Evening Star Newspaper, September 21, 1930, Page 98

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, SEPTEMBER 21, S e s S s = HER VILLA o BY FANNIE HE terrace upon which Miss Eustacia de Lima sat each evening was re- garded, by all fortunate enough ever to have trod its perfect turf, as one of the most exquisite and command- ing of all Europe. It hung, this terrace, over the gray-green slopes of Fiesole, which com- mands that view of the city of Floience which spreads like a lady’'s pround fan at its feet. Not even in the days of its original owners, fifteenth century Medicis, had this terrace boasted its present perfection. Carefully re- stored by its American owner from the over- grown condition in which she found it, pack to & semblance of what must have been its original pattern, Eustacia had added subtly, and with conservatism, to its bloom and geo- metric scheme of plants and walks. Approaching the Villa Fiesole, a half mile of slender and precise Italian poplars, as straight and narrow and rigid as tall spears, pointed the way to the villa. Once at the top of this battalion of poplars, the terrace and villa, and all its incredible view, burst upon ¢he beholder. It was said in some of the guide books that its wealthy owner, Miss De Lima, had set about to make this villa the most glorious in all Europe. FTER a while, of course, as her success came to be noised about and friends, ac- quaintances and sightseers came from distances to behold the perfection of her dwelling place, its beautification blossomed into her hobby. Her only motive for ever leaving it, her only desires, were that she might gather within its massive walls treasures that might enhance its .glowing beauty. How well she succeeded is further attested by the fact that out of deference to her out- standing achievement in the way of perpetuat- ing and idealizing a landmark, the government honored Miss de Lima. Fiesole Villa became twice over the target it had ever been for the sightseeing thousands who annually® crowded in for the feasts of beauty Florence had to offer them. It was after the acknowledgment of the government that Miss de Lima decided to throw open her gardens one day a week for the further enjoyment of those who came peering through the grillwork of her hand- some gates. Guards were installed at intervals throughout the gardens and parks, turf was chained off where need be to protect it from heedless intrusion and the general public was thus admitted to one of the show villas of all Europe. On this day each week Miss de Lima kept carefully to her chambers, moving about with ceaseless enjoyment among the high-patined, fifteenth, sixteenth and even thirteenth century objects of furniture and art that she had col- lected with such loving care. It was as if these objects, packed to their very timbers with memories of turbulent and picturesque yester- days, were live and breathing companions. Each “When Serving Afternoon Tea” —ZBy L//is The Famous Humorist Gives a Few Ideas That May Be Classified as “Novelties for the Guests”—Some Hostesses Show Unusual Origi- nality. NE of the first questions you ask yourself when jyou plan to give a party is “What shall I give them to eat?” In the silly old days such as 1915, 1776 or 1492 this question was easily answered. If you decided to give a pink tea, all you had to do was go into the garden and pick some pinks; you put them in the teapot, poured hot water on them, and you had pink tea. For the present day hostess the stoking of the guests is no such easy matter. More is ex- Sy pected of the hostess; it is no longer sufficient to set a ke!tle of cornmeal mush on the table and say: “Eat hearty, folks; there's plenty more where this came from.” Whether it is an afternoon tea, a bridge party or a meeting of the Society for the Improvement of Yellow- Tailed Grackles, your guests expect something different and unusual. This is what gives so many hosteskes the pip. The following sugges- tions, while going into nothing elaborate, will be welcomed. [TOR an afternoon tea we mus’ have some- thing that can be wheeled in on a cart. In choosing a car we should select one with non-skid tires and the maid should be cau- tioned to keep within the 25-mile’ spepd Mthit, " slowing ‘down to 10 mifes at the Yorrdrd? 'Care should be taken to see that thé Hrakeés até in o ; Hou.\‘;'fri;t;tfivCame to Life. HURST. 1930. NN “There it was, the same old vulgar, curious public that she despised. Yet somehow the raucous children, gaping matrons and heavy-legged papas brought a feeling of warmth to the windows of Miss de Lima.” one had a history, of which she was most care- fully aware. Here, the elaborate carved bed in which a fifteenth century Doge had slept. Here, a Gothic chest of incredible associations. Here, & painting by Rubens that was laden with re- minders of his early life. R 12 years Miss de Lima, growing older, more fragile, more remotely associated with the bygone centuries she loved, dwelt in the midst of the luxury of beauty, sharing it, to’ some extent with the public, but for the most part, drinking her pleasure and her tea alone, on her terrace, at sunset; strolling, with her two lean wolfhounds, through her gardens, olive-groves and leafy hillsides