THE EASTER BONNET.
What a bonnet it was! The very bandbox that it came in seemed to appreciate the value and magnificence it contained — such a substantial, well varnished, responsible bandbox. Up the steps the messenger carried it and rang the bell. Her husband felt a chill come such as that we experience when, according to the old gossip, somebody walks over our future grave.
It was Easter, and if one can’t have a new bonnet after the Lenten deprivation and abstinence, when is one entitled to one any way?
Mrs. Frontpew tried it on in the parlor and said her husband was a duck. Never was there a husband so good and kind and with such taste.
The door bell rang again. Another messenger boy came up.
“This is Mrs. Frontpew’s bonnet,” said the messenger. “The other one was left by mistake. It should have gone to Mrs. Slyly, next door.”
With a blanched face she gave back the bonnet and looked at her own. Bird for bird, feather for feather, flower for flower — it was the same as the other.
That is why Mrs. Frontpew was not in church on Easter and why Frontpew has been taking supper down town and looks like a man upon whom great woe is fallen.
How could he tell? The milliner merely showed him a pretty head-dress, and he ordered one made up like it.
But that’s like a man.
The Acton Free Press (Acton, Ontario) – Apr 11, 1895
THE EASTER BONNET.
Don’t make ’em like they use to — done killed with too much style —
Fixed up with birds an’ ribbons, till you know ’em half a mile;
They call ’em “Easter bonnets,” in the big store windows hung —
Ain’t nuthin’ like the bonnets that they wore when we was young!
How much completer, sweeter, and neater was the old
Time bonnet, shadin’ rosy cheeks an’ ringlets black an’ gold!
Plain, with no fixins on it — with a string o’ red an’ blue;
But a kiss beneath that bonnet was as sweet as honey-dew!
Don’t make ’em like they use to — done killed with too much style;
An’ yet — the girls that wear ’em give a feller sich a smile,
He kinder smooths it over — fergives ’em, so high-strung —
But they’re nuthin’ like the bonnets that they wore when we was young!
Title: Songs of the Soil ; Author: Frank Lebby Stanton
Publisher: D. Appleton & Co., 1894; Page: 166
Of all that’s told in prose or sonnet,
There’s nothing sweeter
Nor any neater
Than a pretty face,
With a queenly grace,
Beneath a charming Easter bonnet.
Of all the things, whene’er they con it,
To make men adder,
There’s nothing sadder
Than the awful bill —
Too big to kill —
For that expensive Easter bonnet.
[New York Commercial Advertiser.
Boston Evening Transcript – Mar 26, 1883