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THE "FIRST LADY OF LONDON"
By the election of her husband to the important position of chairman of London county council, Lady Cheylesmore, an American woman, be comes in a sense the "First Lady of London." The county council, of course, is the real governing body of the greater city, and the position of chairman corresponds in a general way to that of mayor of a city like New York, the so-called lord mayor of London "ruling" over only the old city of London-about a square mile in area. Furthermore, Lord Chaylesmore himself is half American. His mother ; was Charlotte Harman of New Orleans and he is a living example of the advantage of wedding the hus tling, practical qualities of the Amer ican with the liberal conservative qual ities of the best English aristocracy. Lady Cheylesmore, who was Elizabeth French, daughter of F. O. French df New York, has become one of the most popular and respected women in English society. She is tall and hand some, and possesses that dignity which is so highly valued in this country. Although she has never entertained on a big scale, her affairs are pop ular and there is keen competition to be numbered among her guests. Her town house in Prince's Gate, fronts on the south side of Hyde Park, a couple of doors west of the London home of J. Pierpont Morgan, in which the American banker shelters his unrivalled collection of art treasures. PAYS HOMAGE TO A SERVANT - On the eve of his departure for the land of the heather and thistle, the Laird of Skibo bade farewell to one of . his servants who had been in the serv ice for 23 years. The occasion was made a gala one in the servants' hall at the Fifth avenue mansion, New York, the Carnegie family participat ing in the function and being no small part of it. Skibo castle will be minus its head house maid in the person of Miss Mag gie Anderson. In giving her best years in service, Miss Anderson devel oped some of the thrift for which the iron master is famous, and announced some time since she was going to open a public house in Edinburgh. That is her home town, but the only living member of her family is a brother out in San Francisco. She planned to pay the brother a visit, and the laird pre sented her with a round trip ticket to the metropolis of the Pacific coast. This was not all he did. He present ed her with a handsome gold watch and a life pension of $500 a year. In the servants' hall were gathered all the help of the big mansion at eight o'clock. The haughty Jeems of the upper hall condescended to lend his dignity to the occasion and beamed on simple Sandy from the stables. The house maid fraternized with the cook, the butler with the groom. It was a truly harmo alious kamily gathering. Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie and their daughter Margaret, still in her teens, and the idol of servants' hall, and Miss Whitfield, the sister of Mrs. Carnegie, were all present. The laird presented the watch to the blushing and a bit flustrated Maggie, and expressed the regrets of the family at her Inavine. SUGGESTED AS VICE-REINE When the first Irish parliament since the dawning of the nineteenth century assembled in the "Old House at College Green," Dublin, where the eloquence of Grattan and Flood stirred the Europe of their time, an American woman may stand at the throne, listen ing to her titled husband reading the king's speech inaugurating home rule in Ireland. This great day, so soon to come, is the talk of town and country in the British isles. The question that has rocked the politics of the three kingdoms to the foundations of political life has ceased /.. to be political. Its social side is what / now appeals most rapturously to vola tile Ireland and gay, dashing, fun lov ing Dublin. Two women are most prominently spoken of as the likeliest to lead the new regime as vice-reine of Ireland. The first is Consuela, duchess of Marl. borough, the self separated mistress of Blenheim palace, which the English people gave to "Ian" Churchill for his victories in protection of the "low coun tries." The duchess would make a most dignified, queenly hostess. Only one circumstance seems to bar the way between her and the dream which she has cherished when the Marlborough marriage was made--her domestic es trangement. This, however, appears to be drawing to a welcome close. Queen Mary has expressed her desire that the duke and duchess should forgive, forget, and begin all over again. And it is hinted that if the proud Consuela consents to be pacified, the vice regal coronet will grace her brow. INEW