AS SEEN THROUGH WOMAN’S EYES.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXX, Issue XIX, 9 May 1903, Page 1330

AS SEEN THROUGH WOMAN’S EYES.

Some Talks About Etiquette.

By

Mrs Humphry.

IN THK PARK. •Your luncheon went otl capitally, said the Smart Woman. “1 must con grat ulate you.” ”I’lll immensely relieved to hear you say so,” replied the Colonial Lady. ”1 was doubtful about it myself. Sir Antheus was so dreadtuLy late, and 1 knew that Mrs Arragon would sulk if he failed to turn up. She was late, too, by the way, and 1 did not know whether we should wait for her or not. "You did quite right in waiting for a few minutes. At luncheon no one is expected to be very punctual, ft is a t roublesome business for one s cook, but it makes it plain sailing for the hostess. She invites her guests for luncheon ;.t two o'clock, or for 1.311, as the case max be. and they drop in casually enouga sometimes. But you may rest assured, mv dear woman, that the men will be more punctual next time. Your wine !” "Yes. 1 felt sure of my ground theie. Lady B—- drank none, by the way. Only distilled water. 1 thought she looked round for something and felt a lit tle uncomfortable.” "It was probably gin and seltzer ’ ■What ?” "Yes. I ought to have found out at her dub what she likes at luncheon. ' "But you don t mean to say ?” "’l es. I do. Fashionable doctors are ordering gin-and-blt ters, gin and everything. Isn’t it low ?” "Disgusting, .'.nd the stuff smells so horrid- Must 1 really have it at my table? 1 don't know what John wilt "I'll find out. But you must not cling too eloselv to your Colonial refinement. We are all horriidv vulgar over here. The only way to get on is to suit our vulgarity to the special brand that is favoured by our neighbours. If we do that we may be as vulgar as we pleas’.” "What awful doctrine. But I know what you mean. Did you see the Duchess i f Dungeness with her elbows i.n the table at Prince's last night?'’ "Duchesses may do what they like, just as Dukes may wear old coats and shabby hats that it would ruin a poor young doctor to be seen in.” "What curious little nods the ladies

driving here give one another!" "A fashion introduce! b. Que n Alex amlra when Princess of Wales. H.R.H

always gave her special friends a little nod, reserving the more formal salute for the public, and a peculiarly stately bow for acquaintances for whom she did not care. The little nod has now become generally in use. We are as imitative as parrots or monkeys.” "Another thing 1 notice is that smart women never say ‘my husband,’ as is so much the custom in the colonies. The Marchioness of Manylands spoke of the Marquis as ’my man’ the other day.” "Yes, and you will seldom hear a girl mentioned as ‘my daughter-’ It is generally ‘my girl,’ pronounced ‘my ghel.’ A son is ‘my boy,’ until he is thirty or thereabouts —unless he l as a title, when he is always called by that. We are really intensely bourgeois in many of

<:iir ways, and it is curious to note how very closely the great lady approaches the peasant in much of her diction. 'Aiy man,’ and 'my girl,’ for instance, and ’ ain’t I.' and many other phrases. The middle classes are really more refined than the high aristocracy, s you will very soon find out for your self". Don t be horntied if I gixe you a ,at her coarse example. Where a middleclass woman—l mean the wife of a wealtiiv barrister or equally successful mvsieian, will say, ‘She used her handeichief,’ a Duches.- says ‘She blew her nose.’ ” "Graphic, but imT.g-.nl. ’ "Exactly, and you will discover very much that is inelegant in what is supposed to be the best s.-eiet.. in the world.” "And the most cultured.

"Another supposition, scarcely borne out by facts. With the inevitable exceptions the women of the aristocracy are not nearly so well educated as our own -iris. With their opportunities of crave!, rhev get a smattering of art, but if you looa for pure culture, don’t look too nigh. But then, how perfect is social intercourse in high society. \\ here else will you ibid sue.i absolute smoothness, such ease, such polish, such consideration? Where win you hear such a soft, yet clear, pronunciation- not strictly elocutional by any means- but admirable? Nothing harsh is said about any-

one who happens t> be pres, nt; and even if something ratlur disagreeable should be conveyed, it is delivered in a manner so smooth and winning that it is onlyon thinking it over that you find you have had a stab.”

