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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/75300-0.txt b/75300-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1953337 --- /dev/null +++ b/75300-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1823 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75300 *** + + + + + + MANNERS + _for the_ + METROPOLIS + + + + +[Illustration: _Tips!_] + + + + + MANNERS + _for the_ + METROPOLIS + + _An Entrance Key to the + Fantastic Life of + The 400_ + + BY + FRANCIS W. CROWNINSHIELD + + [Illustration] + + DECORATIONS BY + LOUIS FANCHER + + NEW YORK + D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + 1908 + + COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY + D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + + COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY + THE METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE COMPANY + + _Published, October, 1908_ + + + + +TO + +H. S. C. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + FOREWORD 3 + + COUNTRY HOUSES 9 + + CONVERSATION 27 + + DINNERS 35 + + DANCES 53 + + BRIDGE 65 + + THE THEATER 85 + + CALLING 91 + + OUR COUNTRY COUSINS 95 + + NEWPORT 103 + + GENERAL RULES 113 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + FACING PAGE + + TIPS _Frontispiece_ + + CONVERSATION 28 + + HOSTESS 60 + + BRIDGE 78 + + + + +FOREWORD + + + + +FOREWORD + + +It is undeniable that much of the pleasure in modern life is derived +from social intercourse. + +From time immemorial the gregarious instinct has contributed greatly to +the charm of all populated regions. It is worthy of remark that, during +the past decade, both in America and in England, sudden and violent +changes have somewhat ruffled the placid waters of polite society. +These new conditions of life have naturally necessitated new methods +of social procedure. The telephone, coeducation, wireless telegraphy, +motor cars, millionaires, bridge whist, women’s rights, Sherry’s, +cocktails, four-day liners, pianolas, steam heat, _directoire_ gowns, +dirigible balloons, and talking machines have all contributed to an +astonishing social metamorphosis. + +Curiously enough no book of etiquette has taken count of these violent +changes. There is literally no Baedeker for this newly discovered +country. Many fruitful and enchanted islands have been sighted, but +have, alas, remained uncharted. + +It is, therefore, with motives of generosity, charity, and kindness +that this little guide has been prepared by the benevolent author. + +It will be found to contain concise rules of deportment for all the +more important social ceremonies—from a _tête-à-tête_ to a betrothal, a +picnic to a funeral, a _partie-carrée_ to a divorce, an ushers’ dinner +to a Turkish bath, and a piano recital to a rout. It also contains +excellent advice on the choice of a motor car, a summer residence, a +wife, or a brand of cigar. + +The author feels that it should prove of great value to those people +who have been born and brought up in refined and well-bred families, +and are, at the same time, desirous of entering fashionable society. + +To our newer millionaires and plutocrats it should be a very present +help in time of trouble, for it is undeniable that many of these +captains of industry—however strong and virile their natures—become +utterly helpless and panic-stricken at the mere sight of a gold finger +bowl, an alabaster bath, a pronged oyster fork, or the business end of +an asparagus. + + + + +COUNTRY HOUSES + + + + +COUNTRY HOUSES + + +A country house is an establishment maintained by people of wealth and +position who have banished from their home circle the old ideas of +family life: the hearth-side, the romping little ones, and the studious +evenings under the red lamp. + + * * * * * + +There is so much that is pleasurable in a house party at such an +establishment that it is difficult to say which part of it is the most +delightful. It is thrilling to receive the invitation; the journey +there is full of an expectant pleasure; the sport is invigorating; +the meals are usually palatable; the society agreeable. On the whole, +however, perhaps the most welcome part of it all is the moment of +departure. + + * * * * * + +At a week-end party, when the servant calls you in the morning and +informs you that your bath is running, it is modish to sink off to +sleep and allow the bath to overflow. As soon as you are wide awake +make certain to turn off the electric light and demand from the servant +a brandy and soda. After this bracer you may light a cigarette and send +the footman for breakfast and a cigar. It is also a wise precaution to +ask for _all_ the morning papers—otherwise the other guests may secure +some of them. + + * * * * * + +It is usual for the bachelors to dawdle about in their riding things +until lunch is announced. They can then go to their rooms, take their +baths, and change. This puts off the agony of the lunch—which is always +a tiresome meal. + + * * * * * + +Go up early to dress for dinner, or the other guests will have drawn +off all the hot water for their own baths. + + * * * * * + +After a week-end visit it is customary to write your hostess a +“bread-and-butter letter,” or “pleaser.” The following note will be +found a safe guide for such an occasion. + + MY DEAR MRS. WEEKENDE: + + How kind you were to open the gates of Heaven and give me that + little glimpse of Paradise. Would you be good enough to ask + the valet to send me my cap? Perhaps, too, the footman could + forward my golf clubs, which I entirely overlooked in the + hurry of departure. If not too much trouble, perhaps you will + ask the maid to express me my sponge bag, listerine, and razor + strop. + + With renewed thanks, I am, dear Mrs. Weekende, + + Yours sincerely, + + PERCY VANDERFORT. + + P. S.—I am returning to you, by express, the woodland violet + bath salt, the photograph frame, the bedroom clock, the silver + brushes, the hot-water bag, and the two sachet cases which your + servant mistook for my property. + + * * * * * + +When you are visiting in the country and your hostess maintains a very +small establishment, the servant may ask you, on awaking you, what you +desire for breakfast. Out of consideration for your hostess you should +ask for a very small and very simple breakfast. Try to confine yourself +to grape fruit, oatmeal, bacon and eggs, corn bread, chicken mince, +marmalade, coffee, honey, hot biscuits, and orange juice. + + * * * * * + +Parlor tricks are great assets in a week-ender. The most popular are +moving the scalp and ears, cracking the knuckles, disjointing the +thumbs, standing on the head, tearing a pack of cards, and dancing a +cake walk. + + * * * * * + +When the host offers, after breakfast, to show you over the farm, gasp, +and mention your rheumatism. Almost any lie is permissible to prevent +so terrible a catastrophe. + + * * * * * + +Young girls, when visiting at a house party, should be quiet and +gentle, well behaved and agreeable; but when at home there is no reason +why they should not be perfectly natural. + + * * * * * + +The horrors of the guest room are too well-known to need enumeration, +and can seldom be ameliorated. They are, roughly, as follows: The +embroidered pillow slips, the egg-finished sheets, the drawer of the +bureau that is warped and will not open, the rusty pins in the stony +pincushion, the empty cut-glass cologne bottles, the blinds that bang +in the night, the absence of hooks on which to hang your razor strop, +the pictures of the “Huguenot Lovers” and Landseer’s “Sanctuary” over +the headboard of the bed, the tendency of the maid to hide the matches, +the dear little children in the nursery above you, the dead fly in the +dried-up ink well, and the hidden radiator under the sofa. + + * * * * * + +When you spend Sunday in the country, the proper schedule of tips for +the servants is as follows: + + Chauffeur $10.00 + Butler 10.00 + Coachman 5.00 + Footman 3.00 + Valet 5.00 + Cook nothing + Maid 2.00 + Chambermaid 2.00 + Strapper 1.00 + Groom 2.00 + ------- + Total 40.00 + +Should you, however, have but $30 with you, you have but to take a very +early train, in which case the butler will not have appeared, and +there will be no necessity to tip him. The resourceful bachelor may +also decide to compensate the maid, if she be pretty, by a few pleasant +words of appreciation as to her beauty and by chucking her under the +chin, as is invariably done on the stage in comic opera. + +If your visit has been for a week, the above table of tips should +be disregarded. At the end of such a visit you had best hand the +housekeeper a letter of introduction to your lawyer, together with +a list of your securities, and allow her to sue your estate for the +gratuities. + +(If you are from Pittsburg, care should be taken to double the above +table of tips.) + + * * * * * + +The dressing gong is sometimes meant to convey the impression that +dinner will shortly be served in the banqueting hall. Usually, +however, it is the signal for everybody to begin a new rubber. + + * * * * * + +Try to go early to the stables and select a good riding horse for the +rest of your visit. There are seldom more than two good ones. The rest +are usually roarers or crocks. + + * * * * * + +The hostess at a large country house is naturally expected to provide +all the week-end essentials—i. e., liquors, cigars, food, carriages—and +motors in condition. Besides these, however, she should never neglect +to offer her guests certain little added comforts without which they +would, very naturally, be miserable. Every guest should be supplied, +therefore, with the following articles: a bottle of listerine, a cloth +cap, a tennis bat, a hot-water bag, a pair of motor goggles, a bag of +golf clubs, a sweater, six tennis balls, a bathroom, with needle shower +(exclusive), a bathrobe, a pair of slippers, a pair of tennis shoes, a +bathing suit, a box of cigarettes (fifty in a box), a set of diabolo +sticks, a riding and driving horse, a fur overcoat, an umbrella, a +bottle of eau de cologne, and a box of postage stamps. + + * * * * * + +Guests are always invited from Friday night to Monday morning. It is +wiser for the hostess to mention the Monday trains, or one of the +guests may decide to stop longer. This is seldom a wise plan. Hostesses +should clear the house of all guests before the three-day limit. +Remember the Spanish proverb, “El huesped y el pece à tres dias hiede,” +which, being translated, means, “Any guest, like any fish, is bound to +be objectionable on the third day.” + + * * * * * + +In certain country houses the architect has neglected to supply +bathrooms for each of the guests. In some extreme cases as many as +three bachelors are expected to share one bath. This is bad. + +The best way to maneuver under such circumstances is to send your +servant early to the bathroom and let him lock himself in. This will +foil the invaders. When he hears your special knock on the door, he can +open to you, and you can then bathe, take a nap in the bath, shave, +smoke a cigarette, and read the papers in quiet. + + * * * * * + +At a house party every lady of prominence is sure to bring at least one +Pomeranian dog. Many think it wiser to bring a black and a brown, so +that, no matter what gown they may wear, one of the darlings is sure +not to clash with it. These pets are, of course, extremely expensive. +A smart week-end on the Hudson will usually average about six thousand +dollars’ worth of Poms. + + * * * * * + +In nearly all guest rooms the hostess is sure to provide white enamel +writing desks, chiffoniers, and tables. By leaving lighted cigarettes +on such articles of furniture you are almost certain to secure a +very curious and amusing stain, or burn. Sometimes, if your visit is +long enough, you can etch, in this way, a complete pattern around a +fair-sized table. The Greek fret and egg-and-dart designs are neat and +extremely popular. + + * * * * * + +The passage through a country house of the framed photograph of a +friend is often an instructive spectacle to witness. Such a trophy +usually begins its career in the drawing-room. It is then moved to the +library, and subsequently to the smoking room. After that it begins +a heavenly flight into one of the guest rooms, from which place it +ascends on its last earthly pilgrimage to the attic. + + * * * * * + +The English have rather a clever way of “chucking” a week-end +engagement in the country. They merely telegraph as follows: + +“Impossible to come to-day: lie follows by mail.” + + * * * * * + +An unprotected lady should be careful not to employ convivial or +tippling butlers. We are acquainted with a widow who was recently +petrified with horror when her drunken butler entered her sleeping +apartment in the dead of the night and proceeded to lay the table for +six—upon her bed. + + * * * * * + +Sunday morning in the country is usually rainy. This is invariably the +fault of the hostess. When you descend in the morning, look at her +reproachfully; mention the rain; remark on the fact that it has always +rained when you have visited her before; sink hopelessly on a sofa, and +sigh. + + * * * * * + +Hostesses very often have a distressing way of asking you how you +slept. Under such circumstances it is permissible to speak the truth +and to mention, quite frankly, the mosquitoes and the topographical +whimsicalities of your bed. + + * * * * * + +In a country house, if you find, on going up to your room to dress for +dinner, that no studs have been put into your evening shirt, complain +at once to the stud groom. + + * * * * * + +Beware of inviting fashionable bachelors for the week-end unless you +maintain an adequate _ménage_. The recent and distressing case of a +lady (with but one spare room and a very small establishment) may serve +as a terrible example. + +Her visitor arrived rather late on a rainy night. His belongings looked +like those of a traveling theatrical company, and included one forty +horse power Mercedes car, a Swiss valet, a violin case, one trunk, +two hat boxes, five pounds of bonbons, a fur overcoat, a photographic +camera, a bag of golf clubs, a talking machine, two boxes of health +cocoa, an Austrian chauffeur, an oxygen jar, two polo ponies, an air +cushion, a wire-haired fox terrier, and a box of one hundred clay +pigeons. + + + + +CONVERSATION + + + + +CONVERSATION + + +The conversation at a club should be simple and conventional. It is +vulgar to go into long or prolix discussions. Only a few remarks are +_comme il faut_, such as “Hello!” “Deuced cold!” “Have a drink?” “Who +has a cigar?” “How about one rubber?” + +Perhaps the safest and most refined remark for constant use is: +“Waiter, take the orders.” Even this may be dispensed with—if you make +certain to ring the bell. + + * * * * * + +It is not modish to speak kindly to the servants either in your own or +in other people’s houses. In addressing them, simply say: “A napkin,” +“The cigars,” “Where the devil are my boots?” Remember that they “get +even” in the servants’ hall. + + * * * * * + +It is customary, in alluding to ladies in the ultra-fashionable set +(provided they are not present) to speak of them by their pet names: +“Birdie,” “Baby,” “Tessie,” “Posy”; but, when face to face with these +ladies, the utmost formality had best be observed. + + * * * * * + +In criticising a play or a novel be careful to avoid long and +discriminating criticisms. You should either “knock” or “boost.” Try +to remember that there are only two kinds of plays or novels—they are +either “bully” or “rotten.” + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Conversation_] + + * * * * * + +If a few people in the smart set are entertaining a stranger at lunch, +it is _de rigueur_ for them to converse with each other entirely in +whispers and always on subjects with which he is absolutely unfamiliar. + + * * * * * + +In discussing literature at a lunch or dinner, try to remember that +there are but a very few fashionable authors. They are as follows: Mrs. +Wharton, Colonel Mann, Mrs. Glyn, Robert Hichens, F. Peter Dunne, John +Fox, Jr., and Billy Baxter. + + * * * * * + +At a dinner a gentleman sitting beside a débutante should congratulate +her upon her début, and, in a few well-chosen words, should discuss the +usual débutante topics—i. e., platonic love, banting, Ethel Barrymore, +French dressmakers, John Drew, the relative merits of Harvard and Yale, +love at first sight, the football match and the matter of her great +personal beauty and charm. + +Try always to remember that the chief and most interesting topics +of conversation are herself and yourself. _Serious_ topics are very +properly deemed out of place in society. + + * * * * * + +After dinner, over the cigars, it is bad form for men to discuss any +subjects but stocks and motor cars. + + * * * * * + +Whenever, at a dinner, an anecdote is narrated in French, it is always +a wise precaution to laugh heartily. + + * * * * * + +Women should not complain of their husbands in public. All married +women have a great deal to contend with. Everybody knows that married +men make very poor husbands. + + * * * * * + +At a dinner the safest conversational opening is as follows: “Is that +your bread, or mine?” + + * * * * * + +When, at a dinner, you don’t know the lady next to you, show her your +dinner card and say: + +“I’m that; what are you?” + + * * * * * + +Chivalry demands that a lady’s name should never be mentioned in a +gentleman’s club. Occasionally, however, this hard-and-fast rule may +be slightly infracted, and her intimate affairs discreetly talked +over—provided that the group of gentlemen be a small one and absolute +privacy assured. + +N. B.