Flabby People

Flabby people! Do we not all know them? No matter how limited is our acquaintance, we must know some to whom this adjective applies in its fullest significance; people who never seem to know what to do, where to go, or how to spend their money; who are continually asking for advice, always consulting their friends as to what books they ought to read, what music they should play, what amusements they ought to see - who are, in fact, perpetually falling about in a state of helpless perplexity, like a shape of jelly that will not turn out, but lies in a confused mass on the dish.

"If they only had a little cohesion, a little grit, a little backbone!" we exclaim piteously, but it is a vain wish. Flabby people remain flabby to the end of the chapter. It is no use to prop them up artificially or to try and put new gelatine into them; they only get flabbier and flabbier the longer they live. Whenever a decision has to be made about any ordinary matter and such decisions confront us at every hour in the day - this aggravating flabbiness peeps out with startling distinctness. To drive or not to drive, to dress or not to dress, eat or not to eat, to sing or not to sing, to mourn or not to mourn, to dance or not to dance, to laugh or not to laugh, to speak or not to speak, to bow or not to bow, to visit or not to visit, to frown or not to frown; these are some of the critical problems that flabby people have to solve continually. They are unable to cut the knot by one swift prompt step, and so the daily burden of all these important decisions seem to them almost too heavy to be borne. The old man and his ass, in the fable, is a type of such people. "I really don't know what to decide about this visit to Brighton," says Mrs. Flabbimore to her particular friend; "some people strongly advise me to go, others persuade me not to go; my sisters are all for my going, and my children urge me to give up the idea. It is very hard to make up one's mind. I really don't know what to decide on." And then comes a look of utter bewilderment, which belongs exclusively to our dear flabby friends. They are very fond of sheltering themselves under that indefinite "one," and continually speak of "one's feelings," "one's family," and "one's servants."

Though flabbiness is more a feminine defect than a masculine one, still there are flabby men, and they are even more provoking than flabby women, because we naturally expect to find sturdiness and power of will in the stronger sex. The best thing that can happen to a flabby man is for him to find a strong-minded wife, who is able to rule him as well as herself. Unless he does, he is perpetually falling into unpleasant scrapes, taking somebody's advice and putting his money into rotten investments, or falling a victim to some clever impostor who knows how to gull the unwary. Flabby people are fair game for all kinds of schemers, and prove an easy prey. They answer ingeniously -worded advertisements, sell their curiosities at a loss, and then remark what fools they have been. They are often charitable, amiable, and loving, only - they are flabby! And just as in a mild foggy day, we sometimes long for a sharp north-east wind to blow its vigorous breeze into the dull air, so when we are with flabby people, we often long for prompt decision and firmness, even though they may be accompanied by a brusque manner and a loud dictatorial voice.
Slyvia's Home Journal, 1886

Venice in Spring

People who write about Venice are, more often than not, lamentably like lovers. They rave about 'the jewel in the waters,' the tender hues of its heavens at all hours of the day, and even of the night, the unutterable charm of its decay, the romance of its history, the amiability of its men and women, and (mirabile dictu) its boys, and the infinite sweetness of the bond which subtly attaches them to the dear mouldering old city of the Lagoons - precisely as a lovelorn youth rates of his mistress's eyebrows. Their shibboleth, like that of the lover's is not understanded of the people. Only they who are in the secret have any sympathy with it.

Now such a strain, however harmonious, is, I think, apt to irritate honest people who stay at home at ease, crystallised into contentment, and who like their literature to suggest that their course of life is out of question the wisest possible. One sees its parallel effect in the heaving of the shoulders and the pursing of the lips of the middle-aged bachelor who, in a country lane, comes at hazard upon a pair of sweethearts in the first stage of their delirium. Who can wonder at this? Such writers are both impolitic and selfish. They would know better than to exhaust their vocabulary in laud of a friend whom they desired to recommend to the goodwill of others. Dispraise is often kinder than faint praise or over-praise. And, on the other hand, by their dithyramb, they make one fancy that it is not Venice they are in love with, so much as their own delightful powers of description; that, in fact, they forget their subject, and remember only themselves. Even so the lover who dotes on the fair face of his mistress loves her the more that he beholds his own reflection in her beautiful eyes.
Cornhill Magazine, 1889.

