By Author [ A  B  C  D  E  F  G  H  I  J  K  L  M  N  O  P  Q  R  S  T  U  V  W  X  Y  Z |  Other Symbols ]
  By Title [ A  B  C  D  E  F  G  H  I  J  K  L  M  N  O  P  Q  R  S  T  U  V  W  X  Y  Z |  Other Symbols ]
  By Language
all Classics books content using ISYS

Download this book: [ ASCII | HTML | PDF ]

Look for this book on Amazon

We have new books nearly every day.
If you would like a news letter once a week or once a month
fill out this form and we will give you a summary of the books for that week or month by email.

´╗┐Title: Perfect Behavior; a guide for ladies and gentlemen in all social crises
Author: Stewart, Donald Ogden, 1894-1980
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Perfect Behavior; a guide for ladies and gentlemen in all social crises" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.


By Donald Ogden Stewart

A Guide for Ladies and Gentlemen in all Social Crises

     Those who are not self-possessed obtrude
     and pain us.--EMERSON


     A parody outline of etiquette by the Author of "A Parody
     Outline of History"

     The perfect gentleman is he who never unintentionally causes
     pain.--OLD PROVERB

     With Deepest Sympathy


  A Few Words about Love--Curious Incident in a Yellow Taxicab--A
  Silly Girl--Correct Introductions and how to Make Them--A
  Well Known Congressman's Ludicrous Mistake in a Turkish
  Bath--Cards and Flowers--Flowers and their Message in
  Courtship--"A Clean Tooth Never Decays"--Receiving an
  Invitation to Call--The Etiquette of Telephoning-A Telephone
  Girl's Horrible End--Making the First Call--Conversation and
  Some of its Uses--A Proper Call--The Proposal Proper-The Proposal
  Improper--What Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Said to the
  ex-Clergyman's Niece.

  The Historic Aspect--Announcing the Engagement--A Breton Fisher
  Girl's Experience with a Traveling Salesman--The Bride-to-Be--The
  Engagement Luncheon--Selecting the Bridal Party--Invitations and
  Wedding Presents--A Good Joke on the Groom--"Madam, those are
  my trousers"--Duties of the Best Man--A Demented Taxidermist's
  Strange Gift--The Bride's Tea--The Maid of Honor--What Aunt
  Edna Saw on the Club Porch-The Bachelor Dinner and After-Some
  Practical Uses for Bi-Carbonate of Soda--The Rehearsal--The
  Bridal Dinner--A Church Wedding.

  Hints for the Correct Pedestrianism--Description of a Walk around
  Philadelphia with a Pueblo Indian in 1837--Travelling by Rail--
  Good Form on a Street Car--In the Subway--Fun with an Old
  Gentleman's Whiskers--A Honeymoon in a Subway--Travelling under
  Steam-A Correct Night in a Pullman-What Burton Holmes Found in
  His Lower Berth.

  Listening to a Symphony Orchestra--Curious Effect of Debussy's
  "Apres-midi d'un Faune" and four gin fizzes on Uncle
  Frederick--"No, fool like an old fool"--Correct Behavior at a
  Piano Recital--Choosing One's Nearest Exit--In a Box at the
  Opera--What a Kansas City Society Leader Did with Her Old
  Victrola Records.

  Some Broader Aspects of Prohibition--Interesting Effect of Whisky
  on Goldfish--The College Graduate as Dry Agent--Aunt Emily's
  Amusing Experiences with a Quart of Gin Planning a Dry Raid on a
  Masquerade Ball A Word About Correct Costumes--A California
  Motion Picture Actress's Bad Taste--Good Form for Dry Agents
  During a Raid-What the New York Clubman Said About Mr. Volstead.

  Selecting a Proper School--Account of an Interesting Trip Down
  the Eric Canal with Miss Spence--Correct Equipment for the
  Schoolgirl--En Route--ln New York--A journey Around the
  City--Description of the Visit of Ed. Pinaud to the Aquarium in
  1858--The First Days in the New School--"After Lights" in a
  Dormitory--An "Old Schoolgirl's" Confessions--Becoming
  Acclimatized--A Visitor from Princeton-Strange Pets.