—A “small group” is any group of less than twelve. + + + + +DINNERS + + + + +DINNERS + + +A dinner is a miscellaneous collection of appropriately dressed men and +women, who are not in the least hungry and who are invited by the host +and hostess to repay certain social obligations for value received or +expected. The attitude of the guests at such a repast is very often one +of regret and revolt, because of the haunting memory of an invitation, +much more enticing in its prospects, but, alas, more recently received. + + * * * * * + +On arriving at a dinner a servant should hand each male guest an +envelope containing a card. This card will bear the name of the lady +whom he is to take in to dinner. This part of the ceremony is usually +accompanied by groans and maledictions as the gentlemen tremblingly +open their envelopes. + +Some hostesses allow their guests to file in to dinner in ignorance of +their partners. They thus learn their fate at the dinner table, which +postpones the terrible shock for as long a period as possible. + + * * * * * + +Nothing adds so much to an appearance of _savoir faire_ as the art of +gracefully removing from a dinner or evening party a gentleman who +has imbibed, not wisely but too well. The correct method is to ask +the butler to inform him that a lady wishes to speak to him on the +telephone. When he has left the room, spring upon him in the hall and +chivy him into a cab. + + * * * * * + +Rouge sticks and powder puffs may be used by ladies at luncheons, but +_never_ at dinners. + + * * * * * + +If a bachelor receives a dinner invitation from people who are not +really “in the swim” (people, let us say, like old friends, classmates, +and business associates, who are, so to speak, “on the green, but not +dead to the hole”), he should simply toss it into the fire. This plan +will prevent any more invitations from so undesirable a quarter. Were +he to answer these people politely, they would certainly annoy him +again at a later date. Remember that “the coward does it with a kiss, +the brave man with a sword.” + + * * * * * + +Do not address your best thoughts to the ladies until they have had +an opportunity to brush the glove powder from their arms and to look +carefully at the dresses and ornaments of the other ladies at the +dinner. + + * * * * * + +At a very large dinner, the lady beside you is almost certain to be +one who entertains generously and, as such, should be treated with a +certain degree of politeness. Try to suppress, however, all sentiments +purely human in their nature, such as pity, kindness of heart, +sympathy, enthusiasm, love of books, music, and art. + +These ridiculous sentiments are in exceedingly bad taste and should be +used but sparingly, if at all. + + * * * * * + +Ladies do not call upon a bachelor, in his rooms, after attending a +dinner given by him—except in Mrs. Wharton’s novels. + + * * * * * + +On leaving a dinner you should always manage to come down the steps +with a group of the super-rich—they may give you a lift home. + + * * * * * + +On driving home with friends from a dinner, it is the generally +accepted practice to abuse the host and draw particular attention +to his ghastly collection of family portraits, his wretched plate, +and execrable food. Do not fail also to draw a moving picture of the +stupidity and hideousness of the lady next to you at dinner—unless she +should be in the carriage with you at the time. + + * * * * * + +When you are over half an hour late at a dinner it is well to have an +excuse. There are, just now, only two modish excuses: First, you were +arrested for speeding your motor; second, you were playing bridge, and +every hand seemed to be a spade or a club. + + * * * * * + +When a gentleman at a dinner upsets a plate of terrapin, a ruddy duck, +or a bowl of vegetable salad upon the dress of the lady beside him, she +should laugh merrily and should always be provided with some apt jest +with which to carry off the little _contretemps_. + + * * * * * + +Fletcherites have lately added a new horror to dining out. These +strange creatures seldom repay attention. The best that can be expected +from them is the tense and awful silence which always accompanies their +excruciating tortures of mastication. + + * * * * * + +There are two _recherché_ methods for a bachelor to refuse a verbal +dinner invitation. The first is to say that you are dining with a +business associate. The second is to say that your engagement book is +at home and that you will consult it immediately upon reaching there +and will telephone. This gives you the desired opportunity of saying +“No.” It is always easier over the wire than face to face. + + * * * * * + +In wriggling out of a dinner at the last moment in New York, it is +_chic_ to invent some mythical female relative in Philadelphia who has +developed a sudden and alarming illness and has hastily summoned you to +her bedside. + + * * * * * + +If, at a dinner, food is passed to you which you do not care to eat, it +is good form to take a generous heap of it, to pat it and mess it up +on your plate with a fork. + + * * * * * + +After dinner, if a lady has been asked to sing and refused, do not urge +her further. It is the height of bad manners, and there is just the off +chance that she may yield. + + * * * * * + +In England the matter of precedence at dinners is simplicity itself. +The Sovereign precedes an ambassador, who precedes the Archbishop of +Canterbury, who precedes the Earl Marshal, who precedes a duke, who +precedes an earl, a marquis, a viscount, a bishop, a baron, etc.; but +in America the matter is a much more perplexing one. + +The author of this _brochure_ respectfully suggests the following +scheme of American dinner precedence: Let an opera box count 6 points; +steam yacht, 5; town house, 5; country house, 4; motors, 3 each; every +million dollars, 2; tiara, 1; good wine cellar, 1; ballroom in town +house, 1; a known grandparent of either sex, ½; culture, ⅛. By this +system, a woman of culture with four known grandparents and a million +dollars will have a total of 4⅛. She will, of course, be forced to +follow in the wake of a lady with a town house and a tiara (6); who, +in turn, will trail after a woman with a steam yacht and two motors +(11). The highest known total is about 100; the lowest, about ⅛. The +housekeeper may arrange the totals, and the hostess can then send the +guests in according to their listed quotations. + + * * * * * + +People who arrive late at a large dinner sometimes have very quaint and +amusing excuses. A hostess at a recent eight-o’clock banquet collected +the following gems: + +I overslept in my bath. + +A cinder lodged in my eye and I have just come from the chemist’s. + +My maid is ill and I was forced to hook myself. + +The twins put crumbs in my stockings. + +I read your invitation upside down and, naturally, mistook the hour of +dinner. + +I never eat soup, and thought, of course, you wouldn’t wait. + +I knew Mrs. V—t would be _much_ later than I—so I took a chance. + +I was taking my memory lesson, and it was all so absorbing that I +completely forgot the dinner. + +I lost your note, and, as _everybody_ dines at 8.30, I thought, of +course, that _you_ would. + +My chauffeur was so drunk that he took me next door by mistake, and +delayed me fearfully. + + * * * * * + +Every year it is becoming more and more difficult for hostesses to +secure a sufficient number of blades for their dinners and evening +routs. “Odd men” are always in tremendous demand. + +The custom of shouting names, which is imperfectly followed at the +hotels, should be perfected in our clubs, and we hope soon to see the +club waiters wandering about the halls and lounging rooms shouting out, +as they go: “Mrs. Vanderlip, four odd men for dinner.” “Mrs. Miles, two +bachelors for the opera.” “Mrs. Nestor, one married couple for bridge,” +etc. + + * * * * * + +When a lady beside you is so generously avoirdupoised or embonpointed +that it is a physical impossibility for her to see the food upon her +plate, it is sometimes an act of kindness to inform her as to the +nature of the bird or beast so hopelessly removed from her vision. +This saves her the trouble of lifting it above the horizon in order to +discover its exact species. + + * * * * * + +A clever hostess in New York has recently trained a highly intelligent +dachshund to fly about after dinner, under the banquet table, and +fetch out the long white gloves, make-up boxes, scarves, and lace +handkerchiefs. Most hostesses, however, prefer to put their guests on +the scent and let them retrieve the hidden treasures. + + * * * * * + +A frantic hostess recently telephoned us for advice on a nice point +of social etiquette. She had arranged a dinner of twelve, and was +confronted and confounded, at the last moment, by an “odd” bachelor +whom she had originally invited and subsequently forgotten. She could +not sit down thirteen at the table. + +“What shall I do?” she asked. + +We were glad to be able to come to the distressed lady’s assistance and +telephoned her as follows: + +“You should hand him a neatly folded dollar bill and ask him to slip +out quietly and buy himself a good dinner at a corner restaurant. Your +butler may also give him a cigar as he passes into the night.” + + * * * * * + +If you are giving a supper after the play, it is _de rigueur_ to order +grape fruit, hot bouillon, champagne, birds, a salad, and a sweet. The +sated guests will not touch any of the food, but it is _comme il faut_ +to put it all before them. + + * * * * * + +Banting has almost done away with the ancient custom of eating, but +thyroid tablets and lemon juice are, of course, permitted. At a ladies’ +lunch the guests (whether ladies, millionairesses, or workingwomen) +should be careful disdainfully to dismiss the dainty dishes until the +repast is over, when they should look benignly at the hostess and +murmur: + +“Dear Mrs. Brown—_might_ I have a cup of very hot water?” + + * * * * * + +When a lady must pay back forty dinner obligations and her dining room +will seat only twenty, it is obvious that she must have two dinners of +twenty each. She should give the feasts on successive evenings, as the +left-over flowers, bonbons, fruits, and _pâtés_ will always do service +at the second repast. + + * * * * * + +A lady should be careful not to turn to the gentleman beside her and +complain of the “fizz.” There is always a good chance that he is the +wine agent. + + * * * * * + +When, in New York, a married couple do not pull along together, and +have definitely decided to divorce or separate, it is customary for +them once or twice to dine, _tête-à-tête_, at Sherry’s: to flirt, +laugh, and make merry with each other—in order to put the eager hounds +off the scent. + + * * * * * + +At dinners in the _beau monde_ the footmen will invariably pounce +upon your plate and run off with it before you have half finished the +course. Be careful not to hold on to it like a despairing mother whose +child is being torn from her arms, as such scenes at table are always +deplorable and harassing. + + * * * * * + +In purchasing almond bonbons for the dinner table the hostess should +make sure to select the mauve species. No one ever eats them. A dishful +of the white variety will sometimes vanish in a night, but the mauve go +on forever. + + + + +DANCES + + + + +DANCES + + +In New York the word “ball” is intended to signify a hundred or so +people who do not care particularly for dancing, who are prostrated by +the prospect of arising early on the following morning, and who leave +their cotillion favors untouched and disregarded upon the gilt chairs +in the ballroom. + +The chief characteristics of a ball may be summed up, briefly, as +follows: Mothers, or “benchwomen,” wildly eying their offspring; the +“leader,” battered and bruised like a half-back in a football game; the +hostess, with her tiara aslant on her new false curls; fifty wilted +linen collars; fifty ditto shirts; four red-faced gentlemen asleep in +the smoking room; the host leaping from train to train with the agility +of a brakeman; two hundred yards of chiffon ruffles and one pound of +assorted hairpins decorating the floor of the ballroom; a deep crowd of +so-called dancing men who effectually block the entrance door and stand +in a dazed and awkward group, spellbound by the horrors of the scene. + + * * * * * + +The valuable checks for cotillion seats are usually cornered by the +cotillion leader and dealt out to the most prominent tiaras. The +unhappy ladies who fail to receive one of these priceless tokens +usually pass the remainder of the evening in the ultimate row of chairs +wearing a granite smile and a paper cotillion favor. + + * * * * * + +A wall flower is a young lady at a dance who has not been cursed with +the fatal gift. She may usually be distinguished by her wild and +beseeching glances. Chloroform is the only possible way of securing a +partner for her. + + * * * * * + +Before putting your arm around a lady’s waist, you should explain to +her that it is your intention to dance. As the music starts, look at +her longingly and murmur one of the following remarks: “Do you Boston?” +“Rotten floor” (or) “Bully floor.” “Bully favors” (or) “Rotten favors.” + + * * * * * + +Every now and then a “stand-up” supper is served at a dance. This is +the abomination of desolation spoken of by the prophet Daniel. Should +a lady ask you at such an entertainment to get her some supper, push +your way through the mob of angry bachelors to the trough where the +comestibles are displayed. Once arrived on the scene of carnage, you +can consume a cup of bouillon, a few oysters, some sandwiches, a little +chicken, some dry champagne, a plate of salad, an ice, and a cup of +coffee. After this, if your hunger has been satisfied, take a morsel +of _galantine_, a doily, and a lady-finger, place them on a plate and +force yourself through the compact lines of angry, feeding, perspiring +“dancing men,” until you appear before your fair partner, declaring +that you did your best, and that the rest of the provisions had +disappeared. While she is thanking you, slip away to the smoking room +and send the man in attendance there for a bottle of some very, very +old champagne. While he is gone you may busy yourself by selecting a +few of the best cigars, so as to be sure to have something to smoke on +the way home—in somebody’s cab. + + * * * * * + +In giving a dance, avoid, _if possible_, sending invitations to +bores—they come without them. + + * * * * * + +At a dance, when a lady is talking to a millionaire recently arrived +from the West, he may offer to introduce his wife. (This is part of +what, in sporting circles, is known as the “push stroke.”) In such a +fix it is permissible for her to burst into a loud fit of coughing, +mention her weak heart, and ask a footman to call her carriage. + + * * * * * + +When a bachelor arrives at a dance, he should at once repair to the +smoking room and remain there most of the evening—calling loudly for +all those wines which his host has neglected to provide. + + * * * * * + +A new and unspeakable horror has lately been introduced into +fashionable dances in New York—namely, the “third supper.” The writer +is glad to say that the inventor of this atrocity died very slowly and +in great pain about a year ago. It is a comfort to know that his last +resting place is unadorned by any monument, and that no flowers or +shrubs have ever bloomed upon his grave. + + * * * * * + +A popular form of entertainment for grown-up persons in New York is a +“baby party.” Here the guests are dressed like babies: they dance and +have supper, and are permitted to behave like little children. These +revels do not differ from other forms of social festivities in the +metropolis—except as regards the costumes. + + * * * * * + +Dancing men should have a care, at a ball, never to be “stuck.” This +catastrophe is usually brought about by listening to the wiles of a man +who begins with some such remark as “Do you know Miss A——? She is crazy +to meet you!” or “For Heaven’s sake, dear boy, _do_ go and talk to that +unfortunate girl in yellow.” + +Many an agonized hour may be avoided by turning a deaf ear to all such +entreaties. If you don’t, the horror of your ultimate predicament can +hardly be exaggerated. You will sit with her for hours in isolated +agony. Slowly your hair will turn as white as the driven snow. +Interminable cycles of time will tick themselves away, while you sit +there slyly beckoning to other gentlemen who are certain to pay no heed +to your signals. + +A case is on record, in England, where a gentleman, in such a position, +addressed no remark to his partner for upward of three hours. At this +point she became aweary, turned, and found that he was—dead! + + * * * * * + +A very neat trick can sometimes be worked at a dance. You have steadily +avoided a particularly dreadful damsel throughout the entire evening. +When she has put on her cloak and fur overshoes, and you see her +hurrying through the hall with her maid, on her way to her carriage, +jump out of the smoking room and say: + +“What? Home so early! Can’t you stay and have _just_ one with me?” + +Be careful, of course, not to be too urgent, else she may stay, thus +hoisting you on your own petard. + + * * * * * + +In dancing, unless you are an accomplished waltzer, the safest advice +to follow is: “Avoid the corners and keep kicking.” + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Hostess_] + + * * * * * + +At a large ball, the hostess, when tired, may, with perfect safety, +go to her sleeping apartment and retire for an hour or two. No one +will ever miss her. When rested she can reappear in the ballroom and, +with her second wind, as it were, enjoy the third supper, or the first +breakfast. + + * * * * * + +In saying good night to the hostess, have a care to bestow your avowals +of obligation in nearly the same degree of warmth or formality that her +bearing invites. If, for instance, she be asleep in the conservatory, +all among the begonias, it is not necessary to shake her or rouse her +by shouting: “Hi! Wake up, I want to go home,” etc. Simply pass out +noiselessly and remind her butler to call her in time for breakfast. +(See the illustration, “Hostess.”) + + + + +BRIDGE + + + + +BRIDGE + + +This is a popular pastime, and much of the attention of our best minds +in high society is concentrated upon guessing whether a given card is +in the hand of the person on the right or on the left. + +As there is a great curiosity among all classes of readers concerning +bridge, the benevolent author has gone into the etiquette of the game +with a good deal of thoroughness. + + * * * * * + +In order to be an accomplished bridge player one must possess the +following attributes: + +A dress suit. (This does not apply to ladies.) + +A large roll of clean bills with a rubber band encircling them. + +A cigarette and ash tray. + +A stoical, blond and unimpassioned nature. + +A partner—usually of the opposite sex. + + * * * * * + +You may, with safety, criticise nearly every play your fair partner +makes. She doubtless deserves it, but, as a rule, this criticism should +not extend beyond her faults _as a player_. Try to remember that a +gentleman is one who never unintentionally insults anybody. + + * * * * * + +Bridge should never be played seriously. One should carry on an +animated conversation during the course of play. It is customary, +too, to hold the cards in one hand and a hot buttered muffin in the +other. Get up from the table rather frequently and telephone, receive +visitors, give orders to the servants, and pour tea. The questions, +“Who led?” “What are trumps?” “Is that our trick?” etc., are always +permissible, and lend some spirit to what might otherwise prove a dull +and taxing game. + + * * * * * + +In playing bridge with two ladies, a man should be careful to play +“highest man and highest woman.” In this way he will be playing against +a man, and his chances of a “settlement” will be a little less remote. +Never play with three ladies. + + * * * * * + +When you are dummy and your partner has finished playing the hand, you +should invariably glare at her (or him) and make one of the following +remarks: + +You played it the only way to lose the odd! + +Why, in Heaven’s name, didn’t you get out the trumps? + +You must lose a pot of money at this game, don’t you? + +It’s lucky I’m not playing ten-cent points. + +Why not take your finesse the other way? + +The eight of clubs was good, you know! + +Yes, if you had played your ace of diamonds we would have saved it. + +It’s a pity you didn’t open the hearts. + + * * * * * + +As the leaders of the Smart Set have ceased occupying their brains +with literature, music, politics, and art—subjects which were, a long +time ago, discussed in our best society—and as their entire mental +activities are now focused upon the game of bridge, the author has +added for the further benefit of his readers a series of anecdotes, +maxims, and experiences which he has gathered during his fruitless +attempts to master this fashionable pastime. + + * * * * * + +There