Ways of Living.

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 414, 21 April 1904, Page 2

Ways of Living.

THIEVES. 3KN casual conversation the other day dip with the head-waiter at one of our gg largest hotels the writer asked if many things were lost through the visitors 'annexing' them. The muchried man gave a short laugh and said he thought a few did disappear occasionally, and added that he only wished he had the value of six months' 'disappearances' as his salary. ' I'd take a place in the country/ he added, 'and spend the rest of my days playing golf or ping-pong.' * And what class of people,' I asked, 'is it that take the things !' • Not the second-rate people,' ha replied, ' or the third, for then we wouldn't mind dropping on one or two of them and making them pay for some of these mysterious 'disappearances.' No, it's the smart folk, many of them titled, who think there is nothing immoral in taking a spoon (even if it happens to be solid silver), a liqueur glass, or a muf&aeer. They call them ' souvenirs,' and take them as a remembrance of the hotel. ' The waiters used to be made answerable for all such losses, but so alarmingly has this petty pilfering increasad that it is now found impossible to enforce any such rule. If the proprietors did other? wise, there would be a likelihood of soms aggrieved waiter, when he found a lady secreting a spoon or a fork, accusing her there and then and making a scene, which would do infinite injury to the hotel. 'lt is a curious fact, and yet perhaps not curious, that this thieving is committed mostly by women. Many ladies have a complete record of their journeyißgs for years in pieces of silver, cutglass, table napkins, and towels picked up on the quiet at hotels where they bave registered for a few nights. Thesa things, of course, are not taken because they are needed. It is considered a joke, and women find much amusement in comparing notes and exhibiting their trophies, even in the presence of servants, and the bad effect this must have on a class who might, perhaps, be forgiven for occasionally helping themselves to a few ' souvenirs' I leave you to judge. ' At this hotel I have known as many as three hundred spoons, and the Bame number of forks, disappear in a single month. When breakfast is sent up to a room, especially if it should happen to be a lady, THE SEBVIEITSS SELDOM BBTUBN.

They have been kept as ' souvenirs,' and when the manager is told he simply shrugs his shoulders and puts the items down in his loss account. There is nothing else he can do. ' Among our regular visitors here is one rich lady who comes twics a year, always engages a suite of rooms, is liberal in her tips, in fact a general favorite with everyone. But she has the souvenir mania very badly, and each time she departs carries away with her many little tbißgs in silver, cut-glass, and linen, which she has ' annexed; Her little failing is known to the manager, who cheerfully closes his eyes to such delinquencies, for he cannot afford to offend so valuable a visitor. The consequence is the lady pursues her ' hobby' unrestrained and other hotels suffer as we do. 'lt is the earns in America as it is here, perhaps worse. When Prince Henry visited the States last year I had a friend who was engaged for one of the banquets which was given in the Prince's honour. The caterer was all but ruined, not from any .failure on the part of the guests to p»y for their dinners, but simply from the fact that, besides making hearty meals, they grabbed and pceketed everything made of silver on which they could lay their hands. They were souvenir-col-lectorß and desired dome remembrance of the interesting occasion, and never thought of the A loss such wholesale robbery would prove to the poor caterer. Then you will remember what happened during the Prince of Wales's Canadian tour.

'At one port where the Prince landed he informed the captain that visitors might be allowed on board during his absence. They came, and invaded even the Princess of Wales's private state-room, which they were informed was closed against them. ' Every portable object in the Royal rooms was taken by these ' souvenir' collectors, and when the captain arrived he found the apartments almost denuded. He called the crew and had the visitors,

who were most elegantly dressed women, simply turned out, and then set to work to get the place in order before the return of the Boysl couple. He fcoid the Prince what had occurred, and Hia Royal Highness laughed and order the things to be replaced, This Is a fair example of what the * souvenir' mania has come to.'

The pilfering of small articles from theatres is rife in New York, where a groan, comes from Mr David Belasoo, whose remarkable play 'The Daring of the Gods' will be presented at His Majesty's Theatre next season A few months ago Mr Belasoo opened a new theatre on Broadway, which he furnished most luxuriously. There was a special parlour fitted up for the convenience of his lady patrons where they might put their hats straight, etc. It was decorated in white and gold, and everything was of the finest, the dainty towels being listed at .£8 a dozen. The combs were of real tortoiseshell, the brushes were heavily backed with silver, while the little trinkets strewn over the dressing-tables were valuable and dainty. . .Then, as Mr Belasoo put it, 'the Women came,' The towels disappeared at the rate of two dozen for each performance, and when an effoit to retain them was made by putting Mr Belasoo's initials on them they vanished at twice that rate. One day an attendant found a lady walking off with the most valuable thing in the room —a Marie Antoinette timepiece. The maid interrupted the lady in hex fit of abstraction and the cloek was replaced, the maid reporting the circumstances to Mr Belasoo.

'I will have it removed,' said the manager, to which.the maid replied,' Yes, sir. I should, for I saw another lady a fidgeting round it.' Mr Belasco was startled, and rushed to the room only to find that the- other lady had fidgeted to some purpose, for the clock was gone. To make a long story short, everything-of value in the room went—the silver-backed brushes, the cutglass toilet bottles, the combs, and the mirrors. For a season Mr Belasco replaced the articles with others just as costly, but even his love for the artistic received a shock when these also vanished, and should you go into the parlour of the Belasco Theatre to-day you will find there very little worth carrying away.