When the wife of a great prince, whose husband was absent at the siege of Troy, was urged by her friends to put on her royal robes and be cheerful, she answered: “My husband is under the walls of Troy; shall I adorn my hair while he wears a helmlet?

I infuriated them when they came to me by answering only the British officer and acting as if the French one could only understand music-hall pidgin-Franglais (he spoke English perfectly well). “Nice country, non? Mini-skirts, mademoiselles, oo la la. It rains always but plenty jig-jig, wee-wee — you wanna go?”

This lad Kelley is an odd duck in many ways. . . . Unlike most college youngsters, he has no hobbies.

He gave to the Trinity Corporation that land in Deptford on which are built those alms-houses for twenty-four widows of emerited seamen.