was a lady in the _beau monde_ of New York who was not only +a charming woman but an accomplished whist player. Unfortunately, +however, she simply _could_ not play fair. Among other idiosyncrasies +she had a distressing habit of slipping a high card on the bottom +of the pack, after the cut—this was in the days when she played +old-fashioned whist. In this way she was always certain of the ace, +king, or queen of trumps when it was her turn to deal. She was detected +in this graceful little artifice on one or two occasions, with the +result that her reputation suffered a slight dimming in its glory. + +A few months ago the poor lady died and a well-known bridge wag in New +York composed for her the following epitaph: + + “Here lies Lily Maltravers, + In confident expectation of + The last trump.” + + * * * * * + +A delightful bridge player is Mrs. R. U. Rich, who, though stone deaf, +still manages to understand the declarations, or makes, by an elaborate +series of manual signs. In playing with her, if the make is a heart, +you must point to your heart; diamonds, to your ring; spades, you +must make a shovel of your hand, and, when clubs have been declared, +you must shake your fist at her. The other evening at a fashionable +house in New York she was playing a rubber in which her husband was +her partner. It was after a large dinner and, Mrs. Rich, having +mistaken her husband’s signal, excitedly asked him what trump had been +declared. At this, her better half shook his fist at her two or three +times in a very convincing way. An elderly lady, on the other side of +the room, unaware of Mrs. Rich’s infirmity, gathered her dress about +her and, with great dignity, begged the host to send for her carriage. + +“Why, Mrs. ——,” he said, “are you leaving us so early?” + +“Well,” said the lady of the old school, “I think that when a husband +and wife come to blows over the bridge table it is time to call the +carriages.” + + * * * * * + +A reduced gentlewoman, living in a small way in the suburbs, was at an +employment agency trying to secure a cook. As the lady and her husband +lived some distance from any neighbor, and as the wages she could +afford to pay were meager, the cooks displayed a decided unwillingness +to assume the cares of office. + +Finally, to the great elation of the lady, a very respectable and +well-mannered English girl seemed disposed to risk the rigors of +suburban life. The searching questions which the girl had put to the +lady had been satisfactorily answered, when, at the very last, she +asked the number in the family, to which the lady replied that there +were only two—herself and her husband. + +“Oh!” said the girl, “I could not _think_ of going into service with +only three in the house. I would not work _anywhere_ unless we could +make up a four at bridge.” + + * * * * * + +Husbands and wives should never play partners at bridge. They are +almost certain to quarrel, which is unseemly—and if they _don’t_ +quarrel, their friends are sure to suspect them of collusion and +cheating. + + * * * * * + +It is a mistake for parents to play bridge on Sunday. The morals of +children should ever be sacred in a parent’s eye. Never, therefore, +allow a card to be touched on the Sabbath—until the children have gone +to bed. + + * * * * * + +An inveterate bridge fiend recently proposed to a lady of some means. +She, doubting his entire sincerity, mentioned his too great devotion to +bridge. With a fine show of enthusiasm and erudition he burst out with: + + “I could not love thee, dear, so much, + Loved I not honors more.” + + * * * * * + +There is always a great deal of discussion among good bridge players as +to the propriety of an original club make—with no score. As a matter of +fact, a big club hand is usually disastrous whether you make it or pass +it. You either leave it and get spades, or else you _don’t_ leave it +and get the devil. + + * * * * * + +There is a lady in New York society who is as devoted to bridge as +one could well be. She makes everything, except her two children, +subservient to the game. She attends bridge classes, bridge teas, and +bridge tournaments without end. She is, unfortunately, married to a +wealthy but worthless and rascally young clubman who treats her usually +with indifference, but sometimes with cruelty. + +Her friends all advised her to sue for a divorce. + +The poor woman was in some doubt as to what course to pursue. Finally, +a brilliant idea occurred to her. She would consult her bridge +teacher! He was the one man in all the world whose judgment seemed to +her infallible. She trusted him more than she did her lawyer or her +minister. He had solved so many difficult problems for her that he +might solve this. + +Mr. Elstreet was accordingly written to by the unhappy lady. His answer +ran as follows: + + MY DEAR MRS. ——: + + I have very carefully thought over the little problem which + you were good enough to submit to me for solution. It seems + to me that when you have a knave alone, it is often a wise + plan to discard him, but holding, as you do, a knave and two + little ones, it would seem the better part of discretion not to + discard him. + + I am, my dear Mrs. ——, yours, etc. + + * * * * * + +A well-known widow in London was a guest at a large house party. She +was an enthusiastic bridger. She took the game very seriously—so +seriously that she frequently dreamed about it, and even, her maid +declared, talked about it in her sleep. + +Everybody had been playing fairly late and the ladies had gone to their +rooms and “turned in” at about twelve o’clock. The men had played until +about two. Shortly after this, the housekeeper, in making her final +round of the house, was startled to hear the widow’s voice addressing +somebody in an agonized and supplicating way. + +As the door of the widow’s room was ajar, the housekeeper paused in +some alarm, only to hear her call out: “My diamonds, my diamonds, why +didn’t I protect them? I am lost, absolutely lost!” + +The housekeeper, not knowing the intricacies of bridge and thoroughly +alarmed by the idea of a burglar in the widow’s room, rushed to the +host’s door and hastily summoned him to the rescue. After a somewhat +noisy consultation between them, as a result of which some of the +disrobing bachelors were attracted to the scene of conflict, a united +descent was made upon the unfortunate widow’s stronghold. The net +result of the _sortie_ was that the widow was greatly annoyed, the host +was unmercifully chaffed, and the housekeeper received her first lesson +in bridge. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Bridge_] + + * * * * * + +“It was,” said the Knickerbocker bridge fiend, “at the Hotel +Splendide-Royale in Aix-les-Bains. I was playing twenty-cent +points, which is just double my usual limit. I had lost six +consecutive rubbers. I had cut, each rubber, against a peculiarly +malevolent-looking Spaniard, who had a reputation at cards which was +none too savory. There had been trouble about him only the day before +at the Casino des Fleurs, where he had been mixed up in a somewhat +unpleasant baccarat scandal. He was a crafty and sullen bridge player +and I had conceived a most cordial dislike to him. + +“Finally—it was hideously late and the card-room waiter was snoring in +the service closet—my time for revenge arrived. It was my deal, and +I saw at a glance that I had dealt myself an enormous hand. I could +hardly believe my eyes. I held nine spades with the four top honors, +the bare ace of clubs, the bare ace of hearts, and the king and queen +of diamonds. Here was a certainty of eleven tricks at no trumps and +very possibly twelve or thirteen. I looked at the Spaniard, whose turn +it was to lead, and I smiled exultantly. + +“‘No trumps,’ I said, the note of triumph quite perceptible in my +voice. Quick as a flash the Spaniard had doubled—and quick as another +I had redoubled. + +“When, however, he had jacked it up to 96 a trick, I hesitated, but of +course went at him again with 192. ‘Ah, ha!,’ I said to myself, ‘Mr. +bird of ill omen, you are my prey, my chosen victim for the sacrifice.’ + +“The price per trick had soon sailed up to 1,536, and I ventured to +look at my partner. He was chalky white about the gills and his eyes +seemed to stare idiotically into space. His expression prompted me to +take pity on him and say ‘enough.’ + +“Suddenly I had a terrible feeling of alarm. Had I mistaken the queen +of diamonds for the queen of hearts? If so, my king of diamonds was +bare and the mysterious Spaniard might run off twelve diamond tricks +before I could say ‘Jack Robinson.’ With a sinking heart I looked at my +hand again—all was well! The queen was surely a diamond. I glanced at +the olive-skinned gentleman and begged him to lead a card. I felt a +great joy welling up within me. + +“At this moment the Spaniard led a card and I looked at it nervously. +As soon as my eyes beheld it my heart seemed to stop beating. He had +opened the ace of a strange green suit, a suit which I had never seen +before, a suit all covered with mysterious figures and symbols. I felt +strangely giddy but discarded a low spade. I looked at my partner, who +was the picture of despair. He said, mechanically and as though life +had lost all beauty for him, ‘Having no hyppogryphs?’ to which icy +inquiry I answered in a strange whisper, ‘No gryppolyphs.’ + +“The leader followed with another green card, a king this time, and +again I sacrificed another beautiful spade. The Spaniard smiled a +mahogany smile and proceeded to run off his entire suit of thirteen +green cards. He then nonchalantly scored up a grand slam, the game, +and a rubber of 10,450 points or $2,090. I felt my brain reeling and +fainted away with my head on the card table. Very soon, however, I +thought I felt the Spaniard tugging at my coat sleeve. My anger at this +was beyond all bounds. I opened my eyes, prepared to strike the crafty +foreigner in his wicked face, and saw—my servant standing by my bed +with my breakfast tray in his hands and my bathrobe on his arm.” + + + + +THE THEATER + + + + +THE THEATER + + +At the theater it is smart to “roast the show.” Do not be afraid of +wounding the feelings of your host and hostess. It is an even chance +that they are more bored than you. If the actors seem to object to your +conversation or show annoyance or impatience, try to remember that they +are not, as a rule, well bred, and are ignorant of all the graceful +little social conventions. + + * * * * * + +On leaving the opera with ladies, do not go into the draughty side +corridors with them, or you will surely be forced to look out for their +carriage, a tedious and bothersome occupation. The wisest thing to +do is to say that you have an appointment, and merge yourself with +the rabble who are leaving by the front door, allowing the ladies to +remain in the side corridors, where their footmen will sooner or later +discover them. + + * * * * * + +Never give a theater party in stalls. Boxes are obligatory. In seats, +the men cannot go out for refreshment, and the ladies are forced +to remove their hats, a tragedy usually accompanied by the most +distressing and ignominious disclosures. + + * * * * * + +Ladies who have opera boxes given them at the last moment should “get +on the job” at once and offer it to such of their friends as they know +to be either out of town or engaged for that evening. A box has been +known, under such circumstances, to pay off a dozen obligations in a +single day. + + * * * * * + +In New York a theater party is often a very boring and tedious form of +revelry. It is always wise to send a “feeler” before accepting a lady’s +invitation to dine and go to the play. The following is a safe model +for such a missive: + + MY DEAR MRS. VANDERGRAFT: + + How awfully good of you to ask me for Friday. I presume we are + dining at your house and not at a stuffy restaurant. May I be + very frank and ask you what play you are planning to see? Might + I also inquire if you are going in boxes or seats, and if you + expect me for supper afterwards? + + On hearing from you, I hope to be able to arrange the matter + to your entire satisfaction. + + My servant will wait for your reply. + + Sincerely yours, + + REGINALD GOOLD. + + P. S.—How many are coming, and who are they? Are they the noisy + sort? + + P. S. No. 2.—What ladies are to sit beside me at dinner? + + + + +CALLING + + + + +CALLING + + +Bachelors no longer leave or “push” cards. It is considered provincial. +After dining at a house, a man may think it policy to give the butler +two dollars and his card. In return the butler will, during the next +afternoon, discreetly slip the card upon the tray in the hall while the +lady of the house is driving in the park. + + * * * * * + +If you are literally forced to pay a call, merely ask the butler if +the ladies are at home. Should he say “No,” hand him your cards, and +your work is over. Should he say “Yes,” pretend to him that you have +mistaken the house, and that you were looking for the residence of +another lady. Slip him a dollar and retire noiselessly down the steps. + + * * * * * + +It is often well, before starting out on a calling expedition, to have +one’s servant telephone to a dozen or so mansions to discover which of +the ladies are out. You can then leave cards in these particular houses +with comparative safety. + + + + +OUR COUNTRY COUSINS + + + + +OUR COUNTRY COUSINS + + +Green peas are eaten with the aid of a fork. The hair-raising spectacle +of a gentleman flicking peas into his mouth with a steel knife is no +longer fashionable, however dexterously the feat may be performed. + + * * * * * + +Plums should be eaten one by one and the pits allowed to fall +noiselessly into the half-closed hand. + + * * * * * + +At dinners, wisdom dictates that it is wiser to leave the terrapin, +hard crabs, asparagus, and oranges untasted (unless accustomed to them +from birth). Be content to poke and pat these dishes with a fork, but +make no effort to consume them. + + * * * * * + +The following expressions are no longer in vogue in society: “Pardon my +glove,” “Pray be seated,” “Pleased to meet you,” “Remember me to the +folks,” “Pray rest your cane,” “Make yourself at home,” “What name, +please?” “Are you the party?” “Say, listen,” “My gentleman friend,” +“Usen’t you?” etc. + + * * * * * + +Do not address your wife as “mother.” + + * * * * * + +Olives are eaten with the thumb and forefinger of the right hand. It is +not necessary to peel them, and the pits should usually be rejected. + + * * * * * + +Do not, when your mouth is filled with sweet potatoes, red bananas, +pressed saddle of lamb, or other solid provisions, attempt to discuss +the topics of the day with the ladies at the feast. + + * * * * * + +In using a finger bowl, simply dip the index finger into the fluid and +pass it lightly over the lips. + +Make no effort to consume the floating lemon, and try to restrain +yourself from splashing about in the bath, like a playful walrus or a +performing seal. + + * * * * * + +When a rich Westerner arrives in New York and begins breaking into +society, it should be a pleasure for everybody to show him little +courtesies and attentions. New York gentlemen usually do this by +borrowing money from him, marrying his daughters, riding his polo +ponies (or selling him theirs), drinking his wine, cruising about +on his yacht, smoking his cigars, and selling him blocks of their +worthless stocks. + + * * * * * + +The last morsel of green turtle in a soup plate is always a +heart-breaking thing at best. Remember that, though enticing, it +is elusive. Do not chivy it about in frantic circles or pursue it +untiringly around your plate until you have captured and subdued it. +Turtle soup and Indian pig-sticking are not governed by the same rules. + + * * * * * + +When you sit down at table, it is not necessary to whisk the napkin +gayly about before unfolding it. The concealed roll is certain to +fly a considerable distance before alighting, and may even crack the +enameling on one of the great ladies at the banquet. + + * * * * * + +Millionaires of the Chester A. Arthur or Rutherford B. Hayes vintage +should pass rapidly through their ancient mansions and demolish the +following objects of art and _vertu_: + +The twin conch shells, for fireside use; the embroidered wall mottoes; +imitation wax flowers—under glass; ebony and gold whatnots; velvet +antimacassars; all crayon portraits—whether pendant or on gold +easels; party-colored crazy quilts; all magenta picture sashes; plush +photograph albums; red worm lamp-mats; turkish cozy corners, with +hanging red lamps, imitation spears, and rusty armor; black hair sofas; +hanging tennis racquets ornamented with red bows; folding beds; cuckoo +clocks and paper weights containing miniature paper snowstorms. + +After destroying these knickknacks, they should pass out on the +steps and adjacent lawn spaces and demolish the iron dogs, copper +fauns, and the bed of snowdrops spelling out the mansion’s fantastic +name—“Slopeoak,” “Munnysunk,” “Sewerside,” or any name in which the +following popular “B” forms are included: Brae, Blythe, By-the, Buena, +Bel, Bonnie, Beau, Bourne. + + + + +NEWPORT + + + + +NEWPORT + + +The correct treatment of a foreigner in Newport is to gush over him, +praise him to your friends, and invite him to your entertainments. This +course may be pursued for one week. After that, treat him with great +reserve and coolness for the same period of time. At the beginning of +the third week you should abuse him roundly, and take pains to recite +the hidden and secret passages of his past. Advice for the fourth week +is unnecessary: they never last more than three. + + * * * * * + +Sea bathing at Newport is often injurious to the health, as in the +case of those ladies whose figures are a trifle too meagre—or too +ample. To such sirens the doctor is sure to forbid it. Where, however, +the outlines are visually “grateful and comforting,” the exercise is +certain to prove beneficial and bracing. In all Newport there are about +a dozen ladies whose physicians have no such prejudices against open +air, salt water bathing. + + * * * * * + +Dakota divorces are still a good deal frowned upon in the _beau monde_. +Try to remember that only Rhode Island divorces are _comme il faut_. +(The Newport variety is far smarter than the Providence or Bristol +brand.) Dakota divorces are a trifle cheaper and more expeditious, +but it should be borne in mind that the climate of Sioux Falls is +very variable and that the hotels and theaters are, to say the least, +indifferent. + + * * * * * + +Millionaires from the West whose wives are bent upon breaking into +society at any cost, should not try Newport until the simpler +safes have been cracked. Newport is the water jump of the social +steeplechase, and should not be taken until the easier gates have been +successfully negotiated. The safest graded order of jumps is as follows: + + 1. PALM BEACH. Not exclusive, but merry, sumptuous, and + expensive. Chance to meet many smart men + in the gambling rooms. + + 2. HOT SPRINGS, VA. Depressing, but many “classy” invalids. + + 3. NARRAGANSETT PIER. Geographically speaking, this is nearly Newport, + but the social tone, though “nobby,” can + hardly be called A1. + + 4. THE BERKSHIRES. Dull and dowdy, but full of genteel old families + in reduced circumstances who are willing to + unbend—if properly propitiated. + + 