"Oh. dear! Ami how puzzling it is to know what to talk about. 1 felt quite at a loss once or twice on Tuesday at luncheon. One or two subjects suggested themselves, but always in an interrogative form, and I was taught as a girl not to ask questions.” "But there is, fortunately, a whole

string of questions that are quite per missible. One must not ask ‘Are you married?’ but one may safely say ‘Do you like pictures?’ and ‘Have you been to the Academy?’ VVe may not inquire ‘What profession do you follow?’ but it is quite admissible to start a delightful talk by asking ‘Do you read much?’” "John says that Englishmen read nothing but the ‘Times' and sporting papers. He made a round at golf the other day with Colonel Putting, and the whole conversation, after the usual greeting and settling about the weather, consist ed of about a dozen words. John trie 1 once or twice to start a conversation, but it was of no use.” "Some men would as soon talk al whist as at golf.”

"But Englishmen seem to be naturally silent. Look at those two men riding together. We have passed them half a dozen times and have not once seen them exchange a word. How beautifully thev are dressed, and what tine horses: Thev are typical Englishmen in that way. How much more becoming is the dark «>rev riding suit with breeches and highly" polished brown boots, than the afternoon get-up of frock coat and silk hat. Now it is not an odd thing that John can go quite frankly to his tailor and sav 'l'm new to English ways. You must send me all I want and find me a man who can tell me how to put em on, while 1, equally ignorant, should not dare to go to a smart milliner in the same way for information? She would be contemptuous and superior. 1 don t i now what 1 should have done without tlii.t clever maid you recommended.” "Was it she who suggested that you should wear a hat at your own luncheon party ?” “Yes. She said that smut iostes-e< always do so now.” "Quite right. She lived so irnny yea:s with Mrs Gant-de-Suede that she knows all about everything.” “Co tell me. Is she French or Eng lish? I can’t make out.” “She’s both. English father, French mother. And she lived half the year in Paris, the other half in Lon li n with the beautiful 1-ady Aye. She left her because things grew so lively that the unfortunate woman never had more than three or four hours’ sleep, an I her health began to suffer.” "Why did she leave Mrs Gant-de Suede?” "lice: . se she grew so tired of missagiug her. Marie’s right hand became s r cramped that she could hardly use it. She told me that she could have got over this if Mrs G.-de-S. had only had any hair to be brushed. Brushing it would have brought a different set of muscles into action and counteracted the cramp-

iug effect of the massage. But when only wigs and transformations are in question there is very little brushing to do. Has it turned cold? I am shivering.”

"Home, Thomas. Come in and have a eup of tea.”

To Blacken Brown Boots. The simplest, -juickest and most effective manner in which to blacken brown boots is to take a raw potato, eut it in halves, and rub the boots well with it. Then rub the blacking well in; polish; and the result will be so satisfactory as to make it difficult to say whether the boots had not alwavs been black.

Lemon Pudding—Baked Ingredients: lOoz of breadcrumbs, one point of milk, 2oz of butter, one lemon, Jib of pounded sugar, four eggs, one tablespoonful of brandy, Bring the milk to the boiling point, stir in the butter, and pour these hot over the breadcrumbs, add the sugar and lemon peel very finely minced, beat the eggs, and stir these in with the brandy to the other ingredients. Put a paste round the dish, and bake for three-quarters of an hour. Average cost, 1/2. Sufficient for five or six persons.

First Meetings of Famous Lovers.

There are few moments in a man’s life which linger so long and tenderly in the memory as that in which his eyes first rested on the face of the woman who was destined to become his life companion, the sharer of all his joys and sorrows.

“0, Edward, do look there! Did you ever see such a lovely face? I wonder who she can be?” exclaimed Mrs Bulwer to her son at a literary gathering in London one day three-quarters of a century ago, and the son turned his eyes languidly in the direction his mother indicated, to find them arrested by the most beautiful vision of girlish loveliness he had ever seen. That glance of a moment sealed his fate, for Rosina Wheeler became the wife of the young man who was later to be known to fame as Lord Lytton. There was little that was romantic in the first meeting of Kean, the great tragedian, and the woman who was to bear his name. It was on the stage of the Cheltenham Theatre that Charles Kean and Miss Chambers, a pretty young actress, first saw each other. “Who is that shabby little man with the brilliant eyes?” Miss Chambers asked in the hearing of the king of the stage. “And who,” Kean retorted aloud, “is that odd little woman?”

From this singularly inauspicious opening Kean’s love drama proceeded so swiftly that before a month had gone the curtain was rung down at the altar.