A Stroll through the Parliamentary Lobby

Comparatively few persons know how interesting an insight into Parliamentary life may be got in what is well known at Westminster as "the Lobby". This name, simple and unpretentious, does not include the public corridors or the outer precincts, where strangers may loiter at will. It applies exclusively to the more reserved inner circle, at the main entrance to the House of commons, which only Members of Parliament and other privileged persons may frequent. In this advantageous arena for observation, a visitor can not only, as the familiar phrase goes, rub shoulders with any of our leading politicians, but may also watch the varied incidents which enliven leisure intervals, when senators retreat from the occasional tedium of the legislative chamber.

The approaches to the Lobby are guarded by police whose duty, discharged with firmness and courtesy, is to prevent the entrance of persons not entitled to admission. Each of these officers has a list of those who, not being members of the House, are yet authorised by the Sergeant-at-Arms, on behalf of the Speaker, to enter here without let or hindrance. They include a number of public officials, private secretaries to the right hon. gentlemen, the accredited agents of leading political organisations, the City Remembrancer, and a representative of each of the press agencies, as well as of the principal newspapers. Other persons may be introduced for a short time by members, upon whom there are many calls daily for the exercise of this prerogative. Frequenters of the Lobby soon learn its habits, by which may be understood the times when this select area is seen to most advantage. Between eight and ten o'clock each evening the place looks empty and deserted, most of the members having then gone to dinner; but at certain other hours, both before and after that quiet interval, it is thronged by those whom public business or private friendship brings together at this favourite rendezvous. Opposite the entrance passage are the portals of the House of Commons, jealously guarded on either side by trusty servants of the State. No rash intruder dare cross this threshold, save only the favoured few whom members, by virtue of an order from the Speaker, may conduct to the select seats under the galleries devoted to peers and distinguished strangers. The more absolute line of reserve is drawn at the Bar, within which none may enter but the duly elected and sworn representatives of constituencies. On the left hand side of the Lobby is the members' private entrance, and the Conference-room - where deputations frequently interview representatives of the Government. Near this apartment are the offices of the political "whips", who look closely after the due attendance of the members of their respective parties in critical divisions, or, more reluctantly, arrange the "pairing off" of such as partially atone for absence from an important vote by getting coupled with other absentees from the opposite side. The Liberal and Conservative parties have each two responsible whips and a couple of assistants, who are seldom absent from the Lobby when the House is in session. A staff of messengers is in constant attendance upon these gentlemen, ready to be sent upon such hurried errands as the exigencies of Parliamentary business may require.

From the right-hand side of the Lobby there branches off the carpeted corridor which leads to the reading-room, dining room, library, tea-room, smoke room etc, which all contribute towards placing the House of Commons foremost in some respects among the many clubs of London. On mild summer evenings the favourite retreat for members is the private terrace by the river-side where overlooking the Thames, in full view of St Thomas's Hospital and the electrically lighted Embankment - wearied legislators escape for a time the prolixity of dull debates. In describing the other accessories of the Lobby, a post office and refreshment bar, occupying opposite corners, should be mentioned as two convenient institutions which both command a due share of patronage.

Cassells Family Magazine, 1883.

The Inductophone

An interesting development of the telephone has recently been made by Mr Willoughby Smith, the well-known electrician. It has long been known that telephonic sounds could be transmitted through the air by means of "induction" from one wire to another, and, in the early days of the telephone, persons listening at a telephone connected to one telegraph line could overhear music and conversation being sent along a neighbouring wire. Mr Smith has devised an apparatus on this principle of induction, which enables a number of persons in the same room to hear telephonic sounds by simply holding a telephone to their ears in the neighbourhood of the apparatus in question, the influence being transmitted to the telephones through the air by induction. The inductophone, as the instrument is called consists of a wooden frame, in size and shape like an ordinary flat looking glass frame. The frame is wound across in a vertical direction with very fine platinum wire covered with silk, to prevent the different turns touching each other, and short-circuiting the current of electricity, which is received from the distant station and passed through the coil. This current, which conveys the sound, is in Mr. Smith's original apparatus transmitted by a vibrating tuning-fork, at the distant station. The tuning fork is placed in the circuit of a battery, and the line-wire, and at each vibration it sends a pulse of electricity into the line. These pulses traverse the wire of the inductophone at the receiving station, and in doing so produce a magnetic field around the coil which appears to extend to a considerable distance, and penetrates brick walls, glass, gutta-percha, and other non-magnetic substances. If now a telephone, which may have its coil removed and consist only of the iron diaphragm and magnet is held to the ear in the neighbourhood of the coil, the magnetic changes produced in the surrounding magnetic field by the intermittent current, circulating in the fine wire, will so affect the diaphragm that the sound of the tuning-fork will be clearly audible. The skeleton telephone should be held so that the iron diaphragm cuts the "lines of magnetic force" in the space around the coil, otherwise if it is parallel to these lines there will be no effect. While upon this subject, we may mention that a secret telephone company has been started in New York, whereby it is rendered very difficult for any one to overhear a message except the parties concerned. For this purpose two wires far apart are used, and the message is sent piecemeal over one or other wire, alternately, by means of a rapidly-rotating contact-maker. Any one tapping a single wire can thus only hear snatches of the message. For state and business uses this arrangement may be very serviceable.
Cassell's Family Magazine, 1883.

