A Curious Cheat

1895

The unrolling of an Egyptian mummy, supposed to be that of a princess, disclosed a curious cheat. The priests who did the embalming probably spoiled or mislaid the body intrusted to them, and for it substituted that of an ordinary negro man. — Philadelphia Ledger.

Gems of 1900 B.C. Exhibited in U.S.

1919

ARE BRIGHT AS NEW, THO 3800 YEARS OF AGE.

Were Worn by Egyptian Princess and Found in 1914 by English Scientist.

NEW YORK, N. Y. — Jewelry worn by an Egyptian princess of the twelfth dynasty, nineteen hundred years before the Christian era, was displayed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

It is declared to be the finest collection of personal adornment ever brought out of Egypt.

When marauders entered the tomb of Princess Sathathoriunut at some odd moment in the last 3,800 years they took away her mummy and even the elaborate funeral trappings, but overlooked a niche containing the wonderfully wrought ornaments she wore when attending the ancient equivalent for a first night at the opera.

Prof. W. M. Flinders Petrie, head of an English archaeological society, dug the collection out in 1914, and today it looks as bright as if it had just come from the makers.

It consists of a gold necklace inlaid with carnelian lapis lazuli and green feldspar and another pectoral similarly made of King Senusert II., father of the princess.

There is also a gold collar of double lion heads, a girdle of gold with rhombic jeweled heads, a necklace of amethyst with gold lion claw pendants, armlets and bracelets with gold bars and beads of gold, carnelian and turquoise; and parts of the princess' jewel box, made of ebony with gold and carved ivory panels.

The jewels are identified as belonging to the princess by her name and the name of her father in cartouches on the larger pieces. According to custom, the Cairo museum retained the choice of the collection, a diadem.

Since its purchase by the museum the collection has been in a vault in London, stipulation having been made that it should remain there until six months after hostilities closed.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 12.

Why They're Called Tumblers

1896

Every day we drink out of a tumbler. Why is the large glass that holds our milk and water so called? Years ago Professor Max Muller was giving a luncheon at All Souls' College, Oxford, to the Princess Alice, the wife of the Grand Duke of Hesse-Darmstadt and the second daughter of Queen Victoria. There were not a dozen guests besides the Princess and her husband, and a very agreeable luncheon we had, with talk on all kinds of interesting subjects.

But what excited the curiosity of all strangers present was a set of little round bowls of silver, about the size of a large orange. They were brought round filled to the brim. Those, we are told, were tumblers, and we were speedily shown how they came by their names — a fitting lesson for the guests of a philologist. When one of these little bowls was empty it was placed upon the table mouth downward. Instantly, so perfect was its balance, it flew back to its proper position as if asking to be filled again. No matter how it was treated — trundled along the floors, balanced carefully on its side, dropped suddenly upon the soft, thick carpet, up it rolled again and settled itself with a few gentle shakings and swayings into its place, like one of those India rubber tumbling dolls babies delight in.

This, then, was the origin of our word tumbler, at first made of silver, as are all these All Souls' tumblers. Then, when glass became common, the round glasses that stood on a flat base superseded the exquisitely balanced silver spheres and stole their names so successfully that you have to go to All Souls' to see the real thing. — Jeweler's Circular.

Princess and Countess

1900

The romances of royalty are as tragic as those with which Mr. Anthony Hope has filled the imaginary realm of Ruritania. Princess Stephanie, a daughter of the King of the Belgians, in the bloom of early youth became the wife of Archduke Rudolf, the Crown Prince of Austria-Hungary. She seemed destined to be an empress, but her life in Vienna has been overshadowed with unhappiness. The tragic death of the crown prince left her a widow with a young daughter to be educated in the stateliest but most gloomy court in Europe.

The princess at thirty-five has entered upon her second romance. Her marriage to Count Elmer Lonyay involved the sacrifice of her royal rank and complete separation from her daughter, who has reached the age of sixteen. The King of the Belgians and the Emperor of Austria each attempted to dissuade the princess from this second marriage, but she had fallen in love with the Hungarian count, and chose to take her leave of a court where she has never been happy, and to leave behind her daughter, to whom she is devotedly attached.

At the marriage, which took place in March, neither her royal father nor her imperial father-in-law was present. Etiquette forbade them to assist at the ceremony. But the countess has not forfeited their love or their esteem.

The count is of noble, but not of royal, birth. He has estates in Hungary, and is a diplomatist who has been connected with the Austrian embassies at several European courts. Royal etiquette is rigid and without sentiment. The crown princess, who had expected to be an empress, divested herself of royal rank and privilege when she became a countess. She can never again meet on terms of equality her own daughter, who is a great figure at the Austrian court, and is to marry a king's son.

Yet she has exchanged a life which had become a perpetual tragedy for one that promises happiness; and every one who knows her, wishes her happiness in the fullest measure.


Doesn't Go To Waste

Thrift can almost live on what extravagance throws away. The dust from blast furnaces is apparently worthless material, but in France successful experiments have been made with it for fertilizing purposes. The land responded satisfactorily. The dust contains ingredients which the earth finds to be stimulating. After all, there is little on this world of ours that is without value.

— Youth's Companion.

Frances Hodgson Burnett, 66 Today, Has Been Writing 50 years

Nov. 24, 1915

Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, who, in private life, is Mrs. Stephen Townsend, will pass her sixty-sixth milestone today. The popular novelist was born November 24, 1849, in Manchester England, and her maiden name was Frances Eliza Hodgson.

It was just half a century ago that the family moved to Knoxville, Tenn., and shortly after this the girl began the career as a writer which has made her name famous throughout the English speaking world. Although she is now well advanced in years, she has maintained her youthful spirits in fullest measure as evidenced by her latest book, "The Lost Prince," which fairly bubbles with the exuberance and romance of youth. Perhaps Mrs. Burnett has discovered on her annual pilgrimages to "the fairy isles" of Bermuda, the fountain of perpetual youth.

Mrs. Burnett — or Miss Hodgson as she then was — had the joy of seeing her first stories in the magazines when she was only seventeen years old, and ever since she has been a prolific writer. In 1873 she became the bride of Dr L. M. Burnett, and the young couple settled in Washington, which city Mrs. Burnett has since made her home when not in Bermuda or abroad. After a married life of twenty three years Dr. Burnett and his gifted wife agreed to disagree, and Mrs. Burnett obtained a divorce in 1898. Two years later she married another medical man, Dr. Stephen Townsend, an English surgeon, with whom she collaborated in the writing of "Nixie," "A Lady of Quality," and other plays.

Mrs. Burnett's first novel, "That Lass o' Lowrie's," was published in 1877, after she had served a long apprenticeship in writing short stories. Several other volumes followed, and in 1886 she attained an international deputation with her "Little Lord Fauntleroy." "In Connection With the DeWilloughby Claim," "The Dawn of Tomorrow," "A Little Princess," and more than a score of other novels, as well as a number of dramas, have added largely to her army of devoted admirers. Her latest novel, "The Lost Prince," is a fairy tale, breathing chivalrous romance, and a delightful refuge from the workaday world. — By O. Terrence, The Human Procession.