  Golf as a Pastime--What Henry Ward Beecher Said When He Broke His
  Niblic--An Afternoon at the Old Farm with the Dice--"Shoot you
  for your ear trumpet, grandfather!"--Correct Behavior on a
  Picnic--A Swedish Nobleman's Curious Method of Eating Potato
  Chips--Boxing in American Society--A Good Joke on an Amateur
  Boxer--"He didn't know it was Jack Dempsey!"--Bridge
  Whist--Formal and Informal Drinking--A jolly Hallowe'en
  Party--Invitations--Receiving the Guests--How to

  Correspondence for Young Ladies--College Boys How to Order a Full
  Dress Suit by Mail--Letters to Parents--A Prominent Retired
  Bank President's Advice to Correspondents--Letters from
  Parents--Peculiarities of the Divorce Laws of New York--Letters
  to Prospective Fathers-in-Law--A Correct Form of Letter to a
  Society Matron Asking Her How About that Grocery Bill for
  Eighty-Two Dollars and Sixty-Seven Cents--Love
  Letters--Correspondence of Public Officials---Letters to
  Strangers--Letters to Newspapers, Magazines, etc.--Invitations,
  Acceptances and Regrets.

  Formal Dinners in America-Table Manners for Children--Removing
  Stains from Gray Silk--A Child's Garden of Etiquette--Etiquette
  in the School--Conversation at Dinner--What a New Jersey Lady Did
  with Her Olive Seeds--Stewart's Lightning Calculator of Dinner
  Table Conversation--"It Seems that Pat and Mike"--Balls and
  Dances---Artificial Respiration--Mixed Dancing--Hints for Stags.

  A Word of Warning and Encouragement



Courtship is one of the oldest of social customs, even antedating in
some countries such long-established usages as marriage, or the wearing
of white neckties with full evening dress. The beginnings of the
etiquette of courtship were apparently connected in some way with the
custom of "love" between the sexes, and many of the old amatory forms
still survive in the modern courtship. It is generally agreed among
students of the history of etiquette that when "love" first began to
become popular among the better class of younger people they took to it
with such avidity that it was necessary to devise some sort of rules
for the conduct of formal or informal love-making. These rules, together
with various amendments, now constitute the etiquette of courtship.

Suppose, for example, that you are a young gentleman named Richard Roe
desirous of entering upon a formal courtship with some refined young
girl of fashion. You are also, being a college graduate, engaged in the
bond business. One morning there comes into your financial institution
a young lady, named Dorothy Doe, who at once attracts your attention
by her genteel manners, as exemplified by the fact that she calls the
president of your company "father." So many young people seem to think
it "smart" to refer to their parents as "dad" or "my old man"; you are
certain, as soon as you hear her say "Hello, father" to your employer,
that she is undoubtedly a worthy object of courtship.


Your first step should be, of course, the securing of an introduction.
Introductions still play an important part in social intercourse, and
many errors are often perpetrated by those ignorant of savoir faire
(correct form). When introducing a young lady to a stranger for example,
it is not au fait (correct form) to simply say, "Mr. Roe, I want you to
shake hands with my friend Dorothy." Under the rules of the beau monde
(correct form) this would probably be done as follows: "Dorothy (or Miss
Doe), shake hands with Mr. Roe." Always give the name of the lady first,
unless you are introducing some one to the President of the United
States, the Archbishop of Canterbury, a member of the nobility above a
baron, or a customer. The person who is being "introduced" then extends
his (or her) right ungloved hand and says, "Shake." You "shake," saying
at the same time, "It's warm (cool) for November (May)," to which the
other replies, "I'll say it is."

This brings up the interesting question of introducing two people to
each other, neither of whose names you can remember. This is generally
done by saying very quickly to one of the parties, "Of course you know
Miss Unkunkunk." Say the last "unk" very quickly, so that it sounds like
any name from Ab to Zinc. You might even sneeze violently. Of course, in
nine cases out of ten, one of the two people will at once say, "I didn't
get the name," at which you laugh, "Ha! Ha! Ha!" in a carefree manner
several times, saying at the same time, "Well, well--so you didn't
get the name--you didn't get the name--well, well." If the man still
persists in wishing to know who it is to whom he is being introduced,
the best procedure consists in simply braining him on the spot with a
club or convenient slab of paving stone.

The "introduction," in cases where you have no mutual friend to do the
introducing, is somewhat more difficult but can generally be arranged as