Oil on the Waves

It is well known that the ancient metaphor about "pouring oil on troubled waters" to calm them is literally true; and ships at sea have been saved from foundering by pouring barrels of oil upon the waves around. A striking experiment of the kind was recently made at Peterhead in Scotland, in order to allow a fleet of fishing-boats to enter the stormy harbour with their cargoes. By means of a reservoir and pipes leading to the harbour, a stream of oil was discharged upon the water, and spreading in a thin film over its surface, reduced the rough waves to a mere swell, and permitted the boats to land. The chief action of the oil is probably to diminish the friction between the wind and water, and thus prevent the formation of waves, while the existing motion of the water quickly subsides into a low heaving. Probably the experiment, after the success at Peterhead, will be repeated elsewhere.
Cassell's Family Magazine, 1883.

Nothing changes does it? - A Modern Scam in 1886

Muriel Merton writes - Dear Sylvia, I have obtained a situation as a nursery governess, and as I am quite new to the duties, etc, would be glad if you will kindly answer one or two questions. 1. How often is it usual to have a holiday? (Generally one day a month, but it is according to arrangement when the engagement is made.) 2. How would the salary be paid, monthly or quarterly? (Monthly, as a rule.) 3. I should like to know if your readers know anything of some people who are constantly advertising for ladies to undertake home needlework. I have answered several, and find that the usual mode of procedure is to send a printed circular, offering to send materials for a sample yard of bugle lace trimming in return for so many stamps, varying from thirteen to eighteen. They agree to inspect the work when completed, remit stamps to value, and if the work is up to their standard, to supply constant employment. In one instance, I sent eighteen stamps, and sent home the yard of lace, which, I may mention, occupies from two to three days, working about ten hours a day. They acknowledged that the work was very good, and actually offered me the handsome sum of eightpence. Of course I preferred keeping my work. They went on to say that for work equal to sample, they would pay 8s. per dozen yards, the worker to find her own materials -net, 1s a dozen; bugles, 1s a lb, which would bring down the price of the work to 6d. per yard, and a worker would at this rate earn from 2s to 3s per week. Now, is it possible that anyone would work for that, taking into consideration that the work is extremely trying to the eyesight, and often makes one suffer from bad headaches, so that it would be almost impossible to continue at it for any length of time. And yet these people keep on advertising, evidently they find it pay. I daresay there are hundreds like myself, who send for the sample yard, and then give it up in disgust. Of course, a yard of net, a few bugles, and pattern, is not worth more than a few pence. I wish some of your readers would state their experience, for it is quite time these things were stopped. It seems so cruel in these days when so many are seeking for employment, and perhaps some people would send their last shilling, only to be disappointed. (Your letter came too late for reply in our May Number, I sincerely wish we could stop these people who thrive on the needs and distress of friendless women.)

Taken from Sylvia's Journal, Our Drawing Room, June, 1886.