QUEEN TO BRING GAIETY Alexandrine, the new queen of Den mark, promises to delight her subjects. Queen Louise lived austerely, despite her great wealth (more than $15,000, 000), and the French blood in her veins that come from the Bernadotte line to which she belonged. It is said of her that she never attended a theatri cal performance or a ball. Queen Alex andrine is far more pleasure-loving, and the court, when the period of mourning has passed, may well be ex pected to take on a gaiety it has not shown for some years. The queen is a sister of the crown princess of Ger many. Their mother is Grandduchess Anastasia, a shining light in society on the Riviera, whose liveliness and un conventionality sometimes make Em peror William nervous. Though Queen Louise is rich in her own right, she is thrifty, and as she ;. '. held the purse strings during her hus- :> ... , band's reign, the Danish royal family , -:% maintains its reputation of being pov erty stricken. Denmark can afford to pay her sovereign only about $250,000 a year, which is not enough to support royal state to compare with the other European monarchs, whose civil list (salaries) run into millions. Many Americans are already among the intimates of Christian and Alex andrine. Mrs. Robert Goelet is an especial friend of the latter, and last sum. mer when Mrs. Goelet -'isited Copenhagen on her yacht Nahma she was en tertained extensively by the then crown princess. The new king and queen follow the example of Frederick, whose admira tion for the United States was so great that he read American newspapers 'daily and was a close student ot American literature. BLUE LIGHT AN ANESTHETIC Eastern Scientist Has Demonstrated p the Fact in a Thorough Ser'es of Experiments. "One of the most remarkable actions of light has recently come to our at tention," says the editor of the Jour nal of Surgery. "In an address before the Boston Physio-Therapeutic soci ety Dr. E. C. Titus has demonstrated that blue light possessed remarkable anesthetic power. "In his experiments he used a series of slender glass rods about one-eighth of a~ inch in thickness, placed side by side and tied together so as to form a kind of flexible mat which will adapt itself to various parts of the body. The glass must be of co balt blue and transmit no red rays, this being a very important point. The rods are to be placed upon the area to be anesthetized, and some form of white light, preferably a tung pten lamp, brought as closely as pos sible without causing discomfort. "Strange to relate, in twenty min utes the part becomes insensitive, so that superficial and even deep inci sions or punctures are no longer felt. This anesthesia lasts for one-half hour or more, and has occurred so constant ly that there is no reason to believe that it is the result of suggestion or accident. Minor surgical operations have been performed under this meth od and without the least pain or dis comfort, and there seems to be enough in it to merit attention. "More than thirty years ago there prevailed what was afterwards termed the blue glass craze. All sorts of ail ments were thought to be amenable to the action of blue light, and the newspapers were filled with glowing accounts of cures. Enthusiasm ran riot for a time and then the matter dropped out of sight. "Some time later there was a re vival of interest in phototherapy when Finsen demonstrated the curative properties of the ultra-violet ray in various affections, especially lupus. Since then the physiological action of light has been carefully investigated and although much remains to be learned, there can be no doubt that we are nearer to an appreciation of its possibilities in the treatment of dis ease." Our Life's Story. Very often the success which at tended our early efforts turns its back upon us in later years, and while for a time we may try to continue in detail the story of our alternate hopes and fears, our victories and our defeats, we soon realize that the record is a sorry one, and we feel ashamed to con tinue its recountal. We forget the early promises we made to be sincere in the matter of making up our record, and because the story is not one of unalloyed success and prosperity we grow disloyal to our better selves and believe that by making no further entries in our diaries we bring them to a close. Just as we recall to mem ory in later years, however, the small volumes of our early youth, with their interrupted stories, we are prone also to look deeply into the record we have written in the real diary of life. It was Barrie who said that "the