Prose Fragments
SCENTS AND THE PAST.
A STRONG CONNECTING LINK.
It sometimes happens that some uncommon perfume will carry us back to the days of our girlhood, when our mothers would devoutly disclose to the light of day all sorts of odd things, such as old letters smelling of musk, or ribbons and pieces of old lace yellow with age, cast off baby clothes, which once on a time, covered our tiny persons, little pinafores or caps and booties, perhaps toys which once belonged to a sister or brother, long since gone on the other side.
Again, such a perfume may remind us of a time when the whole family were gathered around the festive board, laughing, bright with repartee, the room redolent of fragrance from the tastefully arranged flowers, long since forgotten. Somehow a scent brings back a flood of memories; the scene; the very arch glance of a pair of eyes, or the grave sweet look of a face, as though it were yesterday.
Some perfumes become a precious memory lying dormant, which one can conjure up at will. Others are suddenly resurrected.
Lavender! What luxury to lie between sheets odorous of lavender. And the old-fashioned potpourri of late years, having a revival of favour, chiefly consisting of orris roots, violets and rose leaves—with sweet thoughts centred and clinging around them. The roses!
Goddess of beauty, at thy magic breath
My spirit turneth from the gate of death,
And in thy deep red heart would find repose.
And dreams of Arcady—thou queenly rose!
And, talking of roses, what a lot of them are now being worn on the hats. Never in the history or vagaries of fashion have flowers held such pride of place as at present. And, although they are artificial, they revive thoughts of perfume. Some of the models make us think of Watteau shepherdesses as the right sort of beauties to wear them; but some of our Queensland girls have faces pretty and artistic enough to grace anything with advantage.