5. TUXEDO. Excellent opportunities here, particularly in + the Tuxedo jiggers and at the club on rainy + days, when a fourth is needed at bridge. + + 6. LONG ISLAND. This is the Tattenham Corner of the social + Derby—(many bad falls here—due to riding too + hard)—the last great turn before the finish. + (Try Hempstead, Westbury, and Roslyn—in order.) + + 7. NEWPORT. Having finally reached Newport, be very careful + about the pace. Begin cautiously with Bellevue + Avenue and the casino. Gradually, however, you + may hit up the pace and try the golf club, + Bailey’s Beach, and, finally, you may dash + past the judge’s stand and weigh in at Ochre + Point. + + * * * * * + +At Newport the hostess usually retires at about 1.30. This should be +the signal for all the bachelors, diplomats, and foreigners who are +stopping with her, to ask the butler for carriages and motors to convey +them to Canfield’s (a fashionable roulette and chicken-salad parlor). + + * * * * * + +A bachelor stopping with friends in Newport should never lunch or dine +in their house. It is more jaunty to dine out. If they are truly +considerate, they will supply him with red morocco “in-and-out” signs +which he can manipulate, in accordance with his engagements, in the +entrance hall. + +After a week or so, if he has not yet seen his host or hostess and is +preparing to leave Newport, it is sometimes thoughtful and kind to +send a card up to their rooms by a servant, thanking them for their +hospitality. + + + + +GENERAL RULES + + + + +GENERAL RULES + + +Wedding receptions are usually held in small private houses holding +anywhere from one hundred to two hundred guests. It is customary to +invite sixteen hundred people, six hundred of whom arrive and three +hundred of whom usually remain wedged for hours upon the stairs in a +bewildering sea of picture hats, lobster salad, smilax, rice, and lady +fingers. + + * * * * * + +After a funeral it is customary for the family to supply a few extra +carriages in which the pallbearers and mourners go to the burial +ground. After this ceremony the bachelor, who has availed himself of +one of the vehicles, may, with propriety, ask the driver to take +him to his rooms; but it is a gross breach of good form to keep the +carriage on (at the family’s expense) for calling, going to the play, +or driving to Belmont Park for the races. + + * * * * * + +In thanking friends for wedding presents, it is well to remember +that nearly all of them will have to be exchanged. Lay your plans +accordingly. Do not thank anybody until you have bunched the duplicates. + +Let us assume, for instance, that the seventeen traveling clocks, +forty-eight candlesticks, eleven porcelain parasol handles, fifty-one +cut-glass salad bowls, thirteen fans, and eighty-four silver teapots +have all been gathered together in convenient groups. At this point +the bride-to-be may dictate an appropriate “teapot” letter to her +secretary. This note will do for _all_ the teapots. The following is a +graceful example of such an epistle: + + MY DEAR —— ——: + + The teapot is _too_ ravishing. What an _angel_ you are! I + simply _adore_ it. Oddly enough, it was the _very_ thing I had + longed and _prayed_ for. + + Yours ever, + + BLANCHE. + + P. S.—Where did you say you bought it? + + * * * * * + +When a lady calls you up on the telephone, and seems disposed to run on +forever, simply hang up the receiver and go on with your cigar. If she +calls up again to complete the conversation, tell your servant to say +that you were disgusted with the way the central girl cut you off and +have gone to the telephone company to lodge a complaint. + + * * * * * + +Be careful to remember that the lady always bows first. On some +occasions it is difficult to determine whether the fast-approaching +queen of fashion is going to bow or not. Should you be walking down the +avenue with another man, proceed as follows: Look at her and exclaim +gladly: “Why, how do you do—” Should she freeze, or cut you, you have +but to turn to your friend and complete your remark by adding—“that +little trick you showed me yesterday?” + +Thus, it may appear to him that your remark was meant to be a +continuous one, having to do with some feat of legerdemain, and he will +fail to notice the snub which has been so cruelly inflicted upon you. + + * * * * * + +Proposals by women, while permissible, are not customary, and, although +they are yearly becoming more and more popular, are still regarded +as an innovation. If the proposal is rejected, good taste and kindly +consideration demand that the gentleman should keep it more or less of +a secret. + +It is, of course, not always easy for a gentleman to know when he has +been definitely proposed to. Women’s ways are sometimes devious and +obscure. Roughly speaking, it is a proposal, or its equivalent, when a +lady throws her head upon his breast and bursts into a passionate flood +of tears. + + * * * * * + +The duties of a valet in a country house are as follows: + +(1) Talking and snickering to the housemaids in the hallways. + +(2) Purloining little keepsakes from the portmanteaus of the visitors. + +(3) Bouncing into the bachelors’ rooms one hour before they wish to be +wakened, in order to build fires, close bureau drawers, misinform them +about the weather, and take away dress coats and trousers. + +(4) Laying out clothes in the morning. In doing this they usually +exhibit a highly trained color sense, selecting as the smartest +combination of apparel a blue shirt, brown socks, lilac handkerchief, +green tie, and a yellow waistcoat. + +(5) Standing in a conspicuous position in the main hallway on Monday +morning, which is always the period of largess and plenty. + +(6) Wrapping up muddy boots in black evening trousers. + +(7) Perhaps, however, their most blissful moment is when, knowing that +you have one more evening before you, they take your only remaining +white shirt, fold it into a sausage-shaped roll, and hurl it into the +soiled-linen basket. + + * * * * * + +A movement is on foot in polite society to revise the barbarous wedding +anniversaries as at present regulated, as modern marriages seldom last +long enough to celebrate them. It is proposed, therefore, to call the +first anniversary the tin, the second the silver, the third the gold, +as marriages in society are only contracted, on one side or the other, +for the attainment of these several commodities. + + * * * * * + +When ladies are introduced to one another, they should remain rigid and +calm and evince no interest in the proceeding. Their necks should be +stiff and their heads thrown back—like cobras about to strike. + + * * * * * + +At a wedding it is not customary for the best man to kiss the bride. +Should the occasion seem, however, to call for such an act, he should +be careful only to deliver a “Sweeper.” A “Dweller” may alone be +administered by the groom. + + * * * * * + +A bachelor should supply the telephone girl at his office with a list +of ladies to whom he is always “out.” On a select list he will write +the names of five or six ladies who entertain delightfully and to whom +he is always “in.” + + * * * * * + +In introducing two people show no sign of emotion whatever. Merely look +from one to the other in a vague, listless sort of way, and murmur +their names very swiftly and very faintly. It is, of course, bad form +to introduce at all, but, if put to it, proceed as above. + + * * * * * + +At Christmas time a married man should make certain to tip the +telephone boy at his club. If the lad is clever enough to recognize +the voice of the member’s wife, at the other end of the telephone, he +should receive ten dollars. If he recognizes _other_ female voices as +well, he should receive twenty. + + * * * * * + +A chivalrous husband should always try, by kindly acts and little +courtesies, to ingratiate himself in his wife’s affections. It is, for +instance, selfish of him to return from his office to his home before +dressing time. + +He should remember that the hours between 4.15 and 7.15 are _her_ +hours. In this brief space she will probably wish to pour tea, +entertain male visitors, play bridge, buy jewelry, take a nap, or have +her hair “marcelled,” and the husband should always consider her +feelings during this trying part of the day. He may solace himself by +remembering that the sitting rooms of other ladies are always open to +him during these hours. If not, he can always go to the steam room at a +Turkish bath, or drop in at the “Plaza” and hear the _nouveaux riches_ +drink tea. + + * * * * * + +In motoring, avoid running over hens, dogs, and Italian children. They +are almost certain to stick up the wheels. + + * * * * * + +Church-going is no longer considered fashionable. If a lady finds that +she _must_ attend church, it is a wise precaution to take a little +child with her. This will not only make a good impression but will give +her an excellent excuse for leaving before the sermon. + + * * * * * + +When you are northbound and a lady bows to you from a southbound +brougham, do not trouble to lift your hat. Merely raise your arm +halfway to your head, as the vehicle will have passed in a moment and +your failure to bow is certain to remain unnoticed. + + * * * * * + +Always be half an hour late for everything. Nothing is so tedious as +waiting. + + +THE END + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75300 *** diff --git a/75300-h/75300-h.htm b/75300-h/75300-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fff396b --- /dev/null +++ b/75300-h/75300-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3100 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Manners for the Metropolis | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +a { + text-decoration: none; +} + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +h2.nobreak, h3.nobreak { + page-break-before: avoid; +} + +hr.chap { + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + clear: both; + width: 65%; + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; +} + +img.w100 { + width: 100%; +} + +div.chapter { + page-break-before: always; +} + +p { + margin-top: 0.5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +table { + margin: 1em auto 1em auto; + max-width: 40em; + border-collapse: collapse; +} + +td { + padding-left: 2.25em; + padding-right: 0.25em; + vertical-align: top; + text-indent: -2em; + text-align: justify; +} + +.tdr { + text-align: right; +} + +.tdpg { + vertical-align: bottom; + text-align: right; +} + +.blockquote { + margin: 1.5em 10%; +} + +.bt { + border-top: thin solid black; +} + +.center { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; +} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.larger { + font-size: 150%; +} + +.noindent { + text-indent: 0em; +} + +.nw { + white-space: nowrap; +} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + right: 4%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; +} + +.poetry-container { + text-align: center; +} + +.poetry { + display: inline-block; + text-align: left; +} + +.poetry .stanza { + margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; +} + +.poetry .verse { + padding-left: 3em; +} + +.poetry .indent0 { + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.right { + text-align: right; +} + +.smaller { + font-size: 80%; +} + +.smcap { + font-variant: small-caps; + font-style: normal; +} + +.titlepage { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 3em; + text-indent: 0em; +} + +.x-ebookmaker img { + max-width: 100%; + width: auto; + height: auto; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .poetry { + display: block; + margin-left: 1.5em; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .blockquote { + margin: 1.5em 5%; +} + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp100 {width: 100%;} +.illowp50 {width: 50%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp50 {width: 100%;} +.illowp62 {width: 62%;} +.x-ebookmaker .illowp62 {width: 100%;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75300 ***</div> + +<h1>MANNERS<br> +<span class="smaller"><i>for the</i></span><br> +METROPOLIS</h1> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="illus1" style="max-width: 29.6875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus1.jpg" alt="Tips!"> +</figure> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<p class="titlepage larger">MANNERS<br> +<span class="smaller"><i>for the</i></span><br> +METROPOLIS</p> + +<p class="center"><i>An Entrance Key to the<br> +Fantastic Life of<br> +The 400</i></p> + +<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br> +FRANCIS W. CROWNINSHIELD</p> + +<figure class="figcenter titlepage illowp62" id="appleton" style="max-width: 6.25em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/appleton.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p class="titlepage">DECORATIONS BY<br> +LOUIS FANCHER</p> + +<p class="titlepage">NEW YORK<br> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br> +1908</p> + +<p class="titlepage smaller"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1908, by</span><br> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</p> + +<p class="center smaller"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1908, by</span><br> +THE METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE COMPANY</p> + +<p class="titlepage smaller"><i>Published, October, 1908</i></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="center">TO<br> +<br> +H. S. C.</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2></div> + +<table> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Foreword</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#FOREWORD">3</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Country Houses</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#COUNTRY_HOUSES">9</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Conversation</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CONVERSATION">27</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Dinners</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#DINNERS">35</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Dances</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#DANCES">53</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Bridge</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#BRIDGE">65</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">The Theater</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#THE_THEATER">85</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Calling</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#CALLING">91</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Our Country Cousins</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#OUR_COUNTRY_COUSINS">95</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Newport</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#NEWPORT">103</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">General Rules</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#GENERAL_RULES">113</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +</div> + +<table> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td class="tdpg smaller">FACING PAGE</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Tips</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus1"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Conversation</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus2">28</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Hostess</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus3">60</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Bridge</span></td> + <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus4">78</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="FOREWORD">FOREWORD</h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak">FOREWORD</h3> + +</div> + +<p>It is undeniable that much of the pleasure +in modern life is derived from social intercourse.</p> + +<p>From time immemorial the gregarious instinct +has contributed greatly to the charm of +all populated regions. It is worthy of remark +that, during the past decade, both in +America and in England, sudden and violent +changes have somewhat ruffled the placid +waters of polite society. These new conditions +of life have naturally necessitated new +methods of social procedure. The telephone, +coeducation, wireless telegraphy, motor cars, +millionaires, bridge whist, women’s rights, +Sherry’s, cocktails, four-day liners, pianolas, +steam heat, <i>directoire</i> gowns, dirigible balloons,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> +and talking machines have all contributed +to an astonishing social metamorphosis.</p> + +<p>Curiously enough no book of etiquette has +taken count of these violent changes. There +is literally no Baedeker for this newly discovered +country. Many fruitful and enchanted +islands have been sighted, but have, alas, remained +uncharted.</p> + +<p>It is, therefore, with motives of generosity, +charity, and kindness that this little guide has +been prepared by the benevolent author.</p> + +<p>It will be found to contain concise rules of +deportment for all the more important social +ceremonies—from a <i>tête-à-tête</i> to a betrothal, +a picnic to a funeral, a <i>partie-carrée</i> to a +divorce, an ushers’ dinner to a Turkish bath, +and a piano recital to a rout. It also contains +excellent advice on the choice of a motor car, +a summer residence, a wife, or a brand of +cigar.</p> + +<p>The author feels that it should prove of +great value to those people who have been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span> +born and brought up in refined and well-bred +families, and are, at the same time, desirous +of entering fashionable society.</p> + +<p>To our newer millionaires and plutocrats +it should be a very present help in time of +trouble, for it is undeniable that many of +these captains of industry—however strong +and virile their natures—become utterly helpless +and panic-stricken at the mere sight of a +gold finger bowl, an alabaster bath, a pronged +oyster fork, or the business end of an asparagus.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="COUNTRY_HOUSES">COUNTRY HOUSES</h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak">COUNTRY HOUSES</h3> + +</div> + +<p>A country house is an establishment +maintained by people of wealth and position +who have banished from their home +circle the old ideas of family life: the hearth-side, +the romping little ones, and the studious +evenings under the red lamp.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>There is so much that is pleasurable in a +house party at such an establishment that it +is difficult to say which part of it is the most +delightful. It is thrilling to receive the invitation; +the journey there is full of an expectant +pleasure; the sport is invigorating; +the meals are usually palatable; the society +agreeable. On the whole, however, perhaps<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> +the most welcome part of it all is the moment +of departure.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>At a week-end party, when the servant +calls you in the morning and informs you +that your bath is running, it is modish to +sink off to sleep and allow the bath to overflow. +As soon as you are wide awake make +certain to turn off the electric light and demand +from the servant a brandy and soda. +After this bracer you may light a cigarette +and send the footman for breakfast and a +cigar. It is also a wise precaution to ask for +<i>all</i> the morning papers—otherwise the other +guests may secure some of them.