THE SOCIAL ROUND

Sun (Christchurch), Volume III, Issue 756, 13 July 1916, Page 4

THE SOCIAL ROUND

Mr ami Mrs Masefield (Akaroa), who Lave been making »• short stay in •bristcbureh, went north last night.

Mrs Duncan Rutherford .and the Misses Rutherford have returned home, after a visit to Duncdin. Mrs Wordsworth (Gernldine) is in town.

Mrs B. Henning left on her return to Akaroa this morning. Mr and Mrs D. Phillips and Mr and Miss Burt (Duncdin) are staying at Warner V.

Mr and Mrs T. A. Phillips are returning to The Point to-day. Mrs Palmer Chapman (Timaru) is Tisiling Christchureh. Mr and Mrs E. 11. Reid (Palmerston South), Mr and Miss Robson (WaugaBui), Mr and. Mrs Boucher (Auckland), and Mr and Mrs Foster (Melbourne) are amongst the guests at the Clarendon.

Mrs Win. Wood (Springfield Road) is giving a "coin tea" at her residence ta-morrow afternoon, in aid of the fund for providing comforts for sailors'on the Psyche, Pyramus, and Philomel.

A pretty wedding was solemnised in Dunedin last week, when Miss Gladys Stoneham, elder daughter of Lieut.and Mrs Arthur Stoneham, was married to Mr Arthur Tyndall, engineer-in-ehargc of the Featherstou Camp. The bride wore ivory capiteuse silk, with trimmings of ninon and honiton point. Her small cousin, Lloyd Martin, who acted as page, wore a white satin court suit, with touches of pale blue, and the bridesmaids were Miss Tsobel Sievwright (Wellington), Miss Marjoric Stoneham (the bride's sister), Miss Nesla Tyndall (bridegroom's sister), and Miss Laura Browne (Mosgiel). Thi y all wore mousseline silk, with touches of pale blue, and black lace hats. Mr P. Foley acted as best man, Mr Eric Stoneham and Air Graham Diekcl being groomsmen. After the ■wedding reception, Mr and Mrs Tyndall left for the north by motor.

On one occask John Philip Sousa, by his promptness, was the direct means af stopping a panic, which might have had the most disastrous results. While his band was playing before 12,000 people in St. Louis, the electric lights in the hall went out suddenly. People began to move uneasily in their seats, and BOmo even began to make a rush for the door. Coolly tapping with his baton, Sousa gave a signal, and immediately his band began playing, "Oh, dear, what can the matter be?" A tiny ripple of laughter that went round the audience showed that, confidence had partially been restored. When the band began to play " Wait till the clouds roll by," the laughter deepened into a roar of merriment that only ended when the lights were turned on again.

The following letter, from the wife of a dead soldier, speaks for itself, states the Sydney "Telegraph." It was addressed to a friend of the writer's late husband, a returned soldier now in Randwiek Hospital, who, in forwarding it, says:—"A woman who writes and

feels like this should got the V.C." The first part of the letter refers to the missing kit of the dead soldier, and then the writer goes on:—"I should like to tell you how very sorry I am for you, and yet how thankful I would have been had my husband been spared to return as you have. You splendid men of the First Brigades, how proud 1 am to be the wife of one of you. T have heard boys say they would rather be live cowards than dead heroes, but even when life seems darkest, I would a thousand times rather be the wife of a dead hero than of a live coward. I don't see how a woman could possibly be expected to love, honour, and obey a coward. I know I couldn't. My only brother is over there somewhere. It is a heartbreaking affair however one looks at it. I am not going to apologisefor writing this. I know letters are always welcome to anyone in hospital. Besides, the soldiers belong to all of us."

Mrs Hetty Green, the richest and one of the most remarkable women in the world, whose death was cabled last week from New York, was 80 years of age. She started life as an heiress, and finished a millionairess, spending her years in the hard, shrewd business of usury on a grand scale. According toNew York writers, no soft womanly attribute ever appeared in her make-up: but she shared with the male millionaires of history their pitiless ambition for money, for the control of vast financial operations, for power, as well as their miserly mode of living, their narrow and biased view of humanity, with its' weakness and its grandeur, and their sincere and childlike faith in the honesty, the justice, even the morality of 1 lie desire that drives them—the passion to make money, not for anything it can buy, except flic power to make more money. Had she been born poor, Hetty Green would have saved a competency. But as she inherited a fortune, the making of millions became merely a matter of lending on ample security. Hetty Green was not a gambler in the speculative sense of the Wall Street term. She dealt in sure things. She bought mines which were on a paying basis, cotton mills, real estate, and mortgages. She even bought diamonds when they were cheap, and waited patiently for the. price to go up. It was said that she kept a pint, or more of fine diamonds as an investment easily transported and turned into cash, and one which would not depreciate in value. It is doubtful if she ever wore one of them in her life. She scorned such an evidence of wealth, not to say prodigality. Her household expenses never exceeded 70/- a week, of which 25/- went for the rent of her flat. Usually the clothes she stood in cost about £4. She. seldom put out money in any direction without gilt-edged collateral that guaranteed its safe return with interest. It is not known that she was ever worsted in any single business transaction, but usually she had two or three lawsuits on hand, in which she was sued by someone who claimed to have been worsted in a bargain. Chicago, Boston, Brooklyn, and many other cities felt, her strong hand.