The Birmingham age-herald., 1913-05-25

AAAo. bAdI 6AlCt ACiy Va SllAtOh~
dale, N. Y, whose name was recently
mentioned in communication to Abra-
ham Lincoln Dingee, a wealthy fruit
grower, also of that town, signed by
the Eighteen Whitecaps of Clinton
dale" warning him to cease his visits
10 her, recently celebrated her seven
ldeth birthday anniversary. Mr.. Din
gee is comparatively young man, but
the gossips Of the village scented out
scandal just the same, and the white
ltaps," which are sort of Ku-Klux-
klan of the vicinity, threatened to "ride
lhim on a raiP' out of town if he con-
.inued this practice. Mrs. Relyea has
laughed dt all the threats and believes
that it is all joke, because she says
she took particular pains to let people
know that she was "old enough to be
his mother during her celebration of
her SEVENTEEN birthday. She has lit
tie farm which she looks after, and she
says that Mr.. Dingee, whom she has
known since his birth, comes there only
to buy produce.
,.........ss................
author of Marriage is going on visit
to Italy where he expects to stay for
a month or two.
Winifred James Married
Her many readers in the United States
he inf tod 10
James, who wrote Bachelor Betty and
THE Letters of a Splnster," is now neth-
er bachelor or spinster, having just got
married. BY the time you read this. her
new book, The Mulberry Tree, to get
material for which she visited Panama
and the West Indies-probaby will be
out on your side of the Atlantic, so it
may be mentioned that it was while on
her recent travels that the authoress met
her husband. Henry de Jan. Everybody
goes to see de Jan at Almeranti, where
he is chief of the Fruit Growing COM
pany and when Miss James was in Pan
anna. working up her book, of course she
went to Interview him. He told her a.
good deal about Panama, and, later on,
something about himself, and now they
are going back to Panama together
Miss James, you may remember, turned
out to be the anonymous author of the
widely discussed Letters to My Son."
Judging by the London reviewers lavish
praise of The Mulberry Tree, she has
hit the bullseye once more as indeed, she
seldom-if ever-has failed to do since
first she came to London from Aus
tralia. settled down in digs" in Chelsea
with a china elephant as mascot, and
began writing pot boilers.
AT this time, a little coterie which had
Constance Smedley. who wrote Service"
as its presiding genius, and of which the
present writer was a humble member,
saw much of Miss James, and the memory
of one experience which we shared is
not likely to fade from my remem-
brance.
As Miss James Hostess
big evening reception at the Ly-
ceum club, in Piccadilly, had reached its
end, and, at the request of my hostess,
| offered myself to Miss James as es-
eort on the return journey to her lodgings
in the Fulham Road To our dismay,
however, when we emerged from the
club one of the thickest fogs which 1t
ever has been my misfortune to meet in
the course of a lengthy residence here,
was In possession of the West End
Our hanson driver (tilis was before the
era of taXis) managed well enough so
long as he had the lights of Hyde park
corner to guide him, but once he had
left <nightsbridge behind, and unrelieved
log encompasSed MIN on every mana, ne
was obliged to leave his accustomed
perch, arm himself with one of the cabs
lamps and taking his horse by the bits,
trudge along on foot through the gloom,
as many cabby has done before in
London, and will do again.
1t had been well past midnight when
we quilted the Lyceum AT the end of
an hour, at our rate of progress, we had
covered. ! suppose, a mile. Suddenly
Winifred James gasped.
I'm afraid to tell you what I've done,
she observed.
What have you done?" said I, all un-
1--WE left my bag at the club" faltered
she, and my latch keys in it, and l can't
get in.
Back we crawled through the fog. When
eventually / reached home it was long
past 9, I have never forgiven Winifred
James.