Letters, Oct. 23, 1939

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hitler (hĭt´lĕr) n (G) A falsehood uttered or acted to deceive. Syn. lie, untruth.—v.i. HITLERED (hĭt´lĕrd) HITLERING. To utter a falsehood with intent to deceive; tell or act a hitler.—v.t. To affect by hitlering, as, he hitlered himself out of trouble.

W. B. SMITH

Charlotte, N. C.

> Do readers agree that hitler should follow those other improper nouns, lynch and buncombe, into the language?—ED.

Started

Sirs:

. . . Peace has got to be as exciting as war, it can't be just neutrality, it has got to go deeper and farther and become the motivating force behind every American living in this United States of America.

Will you refer me to the right place that I might either offer my services or get something started. . . .

DORIS PALMER OLNEY

(Mrs. Richard F.)

East Glastonbury, Conn.

> Reader Olney has her pick of 39 national peace-seeking organizations, all loosely coordinated by the National Peace Conference (8 West 4Oth St., New York City).—ED.

Delicious Party

Sirs:

Here's a letter, just received from a friend, which describes one woman's life in England in the days just before and since the War. Many another TIME reader might like to read it.

RALPH W. SPRAGUE

New York City

Dear Ralph:

We were a delicious party enjoying the long-delayed summer sun of 1939. The warmth and sun seemed like a miracle after struggling through weeks of rain, thunder and cold. Uncle Jimmie, debonair, middle-aged Captain Royal Navy, Captain R. C., Royal Army (young and crossed in love), in charge of anti-aircraft defenses of part of London. Sylvia and her boyfriend, Roger and the rest of us. Lots of jolly friends gathered together for tennis parties, evening parties, and so forth—and after a particularly ridiculous evening which will stand out in my mind forever as one of the bright spots of life, an evening when this mixture of old, middle-aged and young went to an early show in Bournemouth and where, to amuse the young, we partook of a "supperette." The superior female who waited upon us, as it were at the tips of her gilded nails, started the most hopeless giggles amongst us. . . . We had to leave a terrific tip to soothe the lady's wounded feelings. Home in cars, stopping en route at all the al fresco concerts at the pier and along the cliffs, singing snatches of popular songs with one lot and moving off to another to sing and tap dance in the background. . . . The town was still "en fete" for its hordes of visitors, and everywhere colored illuminations reflected in the sea on this lovely night. 10:30 at home—children to bed and a comfortable chat with the elders over our cup of tea and plum cake. We all resolved on having the same party next year and prayed that the party should be blessed with sun and warmth.

I wakened next morning with my telephone crashing in my ear. "Hello," said I sleepily.