"Names make news." Last week these names made this news: In a speech to promote funds for Edinburgh Royal Infirmary Sir James Matthew Barrie told of a hospital which he conducted near Verdun during the War for wounded French children: ". . . The eldest was not more than ten, and many of them were almost babes. On the very first night when the children were asleep part, of the ceiling fell. A nurse ran into the room wondering why she had not heard the children screaming and thinking it was a bomb. When she opened the door she found those eight little Roman Catholics kneeling by their bedsides praying. . . . The children invented games in which to have one leg or one arm was not a disadvantage but an advantage. . . . They called me Monsieur Auld Reekie." "If you want to start a war" advised Bishop Francis John McConnell, "mobilize the liars and get the churches to bless it." Shanghai police arrested Cinemactor Ronald Colman who was strolling the town after curfew.

Accused of mauling two peasants in a traffic squabble, Rodolfo Caruso, son of the late Enrico, was, after much delay, arrested in Bologna. His brother Enrico Jr., involved in the same charge, was in Hollywood whence the U. S. would not extradite him.

Joe Zelli returned to France last week, a U. S. failure. Last November he opened in Manhattan a smart super-speakeasy, the

$250,000 "Royal Box." On New Year's Eve Federal Prohibition agents swooped down upon it in a wellpublicized, spectacular raid. "What a pity!" he lamented. "We had . . . the nicest people . . . 16 cooks. . . . It was not like a club; it was like a home. . . . My heart broke." The day previous he had withdrawn his play, Papavert, from Broadway. Refurbished, renamed Mr. Papavert to preclude confusion with Freudian categories, it was later reopened. After eleven per formances the play, though very funny in France, closed with a loss of $35,000. On the day it closed, he intrepidly opened his second speakeasy venture, ''Joe Zelli's." It failed within a week. Still rich, popular, he will continue to greet genially many of the world's prominent, some of its eminent, within the ur bane doors of his "American Bar" on the Rue Fontaine, Paris. Here may be seen a beauteous cinemactress flirting coyly with a fun-loving British peer over the telephones which hospitable Joe Zelli placed on every table to facilitate social intercourse; or, on rare occasions, a tycoon-sired U. S. collegian squirting seltzer-water at beturbanned Indian moguls.* William Bateman ("Tinplate") Leeds provided a fine funeral complete with a satin-lined casket at Scarsdale, N. Y., for Pal, a German shepherd dog killed in a dog fight. Hearst's Boston American quoted friends of youthful James A. ("Bud") Stillman Jr., son of Banker Stillman and Mrs. Fifi Fowler McCormick, as saying that after being graduated from Harvard Medical School in June, he will devote himself to free obstetrical work among the needy.

* Joe Zelli got his start running a restaurant at the corner of 43rd Street and Madison Ave., Manhattan, before the War, later moved to London, fought in the Italian artillery, and after the Armistice catered to restive U. S. officers at the original "American Bar" in Tours.

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