165 
adies* iTloral ^oJ&iriei n*i3 3^ieiaribai 3HEtmie ^lanfipoLnian. 
HOW THE PARKS OP PARIS ARE 
ILLUMINATED AT NIGHT. 
A writer from Paris thus describes the beautiful 
illumination of the parks at night: 
“ We were so late that we had to drive past a mile 
of empty carriages before we could find a place to 
leave ours. All this section of the wood was in utter 
gloom. Within the park, along the avenue and the 
alleys bordering on the lakes, rose Venetian masts, 
each mast hearing a great shield or banner of colored 
lamps. But all that was nothing. The beauty of the 
evening was in the lakes and in the edges of the 
wood surrounding the lakes. The moment you 
touched the water you were out of the world; you 
were in a world of light which belongs to the domain 
of dreams. The charm of the Bois de Boulogne in 
common times is its foliage; to-night the foliage was 
used as a background for the illumination, and the 
simplest means were the most successful. Trees 
hung thick with fiery fruit which never bore fruit be¬ 
fore. Their branches were hidden with globe-shaped 
lanterns of pale India red, which grew rosy and ruddy 
with the light inside. There must have been millions 
of them. I counted the number on one tree of no 
great size, and there were a hundred and thirty-four. 
This was repeated with no effort at variety in form or 
color, and the result was absolutely bewildering—no 
Armida’s or Hesperides garden could have been so 
wonderful. Mere monotony and endless repetition 
of the same idea by the same means have done 
what no variety of delicate device and chang¬ 
ing purpose could have done. It is monotonous 
as the sea is monotonous, and you can no more 
tire of it than you tire of the waste of waters 
which spreads to the horizon, and there is no more 
poverty of design in one than the other. You 
may fancy, if you like, that this illuminous semicircle 
has as little of mortal handiwork as the sunset glories 
of the sky which blend with the illimitable ocean. 
From end to end of the lake the deep recesses of the 
wood are pierced with the intense white rays of the 
electric light. Bengal fires blaze up every few 
minutes, red, blue, and white. On the surface two 
hundred boats rigged with lamps and lanterns are 
moving about—flame-freighted argosies—never still 
for an instant. And the sky is filled as far as you 
can see with showers of trailing sparks from in¬ 
numerable rockets and great sheets of flame from ex¬ 
ploding mines. This goes on for two hours, with 
half a million of people for spectators, or twice that, 
for no estimate of such a multitude is possible. 
Wherever you go shouts of delight accompany you. 
The Frenchman is never slow to express the immense 
joy he feels in any event that honors his country and 
his beloved Paris.” 
GRECIAN BEAUTY. 
Much has been said in praise of Grecian beauty, 
and the men are handsome in every sense of the 
word. We might well imagine them to have been 
the models of Phidias and Praxiteles. Their large 
eyes, black as jet, sparkle with glances of fire, while 
the long, silky eyelashes soften the expression and 
give a dreamy appearance of melancholy. Their 
teeth are small, white, and well set. A regular pro¬ 
file, a pale olive complexion, and a tall, elegant figure 
realize an accomplished type of distinction. As to 
the women, they seem to have left physical perfection 
to the men. Some possess fine eyes and hair; but, 
as a rule, they have bad figures, and some defect in 
the face generally spoils the good features. It is 
among them, however, that the Oriental customs are 
most strictly preserved. While the men are gradual¬ 
ly undergoing the process of civilization, they, in a 
moral point of view, remain stationary, and are just as 
they were fifty years ago. It may, indeed, be said that, 
with the exception of Athens, the women possess no 
individual existence and count as nothing in society. 
The men have reserved every privilege for them¬ 
selves, leaving to their helpmates the care of the 
house and family. In the towns where servants are 
kept they are of the poorest class of peasants, who 
know nothing and receive miserable wages. The 
families are generally large; seven or eight little 
children demand a mother’s constant attention. The 
morning begins by directing the work of each ser¬ 
vant, repeating the same thing a hundred times, 
scolding, screaming, even beating them, to he under¬ 
stood. In the evening, when the children are sleep¬ 
ing, if there remain some little time, the poor worn- 
out mother sits down to her spinning-wheel to spin 
silk, sew, or knit, or, if it be summer-time, to look 
after her silk-worms and cocoons, happy if she has 
not to do the work of her incompetent servant over 
again. 
