The Washington herald., 1916-01-17

Author of MY Beloved South,
Copyright, 1915, by Mcclure Nswspspsr ssndiats)
Is IL true that to understand life one
must know, love, poverty and war
II so am about to complete the tri.
angle, as fate, having already acquaint-
ed me with love aud poverty. now in
troduces me to wsr-though much against
my will, my intention having been TO r.
main in America until peace was de-
ciared.
But business compelled my return to
England and here ! am, at probably the
pleasantest pause on my journey-Chy-
an-Drea, Albany, st. Ives. Cornwall
specified with great particularly, as It
is worth while for my readers to remem-
Der the address and to visit this delight
full hotel and picturesque part OF the
country when next they are touring hap
pier England.
The voyage was ideal. calm seas all
the way, but the last day was decidedly
trying. We were awakened at six O'Clock
In the morning, and breakfasted at sew
en-thirty to be on time for the tender'
which did not bother to be on time Tor
us, as it was TWO O'Clock before we left
the steamer.
My luggage had been divided equally
between the C's and O's, and l was the
very last person to find my belongings
among them a pot Of purple heather sent
me for luck by the dearest. sweetest and
wittiest woman in the world.
BY this time 1t was nearly half past
five O'Clock, and I was dead tired.
Friends had kept a seat for me on the
overcrowded train, and finally We start
ed.
I knew London to be dark and gloomy
by day; what would 1t be when we ar
rived not much before midnight?
Then came happy thought. Does
this train"-I asked the ticket collector
stop at st. Erth and make connec-
ton for st. IvesT'
"Yes," he said, land you won't have
to wait five minutes for the Cornishnan.
but you must hurry with all that lug
gage"
When | got out at st. Erth the heather
lifted bud and blossom TO the steady rain
and the railway carriage to st. Ives
reeked with damp. 1 shivered and tried
to warm myself with the memory Of the
glorious sunshine of my native country.
The rain had developed into deluge
when I arrived at the little station of st.
Ives. There was no cab. and had
dark, steep, slippery hill to climb. The
coast and town are unlighted these days.
People who go about at night use electric
torches. There was nothing for 1t but TO
leave my luggage in the cloak room, en-
gage a boy to carry the smallest bag ana
to begin the ascent. To keep an umbrella
open was an impossibility. I closed 1t,
to be drenched in a few moments.
And, alas I wore a toque for which i
had paid the-for me-extravagant price
of twenty dollars. But did not wear 1t
long. The feather was loosened by the
wind. I pulled II of. opened the bag, put
It In one of the pockets and placed the
hat in the other. The rain sluiced my
face and ran down my neck in rivulets.
Ny shoes were full of water. / stumbled
and twisted my ankle. The steep. hurry
ing climb made me breathless. This"
I said. is war. No cab. No lights. No
hat. I shall be killed in a minute"
And then-Chy- n-Drea-and such
warm welcome! II Is many long year
since 1 first met Syble, the accomplished
mistress of this inn. She was then the
social secretary of Lady Borthwick. who.
when her husband was raised to the
peerage, became Lady Glenesk, one of
the great hostesses of London.
The Gienesks lived in Lord Byron's
fine house in Picadilly, and had spent
thousands OF pounds in beautifying 1t
and in filling the rooms with historic
treasures. knowing my appreciation of
such things, Lord Algernon occasionally
unlocked his safe and brought forth some
object that filed me with delight. such
as a favorite necklace that had once
graced the beautiful throat of Mary,
Queen of Scots 1t was composed OF
rubies, emeralds, diamonds and pearls.
Age had dimmed the rainbow radiance
of the pearls, but the precious stones
still flashed brilliantly and the design
of the old French necklace was lovely.
Lady Glenesk, who was an intellectual
woman. relied on her clever social secre-
. xrhn In town IN send
out her invitations and to assist her In
entertaining her guests.
l remember Syble saying to me, BE
sure and come on Wednesday night, Lord
Kitchener Is to be here" And he was
there Very tall and handsome, and he
looked so stern that Ia Texas woman
felt shy and a little frightened when
Lord Glenesk presented me to him. /
don't remember in the least what we
talked about! it could have only been a
few words, for the rooms were crowded
and every one wished to speak to the
distinguished soldier. Today he Is an
anxious man. The eyes of the world are
upon him, the general-in-chief of a great
army fighting in defense Of a great ma
ton.
And we others have had our happen
ings, too. Lord and Lady Glenesk are
dead Syble has left London and lives
in Cornwall, and / am a wanderer on
the face of the earth. But st. Ives, II
not home, at least holds pleasant mem
ories of friendly, restful days.
I was one of Syble's first guests, and
for many years-with spaces between
them-have returned to visit st. Ives
again and again. How charming the
rooms looked with the red carpets.
flowered chintz curtains and vases filled
with flowers!
It was half past eight o'clock. Dinner
was over, but the cook relighted the fire,
the soup was served hot and I dfned
comfortably. Beatrice waited on me. 1t
was three years since my last visit. She
tactfully told me that / had grown no
older and added other fattering assur-
ances. My. large bedroom filled me with
delight. An open fire, hot water on the
washstand, white dressing table, a gen.
erous chest of drawers, a large white
wardrobe, easy chairs, a writing table,
fresh curtains covered with roses and
bluebells, an old rose carpet on the floor,
and space and windows.
Beatrice said, What time will your
want your tea in the morning. madam? %
1t was a long time since I'd heard ma
dam"-yes. / was a lady-and when the
tea came I opened my eyes to foods of
sunshine Of a paler gold and less in
sistence than American sunshine, but II
Illumined freshly-washed tenderly-