at dusk; spend- ing long hours in arrangement and rearrange- ment of the rows of chambers; tending and caring for a bit of cracking wood or majolica as if it had been a living thing; loving her solitude, glorying in the beauty of this soli- tude with which she was able to surround herself. Gradually, as this began to pall a bit, Miss de Lima allowed herself the luxury of invading friends, who came eagerly to share these bless- ings with her. But after a while it seemed to Miss de Lima the pecking curiosity her visitors brought with them, the restlessness, the desire for bridge and pastimes, after the first few hours of exclaiming delight had worn off, desecrated, in a way, the crystal silences of her villa, and so she relapsed into solitude— solitude among hanging gardens and strutting peacocks and tiny hissing waterfalls. . “Selfish!” said her friends. Something of this awareness must also have struck Miss de Lima, because after a while, prompted by a combination of ennui and sense of duty, she good condition and the maid taught to reduce speed gradually. Nothing upsets a hostess more than to have the tea-cart pass right on over her and out through the bay-window. into the tulip bed, or to have the tea cart stop suddenly while the oolong projects itself into Mrs. Over- bury-Martin's lap. Let us suppose that the hostess is planning fodder that can be carted in and eaten on the lap. This immediately excludes soup, unless it can be served in the original cans, with straws, because few things are more annoying to a guest than having to balance a plate of tomato soup on the knee while handling a sandwich with.one hand and a cup of tea with the other. If the soup is served in the original can, it may be grasped between the knees, care being taken to turn the toes in and to have the can right side up. The thoughtful hostess will mark the punctured end of the can “Top” or “This end up,” and she should take care to see that the cans are made of fairly stout tin. I recall a most embarrassing incident that happened when the Countess of Biskirk served soup in thin cans at an afternoon tea at Castle Colmulligan. Lady Eleanor Glamis was one of the guests and you will remember that she was famous as a fox hunter, always riding a big chestnut horse with a face like Lady Mary Palthorpe’'s, but with smaller teeth. Lady Eleanor had very powerful knee muscles from clasping her mount so firmly when leaping fences, ditches, hedges and other pieces of landscape while pursuing the fox. The soup was wheeled in and passed to the guests, each can having been punctured for the insertion of the straws, and Lady Eleanor placed her can of tomato soup between her knees and clamped her knees shut on the can. Instantly the sides of the can caved in and a stream of soup shot upward through the puncture in the top of the can, hitting Lady Eleanor in the nostrils just as she was taking a deep breath and prac- tically drowning her. The countess with great presence of mind immediately ordered a bar- rel brought in and in about half an hour Lady Eleanor was resuscitated, but the party was quite spoiled and Lady Eleanor sneezed tomato soup for a full, month, saying “D—n the countess!” every tithé' she sneezed.' arranged that the villa be open to the public again, two days a week. In a way that served to increase her isolation because it meant that additional hours must be spent indoors, prowl- ing among her objets d'art. It was with something akin to unpleasant surprise that Miss de Lima began to apprehend herself in what had come to be her habit of peering through the heavy brocades and shut- ters of her windows these days that the gardens were open wide. The voices and streamers of laughter and high excited exclamations that came to her seemed to draw her automatically toward the din. TH!RE it was, the same old vandal, vulgar, poking, curious public that she in a way despised even while she tolerated its ways. How they moved about, down there, through her gardens, kept in place by guards, admon- ished by parents, splashed in sunlight that seemed positively coarse as applied to them. How they could metamorphose her beautiful silence into din: her paradise into a mere penny-a-stare spectacle! One onslaught from them, and dignity became so much raucous curiosity. The racing children, the gaping matrons, the heavy-legged papas brought dese- cration, and yet, for the life of her, it was im- possible for Miss de Lima not to feel drawn to her windows as if to an open grate that held warmth, They were a common lot, but there rose off them, mysterious as mist, the aroma of hu- manity. They electrified the place. Even the crouching Venuses, the marble fauns, the Donatello groups, the Della Robbia friezes around the garden, seemed to take on a sort of relationship to life. 