The Ladies’ Magazine.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2461, 27 March 1909, Page 12 (Supplement)

The Ladies’ Magazine.

mr.-. ■■ :. ■ . NAMING THE NtW HOUSE. It was finished. The last shingle had | been hung, the last window paned; the | bricklayers, carpenters, plumbers, and £ painters had .all finished their tasks one after another, and departed, and now all that remained to tell of their pref sence was the little spot of dried mor- ;; tar, 'and a certain tidy roughness about , the garden paths. The garden itself p‘ had been set out months before, and I, * the young silver wattles and jacaranf, das, the flame trees, and rose bushes h were already quite at home; while iV- ' down on the terrace below a row of t stakes gave promise of an orchard in I• - the future. Already it began to spell I’, ' homo, though no furnishing had been | begun, and all that remained to mark l ;it as our very own was its name. The contractor in a kindly moment had suggested painting the name on t; the gate for us before his men depactj; ed, and as we had no name ready had i suggested Hilltop or Grand View. We thanked him for ~hisS -i&OTrgkfcMness*. but said wo wouldn’t decide just at ; onoo IHilltop or Grand View for our ; oottago lAsif it needed such advertisement ; as ij : it were necessary to print upon its gate the fact that it was set on the beautiful top of a windy hill, with the land stretching away for miles to the westward in a rolling sea of trees and paddocks, and the mountains in the far horizon. Oh, no, the naming of our house could not be so quickly dismissed ass all that. It. was just as important as the naming of ’.a child. Something to be accomplished with care and thought, and much consultation. ; -We wanted something suitable, and yet not too obvious; poetic, but not too | sentimental; and it was not easy to . fmd the exact name to fit all our rei^quiroments. Suggestions we received by tons and i"- : dozens, from our friends and relations. [ 'Mother, who was English, had a fondI ness for such names as “The Grange,

or “The Oaks,” but we said, “Why not ‘The Pines,’ or "Hie Elms,’ or ‘The • Cedars.’ ” They would all have been equally inappropriate. Father suggest-V-ed facetiously that l 'iiie .Eyry,” or p;“Tlie Nest,” would be suitable, or perhaps better still, the Dovecot, (|?!it• which John—John’s the cynic of the —observed that “The Perch,” or I:’“The Roost” would be equally fitting. Aunt Anne snubbed them both for their stupidity, and thought we should choose some more cultured title, such as “St. Crispins,” or “St. Romans. Aunt Anne is even more English than jmotfe<3*_a«d is very High Church. Uncle Ned pooh-poohed her, and thought “The Moorings” or “The Anchorage” would be jolly nice. “But we are not sailors,” I-remarked plaintively, “and even, if we were tied tip we wouldn’t want to parade the fact.” .After the family had done justice to my joke, they proceeded with their ideas. 1 “ ‘The Retreat’ would be nice,” said cousin May, who is four years older than I am. and rather spiteful. “Yes,”' or “The Last-Hope,” I retorted, with a knowing smile at Jim. I .“I don’t think ’ that would be at all

seeming,” exclaimed Aunt Anne, whose..sense of humor hasn’t been de,/veloped; and she wondered when we „» laughed. : think we had bettor have an ;■ Australian name,” said Jim at last. "There are some awfully pretty native names; and we ought to be able to find one with an appropriate mean-4P/Kia-oi;a”vcried Uncle Ned, triumthe very thing.” : /'iYespthe very thing—to be avoided. f /A&.d'i'hes'ides, it’s Maori, not Austrai. ' ’ , -f#e; you want,” cried inspiration. John isn’t } really a cynic as ho 1 pret.ehdsrV "You want a list of native names and their meanings, and 1 have j the very book.” ; "Then produce it,” we cried; and John, hurried off to liis room, and returned with a. little green book in his | ihand.'r • •*•** ; "Here we. are,” he said, with an air j of great importance, as We all clusters' ed to peep over his should- !. er. -iV.'Thp.re '.are-some jolly pretty words j here, and 'you’ll soon find the think you-.want. How would tliis do? Bulli--1 me'hdechinundi —is means south-east.

tiie'ivay you face.” “Gracious]” said mother. “I could j • never learn to say ih at, much, loss spell Lit.” ' : that’s said IJncle I Ned, reading,';oyer John’s shoulder. | “Here’s a real good one. 'Comebeegee- ■ boondarnghealdah’;—it means grey i ttiotll.” :i. v .’. I' ‘“That? * said aunt Anne, | crushinglyi ; *“Lucy, I hope, won’t be | troubled with moths; at least if she’s | as careful ..as she ought to be she cer- | tainly ywii’t.” . . . , ’ vh fojind a pretty name,” said ; cotisin May.’ .. /'Eerdher. Is’nt it soft to say ?” '' I' s “Eerdher. Yes, it is soft. What - does it ; mean ?’ ’ .1 asked. , i: r ;;“Mirage,’”::said cousin May. (I realIv b oliove she;was in' love with Jim herK •‘Oh, this is-no mirage,’ ’ laughed ;&king the book out of John’s

