Letter from New York

"Good society" has been behaving itself pretty for the last two weeks; in consequence of which there is not a single piquant scandal afloat. Let us weep. Bohemia is taking pattern by it. Ada Clare--you remember, I told you about her; she is a Southern girl with a small fortune; tried the stage--fizzled; writes on the Saturday Press and displays real genius; was terrifically in love with Gottschalk, the pianist--the musical Lothario, who ruined several nice young women; got a little pledge of affection; and is now recognised Queen of the Bohemians (literary) in this city. You may see her every night at every public place, and always surrounded by a court circle of real workers in or pretentious hangers on to the press. Well, her Saturday Press work has turned out quite luckily, for Robert W. Pearsall, Jr., whose paternal ancestor is rich as a Jew, although he's a Quaker, and who--Robert, Jr.--was one of the owners of the Saturday Press, has persuaded her to stop sowing any more wild oats and marry him. Bohemia is desolate.