The Washington herald., 1918-12-16

, Special Correspondent Of The Washington Herald
New York, Dec. 15.-As Samuel
Pepys might record in his diary: UP
early after sleeping badly. My. head
full of thoughts that L should go TO
my fathers for Christmas yet my Ia
bors grow so heavy ! fear cannot
/, take leave. Before breakfast l took
to playing a few doleful tunes on my
triangle, very sad. and then to cast
ing my accounts which are muddled.
This day / did wear my new FUR
collared coat and on the street 1t fell
a-raining and 1 did return and break
fast with my wife, poor wretch, In
our chambers and I did fix leaky
spigot and dust off my books and
bathe my dog.
After breakfast came a post from
Ray Long, the editor, that he was TO
become editor of Mr.. Hearst's Cosmo-
politan on the beginning OF the new
year which pleases me nightly, he
being an acquaintance OF long stand
ing. Through the park where the ice
is heavy and l did try to slide on
skates, but did not slide well. my legs.
1t seems, being very brittle with age.
On the highway I saw Mr. Buck
who tells me he has engaged Mistress
Bessie Mccoy Davis for Mr.. Ziegfeld's
show which is to begin at O'Clock
and thence to Gonfarone's where we
fell to cold goose pye and | heard
much gossip of this person and that. L
being old womanish in my liking for
gossip.
Home, a little displeased with the
man for taking all the papers away
| to clean my desk, but held my tenn
mai nd 81 II ~
Arkansas poet. who has been in the
West and he told many tayles OF living
on IS a month for many years and he
opined that the drama of the soul of
man was his conquest of fear.
Much talk along the Rialto of the
discussion between Mistress Jane Cowl
and Mistress WilIette Kershaw. the
latter u seems scoring ir the play In
Chicago, a Western city, but Miss
! Cowl taking the part on Broadway,
where Mistress Kershaw was anxious
also to score.
News is come that Mr.. Dixon, my
neighbor. was flung by his horse in
the park and cannot walk. In the
evening at billiards and played in
differently and after a contentful talk
with my wife read the public journals
and so to bed.
The Wall Street Girl now has her
Club. 1t is known as the Ann Fulton
| and Maud or Marie. who plays the
typewriter keys all morning. or works
In busy banking department sorting
checks, perhaps. can get away from
all the hub-bub of Wall Street life and
! enjoy luncheon In a quiet tea room
| that seems a million miles away from
lower broadway.
There is a type of woman in New
York-and perhaps elsewhere-who
may be seen at every gathering. She
Is the woman who lies about her age
II she enters a room a trifle breath
| less. she remarks that such a condi-
| ton is alarming for a person who has
passed only thirty-six summers
She generally has two great scars
on her neck, one below each ear Shs
tells that a speedy, unexpected trip
through a windshield is responsible
for one and that mastoiditis brought
on the other. Those who know say
she had the peculiar operation which
removes all wrinkles and leaves a
woman of fifty with the imbecil.c in
genue expression of eighteen,
New York Is dotted with beauty
parlors where such operators per-
form miracles or destroy health and
features. There is a woman living in
my block who goes veiled In black
constantly. In glancing in telephone
booth l accidentally saw her face 1t
had look of parboiled frightfulness.
bloated and SCARED. empurpled in
spots and altogether terrible.
But to get back TO the woman who
lies about her age. Her hair is as
variegated as Jacobs coat and she will
not play bridge under a strong light
Everybody is on to her. She is not a
Joke. She is a tragedy.