hand. “Lot me see if I can find something more suitable. If you like a long name, Lucy, here’s one that would just suit hie.. Daendeeghindamalylaunah. It means a laughing man—that’s me.” “It’,; original,” I said 5 “but I’m afraid it would be rather trying when I was giving my address. Let us look for something shorter.” “Do you like ‘ Moo rill ah’—peb bly ridge?” “Oh, Jim, our ridge isn’t pebbly." “No, perhaps it isn’t. How do you like Dulloorah —small grey birds? There are such a lot of jacky winters in the garden.” “That’s rather nice, ‘Small grey birds’ is really descriptive of the garden at present.” “Ye;,” said father. "Doves are not very big, and they’re grey enough.” “Oh. bother. "Let me look,” and I took the book from Jim. There were -rows and rows of words to choose from, but none that just exactly suited me. They were either too" long or too hard in their meaning. But at last I found the right one. “We are going to have a- garden, ■ aren’t we?” I asked Jim, “Certainly we are. Why, haven’t I already spent numberless ~ Saturday afternoons making it, not to mention numerous shillings.” “But can you make the flowers bloom? Will we always have some blossom ?”

“From January to December I promise you shall have roses and daffodils, pansies and stocks, carnations and dahlias, sunflowers and larkspurs, any and every flower you can think of, and always one or more in bloom. Anything else you would like to know about the garden?” _ No, I think that will do. We will call the house Girrahween, which, being translated, is the ‘place of flowers.’ ”

“And that really means the place of sweetnc-’A and sunshine,” said Jim.

“Where you find ‘Love in idleness,’ said father. “And honesty and thrift, perhaps,' said John.

“And sometimes rue,” said cousin

May. “And heartsease always,” said mother gently. “And ‘sweet sultan’ always in command,” said Jim for only me to hear, And “Girrahween” it was.

GIFTS WORTH £IOO,OOO. The European who orosses to America carry off a millionaire's daughter and an enormous dowry, is not, as a rule, popular. Lord ‘ Granard, the Master of the Horse to His Majesty, is an exception.' Ha married Miss Beatrice Mills, ono of Now Yiork’s greatest heiresses, and ono newspaper wont so. far as to say. “He’s a good follow, so here's luck to him.” With such a start the young peer and peeress should bo happy. Tliere are Mother aids to unppiness. Tlio bride received from' her grandfather a cheque for £20,000 as. a wedding present, the total value of the gifts received being £IOO,OOO. The position of the bride as the daughter of one r.f New York’s wealthiest financiers, and. one, m'oreovor, posse^ll^LS-" latives in the leading social set, combined ' vjthth^-'cfrcumstanco that Lord Granard is a member of the Government, aroused a" more than usually strong public interest in the wedding, and various were the stratagems resorted to t'o obtain tickets for the ceremony. To this, however, only relatives and intimate friends were invited, in accordance with the decision of the family that there should be no display. The pair were, married in the small ballro’om in the Mills’ mansion at 69th street, New York, the officiating clergyman being Bishop Cusick, of the Roman Catholic Cathedral. Inasmuch as Lord Granard is a Catholic, and Miss Mills, a Protestant, a dispensation from Archbishop Farley was necessary. The ballroom is situated on the second floor of the mansion, and is approached by a noble marble stairway, the decoration bf the interior being in the style of early Louis Quinze. Two splendid receptionrooms accommodated the guests on their arrival. TliO ballroom is somowhat small, about 60ft by 40ft. There were 200 gilt chairs, each numbered, and the rbws divided down the centre by a narrow aisle. A small platform was erected at one end of the room, where Bishop Cusick pronounced the Benediction. The bride wore an Empire dress of white satin, embossed with white velvet flowers, and trimmed with poiut d’Alencon lace and having a long Court train in the English style. The wedding dress was made in Paris. The veil was of point d’Alencon lace, fastened with the usual wreath of orange bloss’oms. Miss Mills' was attended by four little girls, all of them the daughters of prominent millionaires —Miss Grace Vanderbilt, daughter of Mr John Jacob Astor; Miss Ellen Mackay, daughter of Mr Clarence Mackay; and Miss Margaret Taylor, daughter ’of Mr Moses Taylor. These little girls wore dresses of soft white satin with silver trimmings, and mob caps of white lace. Lord Granard’s best man was hisy’ounger brother, the Hon. Donald Forbes. Six rich young New Yorkers acted as ushers, including Mr Henry Carnegie Phipps, son of Mr Henry Phipps, jun. After the wedding reception the newlymarried couple left for the Mills’ c'ouatry homo at Stantsburg, on the Hudson River. In a few days they will sail for England, via- Paris. They will arrive in London before the opening of Parliament. The presents to the bride included" a c’oronet of diamonds from her mother. Lord Granard gave her a set of diamond combs and a diamond and sapphire necklace. She will have a town house in London as a present from her parents, Mrs, Frederick Vanderbilt has given her a rope tof wonderful pearls. Miss Beatrice Mills is twin sister to Mrs Henry Carnegie Phipps, who lives in London, and is niece to Mrs Cavendish Bentinck, and to Mrs Whitelaw Reid, wife of the American Ambassador. The respective ages of the bride and bridegroom are 25 and 34. Miss Mills has always been p’opular in New York, and has the reputation of being a first-rate sportswoman.