LADIES’ GOSSIP.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1618, 4 March 1903, Page 26

LADIES’ GOSSIP.

Twenty-four hours after a quarrel with her sweetheart. Miss Dora Meek fell into a deep sleep resembling: a trance, at Gentraiia, Illinois. That was over two months ago. and all efforts made to revive her have proved unsuccessful. She cannot he awakened by a noise, however loud, but when touched with a needle or pinched sharply on the ear her brows contract in a slight frown, as if she were provoked. Food is given to her regularly, and she shows no sign of wasting. Local doctors state that her sieep is due to a form of hysteria.A spiritualist, however, - declares that the girl is obsessed, and is now endeavouring to remove the evil power by which he alleges she is controlled.

The presence o-f both sexes in the political sphere lias created a difficulty m Sydney. * A meeting of the Worn on’s Liberal League was presided over by a lady, and Sir William McMillan, on rising to make some remarks, said he was at a loss how to address her. He presumed, however, that the proper expression would .be “Madame president.” Another- speaker followed his example, but the formality of the title did not altogether charm the ear, and the lady at last ventured the suggestion. “Why net sav, Mrs Chairwoman.'” This created some merriment, amidst which a feminine voice was heard to ejaculate “Mrs Chairwoman !” From the great similarity of the two words, it is clear, to the judgment of a local contemporary, that whatever title may in future he. adopted, that of “Mrs Chairwoman” is certainly doomed.

The Marquis of Anglesey’s latest role is Little Jioy Blue in the pantomime of “Red Ruling Hood.” Avhicli he is producing m a lavish styio at the “(Jaiety Theatre, Anglesey Castle,” with the assistance of a company of professional players. As regards acting, tne performance is equal to anything seen in the provincial theatres at tnis season, and as a spectacle it is made specially interesting by the Marquis’s display of gorgeously jeAvelled robes nr the final , scene- At the close of the pantomime he appears in a dance in which, according to a local correspondent, he “manipulates his draperies with marked -effect.” As. on former occasions, tlie audience consists of residents in the neighbourhood of the castle, who are given the entertainment free of charge.

“I am I,’’ says Duse in her part as Magda. Because slie is she so sincerely. Duse has long been the despair of the costumier, and sometimes even of the stage manager. She lias set her own personality above theatrical conventions times without number. That is Aviiy the most jaded of theatregoers found in her something new,, and satiety was turned for the nonce into enthusiasm’. When she Avas last in England Duse Avore her own black hair, Avith its strand of silver grey on eacli side of her severe central parting. That was all in accord Avith her tradition, and nobody in London resented it. But they are not so tolerant-every-where, and Duse in America appears in hair of Venetian gold red. Her admirers in England, unless foreAvarned, Avill hardly recognise their Duse when next she comes before . them thus transfigured.

“To go back to dinner party conversation,” said the Avell knOAvn authoress, Ellen Tiiorneycroft Foivler. to an intervieAver recently, “rather an odd thing happened to me once. A strange man—a stranger man, perhaps I mean! —Avho paid me little or no attention, happened to take me in. We spoke of tilings military axiropos of the war. and presently he turned to me and said, ‘ls your hus* band a soldier, by chance?’ I ans Aver-ed, ‘No, I’m not married/ The entree had barely departed into the realms of the unknoAvn when, A\ r ith an ingratiating smile —our conversation having now merged into the range of things political he said ‘I suppose your husband is a politician ?* "No/ I repeated, somewhat louder, ‘l’ve no husband. I’m not married/ Towards the end of dinner there occurred that momentary pause Avhen a hostess is engaged in collecting the eyes of her guests. He took advantage of it. With a glow of real interest he turned. ‘Does your husband happen to be here to-nightU It was too much for me. The signal of departure Avas given. I rose. ‘I really don’t know/ I said. ‘He may be. One can never tell what may come of little iYfl.rt.iest/ **