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>It is usual for the bachelors to dawdle +about in their riding things until lunch is +announced. They can then go to their rooms,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> +take their baths, and change. This puts off +the agony of the lunch—which is always a +tiresome meal.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Go up early to dress for dinner, or the +other guests will have drawn off all the hot +water for their own baths.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>After a week-end visit it is customary to +write your hostess a “bread-and-butter letter,” +or “pleaser.” The following note will +be found a safe guide for such an occasion.</p> + +<div class="blockquote"> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">My dear Mrs. Weekende</span>:</p> + +<p>How kind you were to open the gates +of Heaven and give me that little +glimpse of Paradise. Would you be +good enough to ask the valet to send me +my cap? Perhaps, too, the footman +could forward my golf clubs, which I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> +entirely overlooked in the hurry of departure. +If not too much trouble, perhaps +you will ask the maid to express +me my sponge bag, listerine, and razor +strop.</p> + +<p>With renewed thanks, I am, dear +Mrs. Weekende,</p> + +<p class="center">Yours sincerely,</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Percy Vanderfort</span>.</p> + +<p>P. S.—I am returning to you, by express, +the woodland violet bath salt, +the photograph frame, the bedroom +clock, the silver brushes, the hot-water +bag, and the two sachet cases which +your servant mistook for my property.</p> + +</div> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When you are visiting in the country +and your hostess maintains a very small establishment, +the servant may ask you, on +awaking you, what you desire for breakfast.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> +Out of consideration for your hostess you +should ask for a very small and very simple +breakfast. Try to confine yourself to grape +fruit, oatmeal, bacon and eggs, corn bread, +chicken mince, marmalade, coffee, honey, hot +biscuits, and orange juice.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Parlor tricks are great assets in a week-ender. +The most popular are moving the +scalp and ears, cracking the knuckles, disjointing +the thumbs, standing on the head, +tearing a pack of cards, and dancing a cake +walk.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When the host offers, after breakfast, +to show you over the farm, gasp, and mention +your rheumatism. Almost any lie is permissible +to prevent so terrible a catastrophe.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Young girls, when visiting at a house +party, should be quiet and gentle, well behaved +and agreeable; but when at home there +is no reason why they should not be perfectly +natural.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>The horrors of the guest room are too +well-known to need enumeration, and can seldom +be ameliorated. They are, roughly, as +follows: The embroidered pillow slips, the +egg-finished sheets, the drawer of the bureau +that is warped and will not open, the rusty +pins in the stony pincushion, the empty cut-glass +cologne bottles, the blinds that bang in +the night, the absence of hooks on which to +hang your razor strop, the pictures of the +“Huguenot Lovers” and Landseer’s “Sanctuary” +over the headboard of the bed, the +tendency of the maid to hide the matches, +the dear little children in the nursery above<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> +you, the dead fly in the dried-up ink well, +and the hidden radiator under the sofa.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When you spend Sunday in the country, +the proper schedule of tips for the servants +is as follows:</p> + +<table> + <tr> + <td>Chauffeur</td> + <td class="tdr">$10.00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Butler</td> + <td class="tdr">10.00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Coachman</td> + <td class="tdr">5.00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Footman</td> + <td class="tdr">3.00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Valet</td> + <td class="tdr">5.00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Cook</td> + <td class="tdr">nothing</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Maid</td> + <td class="tdr">2.00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Chambermaid</td> + <td class="tdr">2.00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Strapper</td> + <td class="tdr">1.00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Groom</td> + <td class="tdr">2.00</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">Total</td> + <td class="tdr bt">40.00</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<p>Should you, however, have but $30 with +you, you have but to take a very early train,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> +in which case the butler will not have appeared, +and there will be no necessity to tip +him. The resourceful bachelor may also decide +to compensate the maid, if she be pretty, +by a few pleasant words of appreciation as +to her beauty and by chucking her under the +chin, as is invariably done on the stage in +comic opera.</p> + +<p>If your visit has been for a week, the above +table of tips should be disregarded. At the +end of such a visit you had best hand the +housekeeper a letter of introduction to your +lawyer, together with a list of your securities, +and allow her to sue your estate for the gratuities.</p> + +<p>(If you are from Pittsburg, care should be +taken to double the above table of tips.)</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>The dressing gong is sometimes meant to +convey the impression that dinner will shortly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> +be served in the banqueting hall. Usually, +however, it is the signal for everybody to +begin a new rubber.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Try to go early to the stables and select a +good riding horse for the rest of your visit. +There are seldom more than two good ones. +The rest are usually roarers or crocks.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>The hostess at a large country house is +naturally expected to provide all the week-end +essentials—i. e., liquors, cigars, food, +carriages—and motors in condition. Besides +these, however, she should never neglect to +offer her guests certain little added comforts +without which they would, very naturally, be +miserable. Every guest should be supplied, +therefore, with the following articles: a bottle +of listerine, a cloth cap, a tennis bat, a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> +hot-water bag, a pair of motor goggles, a +bag of golf clubs, a sweater, six tennis balls, +a bathroom, with needle shower (exclusive), +a bathrobe, a pair of slippers, a pair of tennis +shoes, a bathing suit, a box of cigarettes +(fifty in a box), a set of diabolo sticks, a +riding and driving horse, a fur overcoat, an +umbrella, a bottle of eau de cologne, and a +box of postage stamps.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Guests are always invited from Friday +night to Monday morning. It is wiser for +the hostess to mention the Monday trains, +or one of the guests may decide to stop +longer. This is seldom a wise plan. Hostesses +should clear the house of all guests +before the three-day limit. Remember the +Spanish proverb, “El huesped y el pece à +tres dias hiede,” which, being translated, +means, “Any guest, like any fish, is bound to +be objectionable on the third day.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In certain country houses the architect has +neglected to supply bathrooms for each of +the guests. In some extreme cases as many +as three bachelors are expected to share one +bath. This is bad.</p> + +<p>The best way to maneuver under such circumstances +is to send your servant early to +the bathroom and let him lock himself in. +This will foil the invaders. When he hears +your special knock on the door, he can open +to you, and you can then bathe, take a nap +in the bath, shave, smoke a cigarette, and +read the papers in quiet.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>At a house party every lady of prominence +is sure to bring at least one Pomeranian +dog. Many think it wiser to bring a black +and a brown, so that, no matter what gown +they may wear, one of the darlings is sure not +to clash with it. These pets are, of course,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> +extremely expensive. A smart week-end on +the Hudson will usually average about six +thousand dollars’ worth of Poms.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In nearly all guest rooms the hostess is sure +to provide white enamel writing desks, chiffoniers, +and tables. By leaving lighted cigarettes +on such articles of furniture you are +almost certain to secure a very curious and +amusing stain, or burn. Sometimes, if your +visit is long enough, you can etch, in this +way, a complete pattern around a fair-sized +table. The Greek fret and egg-and-dart designs +are neat and extremely popular.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>The passage through a country house of +the framed photograph of a friend is often +an instructive spectacle to witness. Such a +trophy usually begins its career in the drawing-room.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> +It is then moved to the library, +and subsequently to the smoking room. After +that it begins a heavenly flight into one of +the guest rooms, from which place it ascends +on its last earthly pilgrimage to the attic.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>The English have rather a clever way of +“chucking” a week-end engagement in the +country. They merely telegraph as follows:</p> + +<p>“Impossible to come to-day: lie follows +by mail.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>An unprotected lady should be careful not +to employ convivial or tippling butlers. We +are acquainted with a widow who was recently +petrified with horror when her drunken +butler entered her sleeping apartment in +the dead of the night and proceeded to lay +the table for six—upon her bed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Sunday morning in the country is usually +rainy. This is invariably the fault of +the hostess. When you descend in the morning, +look at her reproachfully; mention the +rain; remark on the fact that it has always +rained when you have visited her before; sink +hopelessly on a sofa, and sigh.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Hostesses very often have a distressing +way of asking you how you slept. Under +such circumstances it is permissible to speak +the truth and to mention, quite frankly, the +mosquitoes and the topographical whimsicalities +of your bed.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In a country house, if you find, on going +up to your room to dress for dinner, that no +studs have been put into your evening shirt, +complain at once to the stud groom.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Beware of inviting fashionable bachelors +for the week-end unless you maintain an +adequate <i>ménage</i>. The recent and distressing +case of a lady (with but one spare room +and a very small establishment) may serve as +a terrible example.</p> + +<p>Her visitor arrived rather late on a rainy +night. His belongings looked like those of +a traveling theatrical company, and included +one forty horse power Mercedes car, a Swiss +valet, a violin case, one trunk, two hat boxes, +five pounds of bonbons, a fur overcoat, a photographic +camera, a bag of golf clubs, a talking +machine, two boxes of health cocoa, an +Austrian chauffeur, an oxygen jar, two polo +ponies, an air cushion, a wire-haired fox terrier, +and a box of one hundred clay pigeons.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONVERSATION">CONVERSATION</h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CONVERSATION</h3> + +</div> + +<p>The conversation at a club should be simple +and conventional. It is vulgar to go into +long or prolix discussions. Only a few remarks +are <i>comme il faut</i>, such as “Hello!” +“Deuced cold!” “Have a drink?” “Who +has a cigar?” “How about one rubber?”</p> + +<p>Perhaps the safest and most refined remark +for constant use is: “Waiter, take the orders.” +Even this may be dispensed with—if +you make certain to ring the bell.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>It is not modish to speak kindly to the +servants either in your own or in other people’s +houses. In addressing them, simply say:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> +“A napkin,” “The cigars,” “Where the +devil are my boots?” Remember that they +“get even” in the servants’ hall.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>It is customary, in alluding to ladies in the +ultra-fashionable set (provided they are not +present) to speak of them by their pet +names: “Birdie,” “Baby,” “Tessie,” +“Posy”; but, when face to face with these +ladies, the utmost formality had best be observed.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In criticising a play or a novel be careful to +avoid long and discriminating criticisms. You +should either “knock” or “boost.” Try to +remember that there are only two kinds of +plays or novels—they are either “bully” or +“rotten.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="illus2" style="max-width: 29.6875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus2.jpg" alt="Conversation"> +</figure> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>If a few people in the smart set are entertaining +a stranger at lunch, it is <i>de rigueur</i> +for them to converse with each other entirely +in whispers and always on subjects with +which he is absolutely unfamiliar.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In discussing literature at a lunch or dinner, +try to remember that there are but a very +few fashionable authors. They are as follows: +Mrs. Wharton, Colonel Mann, Mrs. +Glyn, Robert Hichens, F. Peter Dunne, John +Fox, Jr., and Billy Baxter.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>At a dinner a gentleman sitting beside a +débutante should congratulate her upon her +début, and, in a few well-chosen words, +should discuss the usual débutante topics—i. e.,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> +platonic love, banting, Ethel Barrymore, +French dressmakers, John Drew, the relative +merits of Harvard and Yale, love at first +sight, the football match and the matter of +her great personal beauty and charm.</p> + +<p>Try always to remember that the chief and +most interesting topics of conversation are +herself and yourself. <i>Serious</i> topics are very +properly deemed out of place in society.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>After dinner, over the cigars, it is bad +form for men to discuss any subjects but +stocks and motor cars.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Whenever, at a dinner, an anecdote +is narrated in French, it is always a wise precaution +to laugh heartily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Women should not complain of their +husbands in public. All married women have +a great deal to contend with. Everybody +knows that married men make very poor +husbands.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>At a dinner the safest conversational opening +is as follows: “Is that your bread, or +mine?”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When, at a dinner, you don’t know the +lady next to you, show her your dinner card +and say:</p> + +<p>“I’m that; what are you?”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Chivalry demands that a lady’s name +should never be mentioned in a gentleman’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> +club. Occasionally, however, this hard-and-fast +rule may be slightly infracted, and her +intimate affairs discreetly talked over—provided +that the group of gentlemen be a small +one and absolute privacy assured.</p> + +<p>N. B.—A “small group” is any group of +less than twelve.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="DINNERS">DINNERS</h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak">DINNERS</h3> + +</div> + +<p>A dinner is a miscellaneous collection of +appropriately dressed men and women, who +are not in the least hungry and who are invited +by the host and hostess to repay certain +social obligations for value received or +expected. The attitude of the guests at such +a repast is very often one of regret and revolt, +because of the haunting memory of an +invitation, much more enticing in its prospects, +but, alas, more recently received.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>On arriving at a dinner a servant should +hand each male guest an envelope containing +a card. This card will bear the name of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> +lady whom he is to take in to dinner. This +part of the ceremony is usually accompanied +by groans and maledictions as the gentlemen +tremblingly open their envelopes.</p> + +<p>Some hostesses allow their guests to file +in to dinner in ignorance of their partners. +They thus learn their fate at the dinner table, +which postpones the terrible shock for as +long a period as possible.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Nothing adds so much to an appearance +of <i>savoir faire</i> as the art of gracefully +removing from a dinner or evening party a +gentleman who has imbibed, not wisely but +too well. The correct method is to ask the +butler to inform him that a lady wishes to +speak to him on the telephone. When he +has left the room, spring upon him in the +hall and chivy him into a cab.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Rouge sticks and powder puffs may be +used by ladies at luncheons, but <i>never</i> at dinners.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>If a bachelor receives a dinner invitation +from people who are not really “in the +swim” (people, let us say, like old friends, +classmates, and business associates, who are, +so to speak, “on the green, but not dead to +the hole”), he should simply toss it into the +fire. This plan will prevent any more invitations +from so undesirable a quarter. Were +he to answer these people politely, they would +certainly annoy him again at a later date. +Remember that “the coward does it with a +kiss, the brave man with a sword.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Do not address your best thoughts to the +ladies until they have had an opportunity to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> +brush the glove powder from their arms and +to look carefully at the dresses and ornaments +of the other ladies at the dinner.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>At a very large dinner, the lady beside +you is almost certain to be one who entertains +generously and, as such, should be treated +with a certain degree of politeness. Try to +suppress, however, all sentiments purely +human in their nature, such as pity, kindness +of heart, sympathy, enthusiasm, love of +books, music, and art.