Scott’s first passion took its origin in a shower, when he gallantly affered his umbrella to a charming girl as she was leaving church. It was not long before the proffer of his umbrella was followed by the offer of his hand, which was accepted equally graciously. It was at the first performance of his “Sylvania” at Frankfort that Weber, the famous composer, met his matrimonial fate. At the elose of the opera the applause was deafening, and the delighted audience clamoured loudly for the composer, who, overwhelmed by nervousness, declined to show himself. At this juncture Miss Caroline Brandt, whose singing had contributed much to the success of the performance, seized hold of Weber’s hand and dragged him by main force before the curtain. It was with much less reluctance that he held the same hand later before the altar.

Describing his first meeting with his wife, Bishop Hall wrote:—“Walking from the church with a grave and reverend minister, I saw a comely and modest gentlewoman standing at the door of that house where we were invited to a wedding dinner, and inquired of that worthy friend whether he knew her. ’Yes,’ quoth he, ‘I know her well and have bespoken her for your wife.’ ” Cobbett first saw the girl who was to become sueh a devoted wife when her arms were deep in the soapsuds of a washtub. “That’s the girl for me!” exclaimed the young soldier, as he then was. and five years later “the maid of the washtub” became Mrs Cobbett.

Balzac was gazing through the window of a Swiss inn when his reverie was broken by the sweet voice of a girl asking if he would allow her to remove her book from the window seat against which he was leaning. The lady was the Princess Hanski, who later dowered the composer with her love and her riches.

When Archbishop Tait was first introduced to his future wife she was busily engaged in making the identical pair of slippers which, unknown to both of them, he was to wear during their honeymoon, and the first glimpse Miss Reed had of Benjamin Franklin was as he passed her house on his return from a baker’s shop with a roll tucked under each arm, while he was diligently eating a third.

Afiss Glynne’s attention was first drawn to her distinguished husband, Mr Gladstone, at the dinner table of a mutual friend. “Take careful note of that young man.” her neighbour whispered to her, “for one day he will be Prime Minister of England.” Warren Hastings fell a victim to the charms of Baroness Imhoff during a voyage to India, when he had the misfortune to be taken seriously ill, and owed his life to the tender nursing of the fair German lady. And Dean Buckland lost his heart, while travelling by coach in the West of England, to a pretty young lady, who he found was immersed in the same book which he himself was reading. This accidental discovery of a kindred taste suggested to the young man possibilities which were richly realized when Miss Morland became Mrs Buckland.

Brindley, the great engineer, was introduced to his wife when she was a small school girl, and his first love offerings took the welcome form of gingerbread: while Macready’s life romance began when He scolded a tiny nine-year-old actress for forgetting the words of her part. He made ample amends, however, for this seeming unkindness when in later years he rehearsed the marriage ceremony with her.

Zola’s Latest.

“Truth,” the novel which Zola had completed just before his death, is now brought out in an English version by Ernest A. Vizetelly, the translator of all of Zola’s works, and is ) üblished by John Lane. It makes 1 96 closely

printed pages and it is Zola’s version of the Dreyfus ease. The novelist has changed the scene of the tragedy and he has made the Catholic church th chief instrument in the peisecution of the Jew instead of the a my; but th trial, the conviction and the second tria of the Jewish hero are so similar to th experiences of Dreyfus that they have

evidently been taken from Zola’s own study of the most celebrated French case of recent yens. ?o. makes a tre mendous indictment of tie church which in bitterness has nevi r been equalled by any other writer of eq a', eminence, and indirectly he indicts the whole French nation for its cowardly acquiescence tn a great wrong. The story turns on the foul murder of a young schoolboy, the ward of i Jewish schoolmaster. 1 imm>. Although the clericals of the distr it a-re await that the crime was committed by a member of the order ■ Christian 15-o--thers, they shield the real criminal am use all their influence to throw suspicion on Simon and sei uro his conviction. The poor Jew is represented as a hig itninded man, with a wife and two children, and his grief aid irgc o'ei the

injustice done to him recalls the torture of Dreyfus before h was convicted by court martial. The sentence against Simon is transportation for life. His brother and his friend, Marc Fro merit, a transparent disguise for the author, work ten years before they se cure the return of the condemned man and a second trial. This, as in the Dreyfus case, resulted in another conviction, but pardon follows. Zola goes a step farther and shows regenerated France doing honour to Simon in bis old age and giving him a nouse to live in, with a tablet over the door certifying to the injustice done him and tne reparation that tne State desires to make.

