The prevalent and increasing short-sightedness of our times is, perhaps, partly the cause of the excessive use of rouge and powder.  The wielder of the powder puff sees herself afar off, as it were.  She knows that she cannot judge of the effect of her complexion with her face almost touching its reflection in the glass, and, standing about a yard off, she naturally accentuates her roses and lilies in a way that looks very pleasing to her, but is rather startling to any one with longer sight.  Nor can she tone down her rouge with the powdered hair that softened the artificial coloring of her grandmother when she had her day.  Powder is only occasionally worn with evening dress, and it is by daylight that those dreadful bluish reds and whites look their worst.

On the other hand, there are some women so clever at making up their faces that one feels almost inclined to condone the practice in admiration of the result.  These are the small minority, and are likely to remain so, for their secret is of a kind unlikely to be shared.  The closest inspection of these cleverly managed complexions reveals no trace of art.

Notwithstanding the reticence of these skilled artists, an occasional burst of confidence has revealed a few of their means of accomplishing the great end of looking pretty.  “Do you often do that?” said one of those clever ones, a matron of 37, who looked like a girl of 19, to a friend who was vigorously rubbing her cheeks with a course towel after a plentiful application of cold water.

“Yes, every time I come in from a walk, ride or drive.  Why?”

“Well, no wonder you look older than you are.  You are simply wearing your face out!”

“But I must wash?”

“Certainly, but not like that.  Take a leaf out of my book; never wash you face just before going out into the fresh air, or just after coming in.  Nothing is more injurious to the skin.  Come to the glass.  Do you notice a drawn look about your eyes and a general streakiness in the cheeks?  That is the result of your violent assault upon your complexion just now.  You look at this moment ten years older than you did twenty minutes ago in the park.”

“Well, I really do.  I look old enough to be your mother; but then, you are wonderful.  You always look so young and fresh!”

“Because I never treat my poor face so badly as you do yours.  I use rain-water, and if I cannot get that, I have the water filtered.  When I dress for dinner I always wash my face with milk, adding just enough hot water to make it pleasant to use.  A very soft sponge and very fine towel take the place of your terrible huckaback arrangement.”