The Washington times., 1934-11-21

molly.
"Next ele-
vator, please"
said the dis
patcher brisk
". Helen E''ar'
There's always the problem
Of what to give Aunt Louisa" +"
said the woman in the stove
pipe hat, as she pushed by.
But I want to see Santa
Claus every day." cried a child
1Sh voice up from the region Of
caracul coats in the back of the
elevator.
Undoubtedly Christmas is
here again. And what do we do
about it-thiS year?
And the next paragraph Is
from Rather Personal a de-
lightful new book of verse by
Leonora Owsley Herman. Mrs.
Herman writes gaily, tolerantly,
and sympathetically. She is a
musician as well as a writer,
and her poems are tempered by
a fine sense of rhythm. I like
her vivid yet philosophical
style.
In "segregated Selves" there
Is zest for living and a dash of
satire. The title might have
been "The Lament of a Col
umnist." Here is the poem:
I hate a segregated self
With everything done neatly,
With attributes upon each
shelf
Sequestered quite completely.
They want to keep my moods
apart
The flippant, proud and
humble
But CAD, the doings of my heart
Are one continual tumble!
So let me scribble as I feel,
One minute sad and serious
And then, a tiny turn Of heel
And I am mad, delirious.
With all the dizzy joy of things:
Then turn, perhaps, to sor-
row.
Do let my spirit flap it's wings!
It may have none tomorrow"
Hailed Eddie Melcher as he
was tearing down Pennsylvania
Avenue and made him tell me
how he happened to write "44
Below" which Bess Davis
Schreiner and Mabel Van Dyke
are producing at Pierce Hall on
Tuesday and Wednesday, Nc
vember q and %. Said Eddie:
"It's awfully darn nice of you
to ask. But, honestly, I feel sort
of silly talking about myself.
Qmagine! He's a cOlumnist'
tool.
LET me see. How did I hap
pen to do it? Most of it / wrote
on the train to Hollywood this
summer. like writing on trains
don't you? The only plots I've
ever cudgelIed out Of my poor
brain have arrived via chOO
chOO, so to speak.
"When did I really write the
play? The first act of "a Be
low came from a suggestion by
Pendleton Hogan. While I was
staying with Adrienne MOrri-
son, the mother of Connie and
the other BennettS, at Lyme,
Conn.,, this summer, 1 rewrOte
the play. You knew the scene
was laid at Mount Desert Island,
Maine, where I was born. And
must say it's awfully sweet OF
you to be interested"
Two diplomats were gossiping
about the recent cable on the
discovery of the furnishings OF
the old American Embassy in
Petrograd or Leningrad. One
was reminded of famous re
mark of one of the two Bakh
meteffs who were Russian Am
bassadors to Washington.
The Imper Il Bakhmetef1
was asked by a gentle lady how
closely he was related to the
Bakhmeteff who represented
the KerenSky regime in the
United States. Said the I'm
perial Bakhmeteff, drawing hi
chest very high indeed:
MADAME, the relationship II
as close as that of two Of yOuI
cOuntrymen-GeOrge Washing
ton and Booker T. Washington
George Williams has two
'poSsums in the back garden o.
his house on Hillyer Place
George and nine other fascinat
ing gentlemen about town caugh
the beasts in the light Of
recent November moon. George
says he wants to have
'possum roast soon. But dog
gone it all, everybody he knows
in on the, Hay Diet.
Progress on the Eastern Shore
Of Maryland:
Phyllis cousin Ethel decided
At the age of 70, that ShC
couldn't stand her husband an
other minute-so she divorced
him.