</p> + +<p>These ridiculous sentiments are in exceedingly +bad taste and should be used but sparingly, +if at all.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Ladies do not call upon a bachelor, in +his rooms, after attending a dinner given by +him—except in Mrs. Wharton’s novels.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>On leaving a dinner you should always +manage to come down the steps with a group +of the super-rich—they may give you a lift +home.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>On driving home with friends from a dinner, +it is the generally accepted practice to +abuse the host and draw particular attention +to his ghastly collection of family portraits, +his wretched plate, and execrable food. Do +not fail also to draw a moving picture of the +stupidity and hideousness of the lady next to +you at dinner—unless she should be in the +carriage with you at the time.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When you are over half an hour late +at a dinner it is well to have an excuse. There +are, just now, only two modish excuses:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> +First, you were arrested for speeding your +motor; second, you were playing bridge, and +every hand seemed to be a spade or a club.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When a gentleman at a dinner upsets a +plate of terrapin, a ruddy duck, or a bowl of +vegetable salad upon the dress of the lady +beside him, she should laugh merrily and +should always be provided with some apt jest +with which to carry off the little <i>contretemps</i>.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Fletcherites have lately added a +new horror to dining out. These strange +creatures seldom repay attention. The best +that can be expected from them is the tense +and awful silence which always accompanies +their excruciating tortures of mastication.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>There are two <i>recherché</i> methods for a +bachelor to refuse a verbal dinner invitation. +The first is to say that you are dining with a +business associate. The second is to say that +your engagement book is at home and that +you will consult it immediately upon reaching +there and will telephone. This gives you the +desired opportunity of saying “No.” It is +always easier over the wire than face to face.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In wriggling out of a dinner at the last +moment in New York, it is <i>chic</i> to invent +some mythical female relative in Philadelphia +who has developed a sudden and alarming +illness and has hastily summoned you to her +bedside.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>If, at a dinner, food is passed to you which +you do not care to eat, it is good form to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> +take a generous heap of it, to pat it and mess +it up on your plate with a fork.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>After dinner, if a lady has been asked to +sing and refused, do not urge her further. +It is the height of bad manners, and there is +just the off chance that she may yield.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In England the matter of precedence at +dinners is simplicity itself. The Sovereign +precedes an ambassador, who precedes the +Archbishop of Canterbury, who precedes the +Earl Marshal, who precedes a duke, who +precedes an earl, a marquis, a viscount, a +bishop, a baron, etc.; but in America the +matter is a much more perplexing one.</p> + +<p>The author of this <i>brochure</i> respectfully +suggests the following scheme of American<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> +dinner precedence: Let an opera box count 6 +points; steam yacht, 5; town house, 5; country +house, 4; motors, 3 each; every million +dollars, 2; tiara, 1; good wine cellar, 1; ballroom +in town house, 1; a known grandparent +of either sex, ½; culture, ⅛. By this system, +a woman of culture with four known grandparents +and a million dollars will have a total +of 4⅛. She will, of course, be forced to +follow in the wake of a lady with a town +house and a tiara (6); who, in turn, will trail +after a woman with a steam yacht and two +motors (11). The highest known total is +about 100; the lowest, about ⅛. The housekeeper +may arrange the totals, and the hostess +can then send the guests in according to their +listed quotations.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>People who arrive late at a large dinner +sometimes have very quaint and amusing excuses.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> +A hostess at a recent eight-o’clock banquet +collected the following gems:</p> + +<p>I overslept in my bath.</p> + +<p>A cinder lodged in my eye and I have just +come from the chemist’s.</p> + +<p>My maid is ill and I was forced to hook +myself.</p> + +<p>The twins put crumbs in my stockings.</p> + +<p>I read your invitation upside down and, +naturally, mistook the hour of dinner.</p> + +<p>I never eat soup, and thought, of course, +you wouldn’t wait.</p> + +<p>I knew Mrs. V—t would be <i>much</i> later +than I—so I took a chance.</p> + +<p>I was taking my memory lesson, and it +was all so absorbing that I completely forgot +the dinner.</p> + +<p>I lost your note, and, as <i>everybody</i> dines +at 8.30, I thought, of course, that <i>you</i> would.</p> + +<p>My chauffeur was so drunk that he took +me next door by mistake, and delayed me +fearfully.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Every year it is becoming more and more +difficult for hostesses to secure a sufficient +number of blades for their dinners and evening +routs. “Odd men” are always in tremendous +demand.</p> + +<p>The custom of shouting names, which is +imperfectly followed at the hotels, should be +perfected in our clubs, and we hope soon to +see the club waiters wandering about the +halls and lounging rooms shouting out, as +they go: “Mrs. Vanderlip, four odd men +for dinner.” “Mrs. Miles, two bachelors +for the opera.” “Mrs. Nestor, one married +couple for bridge,” etc.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When a lady beside you is so generously +avoirdupoised or embonpointed that it is a +physical impossibility for her to see the food +upon her plate, it is sometimes an act of kindness +to inform her as to the nature of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> +bird or beast so hopelessly removed from her +vision. This saves her the trouble of lifting +it above the horizon in order to discover its +exact species.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A clever hostess in New York has recently +trained a highly intelligent dachshund +to fly about after dinner, under the banquet +table, and fetch out the long white gloves, +make-up boxes, scarves, and lace handkerchiefs. +Most hostesses, however, prefer to +put their guests on the scent and let them +retrieve the hidden treasures.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A frantic hostess recently telephoned +us for advice on a nice point of social etiquette. +She had arranged a dinner of twelve, +and was confronted and confounded, at the +last moment, by an “odd” bachelor whom<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> +she had originally invited and subsequently +forgotten. She could not sit down thirteen at +the table.</p> + +<p>“What shall I do?” she asked.</p> + +<p>We were glad to be able to come to the +distressed lady’s assistance and telephoned +her as follows:</p> + +<p>“You should hand him a neatly folded +dollar bill and ask him to slip out quietly and +buy himself a good dinner at a corner restaurant. +Your butler may also give him a cigar +as he passes into the night.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>If you are giving a supper after the play, +it is <i>de rigueur</i> to order grape fruit, hot bouillon, +champagne, birds, a salad, and a sweet. +The sated guests will not touch any of the +food, but it is <i>comme il faut</i> to put it all before +them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Banting has almost done away with the +ancient custom of eating, but thyroid tablets +and lemon juice are, of course, permitted. At +a ladies’ lunch the guests (whether ladies, +millionairesses, or workingwomen) should be +careful disdainfully to dismiss the dainty +dishes until the repast is over, when they +should look benignly at the hostess and +murmur:</p> + +<p>“Dear Mrs. Brown—<i>might</i> I have a cup +of very hot water?”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When a lady must pay back forty dinner +obligations and her dining room will +seat only twenty, it is obvious that she must +have two dinners of twenty each. She should +give the feasts on successive evenings, as the +left-over flowers, bonbons, fruits, and <i>pâtés</i> +will always do service at the second repast.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A lady should be careful not to turn to +the gentleman beside her and complain of the +“fizz.” There is always a good chance that +he is the wine agent.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When, in New York, a married couple +do not pull along together, and have definitely +decided to divorce or separate, it is +customary for them once or twice to dine, +<i>tête-à-tête</i>, at Sherry’s: to flirt, laugh, and +make merry with each other—in order to put +the eager hounds off the scent.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>At dinners in the <i>beau monde</i> the footmen +will invariably pounce upon your plate +and run off with it before you have half finished +the course. Be careful not to hold on +to it like a despairing mother whose child is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> +being torn from her arms, as such scenes at +table are always deplorable and harassing.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In purchasing almond bonbons for the dinner +table the hostess should make sure to +select the mauve species. No one ever eats +them. A dishful of the white variety will +sometimes vanish in a night, but the mauve +go on forever.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="DANCES">DANCES</h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak">DANCES</h3> + +</div> + +<p>In New York the word “ball” is intended +to signify a hundred or so people who do not +care particularly for dancing, who are prostrated +by the prospect of arising early on the +following morning, and who leave their cotillion +favors untouched and disregarded +upon the gilt chairs in the ballroom.</p> + +<p>The chief characteristics of a ball may be +summed up, briefly, as follows: Mothers, or +“benchwomen,” wildly eying their offspring; +the “leader,” battered and bruised like a +half-back in a football game; the hostess, with +her tiara aslant on her new false curls; fifty +wilted linen collars; fifty ditto shirts; four +red-faced gentlemen asleep in the smoking +room; the host leaping from train to train +with the agility of a brakeman; two hundred<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> +yards of chiffon ruffles and one pound of assorted +hairpins decorating the floor of the +ballroom; a deep crowd of so-called dancing +men who effectually block the entrance door +and stand in a dazed and awkward group, +spellbound by the horrors of the scene.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>The valuable checks for cotillion seats are +usually cornered by the cotillion leader and +dealt out to the most prominent tiaras. The +unhappy ladies who fail to receive one of +these priceless tokens usually pass the remainder +of the evening in the ultimate row +of chairs wearing a granite smile and a paper +cotillion favor.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A wall flower is a young lady at a dance +who has not been cursed with the fatal gift.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> +She may usually be distinguished by her wild +and beseeching glances. Chloroform is the +only possible way of securing a partner for +her.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Before putting your arm around a lady’s +waist, you should explain to her that it is +your intention to dance. As the music starts, +look at her longingly and murmur one of the +following remarks: “Do you Boston?” +“Rotten floor” (or) “Bully floor.” “Bully +favors” (or) “Rotten favors.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Every now and then a “stand-up” supper +is served at a dance. This is the abomination +of desolation spoken of by the prophet Daniel. +Should a lady ask you at such an entertainment +to get her some supper, push your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> +way through the mob of angry bachelors to +the trough where the comestibles are displayed. +Once arrived on the scene of carnage, +you can consume a cup of bouillon, +a few oysters, some sandwiches, a little chicken, +some dry champagne, a plate of salad, +an ice, and a cup of coffee. After this, if +your hunger has been satisfied, take a morsel +of <i>galantine</i>, a doily, and a lady-finger, place +them on a plate and force yourself through +the compact lines of angry, feeding, perspiring +“dancing men,” until you appear before +your fair partner, declaring that you did your +best, and that the rest of the provisions had +disappeared. While she is thanking you, +slip away to the smoking room and send the +man in attendance there for a bottle of some +very, very old champagne. While he is gone +you may busy yourself by selecting a few of +the best cigars, so as to be sure to have something +to smoke on the way home—in somebody’s +cab.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In giving a dance, avoid, <i>if possible</i>, sending +invitations to bores—they come without +them.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>At a dance, when a lady is talking to a +millionaire recently arrived from the West, +he may offer to introduce his wife. (This is +part of what, in sporting circles, is known as +the “push stroke.”) In such a fix it is permissible +for her to burst into a loud fit of +coughing, mention her weak heart, and ask a +footman to call her carriage.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When a bachelor arrives at a dance, he +should at once repair to the smoking room +and remain there most of the evening—calling +loudly for all those wines which his host +has neglected to provide.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A new and unspeakable horror has lately +been introduced into fashionable dances in +New York—namely, the “third supper.” +The writer is glad to say that the inventor of +this atrocity died very slowly and in great +pain about a year ago. It is a comfort to +know that his last resting place is unadorned +by any monument, and that no flowers or +shrubs have ever bloomed upon his grave.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A popular form of entertainment for +grown-up persons in New York is a “baby +party.” Here the guests are dressed like +babies: they dance and have supper, and are +permitted to behave like little children. +These revels do not differ from other forms +of social festivities in the metropolis—except +as regards the costumes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Dancing men should have a care, at a +ball, never to be “stuck.” This catastrophe +is usually brought about by listening to the +wiles of a man who begins with some such +remark as “Do you know Miss A——? She +is crazy to meet you!” or “For Heaven’s +sake, dear boy, <i>do</i> go and talk to that unfortunate +girl in yellow.”</p> + +<p>Many an agonized hour may be avoided +by turning a deaf ear to all such entreaties. +If you don’t, the horror of your ultimate predicament +can hardly be exaggerated. You +will sit with her for hours in isolated agony. +Slowly your hair will turn as white as the +driven snow. Interminable cycles of time will +tick themselves away, while you sit there +slyly beckoning to other gentlemen who are +certain to pay no heed to your signals.</p> + +<p>A case is on record, in England, where a +gentleman, in such a position, addressed no +remark to his partner for upward of three<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> +hours. At this point she became aweary, +turned, and found that he was—dead!</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A very neat trick can sometimes be +worked at a dance. You have steadily +avoided a particularly dreadful damsel +throughout the entire evening. When she +has put on her cloak and fur overshoes, and +you see her hurrying through the hall with +her maid, on her way to her carriage, jump +out of the smoking room and say:</p> + +<p>“What? Home so early! Can’t you stay +and have <i>just</i> one with me?”</p> + +<p>Be careful, of course, not to be too urgent, +else she may stay, thus hoisting you on your +own petard.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In dancing, unless you are an accomplished +waltzer, the safest advice to follow is: +“Avoid the corners and keep kicking.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="illus3" style="max-width: 29.6875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus3.jpg" alt="Hostess"> +</figure> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>At a large ball, the hostess, when tired, +may, with perfect safety, go to her sleeping +apartment and retire for an hour or two. +No one will ever miss her. When rested +she can reappear in the ballroom and, with +her second wind, as it were, enjoy the third +supper, or the first breakfast.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In saying good night to the hostess, have +a care to bestow your avowals of obligation +in nearly the same degree of warmth or formality +that her bearing invites. If, for instance, +she be asleep in the conservatory, all +among the begonias, it is not necessary to +shake her or rouse her by shouting: “Hi! +Wake up, I want to go home,” etc. Simply +pass out noiselessly and remind her butler +to call her in time for breakfast. (See the +illustration, “Hostess.”)</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BRIDGE">BRIDGE</h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak">BRIDGE</h3> + +</div> + +<p>This is a popular pastime, and much of +the attention of our best minds in high society +is concentrated upon guessing whether a +given card is in the hand of the person on +the right or on the left.</p> + +<p>As there is a great curiosity among all +classes of readers concerning bridge, the +benevolent author has gone into the etiquette +of the game with a good deal of thoroughness.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In order to be an accomplished bridge +player one must possess the following attributes:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span></p> + +<p>A dress suit. (This does not apply to +ladies.)</p> + +<p>A large roll of clean bills with a rubber +band encircling them.</p> + +<p>A cigarette and ash tray.</p> + +<p>A stoical, blond and unimpassioned nature.</p> + +<p>A partner—usually of the opposite sex.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>You may, with safety, criticise nearly +every play your fair partner makes. She +doubtless deserves it, but, as a rule, this +criticism should not extend beyond her faults +<i>as a player</i>. Try to remember that a gentleman +is one who never unintentionally insults +anybody.