Procure a few feet of stout manila rope or clothes-line, from any of
the better-class hardware stores. Ascertain (from the Social Register,
preferably) the location of the young lady's residence, and go there
on some dark evening about nine o'clock. Fasten the rope across the
sidewalk in front of the residence about six inches or a foot from the
ground. Then, with the aid of a match and some kerosene, set fire to
the young lady's house in several places and retire behind a convenient
tree. After some time, if she is at home, she will probably be forced to
run out of her house to avoid being burned to death. In her excitement
she will fail to notice the rope which you have stretched across
the sidewalk and will fall. This is your opportunity to obtain an
introduction. Stepping up to her and touching your hat politely, you
say, in a well modulated voice, "I beg your pardon, Miss Doe, but I
cannot help noticing that you are lying prone on the sidewalk." If she
is well bred, she will not at first speak to you, as you are a perfect
stranger. This silence, however, should be your cue to once more tip
your hat and remark, "I realize, Miss Doe, that I have not had the honor
of an introduction, but you will admit that you are lying prone on the
sidewalk. Here is my card--and here is one for Mrs. Doe, your mother."
At that you should hand her two plain engraved calling cards, each
containing your name and address. If there are any other ladies in her
family--aunts, grandmothers, et cetera--it is correct to leave cards for
them also. Be sure that the cards are clean, as the name on the calling
card is generally sufficient for identification purposes without the
addition of the thumbprint.

When she has accepted your cards, she will give you one of hers, after
which it will be perfectly correct for you to assist her to rise from
the sidewalk. Do not, however, press your attentions further upon her at
this time, but after expressing the proper regret over her misfortune it
would be well to bow and retire.

{illustration caption = Every one knows that table manners betray one's
bringing-up mercilessly. The young man in the picture has good reason to
wish a meteorite would fall on him. His perpendicularity has just been
restored by a deft upward movement of Aunt Harriet's shoulder, upon
which he had inadvertently rested his head during a quiet snooze while
Cousin Edna was making her little speech at the Bridal Dinner. PERFECT
BEHAVIOR would have Pasteurized him against even Bridal Dinners.}

{illustration caption = When a woman recognizes and nods to a man to
whom she has been formally introduced several times, or to whom she has
been married, is the man expected to accept the greeting and politely
lift his hat or should he lift both his hat and his toupee? Street
etiquette is disposed authoritatively and finally in PERFECT BEHAVIOR.}

{illustration caption = You are, let us pretend, walking in the park.
You come upon two benches arranged as shown in the above diagram. Would
you know which bench it would be proper to sit on if you are (1) a
young man just out of college--(2) a rather homely young woman? To avoid
embarrassment look this up in PERFECT BEHAVIOR.}

{illustration caption = A jolly crowd is boarding the 4:56 for a
house-party in the suburbs. The gentleman at the right, having been
educated abroad, has never learned to play the ukelele, the banjo, the
jew's harp or the saxophone, and is, with the best intentions in the
world, attempting to contribute his share to the gaiety of the coming
evenings by bringing along his player-piano. Would you--be honest!--have
recognized his action as a serious social blunder without having
referred to PERFECT BEHAVIOR?}

{illustration caption = The young mother in the picture is traveling
from one point to another in a Pullman. In the effort to commit as great
a nuisance as possible, she has provided her child with a banana and a
hard boiled egg. Not having dipped into the chapter on travel in PERFECT
BEHAVIOR, she is ignorant of the fact that a peach would have produced
quite as much mess and far more permanent stains and a folding cup for
the water cooler would have spread the disturbance over a wider area.}


The next day, however, you should send flowers, enclosing another of
your cards. It might be well to write some message on the card recalling
the events of the preceding evening--nothing intimate, but simply a
reminder of your first meeting and a suggestion that you might possibly
desire to continue the acquaintanceship. Quotations from poetry of the
better sort are always appropriate; thus, on this occasion, it might
be nice to write on the card accompanying the flowers--"'This is the
forest primeval'--H. W. Longfellow," or "'Take, oh take, those lips
away'--W. Shakespeare." You will find there are hundreds of lines
equally appropriate for this and other occasions, and in this
connection it might be well to display a little originality at times by
substituting pertinent verses of your own in place of the conventional
quotations. For example--"This is the forest primeval, I regret your
last evening's upheaval," shows the young lady in question that not only
are you well-read in classic poetry, but also you have no mean talent
of your own. Too much originality, however, is dangerous, especially in
polite social intercourse, and I need hardly remind you that the floors
of the social ocean are watered with the tears of those who seek to walk
on their own hook.

Within a week after you have sent the young lady the flowers, you should
receive a polite note of thanks, somewhat as follows: "My dear Mr. Roe:
Those lovely flowers came quite as a surprise. They are lovely, and I
cannot thank you enough for your thoughtfulness. Their lovely fragrance
fills my room as I write, and I wish to thank you again. It was lovely
of you."