It is a pity that Zola decided to cast this record of a great case in the for a of fiction, lie has piled up so many facts that he has spoiled the uovel as a story. It would be far more effective if he had told in his dramatic way th • plain facts of the Dreyfus case, as he knew them from his close study. As it is, he has launched so bitter an attack against the great church which never eeased to protest against his own works that it actually recoils upon his own head. Human nature cannot conceive of such monsters of deceit and cunning and depravity as he lias pictured in several of his priests and lay brothels, and it is doubtful whether the book will find any except a few religious fanatics to accept its pictures as true. Zola held a brief against clerical education, and he is certainly an advocate of relentless energy, with unsurpassed power of invective, which he has exerted here to the utmost.

Popular Song Sweeps London.

A popular ><»ng has caught London by 1 lit* throat and is shaking it. “Eve Made I p My Mind to Sail Away’ is the title -nothing particulaily catching about it. it will Im* admitted, but it has appealed to British ears. Not since "Ta-ra-ra-Boom de Aye” ravaged the country has any song made such an immediate and wonderful hit. Toni Costello, the music hall singer. Marled it. That was four months ago. There is an appeal to national instincts in the ditty which has help d it gain its wonderful favour. The song deals with the colonies, ami since war songs have lost favour the “colonising song” has been adopted. It has driven the “Honeysuckle and the Be?” off the Londe streets, and has killed “Dolly Gray.’* It is sung in nearly every pantomime in the country ami in nearly every music hall. It is now reaching the whist ing stage, and Londoners know that shortly they will march continuously on the streets to the music of its chorus. It has been said that there is a fi ndish microbe in the chorus which does the deadly work. The melody grips the mind, and- the sufferer is constrained to whistle or sing it. Her * are two of the verses:— Farewell to home and to all there I love. Sadly the parting grieves me (Those words came from a brave British hen rt. When leaving the dear old land). Though I have failed in the conntrv i love. Still I’ve the world before me: And my hopes beat high, so once m » good-by. Give me a grip of your hand. Once in a new land I ll work with a wil-. Fortum* may then smile on me: Here I seem to be all in th«* wav. But still I shall not despair: One star of hope for the wanderer shin Over the ocean billows; Mighty, rich, ami grand—Britain’s terlandI know they’ll welcome me there. But it is the chorus in which the ferocious microbe lurks. Its destructiveness lies in the lung opening opportunities ; ivvn by the repetition of the phrase “sail I’ve made up my mind to sail away. Sail away! Sail away! I don’t mean to waste another day. I'll find luck somewhere. In our colonies I mean to try. Yes. I ll try. do or die! For a time 1 shall stay, but I’ll come back some day. And I may be a millionaire.

Blouse Seams.

You always find that the seams of a bought blouse are double stitched, that is. once from the right side and once again from the inside, but they fit be* er when an ordinary se?m is used, with turnings about half-an-inch in width, which are afterwards to be neatly overcast. This style of seam is more elastic than the other and adapts itself more readily to the lines of the figure.

The First Crown and Its Meaning.

The crown has been the emblem of royalty so long and king and crown are so intimately joined in the minds of everybody that there probably are few persons who know that the crown is not so very ancient an institution. To be sure, it is old enough, but it is not ancient as history goes. There is no mention of crowns before the eighth century after Christ. The crown really did not become the headcovering of kings until the times of the Christian rulers, after the might and power of pagan Rome were broken. Before those days the crowning was done with a helmet. This change in the method of crowning rulers is typical of the changes that occurred in the spirit that animated nations and races in the selection of their kings.

The first kings and chiefs, after the world had emerged from the ;> .triarchial forms of government, were selected almost altogether for their prominence as leaders in war. Thus gradually, the chief of the army became the chief of the nation. Almost all the ancient kings were military despots. Then, with the prevalence of Christ-

ianity and the overthrow of the old governments. came the new rulers who claimed to rule by divine right. They, '•><>. were almost all military despots, especially in the beginning, but the world had progressed far enough to demand more proof of authority than mere brute power.

Charlemagne was the first great ruler who proclaimed himself King and Emperor by divine right. He did not allege, however, that the divine right had come to him direct from heaven, but based his claim on the faet that the Bishop of Rome, then the spiritual ruler of the Christian world, had anointed him and placed the crown of the holy Roman empire on his head.

