LONDON SNAPSHOTS.

Evening Post, Volume LXXX, Issue 62, 10 September 1910, Page 10

LONDON SNAPSHOTS.

(Specially written for the Evening Post.) (By Mrs. Malcolm Ross.) In the Parks — Carriages and Motors— Her U*i>ce on Foot — the Cavaliers — Dog and Man — Mob Orators— At the Trocadero — Lewis Waller — Luncheon at Lyceum for Lady Reid. Though the parks have losfc their glorious freshness and their flower-beds are not so brilliant, they are most interesting now that, as in the bygone times, they are the resort of wealth, fashion, and beauty. The smartest carriages, their horses stepping as if their dainty hoofs disdained the ground, and their footmen and coachmen most irreproachably turned out and, as a rule, exceedingly good-looking, pass up and down the wide drive, and magnificent motor-cars and electric broughams buzz along. Sometimes the carriage draws up, and Her Ladyship or Her Grace takes the air on foot, not trailing her dainty skirts as in past summers, for, whether she affect the tube frock or not, her gown is always short, inches indeed above the ground, displaying a liberal amount of lace silken hose and the most piquant of buckled patent leather shoes. Many tight skirts, barely a yard and a half in circumference, are to be seen, but their owners, waddling like ducks and usually half-extinguished under thoir enormous hats, do not belong to the best-dressed set — the small select coterie whom she who is wise watches for hints as to fashion. As a rule, black is largely in proportion to colours. Probably Englishwomen are realising how becoming it is to their fresh colour and charmingly coiffured shining locks. Ninon is in huge favour, often veiling a Paisley foulard, and one charming gown of Irish crochet laco nad a tunic of black ninon almost reaching to the hem, and knotted loosely at the back. Conspicuous this afternoon among the black gowns was a satin frock of golden banana tint, the long coat with Hat falling panels elaborately braided with the same tone. Almost every woman wore white kid gloves, and at least every second a large black hat, with white wings, black feathers, or ospreys. There is tremendous similarity at present among the leaders of fashion, and many of tfieir smart cavaliers, too, absurdly resemble one another. They are slim, with well-defined waists and often, alas, sloping shoulders on which their black cut-away coat fits without a wrinkle. Their tall hats ar« worn far back, their monocle is generally in their eye, and their grey suede gloves, the ghmpse of white waistcoat above the dark one, the grey tie and pearl pin, are all hall-marks of the gilded youth. Much more interesting and much more pathetic are the dogs that are led by so many women and men. There are' few sights more depressing than, that of an immaculately-garbed man, with all the signs of cultured intellect in his face, taking out an infinitestimal poodle on a chain for an airing ! Dogs of all varieties are to be seen — the great Borsoi, the King Charles spaniel, the French poodle, the toy terrier ; and all are treated with deference and consideration by their attendants^ and absurdly inordinate affection by their owners. One wonders what the- little ' ragged beggar-child, barefooted and hungry, must feel as she watches the pampered poodle on the carriage seat, wrapped in his cozy coat, with indiarubber boots on his feet, should ho care to walk, and the prospect of the dainty breast of chicken for his luncheon. There is a shop in the Burlington Arcade where all sorts of things for dogs are sold, and the quaintest articles of canine apparel. I noticed motor goggles, pocket-handkerchiefs, and, absuruest of all^ little stand-up linen col- ! lars and neckties ! In Prince's Restaurj ant a smart woman at an adjoining table kept her pug under her arm as she ate her luxurious luncheon, and only the other day a querulous mite of a lap-dog turned on a waiter and bit him. The lady, witti s somewhat grudging interest, enquired if the dog had hurt the man, and soothed down the ruffled pet with tender caresses and the scraps off her own fork from her own plate ! The French poodles are preposterously coiffeed, shaven in patterns, and decked with vivid bows, not only at their necks, but on their backs and tails. Quite a number of women are occupied as kennel-maids, attending and exercising pet dogs, so that after all the fad provides employment for many. But the length to ■which some women go in their affection for these animals is ridiculous. At the Marble Arch end of Hyde Park on a fine afternoon there are always collected groups of people, tho centre of each being some orator discoursing on various burning topics. On Thursday, after leaving the crowd of society men and women lounging in their carriages or on their chairs, soft-ly-speaking and wonderfully-dressed, it was a change to find oneself among a throng of working men and women, many poorly clad, but all listening to the various speakers with, on the whole, silent interest. Tariff Reform, National Defence, Christianity— all had their exponents, generally illiterate and ungrammatical, but passionately earnest. Their audience pent them up so closely that it was not easy always to find the speaker, especially as often some opponent was hotly arguing with him. The speakers were not always men. Mounted on an impromptu platform a pleas,ant-f£\ced woman 1 ii| violet urged th© claims of the Female Franchise, and kept her temper in spile of interruptions, which she parried with some wit. The nucleus of another" group was a black-browed Irish girl, who was beset by jeering lads, and who did not improve her position by telling them they had no sense, and wanted the taste of a shillelagh over their heads, and a clip in the Shannon. I listened for ten minutes to the rude and senseless repartee between the angry orator and her audience, and got not the smallest hint of her mission. Whatever it was, it did not gain by being entrusted to an ignorant and ill-tempered Irish girl, •who showed none of the winning qualities of that delightful and eloquent people. Dinner at a smart restaurant and a theatre to follow is a charming way to pass an evening in London. The Trocadero is wonderfully artistic. The great entrance hall, exquisitely decorated and filled with banks of flowers — when we were there rose verbenas, and grey-bine hydrangeas were combined in artistic harmony — and the dming-hall is surrounJcd by a wide gallery, where, also, are set little tables, glittering with glass and silver, each centred with rosered carnations. The orchestra that plays during dinner is one of the best at any London restaurant, and the first violin is a noted musician, so the music wan exquisite, and greeted with applause by the diners, who, if they choose, can ask for some selection. On every table there. is a programme of music, as well | as menus and wine-cards, and it is said I one absent-minded guest once ordered a little Samson and Delilah by mistake ! Smart women, in elaborate evening gowns, and immaculate cavaliers are Been at every table, and heavy scants rise above the dolicate clove perfume of tho

