write jingles--if he ever was so silly--to the present day of Kipling's entrancing verse.

Shakespeare in his many tributes to the unfortunate young Juliet spoke of the ”white wonder” of her hands, and there has probably never lived a versifier who has not, at one time or another, gone into paroxysms of poetry over ”lovely fingers,” and ”dainty palms,” and all that. And I don't wonder, do you? for a woman's hand--when it is beautiful--is certainly a most adorable thing. It should be soft and yielding and caressing--with small, dainty joints, a satiny surface and carefully manicured nails of sh.e.l.l-pink tint.

First of all, tight sleeves and very tight gloves must be condemned.

Next, relaxation and repose are to be cultivated. A beautiful hand that fidgets continually is not to be admired for anything beyond its ceaseless efforts to be doing. Ben Jonson once said: ”A busy woman is a fearful nuisance,” and it's more than likely that he had in mind some fussy dame whose nervous fingers were everlastingly picking at things and continually on the wiggle.

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