The term “Dei Gratia” (by divine right or the grace of God) was thus used to express the right to rule as coming from the head of the church until the days of Luther and the reformation. Then the power of the church was so shaken that rulers no longer felt sure that they could rest unchallenged on their right to rule as given to them by Rome. So the term “by divine right” became construed as meaning that the kings ruled by right of God’s will, as expressed in the Old Testament, in which God is recorded as having chosen kings himself to rule the people. Of course, it required much subtle argument on the part of the rulers and their men of learning to bring the people’s minds to accept these various and changing teachings. But it was a time when popular knowledge and enlightenment left much to be wished for, and the great mass of people took their information and beliefs from those who were superior to them in position and wealth.

A Race of Dipsomaniacs.

Reuter’s representative reports an interview with Lieut. Boyd Alexander, Rille Brigade, who has just reached England on the conclusion of an interesting expedition over the little-known Spanish island of Fernando Po. Although lying within a few’ miles of the Niger coast, and in the direct track of steamers, the island is practically unknown except for a narrow cultivated belt round the coast. Of the natives of the island Lieut. Boyd Alexander said: —"They are a curious and timid race, quite unlike anything I have seen on the West Coast, and of an extremely low type. Except for the purpose of going out on organi::?d drinking bouts, many of them never leave their primitive dwellings among the rocks, and, generally speaking, thev have never before seen a white man. They are known as Boobies. They are of poor phsysique, and are. in fact, dying of palm wine and rum. Usually they are quite naked, except for a curious straw bonnet which they wear. Some, however. add to this a scanty loin cloth. They make themselves more hideous than they would otherwise be bv painting their bodies with coloured mud. and a plaster of this mixture, which is quite red, on the lower part of the face lenders them particularly unattractive. Their dirt is unspeakable. They never wash, but to their arms is attached by means of a hempen band a knife which they use to serape off the filth in which they are encased. They manage, too, to induce deformities by winding tightly round the upper arms and below the knee strong woven bands. They are exceedingly timid, and often, when they caught sight of my party coming up a narrow track, they would rush into the depths of the forest and set up a weird

and fearsome wail, in which their dogs joined. 1 o keep a Boobie away from his palm wine is to make him a wretched being. At certain hours of the day their little villages would be deserted, everyone, including the little children, having gone off with their ealabashes on a carouse. This is practically all they live for. They believe in an evil spirit, to propitiate' which they make a juju of small pieces of rotten wood. These they plant in certain specified places, and anyone touching them is supposed to sieken and die.”—London “Graphic.”

Daily Routine at the White House.

THE WHITE HOUSE TIME TABLE. 7 o’clock a.m.—Everybody out of bed. 8 o'clock a.m.— ; All hands at breakfast. 9 o’clock a.m.—Children at school; no excuses. 12 o’clock m.—Luncheon; children all present. 7 o’clock pan.—Dinner; children at family table. 10 o’clock pan.—Children in bed; must goIn family life the household in the White House is that of plain Mr and Mrs Roosevelt. The official dignity of the President serves as a screen, but behind it is the simple American home life of an American family. School hours are as stern and inviolable laws to the children of the President as they are to any of the million school children of the land. Bedtime is a fixed law, and it is as unalterable as the code of the Medes and Persians. By ten o’clock the children have to be in Led—and that means must. It is a strict rule that no one must be late for breakfast, and the President and Mrs Roosevelt set a model example in this. No matter how heavy may have been their official duties the evening before they never break the family routine which demands their presence at eight o’clock at breakfast.

Mrs Roosevelt is the disciplinarian who sees that the children leave for school when the school bell rings. Even Quentin, who has a governess at home in kindergarten work, is obliged to leave play for books at the stroke of the clock. Except on state occasions, the children, except Quentin take luneh and dinner with their parents. It is only when the President dines formally that the children are exeluded. When Gen. Wood. Senator Lodge, or men like them, who are friends of the family, dine with the President the children are present. Frequently President Roosevelt takes the family out for a run on the boulevards. Arehie Roosevelt’s great joy is his pony. The President once issued stringent orders that his son should not allow himself to be photographed, and threatened to take his pony away from him if he did. Since that time Archie turns his back at the approach of a camera man and scampers. Quentin has a sheep, which is stabled with Archie’s pony. These two are chums and romp and play together. Both are turned out frequently for a roll on the turf together. The President is particular about the housing of his animals. Probably no President since Gen. Grant has been sueh a lover of fine horses. The stables are not fanev in design, and there are no marble trough or tiled harness rooms, but everything which can be done has been done for the comfort of the pets of the family. No military inspector makes more rigid examinations than does the President of his stables. When the President first began riding through the streets of Washington it was noticed that he never went over the asphalt streets at any other gait than a walk, being careful of the condition of his mounts. Now the family has entirely abandoned the city, and the horses are taken by the grooms to a suburban

point, to which the President and his wife and children are driven >n a sai.e.