'O avoid such awkward contretempts, it is better to omit soup at afternoon teas and serve instead the sausage known as salami. This can be had in two-foot lengths resembling a policeman’s club, but harder. Mrs. Bender- bury-Cupps-Wiltz of Locust Valley, Long Is- land, usually wraps the lower end of the salami club in a towel or old newspaper. The sausage can then be held between the knees without getting grease on the gown, the upper end of’ the sausage extended to within a few inches of the guest’s mouth so that, by leaning grace- fully forward, she can chew at it from time to time. A pretty touch is to tie a bow of ribbon around the salami—as, green ribbon on St. Patrick’s day, tricolor on the Fourth of July, and so on. When this is done, care should be taken to place the bow well down on the salami so that the guest will not chew the rib- bon. If any of your guests are bow-legged their salami should be fixed in a holder—a small Christmas tree holder will do—for easier knee clasping. It interrupts the conversation to have a bow-legged guest constantly saying: “Pardon me, please, but will you hand me my sausage; it is under your chair.” The clever hostess, if the occasion is an afternoon bridge party, is careful to avoid re- freshments that will stick the cards together, This is the great objection to such foods as caramel pie, glue, library paste, and waffles with molasses. One of the cleverest innova- tions was that of Mrs. Norton Higginlooper, wife of Higginlooper’s Superflex Suspenders for Gents, invitations to whose bridge parties are so eagerly sought. It has been months since there has been any meringue on the ace of hearts in her pack. For years Mrs. Norton Higginlooper had to put in three or four hours after each card party scraping meringue and mayonnaise off the ace, king, queen, jack, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three and deuce of clubs, spades, hearts and diamonds, and she might have continued to do so, but for an odd accident. Mrs. Higginlooper had always served the push-cart type of refresh- ments, but whan Mr. Higginlooper went into the suspender business, he borrowed her tea- cart and she used the baby carriage. On the They emerged from the centuries as replicas of life; not as mere objets d'art . ... It was that curious warmth that, coming over her these days, gradually impelled Miss de Lima, although she wduld never have ad- mitted -it, even to herself, to throw open the gardens five days a week, and on the sixth the villa itself! That was the most exciting day of all! The youmgsters, with their round, questioning eyes and grimy little hands clasped into those of the gaping matrons and the heavy-legged papas! Young honeymooners standing spellbound be- fore the beauty of a Botticelli! Men and women out of the humblest walks of life, trail= ing along the corridors, bathed in the mystic beauty of they knew not what! From various apertures which she had are ranged for herself, Miss de Lima, seeing but unseen, could behold all this. It was as if the great stone palace, so difficult to heat at best, were infused with warmth. Vulgar animal- warmth, but warmth none the less. That is the story of the beginnings of the gigantic plan which was at this time just tak- ing shape in Miss de Lima’s brain, ILLA FIESOLE is now a home for 100 pove erty-stricken children of the Fiesole coune tryside. Tutors, nurses, musical instructors, educators from over the world, dwell in the frescoed chambers, and children, with books, palettes, music rolls, toys, infest its corridors. In a room high at the top of the house, which she had never even troubled to restore, Miss de Lima dwells among the simpler of her personal objects. All day she is down among the corridors and the gardens, moving among children. (Copyright, 1930.) Larker Butler morning of a day when Mrs. Higginlooper was giving an afternoon bridge party, she made a caramel pie. She placed this in the baby car- riage, but her new nurse-maid plumped the baby down on the caramel pie and it was presently discovered that the baby was glued fast in the carriage with caramel pie. The baby carriage was out of it. TO any one else this catastrophy would have meant the cancellation of the bridge in- vitations, but with the ingenuity of the born hostess Mrs. Higgenlooper immediately got a step ladder and screwed screw-eyes in her parlor ceiling and suspended roast chicken legs from them, using dainty ribbons. Her guests were delighted. Usually—except on FPridays—Mrs. Higgin- looper serves chicken legs. These are tied by the ankle, so to speak, and are hung from the ceiling over the tables, four to each table. Her guests, by reaching beyond the ribbon and putting a dainty finger behind it, can draw the chicken leg to the mouth, thus eating as the game proceeds and still getting nothing on the cards. On Fridays Mrs. Higginlooper serves fried oysters in the same manner, the oysters being strung on a thin wire; as the botiom oyster is gnawed off the wire, those above it slide down the wire and become"available. A pretty effect camn be secured by alternating fried oysters and stuffed olives on the wire, and a lot of fun can be had by using, now and then, an imitation oyster made of rubber, or a china bead painted to resemble a stuffed olive. In using Mrs. Higginlooper’s suspended luncheon for afternoon bridge parties, it is just as well to have the ribbons short enough to cause the guests to turn their mouths upward when gnawing. If the chicken legs are hung too low and you trump your partner’s ace she is liable to grab her chicken leg and swing it full tiit at you, and a chicken leg in the eye nothing to laugh ahout. ' : oy (Copyright, 1930.)