Volunteer Nurses in the Great War: 1914 | Mrs Daffodil Digresses

The fashionable women of England are very anxious to help. At least they say they are, and never would we doubt a lady’s word. But their good intentions are thwarted on every side. Lord Kitch…

Source: Volunteer Nurses in the Great War: 1914 | Mrs Daffodil Digresses

The Danseuse Electrique: 1893

Mrs Daffodil Digresses

Loie Fuller at Folies Bergeres. http://www.jules-cheret.org/Folies-Bergeres--Loie-Fuller,-France,-1897.html Loie Fuller at Folies Bergeres. http://www.jules-cheret.org/Folies-Bergeres–Loie-Fuller,-France,-1897.html

The latest stage development is the danseuse electrique, the title given the youthful corphyee who, to enhance her grace and pedal dexterity, invokes the aid of science and appears at times in a blaze of varied coloured lights that rival in brilliancy and splendour the gems of the Eastern monarchs who figure in Arabian story. The latest contrivance must be regarded as more wonderful than all its predecessors. First for the effect; then for the explanations. The lady, usually a pretty one, runs upon the stage attired as if for the serpentine dance, and about her skirts and the folds of her dress dash sparks and lights of every possible hue. She dances, kicks and turns while the lights continue to corruscate. Revolving wheels, fountains and prisms of light play about her, appearing and disappearing ab every undulation of her form. She is…

View original post 397 more words

The Rag Trade: 1859

A riveting contemporary insight into recycling in the English rag trade in 1859.

Mrs Daffodil Digresses

Rag sorters at a Springfield, Massachusetts shoddy mill. http://www.brownstoner.com/blog/2013/06/walkabout-troys-fortress-of-shoddy-part-1/ Rag sorters at a Springfield, Massachusetts shoddy mill. http://www.brownstoner.com/blog/2013/06/walkabout-troys-fortress-of-shoddy-part-1/

A RAG-BAG OPENED.

Wednesday being a leisure day with Mr. Tibbit, I presented myself, according to appointment, at two o’clock in the afternoon, at his warehouse,Tooley Street, Southwark. A solitary country cart stood at Mr. Tibbit’s door, being, as the legend on the shaft informed me, a native of Swillmead, Bucks. Groping my way through a grove of corpulent sacks, that reached from the floor to the ceiling, I came on Mr. Tibbit’s scalesman in altercation with the man of Bucks, concerning a bag of rags, still on the scale, and the bowels of which the weigher had ruthlessly ripped up, preferring, as he significantly remarked, “to trust his own eye-sight before the bare word of any general dealer going.”

“As good whites, them is, as iver you seed in your loife,” asseverated the Bucks. “Outshots, I tell you, nothing better!”…

View original post 3,517 more words