life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story and writes another, and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it." We cannot release ourselves from the obligation of writing the diary of our lives. We make the records whether we are willing or not, and for each hour and day of the year of life given to us here on earth there is a faithful entry made. - Charleston News and Courier. British island Reclaimed by Dutch. Canvey Island, which is again com ing into prominence in connection with the proposal to establish a great wharf there, is one of the pieces of England which were reclaimed for us by the Dutch. At one period the isl and was covered with water at high tide, but early in the seventeenth cen tury Cornelius Vermuyden, the famous Dutch engineer, who was afterward knighted by Charles I, reclaimed sev eral thousand acres by the construc tion of a system of seawalls. The walls are still there, but where are the Dutchmen who made them? Cor nelius Vermuyden brought over work men from Holland and many are known to have stayed here, but now their names have disappeared entire ly, from Canvey at least.-Westmins ter Gazette. The Aftermath. The great ball had been given, and Mrs. Noovo was running over the bills with her husband. When it was found that they totaled $10,000 Mr. Noovo winced. "By ginger, Maria!" he ejaculated,1 "ten thousand dollars is a pile o' money." "We have to do it, Silas, to get into society," replied Mrs. Noovo. "Well," said the old man, scratching his head, "Judgin' from results it don't seem to me that we're gettin' into society quite so much as society is gettin' into us."-Harper's Weekly, Boy Got the Penny. At a country school in the Midlands the head master said: "Now, boys, I will give a penny to the first lad who can ask me a question which I cannot answer." Several tried unsuccessfully, until one boy asked him: "Please, sir, if you stood up to your neck in soft mud and I threw a stone at your head, would you duck?" The question remained unanswered -Ideas. One Man's Way : By KATE CLEVES Ann Rose looked at Dick Foster from innocent gray eyes. "And is it as bad as all that?" she asked lightly w1 hen he had concluded his tale of love with a hint that life would be unbearable without her. "As bad as what?" he asked quick q ly, resenting the half-hidden raillery In her voice. "That life will be empty without poor little me?" "Oh-that! Why, Miss Ann, you know we always add that-for good measure." There was a hurt look in her eyes as he arose from the bench and looked down at her. Ann bit her lip and hung her head. She hated to dismiss Dick Foster, but after this, of course, he would join the train of the other discon solates. "I am very sorry," she began with just the right degree of pathos in her voice when his laugh cut her words short. "\V'll?" she asked haughtily, ris ing and facing him. "I beg your pardon, Ann, but I will spare you further pain. You were about to say that you are sorry that you cannot love me in return but that you will ever be my life-long friend." There was a curious hesitation in her voice when she answered. "Why yes-I believe I was about to make that remark. How clever you are, Mr. Foster, but I suppose you've had lots of experience," she smiled ironically. "Heaps," he answered with more cheerfulness than Ann Rose deemed proper under the circumstances. In ,deed, Dick Foster's proposal of mar friage had gone off in an entirely dif ferent manner from what Ann had planned for. Ann Rose was a most thoroughgoing little flirt and the list of her disconsolate suitors would have made a long voting list. "I'm rather popular that way, you know." "What way?" "Oh, being refused; you see I am easily flattered and if a girl acts as If she were interested in me I up (or down, if you please) and propose to her on the spot! Witness this even Ing." "And so I acted as if I were inter ested in you?" stormed Ann turning on him like a small whirlwind. "Yes," he said, looking her steadily In the eyes; "you did." Ann Rose laughed softly, but only a -wo as 7 W .11 Furtively Watched Him. loving eye would have discerned the trembling pulse in her pretty white throat and heard the tiniest suspicion of a quaver in her voice when she spoke again. "Tl.en you were merely flattered by my interest? And the rest of it was false? You didn't mean it?" He hesitated a moment. "What part do you refer to?" He had fold ed his arms across his broad chest and was looking down at her from sparkling dark eyes. She flushed rosily. "You know about your-regard for me." And the pulse in her throat fluttered more widely. "Regard? Was that