These letters are fairly brief, so I have printed both on the one page. 

For housework, which on weekends occupies most of the morning, his outfit consists of a simple little blue linen frock, a white cotton petticoat with just a small lace frill round the bottom, and elastic-legged silk bloomers. A pinafore is worn, very frilly and flouncy of course, and may not be taken off even when he is answering the door. He is a source of great surprise and amusement
to casual callers in his pinafore and petticoats, nevertheless he accepts my right to dress him suitably for the domestic tasks which he has to perform, and seldom protests or tries to argue with me.

Most weekends I have friends who visit, and again he must be suitably dressed for waiting on us, serving tea, and so on. He wears a black silk frock with a short full skirt that show off to advantage his surprisingly well-shaped legs in sheer black silk stockings. His petticoats now are of white linen, well-starched and trimmed heavily with lace so that they rustle noisily as he walks about. Again, elastic-legged silk bloomers are worn, pulled well down his legs so that the elastic legs show under his petticoat frills. The outfit is completed with a starched lace bib and apron, and he makes an excellent and most attentive 'maid', quick to obey our bidding, or to anticipate our demands. He finds it very shaming and humiliating to have to appear in front of my friends like this, as he gets laughed at and teased a great deal. Some of the remarks and comments made about him really make him squirm.

It is in the evenings, when I have more leisure to deal with him, that I am able to indulge my whims and fancies to the full, and then what little dignity he has left really does suffer. For it amuses me to dress the great helpless creature in the most humiliating costumes possible, either those of a little girl, or of a baby! He may be put into a dainty litle frock with ribbon sash, frilly petticoats and drawers, and hair done up in bouncy little curls or, even more humiliating still, be fastened up in nappies and have to spend the evening sucking unhappily at his babies' dummy teat.

In either of these costumes he looks utterly ridiculous, and I see that he gets no opportunity to forget it, for there are always plenty of mirrors about. I give him dancing lessons as part of his little girl training, and he really looks a picture poised daintily on tip-toe in his little flowing petticoats, trying to do a pirouette. Or, as a baby, sitting perched on my lap in front of a mirror of course, so that he has to see himself being given his bottle, with a pretty frilly bib on, and his nappies humiliatingly displayed.

He endures these humiliations as best he can, and accepts my right to discipline him as I see fit, and loving and respecting me all the more for being firm with him. We have been married now for eight years. He never looks at another woman, but remains faithful and obedient to me. I am convinced that petticoat training and the humiliations of enforced childhood and babyhood have made him into a truly loving husband.

E.T.
Trowbridge.

Petticoat training is undoubtedly the best way to produce a faithful and obedient husband, and in a case such as this, when the male partner obviously ached for full petticoat government before the marriage, it will guarantee long-term happiness.
Susan

May I offer my very sincere appreciation for those readers (such as Mrs J.D. of London, J.V., and many, many others) who write to tell us about males, young and old, who are most embarrassingly controlled by blouses, skirts, petticoats, knickers, and especially babies' nappies and dummies.

It puzzles me, quite frankly, why more women don't control their sons in this way, as there is such a marked alteration in a boy's whole demeanour when he is kept in frocks and delicate underwear, with bare legs (so smackable), and a ribbon tied in a large butterfly bow in his hair.

And husband, who are often so inclined to play at Casanova with your girlfriends, are so easily put in their place if it is made known that he has a locking playpen and a cot in the bedroom, and if his wardrobe is opened to guests to reveal his rows of pretty blousesand romper pants hanging neatly, and his rows of sweetly coloured and lace-trimmed dresses in silk, taffeta, and satin.

Can you imagine the effect on the male if, while you are showing some guests around the house, you open a cupboard door to reveal your husband, or your formerly naughty son, hanging helplessly from the ceiling in his powder blue satin baby sling, the lace-trimmed collar of his white nylon blouse turned up to frame his blushing face, a big dummy fastened immovably in his mouth, and a deeply frilled bonnet tied sweetly on his head.

His hands, of course, would be fastened into mittens to prevent him from unfastening his clothes or his nappy pins, and his baby booties swiinging helplessly above the dummies, rattles, and dolls on the floor. Yes, ladies, the tears of contrition would flow freely, for your guests to enjoy.

Mrs S.W.
Lancs.

Well I would give the guests a bit of warning first, or Auntie would get a surprise. But I think a satin baby sling is an excellent way of rendering your disciplined male helpless to the administrations of nursery discipline, and another letter earlier in the year did mention a sling, from memory. Mrs S.W. is obviously a strong believer in the justice of petticoat penance, and it is a pity, as she says, that more women are not aware of it.
Susan