A New Food-Preserver

Professor Barff has discovered a new antiseptic for preserving flesh and other fresh foods liable to decay. It is well known that boracic acid is an excellent preserver, but it has the draw back of not being easily soluble in water, and hence is difficult to apply in a liquid state to the purpose in question. Professor Barff has, however found a promising solvent in glycerine, and the mixture of these two substances, or "boro-glyceride" as it is called, is the antiseptic discovered. A quart of cream treated with an ounce of boro-glyceride keeps quite good even in the hottest weather, and a quantity of it has been sent to Zanzibar though the furnace of the Red Sea without impairing its sweet qualities. Fresh fruit, guavas, tamarinds, green sugar-cane, as well as raw turtle and pigeon , were sent from Jamaica preserved in the fluid, and proved to be good and wholesome, retaining still their characteristic flavours. Professor Barff proposes to save railway carriage on milk by condensing it in the country and mixing it with boro-bloyceride, so that it has only to be mixed with water when required for use. The meat now wasted on the South American plains could also be preserved for transport to the coast and the European markets. Beef-tea, raw beef juice, which is recommended by medical men for some conditions of the digestive system, soups, and other delicacies can be preserved for any length of time by the new substance. When introduced into liquids capable of fermentation it prevents the process, unless the latter has already begun, when it only exercises a moderating influence.

Professor Barff is also the inventor of the plan for coating iron with a rustless skin of oxide of iron, and we may add here that frying pans, saucepans, and other vessels usually made of copper, are now made of iron treated by the Bower-Barff process of preventing rust, and found very convenient. In working this process it has been found that the cost of enamelling the iron with the magnetic oxide forming the rustless coating is much reduced by first oxidising the articles before enamelling them. Further, it has been discovered that a skin or bloom of all the more ornamental metals can be given to the grey surface of the rustless coating, by simply brushing it over with a wire brush of the metal required to be deposited, whether bronze, brass, copper, silver, nickel, or gold. The particles of the brush rubbed off by friction fill up the pores of the coating, and by slightly heating the article they are fixed there.
Cassell's Family Magazine 1883.

What to wear on a bicycle

Coventry Rotary writes - Dear Sylvia, In answer to Brownie's question in the March number of Sylvia's Home Journal, I wish to say, that I have ridden both on single and double tricycles, and was at first equally perplexed with herself as to the most suitable dress to wear. I should recommend her to wear a perfectly plain skirt with a pair of the Dress Reform Association trousers beneath. I sent to Mrs King for a pattern of tricycling suit, and she forwarded me a pattern of trousers, skirt and bodice. The skirt is made with a loose front, and to that there is this objection - it blows up. I should in future make a perfectly plain skirt. I found the trousers, however, very comfortable, and should always wear them. I wear one petticoat, open in front, half way up, to allow the knees free play, and find it quite sufficient with the deep flannel band to which the trousers are buttoned.

Of course, in a large town where there are so many rough people, one has to get accustomed to such remarks as "look at her trousers", but I think that is better than "Look at her ankles." They are very comfortable, and with a plain all round skirt, I don't think they would show at all, for mine were only noticeable by reason of the loose front. I sewed it down eventually and then it was all right.
Sylvia's Home Journal, April 1886.

The Electric Light in Trains

The new Pullman express running from London to Brighton, which is said to be the best-equipped train in the world, has been fitted with Edison's incandescent electric lights, fed with electricity from the accumulators or electric reservoirs of M. Faure. The train consists of four Pullman cars, each 58 feet in length, and providing a continuous passage from end to end of 232 feet. That next the engine is a parlour car, and is divided into three compartments having seats and tables, lavatory and dressing-room. The second carriage is furnished like a drawing-room, and has at one end a ladies' boudoir, and at the other a storeroom and locker. It is reserved for ladies travelling alone or accompanied by gentlemen. The third car is for refreshments, and the fourth is for smoking in. Parts of the latter car contains the baggage and the eighty Faure accumulators charged with electricity. The ventilation is effected by louvre windows in the roof, and the furnishings are of walnut and deep red Utrecht velvet. Each palace car is lighted by five pairs of incandescent lamps suspended with their reflectors from the ceiling, and the smoking car is lighted by five single lights in the same manner. During the passage of the train through tunnels these lights are flashed on. Electric bells are placed in all the carriages to call the attention of the refreshment bar. Along the floor there is a continual circulation of heat by means of hot-water pipes, and thermo-meters, barometers and clocks are placed in the carriages. To make the train complete, a newspaper stand and letter-box are provided for the convenience of passengers.
Cassell's Magazine February, 1883.