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Bridge should never be played seriously. +One should carry on an animated conversation +during the course of play. It is customary,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> +too, to hold the cards in one hand and +a hot buttered muffin in the other. Get up +from the table rather frequently and telephone, +receive visitors, give orders to the +servants, and pour tea. The questions, +“Who led?” “What are trumps?” “Is +that our trick?” etc., are always permissible, +and lend some spirit to what might otherwise +prove a dull and taxing game.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In playing bridge with two ladies, a man +should be careful to play “highest man and +highest woman.” In this way he will be playing +against a man, and his chances of a “settlement” +will be a little less remote. Never +play with three ladies.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When you are dummy and your partner +has finished playing the hand, you should invariably<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> +glare at her (or him) and make one +of the following remarks:</p> + +<p>You played it the only way to lose the odd!</p> + +<p>Why, in Heaven’s name, didn’t you get +out the trumps?</p> + +<p>You must lose a pot of money at this game, +don’t you?</p> + +<p>It’s lucky I’m not playing ten-cent points.</p> + +<p>Why not take your finesse the other way?</p> + +<p>The eight of clubs was good, you know!</p> + +<p>Yes, if you had played your ace of diamonds +we would have saved it.</p> + +<p>It’s a pity you didn’t open the hearts.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>As the leaders of the Smart Set have ceased +occupying their brains with literature, music, +politics, and art—subjects which were, a long +time ago, discussed in our best society—and +as their entire mental activities are now +focused upon the game of bridge, the author<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> +has added for the further benefit of his readers +a series of anecdotes, maxims, and experiences +which he has gathered during his +fruitless attempts to master this fashionable +pastime.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>There was a lady in the <i>beau monde</i> +of New York who was not only a charming +woman but an accomplished whist player. +Unfortunately, however, she simply <i>could</i> not +play fair. Among other idiosyncrasies she +had a distressing habit of slipping a high +card on the bottom of the pack, after the cut—this +was in the days when she played old-fashioned +whist. In this way she was always +certain of the ace, king, or queen of trumps +when it was her turn to deal. She was detected +in this graceful little artifice on one or +two occasions, with the result that her reputation +suffered a slight dimming in its glory.</p> + +<p>A few months ago the poor lady died and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> +a well-known bridge wag in New York composed +for her the following epitaph:</p> + +<p class="center">“Here lies Lily Maltravers,<br> +In confident expectation of<br> +The last trump.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A delightful bridge player is Mrs. +R. U. Rich, who, though stone deaf, still +manages to understand the declarations, or +makes, by an elaborate series of manual signs. +In playing with her, if the make is a heart, +you must point to your heart; diamonds, to +your ring; spades, you must make a shovel of +your hand, and, when clubs have been declared, +you must shake your fist at her. The +other evening at a fashionable house in New +York she was playing a rubber in which her +husband was her partner. It was after a large +dinner and, Mrs. Rich, having mistaken her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> +husband’s signal, excitedly asked him what +trump had been declared. At this, her better +half shook his fist at her two or three times +in a very convincing way. An elderly lady, +on the other side of the room, unaware of +Mrs. Rich’s infirmity, gathered her dress +about her and, with great dignity, begged the +host to send for her carriage.</p> + +<p>“Why, Mrs. ——,” he said, “are you +leaving us so early?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said the lady of the old school, +“I think that when a husband and wife come +to blows over the bridge table it is time to +call the carriages.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A reduced gentlewoman, living in a +small way in the suburbs, was at an employment +agency trying to secure a cook. As the +lady and her husband lived some distance +from any neighbor, and as the wages she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> +could afford to pay were meager, the cooks +displayed a decided unwillingness to assume +the cares of office.</p> + +<p>Finally, to the great elation of the lady, +a very respectable and well-mannered English +girl seemed disposed to risk the rigors +of suburban life. The searching questions +which the girl had put to the lady had been +satisfactorily answered, when, at the very +last, she asked the number in the family, to +which the lady replied that there were only +two—herself and her husband.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said the girl, “I could not <i>think</i> +of going into service with only three in the +house. I would not work <i>anywhere</i> unless +we could make up a four at bridge.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Husbands and wives should never play +partners at bridge. They are almost certain +to quarrel, which is unseemly—and if they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> +<i>don’t</i> quarrel, their friends are sure to suspect +them of collusion and cheating.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>It is a mistake for parents to play bridge +on Sunday. The morals of children should +ever be sacred in a parent’s eye. Never, +therefore, allow a card to be touched on the +Sabbath—until the children have gone to bed.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>An inveterate bridge fiend recently proposed +to a lady of some means. She, doubting +his entire sincerity, mentioned his too +great devotion to bridge. With a fine show +of enthusiasm and erudition he burst out +with:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“I could not love thee, dear, so much,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Loved I not honors more.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>There is always a great deal of discussion +among good bridge players as to the propriety +of an original club make—with no +score. As a matter of fact, a big club hand +is usually disastrous whether you make it or +pass it. You either leave it and get spades, +or else you <i>don’t</i> leave it and get the devil.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>There is a lady in New York society who +is as devoted to bridge as one could well be. +She makes everything, except her two children, +subservient to the game. She attends +bridge classes, bridge teas, and bridge tournaments +without end. She is, unfortunately, +married to a wealthy but worthless and rascally +young clubman who treats her usually +with indifference, but sometimes with cruelty.</p> + +<p>Her friends all advised her to sue for a +divorce.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span></p> + +<p>The poor woman was in some doubt as +to what course to pursue. Finally, a brilliant +idea occurred to her. She would consult her +bridge teacher! He was the one man in all +the world whose judgment seemed to her +infallible. She trusted him more than she +did her lawyer or her minister. He had +solved so many difficult problems for her +that he might solve this.</p> + +<p>Mr. Elstreet was accordingly written to by +the unhappy lady. His answer ran as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">My dear Mrs.</span> ——:</p> + +<p>I have very carefully thought over +the little problem which you were good +enough to submit to me for solution. +It seems to me that when you have a +knave alone, it is often a wise plan to +discard him, but holding, as you do, a +knave and two little ones, it would seem +the better part of discretion not to discard +him.</p> + +<p>I am, my dear Mrs. ——, yours, etc.</p> + +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A well-known widow in London +was a guest at a large house party. She was +an enthusiastic bridger. She took the game +very seriously—so seriously that she frequently +dreamed about it, and even, her maid +declared, talked about it in her sleep.</p> + +<p>Everybody had been playing fairly late +and the ladies had gone to their rooms and +“turned in” at about twelve o’clock. The +men had played until about two. Shortly +after this, the housekeeper, in making her +final round of the house, was startled to +hear the widow’s voice addressing somebody +in an agonized and supplicating way.</p> + +<p>As the door of the widow’s room was ajar, +the housekeeper paused in some alarm, only +to hear her call out: “My diamonds, my +diamonds, why didn’t I protect them? I am +lost, absolutely lost!”</p> + +<p>The housekeeper, not knowing the intricacies +of bridge and thoroughly alarmed by the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> +idea of a burglar in the widow’s room, rushed +to the host’s door and hastily summoned him +to the rescue. After a somewhat noisy consultation +between them, as a result of which +some of the disrobing bachelors were attracted +to the scene of conflict, a united descent +was made upon the unfortunate widow’s +stronghold. The net result of the <i>sortie</i> was +that the widow was greatly annoyed, the host +was unmercifully chaffed, and the housekeeper +received her first lesson in bridge.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="illus4" style="max-width: 29.6875em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/illus4.jpg" alt="Bridge"> +</figure> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>“It was,” said the Knickerbocker bridge +fiend, “at the Hotel Splendide-Royale in +Aix-les-Bains. I was playing twenty-cent +points, which is just double my usual limit. +I had lost six consecutive rubbers. I had cut, +each rubber, against a peculiarly malevolent-looking +Spaniard, who had a reputation at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> +cards which was none too savory. There had +been trouble about him only the day before +at the Casino des Fleurs, where he had been +mixed up in a somewhat unpleasant baccarat +scandal. He was a crafty and sullen bridge +player and I had conceived a most cordial +dislike to him.</p> + +<p>“Finally—it was hideously late and the +card-room waiter was snoring in the service +closet—my time for revenge arrived. It was +my deal, and I saw at a glance that I had +dealt myself an enormous hand. I could +hardly believe my eyes. I held nine spades +with the four top honors, the bare ace of +clubs, the bare ace of hearts, and the king +and queen of diamonds. Here was a certainty +of eleven tricks at no trumps and very +possibly twelve or thirteen. I looked at the +Spaniard, whose turn it was to lead, and I +smiled exultantly.</p> + +<p>“‘No trumps,’ I said, the note of triumph +quite perceptible in my voice. Quick as a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> +flash the Spaniard had doubled—and quick as +another I had redoubled.</p> + +<p>“When, however, he had jacked it up to +96 a trick, I hesitated, but of course went at +him again with 192. ‘Ah, ha!,’ I said to +myself, ‘Mr. bird of ill omen, you are my +prey, my chosen victim for the sacrifice.’</p> + +<p>“The price per trick had soon sailed up +to 1,536, and I ventured to look at my partner. +He was chalky white about the gills +and his eyes seemed to stare idiotically into +space. His expression prompted me to take +pity on him and say ‘enough.’</p> + +<p>“Suddenly I had a terrible feeling of +alarm. Had I mistaken the queen of diamonds +for the queen of hearts? If so, my +king of diamonds was bare and the mysterious +Spaniard might run off twelve diamond tricks +before I could say ‘Jack Robinson.’ With a +sinking heart I looked at my hand again—all +was well! The queen was surely a diamond. +I glanced at the olive-skinned gentleman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> +and begged him to lead a card. I felt +a great joy welling up within me.</p> + +<p>“At this moment the Spaniard led a card +and I looked at it nervously. As soon as my +eyes beheld it my heart seemed to stop beating. +He had opened the ace of a strange +green suit, a suit which I had never seen before, +a suit all covered with mysterious figures +and symbols. I felt strangely giddy but +discarded a low spade. I looked at my partner, +who was the picture of despair. He +said, mechanically and as though life had +lost all beauty for him, ‘Having no hyppogryphs?’ +to which icy inquiry I answered in +a strange whisper, ‘No gryppolyphs.’</p> + +<p>“The leader followed with another green +card, a king this time, and again I sacrificed +another beautiful spade. The Spaniard +smiled a mahogany smile and proceeded to +run off his entire suit of thirteen green cards. +He then nonchalantly scored up a grand slam, +the game, and a rubber of 10,450 points or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> +$2,090. I felt my brain reeling and fainted +away with my head on the card table. Very +soon, however, I thought I felt the Spaniard +tugging at my coat sleeve. My anger at this +was beyond all bounds. I opened my eyes, +prepared to strike the crafty foreigner in his +wicked face, and saw—my servant standing +by my bed with my breakfast tray in his +hands and my bathrobe on his arm.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_THEATER">THE THEATER</h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak">THE THEATER</h3> + +</div> + +<p>At the theater it is smart to “roast the +show.” Do not be afraid of wounding the +feelings of your host and hostess. It is an +even chance that they are more bored than +you. If the actors seem to object to your +conversation or show annoyance or impatience, +try to remember that they are not, as +a rule, well bred, and are ignorant of all the +graceful little social conventions.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>On leaving the opera with ladies, do not +go into the draughty side corridors with +them, or you will surely be forced to look out +for their carriage, a tedious and bothersome<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> +occupation. The wisest thing to do is to say +that you have an appointment, and merge +yourself with the rabble who are leaving by +the front door, allowing the ladies to remain +in the side corridors, where their footmen +will sooner or later discover them.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Never give a theater party in stalls. +Boxes are obligatory. In seats, the men cannot +go out for refreshment, and the ladies +are forced to remove their hats, a tragedy +usually accompanied by the most distressing +and ignominious disclosures.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Ladies who have opera boxes given +them at the last moment should “get on the +job” at once and offer it to such of their +friends as they know to be either out of town<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> +or engaged for that evening. A box has been +known, under such circumstances, to pay off +a dozen obligations in a single day.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In New York a theater party is often a +very boring and tedious form of revelry. It +is always wise to send a “feeler” before accepting +a lady’s invitation to dine and go to +the play. The following is a safe model for +such a missive:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">My dear Mrs. Vandergraft</span>:</p> + +<p>How awfully good of you to ask me +for Friday. I presume we are dining at +your house and not at a stuffy restaurant. +May I be very frank and ask you what +play you are planning to see? Might I +also inquire if you are going in boxes or +seats, and if you expect me for supper +afterwards?</p> + +<p>On hearing from you, I hope to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> +able to arrange the matter to your entire +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>My servant will wait for your reply.</p> + +<p class="center">Sincerely yours,</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Reginald Goold</span>.</p> + +<p>P. S.—How many are coming, and +who are they? Are they the noisy sort?</p> + +<p>P. S. No. 2.—What ladies are to sit +beside me at dinner?</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CALLING">CALLING</h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak">CALLING</h3> + +</div> + +<p>Bachelors no longer leave or “push” +cards. It is considered provincial. After +dining at a house, a man may think it policy +to give the butler two dollars and his card. +In return the butler will, during the next afternoon, +discreetly slip the card upon the tray +in the hall while the lady of the house is driving +in the park.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>If you are literally forced to pay a call, +merely ask the butler if the ladies are at home. +Should he say “No,” hand him your cards, +and your work is over. Should he say “Yes,” +pretend to him that you have mistaken the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> +house, and that you were looking for the residence +of another lady. Slip him a dollar and +retire noiselessly down the steps.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>It is often well, before starting out on a +calling expedition, to have one’s servant telephone +to a dozen or so mansions to discover +which of the ladies are out. You can then +leave cards in these particular houses with +comparative safety.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="OUR_COUNTRY_COUSINS">OUR COUNTRY COUSINS</h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak">OUR COUNTRY COUSINS</h3> + +</div> + +<p>Green peas are eaten with the aid of a +fork. The hair-raising spectacle of a gentleman +flicking peas into his mouth with a steel +knife is no longer fashionable, however dexterously +the feat may be performed.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Plums should be eaten one by one and +the pits allowed to fall noiselessly into the +half-closed hand.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>At dinners, wisdom dictates that it is wiser +to leave the terrapin, hard crabs, asparagus, +and oranges untasted (unless accustomed to +them from birth). Be content to poke and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> +pat these dishes with a fork, but make no +effort to consume them.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>The following expressions are no longer +in vogue in society: “Pardon my glove,” +“Pray be seated,” “Pleased to meet you,” +“Remember me to the folks,” “Pray rest +your cane,” “Make yourself at home,” +“What name, please?” “Are you the +party?” “Say, listen,” “My gentleman +friend,” “Usen’t you?” etc.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Do not address your wife as “mother.