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? One who hugs the thought that she has rendered her wrinkles invisible, or that her dyed hair, with its tell-tale line of grey near the roots, or the cunningly arranged golden hued substitute for whitened locks, deceives anyone but herself? All such shams make the old look older still. They add to the appearance of age instead of taking from it, and they rob old age of much of the beauty which is as real as that which pertains to the youth it tries to simulate. I am alluding to externals first because everyone sees them. I have no doubt that you have all discovered my liking for proverbial expressions. My native county is rich in these pithy sayings which convey so much meaning in few words. The subject of our present talk brings to mind one of these proverbs, which was often quoted in my hearing when I was a girl. I recall one occasion especially. A ruddy farmer turned to look after an elderly woman who had just passed him. She was girlishly dressed, and she strove to trip along in youthful fashion, feeling evidently well satisfied with herself, and claiming admiration by every gesture. What had our countryman to say about her appearance? He jogged his neighbour's elbow, and quoted the proverb, as he indicated the retreating figure with a jerk of his thumb: "Old ewe dressed lamb fashion." "Aye," said his friend, "and it's no good. Age will show in spite of paint and finery. She was turned twenty when I was twelve, and I'm over fifty-three to-day. Why, deary me! There's always somebody that remembers."