Ventnor News

MADE LIFE A TRAGEDY
WOMAN'S SUFFERING WHEN SHE
HAS TO ADOPT GLASSES.

Everything Seems Changed for the
Worse, and Her Consolations Are
Few—Sly Scrutiny a Thing
of the Past.

I wear glasses! It's positively tragic, I look so wise and owl-like. It
was bad enough to have an intellectual
nose, but with intellectual eyes
as well I am hopeless. None but insignificant men like wise-looking women.
Be capable, but look incapable if
you want to be a success. These little
windows to my soul reveal what I
for so long have attempted to conceal.
How shall I ever adjust myself to this
reorientation is a problem.

With a coy upward glance at my
next to best young man, who is tall,
I meet the top of my glasses instead
of two fond eyes and feel foolish; with
a coquettish side glance I strike a
wide reflection and feel awkward. I
will have to get a short man so I can
look straight ahead; but I don't like
short men.

A sly scrutiny of my neighbor's
gown is no longer possible. I must
turn and boldly stare or remain absolutely ignorant whether the embroidery is hand or machine made. Never.
never more will I see with my shoulders.
My head will bob up and down,
to the right and to the left, but
goodby to the sly-sneaky glance with
which one takes in a roomful and yet
remains poised and unconscious.

The week under belladonna, when
all was dim and blurred, brought with
it a realization of what actual blindness must be and a resolution to read
to those unfortunate creatures so afflicted when my own sight was restored.

How my letters piled up during that
week! Mother kindly offered to read
them to me, but I didn't think it nice
to have other people's letters read.
Just fancy Mother reading aloud,
"Sweetheart, what magic spell have
you cast about me? I live in a dream
and I tread on air." or "Madam, kindly
send us your check for $95 for the
gown purchased two months ago," and
you had only owned up to fifty! No,
it certainly is not the proper thing to
have letters read to you.

The one consolation for that belladonna week was that I had all the
mending and darning done without
a murmur. The family thought it
strange that I could find all those
rents and holes in my garments with
such poor sight, but I said my sense
of touch was becoming accentuated.

For a few days I thought I was getting good looking. My complexion
took on a soft, velvety appearance and
I was beginning to beam like a beauty
and have an aggravatingly self-satisfied air; but when I put on my glasses,
which magnify about five times, I
rushed to mother and asked her if she
was sure I hadn't the smallpox, everything looked so big and people
seemed so coarse with large hands
and feet. I wouldn't take some lovely
shoes I had ordered because they
made my foot look so large; but while
I was looking down at them my
glasses fell off and the foot returned
to its normal size, so I consented to
accept them. Now in purchasing
pearls, diamonds and such I always remove my glasses.—Exchange.