THE NEW PRINCE.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 264, 7 November 1935, Page 15

THE NEW PRINCE.

NURSERY AND LAYETTE. HEIRLOOM PRESENTS. "It's a boy!" Those were the words on the lips of practically every womau and almost every man here in London when the news flashed round the city that the Duchess of Kent had given birth to a son in the early morning of October 9, says an English writer in the Melbourne "Herald.''

It was rumoured that the baby's exquisite layette had been partly made by English seamstresses, who had done fine rows of hemstitching on sheer Irish linen, and partly sewn by Yugoslavian peasants on the estates of the little prince's aunt. Princess Paul. They embroidered, I have been told, a lovely long robe for use at the christening, but it seems certain that this will be worn by the baby only on secular occasions, as he is sure to wear the robe last seen when Princess Margaret Rose was christened in the private chapel at Buckingham Palace. Another offering from Yugoslavian peasants which may rot see every day use is a gay cradle, painted with a riot of flowers, like those that decorate a typical Slavonic nursery. But the baby prince will probably always sleep in the Royal cot placed by one of the white walls in his night nursery, so that a fire can soften the fresh breezes coming through the window overlooking Belgra.vo Square before they reach his little head.

Not far away stands his nurse's bed, low and white, covered with a glossy chintz that is neither a "baby boy" blue nor a navy blue, but something in between. Patterned with white seashells about six inches long, this attractive and modern material brings the only touch of colour to his day nursery, where it covers the chairs and fashions the curtains.

A bathroom in between these two nurseries completes the infant prince's first suite, and the floors of all three rooms are covered with a washable white substance that is neither linoleum nor rubber, but a combination of the two. Very warm and soft to tread upon, it is something that mothers all over the country will probably be copying before very long.

There is no direct lighting to dazzle his baby eyes, for only low standard fittings with blue and white shades arc permissible in the nurseries. When he grows up and starts crawling round his white floors, he will discover a most fascinating tufted rug before the electric fire in his day nursery, covered with bright houses and little men scurrying about them. Then in one corner stands a toy cupboard, which before long will probably hold the gifts of a devoted nation.

One of the baby's most treasured possessions will doubtless be a. cross which, I hear, has been brought specially over from Paris by his grandfather, Prince Nicholas of Greece. Greek Church traditions state that a child must be given a little cross when it is baptised, symbolising its entry into the Christian Church. And, I am told, this one destined to bo presented to the tiny prince is an heirloom which has been passed down a long succession of Russian Czars.

Coincidence has made the day of the baby's birth quite notable, for exactly one year ago his mother, the Duchess of Kent, put on deep mourning and rushed from Paris to Belgrade for the funeral of her cousin. King Alexander of Yugoslavia. More, if her mother, the Princess Paul of Greece, had not suddenly felt—presentiment, intuition, what you will—that her presence in London was necessary, and consequently hurried across the Channel, she would not have been near her daughter when the little prince was born a week earlier than expected.

Nobody connected with the Duchess' family was surprised she had a son. She herself was absolutely determined he should be a boy, while both her sisters have sons, and her mother was the only girl in a large family of boys. The whole Greek community in London rejoiced in the Royal birth. When I visited the great Greek church which lies back from a long quiet road not far from the Bays water station, it was in darkness. But one of the priests told me that many Greek homes nearby would have lighted candles round their ikons; each one erected with a prayer and a blessing for Britain's new prince.