carnations. The waiters, all gold buttons and,dark uniforms, flit about noiselessly, and the buzz of many tongues and many languages blends with the music. A Turk in dark surtout and red fez serves the delicious coffee with dignified condescension. The glow of light, the brilliant room, the music, the fascinating groups of people, the dainty menu— in which each dish is decorated out of all knowledge, and where a Maraschino sorbet sandwiches the joint and the entree — all combine to produce a very contented frame of mind, in which we move on to see Lewis Waller, the idol of feminine London. There are, it is said, a thousand women here who form a society for the admiration of Waller ! and really, even when prejudiced by this piece of information, we must confess to his charm and beauty. His eyes alone haunt one, so lustrous and expressive are they, and he is a splendid figure in the romantic dress of an American soldier in "Elizabeth's Prisoner." It is an improbable but charming play, and Madge Titheradge, though not exceedingly handsome, has a fascination that is better than beauty. She is slight, dark-hair jd, iiid intense, and wore her brocades and laces with grace. The most- talked of actress at present is Miss Neillson-Terry, who takes the principal role in "The Princess Passes," Baroness Arnhein'a play. The baroness, who is a cousin cf Mr. Harold Beauchamp, of Wellington, is at present in London with her three daughters, seeing the success of her new venture. Miss Neillson-Terry has all the beauty of her mother — Julia Neillson — and the talent of hor aunt — Ellen Terry — so says London, and the severest critics are disarmed by the grace and charm of thia young girl. A most successful luncheon was given by the Colonial Circle of the Lyceum Clvb — which is one of the leading women's clubs here^ — in honour of Lady Eeid (Sir George Reid's wife), who is making her first visit to this great city with her distinguished husband. The latter has been quite noted here for his speeches, and his speech at the New Zealand dinner was voted far the best, quite a triumph of oratory, amusing, and yet deeply earnest, quite putting in the shade the eloquent Mr. .f ember Reeves. Lady Eeid is of rather fascinating appearance, miraculously slim, and she dresses very smartly. On Thursday she wore a clinging gown of black-beaded ninon with the transparent yoke cut low. A great bunch of violets was tucked into her bodice, and her immense black hat had large feathers and tulle. ■ The president \yas Miss Uix-Trotter, who, after luncheon, made a neat little speech, and was followed by several speakers, among whom was Mrs. Grossmann, representing New Zealand. All welcomed the guest of honour, who said a few grateful words in reply. I sat next an interesting old lady who had spent all the early years of her married life in New Zealand, at the time of the Maori War, and who had many quaint vicissitudes to recount of the trials and troubles of the pioneers. Her husband — an engineer in one of the regiments — was ail through, the war. While stationed in Auckland, she lived in a little hut set on stout piles, and the cows used to walk under it at night and shake the frail dwelling. It was built quite close to Government House. The luncheon was laid in the beautiful diningroom of the Lyceum Ciub, looking out on tho glorious trees of Green Park, and a row of colonial flags was stretched across the ceiling. There were present many wellknown women, Mrs. Lindsay Miller (Mary Gaunt), Lady Stout, and Lady Taverner being among them. Mrs. Grossmann has had a novel accepted by a London publisher. It is called "Heart of the Bush," and the plot is entirely laid in New Zealand.