It is now time to settle down to the more serious business of courtship.
Her letter shows beyond the shadow of a figurative doubt that she is
"interested," and the next move is "up to you." Probably she will soon
come into the office to see her father, in which case you should have
ready at hand some appropriate gift, such as, for example, a nice potted
geranium. Great care should be taken, however, that it is a plant of
the correct species, for in the etiquette of courtship all flowers have
different meanings and many a promising affair has been ruined because
a suitor sent his lady a buttercup, meaning "That's the last dance I'll
ever take you to, you big cow," instead of a plant with a more tender
significance. Some of the commoner flowers and their meaning in
courtship are as follows:

Fringed Gentian--"I am going out to get a shave. Back at 3:30."

Poppy--"I would be proud to be the father of your children."

Golden-rod--"I hear that you have hay-fever."

Tuberose--"Meet me Saturday at the Fourteenth Street subway station."

Blood-root--"Aunt Kitty murdered Uncle Fred Thursday."

Dutchman's Breeches--"That case of Holland gin and Old Tailor has
arrived. Come on over."

Iris--"Could you learn to love an optician?"

Aster--"Who was that stout Jewish-looking party I saw you with in the
hotel lobby Friday?"

Deadly Nightshade--"Pull down those blinds, quick!"

Passion Flower--"Phone Main 1249--ask for Eddie."

Raspberry--"I am announcing my engagement to Charlie O'Keefe Tuesday."

Wild Thyme--"I have seats for the Hippodrome Saturday afternoon."

The above flowers can also be combined to make different meanings, as,
for example, a bouquet composed of three tuberoses and some Virginia
creeper generally signifies the following, "The reason I didn't call for
you yesterday was that I had three inner tube punctures, besides a lot
of engine trouble in that old car I bought in Virginia last year. Gosh,
I'm sorry!"

But to return to the etiquette of our present courtship. As Miss Doe
leaves the office you follow her, holding the potted plant in your left
hand. After she has gone a few paces you step up to her, remove your hat
(or cap) with your right hand, and offer her the geranium, remarking, "I
beg your pardon, miss, but didn't you drop this?" A great deal depends
upon the manner in which you offer the plant and the way she receives
it. If you hand it to her with the flower pointing upward it means,
"Dare I hope?" Reversed, it signifies, "Your petticoat shows about an
inch, or an inch and a half." If she receives the plant in her right
hand, it means, "I am"; left hand, "You are"; both hands--"He, she or it
is." If, however, she takes the pot firmly in both hands and breaks it
with great force on your head, the meaning is usually negative and your
only correct course of procedure is a hasty bow and a brief apology.


Let us suppose, however, that she accepts the geranium in such a manner
that you are encouraged to continue the acquaintance. Your next move
should be a request for an invitation to call upon her at her home. This
should, above all things, not be done crudely. It is better merely to
suggest your wish by some indirect method such as, "Oh--so you live
on William Street. Well, well! I often walk on William Street in the
evening, but I have never called on any girl there--YET." The "yet"
may be accompanied by a slight raising of your eyebrows, a wink, or a
friendly nudge with your elbow. Unless she is unusually "dense" she
will probably "take the hint" and invite you to come and see her some
evening. At once you should say, "WHAT evening? How about TO-NIGHT?" If
she says that she is already engaged for that evening, take a calendar
out of your pocket and remark, "Tomorrow? Wednesday? Thursday? Friday?
I really have no engagements between now and October. Saturday? Sunday?"
This will show her that you are really desirous of calling upon her and
she will probably say, "Well, I think I am free Thursday night, but you
had better telephone me first."