the word?" "Love then," she flashed. "What difference does it make when you didn't mean any of it?" Foster was silent. His eyes seemed to be reading her face, now slightly turned from him. He scanned the crown of golden brown hair, the deli cate arch of dark brows, the curling sweep of long lashes against her cheek and he did not overlook the pulse at her throat. His eyes grew tender, but his lips did not lose their decision. He held out his hand. "Perhaps You will say good-bye and wish me God-speed," he said quietly. She turned quickly. "You are not foing away?" "Merely for a few months. My mewspaper has ordered me to the Wexican border." "Will there be fighting and dan. :er ?" "Uan afraid not," taking her hand. 'Good-bye." "Good-bye and good luck," re urned Ann, wondering why he did not espond to the friendly pressure of ter hand. There was a vague little chill at her heart as she furtively watched him striding down the street, his tall form towering above the other men. "I hate him-how I hate him!" she cried with sudden passion as she turned back to the room. So it was whispered about that the invulnerable Dick Foster had suc cumbed to the wilee of Ann Rose and that she had sent him to join the great army of the rejected. People shook their heads and prophesied dis aster for witching Ann. "She'll meet her match some day," they told each other and finally the remark reached Ann's ears. When she reached home she locked herself in her room and drenched her pillow with tears. Several months afterward Dick Fos ter came home, browner, graver, big ger than ever, but he did not go to see Ann Rose until she sent for him. "I want to hear about the war," she said as she shook hands with him. "There wasn't a real war, so there is nothing to relate," he smiled down at her. Ann didn't like that detached smile. It savored of indifference to her own charms and she had noted it before in other old suitors when they had come to announce their en gagement to another girl. "I suppose you will stay home now," she suggested as she gave him a cup of tea. "I must," he said frankly. "I'm going to be married, you know, and there's a lot to do beforehand." "Congratulations," returned Ann Rose without an instant's hesitation. "Is it to be soon?" "Thanks. On the nineteenth of next month," answered Foster prompt ly. He arose and set his cup and sau, cer on the table. Again he was look' ing down at Ann in that curious, de tached way and she was conscious that lie saw her paleness and that he noted she had grown thinner dur nlug his absence. This vexed her proud spirit and she spoke with added vivacity. "You will give up your normadic life now and become a staid reporter -or an editor-or something like that?" He laughed uneasily. "Oh, no, I think not. We shall travel wherever my paper sends me. I believe I am to be ordered to Turkey before long." She drew a sharp breath. "Turkey! The most fascinating country in the world. How I long-" she paused and bit her lip angrily. "It's likely to be hot at this sea son." Foster covered her embarrass ment. Ann Rose stood there, a brave smile on her face, telling herself that all the tortures she was undergoing were merely the justly deserved punish ment of a coquette. She remembered the stern warnings of a maiden aunt who made her home with the Roses and she knew that the prophecy had been fulfilled. "You'll suffer yet, Ann," Miss Laid law had groaned dismally. "Just think of all the estimable young men whom you have driven to drink or suicide." "Why should I think of them?" Ann retorted indignantly. "Not one man has ever been driven to ruin through love of me nor has one ever committed suicide." "Ann Rose, you are shocking-it is almost er-sacrilegious to speak of marriago in that manner!" But Ann had wickedly laughed and flitted away out of earshot, but not soon enough to miss hearing her aunt's prophecy that one day the flirt would fall in love with some man who would break her heart. "Fiddle-de-dee, I have no heart," muttered Ann Rose over her shoul der and had promptly forgotten all about the incident until it came back to her this evening as she faced Dick Foster and heard him say that he was going to be married. The door opened suddenly and Mr. Rose thrust in an excited red face framed in white hair. "Did you ask to see me, Foster?" he demanded hurriedly. For answer Dick reached forth a : long arm and dragged the astonished barker Into the room. "Yes, sir," he said respectfully. "Ann and I love each other and want to get married. What do you say, sir?" Like a flash his arm was about Ann's swaying form and he caught her