How inexpressibly mean and petty this devotion to rags and tags and
gewgaws seems when one stands in the face of the Immensities and the
Eternities! Yet it would appear as though the feminine mind were really
incapable of impression by such Carlylean sublimities, for I saw Annie
start for church awhile since in a most terrible combination of maroon
and magenta. Her best clothes evidently, cachemire and silk, with two
flowers and a feather in her hat, her charming baby prettiness as much
crushed and eclipsed as bad taste and a country town dressmaker could
accomplish. What I like to see Annie in is the simple stuff gown she
wears of a morning, with the big bib apron of white linen, and the
spotless white collar caressing her creamy throat. I would lock her best
clothes up in that delightful carved oak chest that stands upstairs on
the landing and throw the key into the sea; and little Annie would let
me do it; she is evidently the most docile of child-women. Catherine,
now, had I ever ventured on adverse criticism of her garments, would
have thrown me into the sea instead.
April 7.
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