The latest fad in smart London society is being introduced to New York on April 18 and promises to give the masses--those jaded with leisure and overburdened with wealthy--one little fling at adventure. Imagine what a treasure hunt will mean to those unfortunate souls whose joie de vivre has been crushed by a ceaseless dreary round of charity balls and benefit teas. The aureole of romance which encircles this hunt--a recherché combination of fox hunting and "Hare and Hounds" beginning with a Hunt Breakfast at the Plaza, followed by a wild taxi chase through the city for clues which eventually lead to a hidden treasure )"finding's keepings"), and concluding in a Hunt Tea Dance--the aureole of romance, let it be repeated, will serve to illumine for minutes, nay for hours, afterward the omnipresent gloom of boredom which shadows the grey monotony of these lives.

Consider, too, the sociological import of such an event. The working man may abandon overalls in favor of riding breeches, after catching sight of Mr. van Harlem, so attired, leap from his car and scale a Fifth Avenue traffic tower to find stop it's mystic clue. Or Mrs. Bourgeoise may have her life utterly wrecked by picking up an odd piece of paper on which is written. "Mayor Hylan will give you the root of all evil. Follow the Green Line." Or behold the devastation wrought in countless lives by a joyous debutante Pippa, as she acorns New York, singing on the great day of her life:

"The Hunt's on the wing

And hand's at the horn:

Treasure is hidden.

(My marcelle's uncurled!)

The clue's on the string.

The trail's plain as dawn:

God has been chidded

All's "pull" in this world!"