close to his heart as he faced Mr. Rose's surprised, but not dis. pleased face. Ann clung to his arm. "What do I say, eh? Well, I say that any respectable young chap who can catch my butterfly deserves to keep her. Now I've just ten minutes to make that Chicago train and the car is at the door." He wrung Dick's hand, patted his shoulder and then kissed his daughter hurriedly. He dashed from the roon' to once more thrust his head into the room. "I forgot-bless you, my children," he shouted and disappeared. Rousing Response. At a provincial theater not long since the curtain rose on an empty stage in the second act,, and by and by a meek looking young man with a dust coat slung over his arm came on and loudly called: "Uncle, uncle!" According to the book of the play he should have received no answer to his call, and after an appropriate pause he should have gone on with the monologue. But a graceless "god" In the gallery took upon himself to answer the actor. "All right, I'm coming in a moment; how much do you want on it?" he shouted. The effect on the audience may be imagined.-Tit-Bits. SOOIETll NG LITTLE ONES SIGHT OF CAT IN THE DARK Vhen Feline Is In Search of Mouse Where the Light is Dim Pupils of Eyes Open Wide. Some persons will tell you that cats can see in the dark. Now nothing cant see in the dark, but some animals can see with a great deal less light than others, just as some cameras will takei a picture with less light than others. You open or close the lens in a camera according to the amount of light, or, else you speed up the shutter or slow It down. The human eye does this automat ically, as the pupil expands or con tracts according to the amount of light to which it is exposed; but cats can expand or contract the pupils of their eyes at pleasure, just as you open or shut the stops in the lens of your camera. When cats are not particularly anx ious to see anything the pupils of their eyes become nothing but narrow slits, like this: Pupils at Ease. But when a cat is hunting a mouse in a room where there is very little light, or when the cat is being hunted by some bad boys and wants to see every move the boys make, it opens the pupils of its eyes until they are perfectly round. ' ' :. . . Pupils Open Wide. If you happen to be between the cat and the light you will see a peculiar ,leain in this wide open pupil, which s the reflection of the light at the ack of the cat's eye. LANGUAGE USED IN SPORTING Many of Terms Is Our Inheritance From Middle Ages-Phraseology Extended to Man. Much of the language used in var. ous sports is our inheritance from the middle ages. Different kinds of beasts when in companies were distin' guished by their own particular epi thet, which, was supposed to be in some manner descriptive of the habits of the animals. To use the wrong form of these words subjected the would-be sportsman to ridicule. Many of these terms have passed away, but some of them are still re tained. This list from the middle ages is still good usage today. A "pride" of lions, a "lepe" of leopards, a "herd" of harts and of all sorts of deer, a "bevy" of roes, a "sloth" of bears, a "singular" of boars, a "sounder" of wild swine, a "route" of wolves, a "harras" of horses, a "ray" of colts, a "stud" of mares, a "pace" of asses, a "barren" of mules, a "team" of oxen, a "drove" of kine, a "flock" of sheep, a "trite" of goats, a "skulk" of foxes, a "down" of hares, a "nest" of rabbits, a "clowder" of cats, a "schrewdness" of apes and a "labor" of moles. Also, of animals when they retired to rest, a hart was said to be "har bored," a roebuck "bedded," a hare "formed," a rabbit "set." Two grey-. hounds were called a "brace," but two barriers were called a "couple." There was also a "mute" of hounds for a number, a "kennel" of raches, a "lit ter" of whelps and a "cowardice" of curs. This kind of descriptive phraseology was not confined to birds and beasts, but was extended to the human spe cies and their various propensities, iatures and callings. Care of Persian Girls. "Great care is taken that the Per sian girls shall conform to the recog nized standard of beauty, which re quires her to have a cypress waist, a full-moon face, gazelle eyes and eye brows that meet," says a traveler. "Her eyes, brows and hair must be black as night, her lips, cheeks and gums as red as blood, her skin and :eeth as white as almonds, and her back, limbs and fingers long. If these ,onditions are naturally absent they ire supplied, as far as possible, by Lrt. Persian women are always paint td, their eyes darkened with khol and h.eir fingers stained with henna."