The women of Cyprus are quite peculiar in their 
costumes, wearing pantaloons fastened around the 
ankles, with fancy-colored boots, a profusion of chains 
and trinkets around the neck, and a heavy girdle 
fastened by massive metallic plates. They dye the 
hair a lustrous brown with henna, and they deepen 
the expression of the eyes by coloring the eyebrows 
with the same dye. Their dress is of the brightest 
colors, crimson, etc., and their head-dress is a per¬ 
fect copy of that seen on Phoenician and Egyptian 
statues. They seem to take a pride in exposing 
their charms, which other women conceal. Their 
bosoms are almost entirely uncovered. They are 
tall and Juno-like in mien and figure, with remarka¬ 
bly handsome and classic features. They are among 
the most beautiful women of all the islands, recalling 
the finest faces of the ancient statues. Unfortunate¬ 
ly, they do not cultivate grace or form, and by thirty 
they become quite stout and heavy. There is a cer¬ 
tain dignity and elegance about the women of Cyprus 
that is very striking. They probably approach nearer 
to the ancient type of classic beauty than any other 
of the modern descendants of Helen. They have 
but little or no education, but they are not lacking in 
intelligence, nor in a desire for knowledge. I cannot 
speak as well of the men. They have been so long 
crushed to the earth by Turkish oppression that they 
have lost most of the best qualities of their race. 
They are, nevertheless, industrious, patient laborers, 
peaceful and temperate. 
FLOWER WORSHIPPERS. 
Very beautiful is the Persian’s love for flowers. 
In Bombay I found the Parsees use the Victoria 
Gardens chiefly to walk in, “ to eat the air ”—to take 
“a constitutional walk,” as we say. Their enjoyment 
of it was heartily animal. The Hindoo would stroll 
unsteadfastly through it, attracted from flower to 
flower not by its form or color, but its scent. He 
would pass from plant to plant, snatching at the 
flowers and crushing them between his fingers, and 
taking stray sniffs at the ends of his fingers as if he 
were taking snuff. His pleasure in the flowers was 
utterly sensual. Presently a true Persian, in flowing 
robe of blue, and on his head his sheepskin hat, 
“ Black, glossy, curl’d, the fleece of Kar-Kul,” 
would saunter in, and stand and meditate over every 
flower he saw, and always as if half in vision. And 
when at last the vision was fulfilled, and the ideal 
flower he was seeking found, he would spread his 
mat and sit before it until the setting sun, and then 
pray before it, and fold up his mat again and go 
home. And the next night, and night after night 
until that particular flower faded away, he would re¬ 
turn to it, and bring his friends in ever-increasing 
troops to it, and sit and sing and play the guitar or 
lute before it, and they would all together pray there, 
and after prayer still sit before it, sipping sherbet and 
talking the most hilarious and shocking scandal, late 
into the moonlight; and so again and again every 
evening until the flower died. Sometimes, by way 
of a grand finale, the whole company would suddenly 
rise before the flower and serenade it together with 
an ode from Hafiz, and depart. 
ATTRACTIVE LUNCHEONS. 
A writer in Scribner's Magazine utters a protest 
against making the school luncheon so unattractive as 
to destroy the child’s appetite. She says : 
“ There is something very dampening to the appe¬ 
tite in the aspect of thick bread and butter rolled in a 
bit of Coarse brown paper, ivith a cookie or twe 
sticking to the parcel, and an apple covered with 
crumbs at bottom of pail. Such a luncheon will ofter 
prevent a delicate child from eating at all. A little 
care spent in preparation—in cutting the bread trim¬ 
ly and neatly, packing the cake in white paper, and 
the whole in a fresh napkin, in choosing a pretty bas¬ 
ket to take the place of the tin pail—is not pains 
thrown away. Some children are born fastidious and 
with a distaste for food. They require to be tempted 
to eat at all—tempted, not by unwholesome goodies, 
but by taking trouble to make simple things dainty 
and attractive to them. We have heard a growr: 
woman, whose fastidiousness had survived her child¬ 
hood, describe with a shudder the effect which hei 
dinner-basket at school had upon her. The very siglu 
of it took away all appetite, and she went througl 
the afternoon faint and fasting rather than meddh 
with its contents. By all means bake the custan 
in a ‘ pretty cup,’ and do what is possible to give tin 
luncheon an appetizing appearance to the little peo 
who depend upon it for the working force of thei: 
long school-day.” 