The ride starts from that p .nt and ends there.

Arehie disdains to ride in the carriage when the family is on I w.'.y t.i tue eitv limits for a ride. He always takes to his bicycle and easily keeps up with th-- hackneys which draw the surrev.

One of the most frequent companions of the President on these rides is Gen. Wood. The general, being an old plainsman. is one of the few horsemen in \\ ashington who can keep abreast of the President in a cross country ride. Frequently President Roosevelt breaks away from the rest of the party and starts on a neck-breaking ride across the ragged country. The character ol this is sueh that a tyro might easily come to a disastrous ending, but President Roosevelt and his jumper, Renown, have never come to mishap.

Gen. Wood and one other rider are the only ones who can keep pace with the President on such rides. The other horseman is Sergeant McDonald, the mounted orderly. This trooper is a quiet, nervy horseman, sufficiently dashing when necessary to keep up the pace which frequently is set for him.

Mrs Roosevelt and Miss Alice Roosevelt are famous horsewomen, but also aie great pedestrians. The social duties of both require almost constant daily use of the White House victoria, but Miss Roosevelt loves to walk, and she covers many miles every day out of pure delight in the exercise.

When Mrs Roosevelt walks she usually wears a siiort skirt and an Alpine hat. A tour through the mall in the direction of the fish commission lakes is a favourite route. Sometimes she is accompanied by Miss Roqsevelt and the two younger boys, and the four often walk as far as the botanical gardens, a four or five mile trip. During the busy season these trips are confined generally to Saturday mornings, when Ethel is home from the cathedral school and Archie and Quenten have no lessons to study. The life of the Roosevelt youngsters is simple. They are given the greatest freedom, which Mrs Roosevelt watches carefully to see does not overstep the bounds. With a house full of children and constantly arriving and departing visitors of state it may seem a hard matter to keep childish exuberance from being noticeable, but Mrs Roosevelt succeeds.

The President at first had to take a hand in affairs himself at times when a childish outbreak was made in the view of visitors. It has been known to happen that Archie or Quentin in some strange garb, the costume of some game which was attracting attention, would burst upon a startled, but delighted attendance.

Almond Chocolate Drops

Melt a quarter-pound cake of chocolate, then pound it to a paste, and mix it with four ounces of sifted sugar. Blanch, slice and dry in a cool oven 2oz of Jordon almonds. Roll each piece in a little bit of the chocolate paste, and put them on sheets of white paper till cold. Takes about one hour, and is very good indeed.

Mrs. CamplMll.

Poor “Mrs Pat” seems to be having her own troubles “on the road,” says the “New York World.”

In Montreal, where she appeared u week or so ago, there is a bcJlboard censor. This dignitary, it is said, objected to a picture of Mrs Campbel Paula Tanqueray tecaus? of the «x tremely decolette bedice. The dress was that black, spangled affair in which the English actress caught cold during her engagement at the Garden Theatre —the one with the sh uld'T straps; oi didn't it have shoulder straps? One' memory plays such tricks.

At any rate, it v*rs ti e . lack s'pangii' dress.

In the picture Mrs • a was gazing off into vacancy as thong ; seeing h ■ finish. The censor saw more. 11 shivered once or twice, then order ■ date strips pasted across the front of all these pictures. Driving next dav Mrs Pat was mu h

incensed to find her dead-wall presentments provided with chest protectors, and. it is reported, ordered all the po-i ers taken down. The order however, was not complied with. The story of how Mis Campbell l?fc the Russell House in Detroit becar.s Landlord Chittenden declined to obey her mandate to stop the playing of I hotel orchestra has already been tol i. But there was an interesting seque' W. J. Chittenden, jiui., son of the un yielding bonifaee, appeared at the bo office of the theatre where Mrs Caran bell was playing, a night or two late" , and demanded that the orchestra be either suppressed or ordered to plav something less heavy than the Wag uerian selections which Mrs Campb-h thought suitable to “The .lov of Li ing.”

Mr Chittenden also demanded th > Mrs Pats’ “purp” be removed from the theatre, saying its bilking behind <‘ie scenes could be heard in the box be occupied, and that it distressed hi u niuchlv.

The manager of the theatre wearilv answered that he felt he al dy had nil the troubles he could shoul 'er.