Tourists returning from abroad report a new fad which has, for the moment at least, superseded the erstwhile popular craze for souvenir spoons; instead, milady now collects dainty handkerchiefs. From the days of Josephine to the present the handkerchief has been an important item in the expenditure of a fastidious woman; a good dresser considers her toilet incomplete without a bit of snowy lawn or linen, which, though scarcely ever seen, and it may be severely plain, must yet be above reproach with regard to fineness of texture. An inveterate globe trotter, who has just returned from the other side, rejoices in an exquisite collection of these cobwebby nothings. At every city or town where she stopped, no matter how short her stay or how insignificant the village, another square of linen as faithfully added to her spoils, and, curiously enough, she readily recalls where each was purchased. So that her handkerchiefs, in a measure, serve her as a sort of note book.