CABBAGES AND KINGS

The open season at the Court of St. James once more fills the columns of the society page as the flower of democracy runs the gauntlet of diplomacy, privilege and connection to reach the end in view. Journalists "view with alarm" the costly pilgrimmage and tales run rife of the "inside path" to the Mecca of upper crust.

Meanwhile the ghosts of former days hover anxiously over the heritage of three centuries in sullen defiance of the modern strata on the avenue. Courtiers pass but the grandeur of tradition still holds its grip upon their modern descendants. Modern methods of artificial duplication serve sufficiently to erect a set upon which these youthful actors may display their talents, such as they are, and gratify the eager ambition of parents to whose benefit the family shirt may now be waved advantageously. Capitalists give till it hurts in this new phase of war on the social front, while the first line bows in and backs out of the presence of that intangible essence that will insure them the envy of associates at home. The full length photograph, the feathers, the train, the reminiscences fondly embroidered with each succeeding year, complete a story that will transcend the immediate generation, whatever it may be.

But while the adventure into chivalry of this sort appeals to the envious imagination of the home front, it is probably with a sigh of relief that the returning veterans contemplate the friendly opportunity of shaking the warm, limp hand of a president.