Listen again to words from the lips of a girl who is just "sweet seventeen." (Alas that seventeen does not always deserve the adjective!) She has just stigmatised a friend of thirty as "a cross old thing." And for what? She has only been trying to bring her good common sense and sound judgment to bear upon the other's wilfulness. She is anxious to save her from doing a foolish thing on which her childish will is stubbornly set and which is certain to be followed by remorse and trouble.
"Sweet seventeen" purses her pretty lips and tosses her foolish head whilst saying, "As if I were going to be ordered about by her! Cross old thing!" And she goes on her wilful way and pays for it.
Still we must acknowledge that a dozen extra years do not always bring proportionate wisdom, any more than does the seventeenth birthday invariably carry sweetness in its train. We have to learn to grow old in such wise that each year's passage means also progress in everything that is best.
It seems very strange—does it not?—that whilst everyone desires long life, so many dislike to look forward to old age in connection with themselves. Or, if they do, it is not so much in a frank and natural manner as in a secret and stealthy fashion. If they speak of it at all, they speak as of something which may be near to others, but is still far, far away from themselves. Such people would never tell you that they are learning how to grow old—striving each day after some knowledge which will tend towards the attainment of a really beautiful and lovable old age.
The need for such a study is ignored by so many up to and beyond middle age, that one wonders little at its being ignored by the young. Yet other questions occupy their earnest attention in connection with increasing years.
How to ward off the semblance of old age, for the reality cannot be deferred. How to look young in spite of it. How to conceal the number of the years that have passed over their heads. How best to utilise art so as to simulate the complexion of youth and to hide the marks of time on their features.
Time is readily given in order to solve such questions to the exclusion of those higher lessons, attention to which would make old age the most beautiful and lovely of all.
Girls, dear girls! you are generally keen observers of externals, and especially so in matters of female dress and adornment. If one of you has been at a social gathering, whether amongst humble workers or leaders in society, what is usually the first question asked by sisters or acquaintances on her return? Is it not about the dresses worn? You inquire how such a one looked, or if another again wore a dress which is too well known on account of its age. You want to hear all about novelties in the fashioning of new garments, and whether they were of a mode likely to be becoming to yourselves. It may be you give a little laugh as you say that such a girl would be sure to look dowdy, or inquire if the good taste of another was as conspicuous as usual.
I am inclined to doubt whether you were as anxious to know how your friend was impressed by the words and conduct of those with whom she had been associating, or whether she had, during this little season of social enjoyment, received impressions likely to influence her for good. We ought to be learners in every place, but not merely in regard to externals.
Now I want to ask you a question. I have given you credit for being keen observers. Tell me, can you imagine a picture more truly pitiable and contemptible than that of a woman on whose face is the stamp of age, but who imagines that she has succeeded in hiding it by paint and powder?