"Names make news." Last week the following names made the following news:

George V, King & Emperor, cried last week, "I hit it!" His Majesty had just fired, during maneuvers of the Royal Tank Corps, a three pounder tank gun and the projectile had sped true to the bull's eye of the target. As everyone knows, George V rates as one of the half dozen best sporting shots in England.

Bernarr ("Body-Love") Macfadden, publisher of the Manhattan Evening Graphic and other periodicals which wear the disguise of shockingly slight physicul-turism, last week purchased a school for boys, The Castle Heights Military Academy, at Lebanon, Tenn. What could have been Bernarr Macfadden's motive in this act, few could say. He himself announced that his friend, Lieutenant William Goodson of the U. S. Army, would run the school much as it has been run in the past, except that its curriculum would include several courses in "physical culture."

President William T. Cosgrave of

the Irish was driving his own motor, last week, when three small boys scurried directly in front of his radiator. Humane, he swerved into a tree, wrecked his car, escaped uninjured, and did not audibly curse the terrorized brats.

Peggy Hopkins Joyce, in an English accent and making a coy moue, said "That's for you, horrid man!" as she tossed a glass of champagne upon the front of Erskine Gwynne, foppish nephew of the late Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt. The tossing occurred in a Paris cabaret, where Erskine Gwynne and Peggy Joyce were amusing themselves with separate parties. Erskine Gwynne had written an article called "Peggy Hotsprings Choice, Five Times a Bride but Never a Wife." After the tossing, Peggy Joyce and Erskine Gwynne played together in the cabaret and disappeared together at 5 a. m. At 10:30 a. m. Peggy Joyce, preparing to leave Paris, spoke to reporters in an English accent. "Erskine really did not mean it," she giggled, "and I understand how it all happened."

Charles Horace Mayo, famed Rochester (Minn.) surgeon, while taking a vacation in Los Angeles, made remarks; said he: "Ladies' legs are really an interesting study nowadays. They're losing their calves. Why, these high-heeled shoes they're wearing are changing completely the shape of their legs. . . . They ride in automobiles too much. So, not walking, they get shorter. And because they're getting shorter, they're wearing higher heels so they can walk beside their men."

James A. Reed, U. S. Senator from Missouri, addressed a curious audience at the City Club, in Cleveland. He called Harry M. Daugherty a "political leper," Andrew W. Mellon a "betrayer," Calvin Coolidge, "a man about whom I would not say he knew anything unless I knew he knew." Then Senator Reed remarked that "Will Hays, Tsar of the Movies, deceived the Senate Teapot Dome Committee," and suggested that Mr. Hays be replaced by Fatty Arbuckle.

Thornton Niven Wilder, an instructor at Lawrenceville School & author of The Bridge of San Luis Rey, a best-selling book about people in Peru, and a book of which first edition copies have sold at $50, was interviewed by a young reporter. He said: ". . . Collecting first editions is not a good habit to get into. It is a minor indication of an age that is losing the essential approach to books. ... I have never set foot in Peru. .

Edgar Albert Guest, perhaps the only U. S. poet whose verses have earned him fortune, gave a talk to 800 Royal Oak (Mich.) high-school students. The occasion was advertised as a "pep" meeting, to encourage the school debating team in its efforts to win the state championship. Poet Guest smiled at the students and spoke to them for more than 35 minutes.*

Ethel Barrymore was alarmed and vexed when she learned that her 18-year-old son, spry Samuel Colt, was wanted by the police department of Manhattan. After an evening of gamboling, young Colt drove his auto through Fifth Avenue at 55 miles per hour. Hailed by a traffic officer, he was ordered to appear in court. When he neglected to do so, returning instead to Roxbury School, a warrant was issued for his immediate arrest. Doubtless thoroughly scared by this development, spry Samuel Colt surrendered himself to the court before the warrant had been served. A fine of $25 was imposed.

* To Edgar Guest an anonymous admirer once wrote this poem:

SONNET TO EDDIE GUEST

O Poet in whose hands our little souls Are putty to be molded into chords So beautiful that no cathedral holds More inspiring altars and candles of God's, Tonight, my sister perished! Ah, too early! She was still young and all of us loved her; Death has now clutched her in his oily Claws that are strong and stretch like some rubber. Can you not write some words to ease my heart And write about her a touching little poem? And then, though dead, she ever will not Be absent from us though death has riven us apart.

Ask God in it to save her from the worm.