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Olives are eaten with the thumb and +forefinger of the right hand. It is not necessary<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span> +to peel them, and the pits should usually +be rejected.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Do not, when your mouth is filled with +sweet potatoes, red bananas, pressed saddle of +lamb, or other solid provisions, attempt to +discuss the topics of the day with the ladies +at the feast.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In using a finger bowl, simply dip the index +finger into the fluid and pass it lightly over +the lips.</p> + +<p>Make no effort to consume the floating +lemon, and try to restrain yourself from +splashing about in the bath, like a playful +walrus or a performing seal.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When a rich Westerner arrives in New +York and begins breaking into society, it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> +should be a pleasure for everybody to show +him little courtesies and attentions. New +York gentlemen usually do this by borrowing +money from him, marrying his daughters, +riding his polo ponies (or selling him theirs), +drinking his wine, cruising about on his yacht, +smoking his cigars, and selling him blocks of +their worthless stocks.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>The last morsel of green turtle in a soup +plate is always a heart-breaking thing at best. +Remember that, though enticing, it is elusive. +Do not chivy it about in frantic circles or +pursue it untiringly around your plate until +you have captured and subdued it. Turtle +soup and Indian pig-sticking are not governed +by the same rules.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When you sit down at table, it is not +necessary to whisk the napkin gayly about before<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> +unfolding it. The concealed roll is certain +to fly a considerable distance before +alighting, and may even crack the enameling +on one of the great ladies at the banquet.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Millionaires of the Chester A. +Arthur or Rutherford B. Hayes vintage +should pass rapidly through their ancient +mansions and demolish the following objects +of art and <i>vertu</i>:</p> + +<p>The twin conch shells, for fireside use; +the embroidered wall mottoes; imitation +wax flowers—under glass; ebony and gold +whatnots; velvet antimacassars; all crayon +portraits—whether pendant or on gold easels; +party-colored crazy quilts; all magenta picture +sashes; plush photograph albums; red +worm lamp-mats; turkish cozy corners, with +hanging red lamps, imitation spears, and +rusty armor; black hair sofas; hanging tennis<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> +racquets ornamented with red bows; folding +beds; cuckoo clocks and paper weights +containing miniature paper snowstorms.</p> + +<p>After destroying these knickknacks, they +should pass out on the steps and adjacent +lawn spaces and demolish the iron dogs, copper +fauns, and the bed of snowdrops spelling +out the mansion’s fantastic name—“Slopeoak,” +“Munnysunk,” “Sewerside,” or any +name in which the following popular “B” +forms are included: Brae, Blythe, By-the, +Buena, Bel, Bonnie, Beau, Bourne.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="NEWPORT">NEWPORT</h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak">NEWPORT</h3> + +</div> + +<p>The correct treatment of a foreigner in +Newport is to gush over him, praise him to +your friends, and invite him to your entertainments. +This course may be pursued for +one week. After that, treat him with great +reserve and coolness for the same period of +time. At the beginning of the third week +you should abuse him roundly, and take pains +to recite the hidden and secret passages of his +past. Advice for the fourth week is unnecessary: +they never last more than three.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Sea bathing at Newport is often injurious +to the health, as in the case of those ladies<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span> +whose figures are a trifle too meagre—or too +ample. To such sirens the doctor is sure to +forbid it. Where, however, the outlines are +visually “grateful and comforting,” the exercise +is certain to prove beneficial and bracing. +In all Newport there are about a dozen +ladies whose physicians have no such prejudices +against open air, salt water bathing.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Dakota divorces are still a good deal +frowned upon in the <i>beau monde</i>. Try to +remember that only Rhode Island divorces +are <i>comme il faut</i>. (The Newport variety +is far smarter than the Providence or Bristol +brand.) Dakota divorces are a trifle cheaper +and more expeditious, but it should be borne +in mind that the climate of Sioux Falls is +very variable and that the hotels and theaters +are, to say the least, indifferent.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Millionaires from the West whose +wives are bent upon breaking into society at +any cost, should not try Newport until the +simpler safes have been cracked. Newport is +the water jump of the social steeplechase, and +should not be taken until the easier gates have +been successfully negotiated. The safest +graded order of jumps is as follows:</p> + +<table> + <tr> + <td>1.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">Palm Beach.</span></td> + <td>Not exclusive, but merry, sumptuous, and + expensive. Chance to meet many smart men + in the gambling rooms.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>2.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">Hot Springs, Va.</span></td> + <td>Depressing, but many “classy” invalids.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>3.</td> + <td class="nw"><span class="smcap">Narragansett Pier.</span></td> + <td>Geographically speaking, this is nearly Newport, + <span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> + but the social tone, though “nobby,” can + hardly be called A1.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>4.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">The Berkshires.</span></td> + <td>Dull and dowdy, but full of genteel old families + in reduced circumstances who are willing to + unbend—if properly propitiated.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>5.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">Tuxedo.</span></td> + <td>Excellent opportunities here, particularly in + the Tuxedo jiggers and at the club on rainy + days, when a fourth is needed at bridge.</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>6.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">Long Island.</span></td> + <td>This is the Tattenham Corner of + <span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> + the social Derby—(many bad falls here—due to riding too + hard)—the last great turn before the finish. + (Try Hempstead, Westbury, and Roslyn—in order.)</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>7.</td> + <td><span class="smcap">Newport.</span></td> + <td>Having finally reached Newport, be very careful + about the pace. Begin cautiously with Bellevue + Avenue and the casino. Gradually, however, you + may hit up the pace and try the golf + <span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> club, + Bailey’s Beach, and, finally, you may dash + past the judge’s stand and weigh in at Ochre + Point.</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>At Newport the hostess usually retires at +about 1.30. This should be the signal for +all the bachelors, diplomats, and foreigners +who are stopping with her, to ask the butler +for carriages and motors to convey them +to Canfield’s (a fashionable roulette and +chicken-salad parlor).</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A bachelor stopping with friends in +Newport should never lunch or dine in their +house. It is more jaunty to dine out. If<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> +they are truly considerate, they will supply +him with red morocco “in-and-out” signs +which he can manipulate, in accordance with +his engagements, in the entrance hall.</p> + +<p>After a week or so, if he has not yet seen +his host or hostess and is preparing to leave +Newport, it is sometimes thoughtful and +kind to send a card up to their rooms by a +servant, thanking them for their hospitality.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="GENERAL_RULES">GENERAL RULES</h2> + +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span></p> + +<h3 class="nobreak">GENERAL RULES</h3> + +</div> + +<p>Wedding receptions are usually held +in small private houses holding anywhere +from one hundred to two hundred guests. +It is customary to invite sixteen hundred people, +six hundred of whom arrive and three +hundred of whom usually remain wedged for +hours upon the stairs in a bewildering sea of +picture hats, lobster salad, smilax, rice, and +lady fingers.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>After a funeral it is customary for the +family to supply a few extra carriages in +which the pallbearers and mourners go to +the burial ground. After this ceremony the +bachelor, who has availed himself of one of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span> +the vehicles, may, with propriety, ask the +driver to take him to his rooms; but it is a +gross breach of good form to keep the carriage +on (at the family’s expense) for calling, +going to the play, or driving to Belmont +Park for the races.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In thanking friends for wedding presents, +it is well to remember that nearly all of them +will have to be exchanged. Lay your plans +accordingly. Do not thank anybody until you +have bunched the duplicates.</p> + +<p>Let us assume, for instance, that the seventeen +traveling clocks, forty-eight candlesticks, +eleven porcelain parasol handles, fifty-one +cut-glass salad bowls, thirteen fans, and +eighty-four silver teapots have all been gathered +together in convenient groups. At this +point the bride-to-be may dictate an appropriate +“teapot” letter to her secretary. This<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> +note will do for <i>all</i> the teapots. The following +is a graceful example of such an epistle:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">My Dear</span> —— ——:</p> + +<p>The teapot is <i>too</i> ravishing. What +an <i>angel</i> you are! I simply <i>adore</i> it. +Oddly enough, it was the <i>very</i> thing I +had longed and <i>prayed</i> for.</p> + +<p class="center">Yours ever,</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Blanche</span>.</p> + +<p>P. S.—Where did you say you +bought it?</p> + +</div> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When a lady calls you up on the telephone, +and seems disposed to run on forever, +simply hang up the receiver and go on with +your cigar. If she calls up again to complete +the conversation, tell your servant to +say that you were disgusted with the way the +central girl cut you off and have gone to the +telephone company to lodge a complaint.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Be careful to remember that the lady +always bows first. On some occasions it +is difficult to determine whether the fast-approaching +queen of fashion is going to +bow or not. Should you be walking down the +avenue with another man, proceed as follows: +Look at her and exclaim gladly: “Why, how +do you do—” Should she freeze, or cut +you, you have but to turn to your friend and +complete your remark by adding—“that +little trick you showed me yesterday?”</p> + +<p>Thus, it may appear to him that your remark +was meant to be a continuous one, having +to do with some feat of legerdemain, and +he will fail to notice the snub which has been +so cruelly inflicted upon you.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Proposals by women, while permissible, +are not customary, and, although they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> +are yearly becoming more and more popular, +are still regarded as an innovation. If the +proposal is rejected, good taste and kindly +consideration demand that the gentleman +should keep it more or less of a secret.</p> + +<p>It is, of course, not always easy for a gentleman +to know when he has been definitely +proposed to. Women’s ways are sometimes +devious and obscure. Roughly speaking, it +is a proposal, or its equivalent, when a lady +throws her head upon his breast and bursts +into a passionate flood of tears.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>The duties of a valet in a country house +are as follows:</p> + +<p>(1) Talking and snickering to the housemaids +in the hallways.</p> + +<p>(2) Purloining little keepsakes from the +portmanteaus of the visitors.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span></p> + +<p>(3) Bouncing into the bachelors’ rooms +one hour before they wish to be wakened, in +order to build fires, close bureau drawers, +misinform them about the weather, and take +away dress coats and trousers.</p> + +<p>(4) Laying out clothes in the morning. +In doing this they usually exhibit a highly +trained color sense, selecting as the smartest +combination of apparel a blue shirt, brown +socks, lilac handkerchief, green tie, and a +yellow waistcoat.</p> + +<p>(5) Standing in a conspicuous position in +the main hallway on Monday morning, which +is always the period of largess and plenty.</p> + +<p>(6) Wrapping up muddy boots in black +evening trousers.</p> + +<p>(7) Perhaps, however, their most blissful +moment is when, knowing that you have +one more evening before you, they take your +only remaining white shirt, fold it into a +sausage-shaped roll, and hurl it into the +soiled-linen basket.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A movement is on foot in polite society +to revise the barbarous wedding anniversaries +as at present regulated, as modern +marriages seldom last long enough to celebrate +them. It is proposed, therefore, to call +the first anniversary the tin, the second the +silver, the third the gold, as marriages in +society are only contracted, on one side or +the other, for the attainment of these several +commodities.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When ladies are introduced to one another, +they should remain rigid and calm and +evince no interest in the proceeding. Their +necks should be stiff and their heads thrown +back—like cobras about to strike.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>At a wedding it is not customary for the +best man to kiss the bride. Should the occasion<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> +seem, however, to call for such an act, +he should be careful only to deliver a +“Sweeper.” A “Dweller” may alone be +administered by the groom.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A bachelor should supply the telephone +girl at his office with a list of ladies +to whom he is always “out.” On a select +list he will write the names of five or six ladies +who entertain delightfully and to whom he +is always “in.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In introducing two people show no sign of +emotion whatever. Merely look from one to +the other in a vague, listless sort of way, and +murmur their names very swiftly and very +faintly. It is, of course, bad form to introduce +at all, but, if put to it, proceed as above.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>At Christmas time a married man should +make certain to tip the telephone boy at his +club. If the lad is clever enough to recognize +the voice of the member’s wife, at the +other end of the telephone, he should receive +ten dollars. If he recognizes <i>other</i> female +voices as well, he should receive twenty.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>A chivalrous husband should always +try, by kindly acts and little courtesies, to ingratiate +himself in his wife’s affections. It is, +for instance, selfish of him to return from his +office to his home before dressing time.</p> + +<p>He should remember that the hours between +4.15 and 7.15 are <i>her</i> hours. In this +brief space she will probably wish to pour +tea, entertain male visitors, play bridge, buy +jewelry, take a nap, or have her hair “marcelled,” +and the husband should always consider<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> +her feelings during this trying part of +the day. He may solace himself by remembering +that the sitting rooms of other ladies +are always open to him during these hours. +If not, he can always go to the steam room +at a Turkish bath, or drop in at the “Plaza” +and hear the <i>nouveaux riches</i> drink tea.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>In motoring, avoid running over hens, dogs, +and Italian children. They are almost certain +to stick up the wheels.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Church-going is no longer considered +fashionable. If a lady finds that she <i>must</i> +attend church, it is a wise precaution to take +a little child with her. This will not only +make a good impression but will give her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> +an excellent excuse for leaving before the +sermon.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>When you are northbound and a lady +bows to you from a southbound brougham, +do not trouble to lift your hat. Merely raise +your arm halfway to your head, as the vehicle +will have passed in a moment and your +failure to bow is certain to remain unnoticed.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" style="max-width: 4.375em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/separator.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p>Always be half an hour late for everything. +Nothing is so tedious as waiting.</p> + +<p class="titlepage">THE END</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75300 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75300-h/images/appleton.jpg b/75300-h/images/appleton.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6b22cf --- /dev/null +++ b/75300-h/images/appleton.jpg diff --git a/75300-h/images/cover.jpg b/75300-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0a5a92 --- /dev/null +++ b/75300-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75300-h/images/illus1.jpg b/75300-h/images/illus1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..de197a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/75300-h/images/illus1.jpg diff --git a/75300-h/images/illus2.jpg b/75300-h/images/illus2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..aed82d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/75300-h/images/illus2.jpg diff --git a/75300-h/images/illus3.jpg b/75300-h/images/illus3.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5cb059f --- /dev/null +++ b/75300-h/images/illus3.jpg diff --git a/75300-h/images/illus4.jpg b/75300-h/images/illus4.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c1c0bd8 --- /dev/null +++ b/75300-h/images/illus4.jpg diff --git a/75300-h/images/separator.jpg b/75300-h/images/separator.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b8d7515 --- /dev/null +++ b/75300-h/images/separator.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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