On Thursday morning, therefore, you should go to a public
telephone-booth in order to call the young lady's house. The etiquette
of telephoning is quite important and many otherwise perfectly well-bred
people often make themselves conspicuous because they do not know
the correct procedure in using this modern but almost indispensable
invention. Upon entering the telephone-booth, which is located, say, in
some drug store, you remove the receiver from the hook and deposit the
requisite coin in the coin box. After an interval of some minutes
a young lady (referred to as "Central") will ask for your "Number,
please." Suppose, for example, that you wish to get Bryant 4310. Remove
your hat politely and speak that number into the mouthpiece.
"Central" will then say, "Rhinelander 4310." To which you reply, "NO,
Central--BRYANT 4310." Central then says, "I beg your pardon--Bryant
4310," to which you reply, "Yes, please." In a few minutes a voice at
the other end of the line says, "Hello," to which you answer, "Is
Miss Doe at home?" The voice then says, "Who?" You say, "Miss Doe,
please--Miss Dorothy Doe." You then hear the following, "Wait a minute.
Say, Charlie, is they anybody works around here by the name of Doe?
There's a guy wants to talk to a Miss Doe. Here--you answer it." Another
voice then says, "Hello." You reply "Hello." He says, "What do you
want?" You reply, "I wish to speak to Miss Dorothy Doe." He says, "What
department does she work in?" You reply, "Is this the residence of J.
Franklin Doe, President of the First National Bank?" He says, "Wait a
minute." You wait a minute. You wait several. Another voice--a new voice
says-"Hello." You reply "Hello." He says, "Give me Stuyvesant 8864." You
say, "But I'm trying to get Miss Doe--Miss Dorothy Doe." He says, "Who?"
You say, "Is this the residence of--" He says, "Naw--this is Goebel
Brothers, Wholesale Grocers--what number do you want?" You say, "Bryant
4310." He says, "Well, this is Rhinelander 4310." You then hang up the
receiver and count twenty. The telephone bell then rings, and inasmuch
as you are the only person near the phone you take up the receiver and
say, "Hello." A female voice, says, "Hello, dearie--don't you know who
this is?" You say, politely but firmly, "No." She says, "Guess!" You
guess "Mrs. Warren G. Harding." She says, "No. This is Ethel. Is Walter
there?" You reply, "Walter?" She says, "Ask him to come to the phone,
will you? He lives up-stairs over the drug store. Just yell 'Walter' at
the third door down the hall. Tell him Ethyl wants to speak to him--no,
wait--tell him it's Madge." Being a gentleman, you comply with the
lady's request. After bringing Walter to the phone, you obligingly wait
for some twenty minutes while he converses with Ethel--no, Madge. When
he has finished, you once more enter the booth and tell "Central" you
want Bryant 4310. After a few minutes "Central" says, "What number did
you call?" You say patiently, "Bryant 4310." She replies, "Bryant 4310
has been changed to Schuyler 6372." You ask for Schuyler 6372. Finally
a woman's voice says, "Yass." You say, "Is Miss Doe in?" She replies,
"Yass." You say, "May I speak to her?" She says, "Who?" You reply, "You
said Miss Doe was at home, didn't you?" She replies, "Yass." You say,
"Well, may I speak to her?" The voice says, "Who?" You shout, "Miss
Doe." The voice says, "She ban out." You shriek, "Oh, go to hell!" and
assuming a graceful, easy position in the booth, you proceed to tear the
telephone from the wall. Later on in the day, when you have two or three
hours of spare time, you can telephone Miss Doe again and arrange for
the evening's visit.


The custom of social "calls" between young men and young women is one
of the prettiest of etiquette's older conventions, and one around which
clusters a romantic group of delightful traditions. In this day and
generation, what with horseless carriages, electric telephones and
telegraphs, and dirigible gas bags, a great many of the older forms have
been allowed to die out, greatly, I believe, to our discredit. "Speed,
not manners," seems to be the motto of this century. I hope that there
still exist a few young men who care enough about "good form" to study
carefully to perfect themselves in the art of "calling." Come, Tom, Dick
and Harry--drop your bicycles for an afternoon and fill your minds with
something besides steam engines and pneumatic tires!

The first call at the home of any young lady of fashion is an extremely
important social function, and too great care can not be taken that you
prepare yourself thoroughly in advance. It would be well to leave your
work an hour or two earlier in the afternoon, so that you can go
home and practice such necessary things as entering or leaving a room
correctly. Most young men are extremely careless in this particular, and
unless you rehearse yourself thoroughly in the proper procedure you are
apt to find later on to your dismay that you have made your exit through
a window onto the fire-escape instead of through the proper door.


Your conversation should also be planned more or less in advance. Select
some topic in which you think your lady friend will be interested, such
as, for example, the removal of tonsils and adenoids, and "read up" on
the subject so that you can discuss it in an intelligent manner. Find
out, for example, how many people had tonsils removed in February,
March, April. Contrast this with the same figures for 1880, 1890, 1900.
Learn two or three amusing anecdotes about adenoids. Consult Bartlett's
"Familiar Quotations" for appropriate verses dealing with tonsils and
throat troubles. Finally, and above all, take time to glance through
four or five volumes of Dr. Eliot's Five Foot Shelf, for nothing so
completely marks the cultivated man as the ability to refer familiarly
to the various volumes of the Harvard classics.


Promptly at the time appointed you should arrive at the house where the
young lady is staying. In answer to your ring a German police dog will
begin to bark furiously inside the house, and a maid will finally come
to the door. Removing your hat and one glove, you say, "Is Miss Doe
home?" The maid replies, "Yass, ay tank so." You give her your card and
the dog rushes out and bites you on either the right or left leg. You
are then ushered into a room in which is seated an old man with a long
white beard. He is fast asleep. "Dot's grampaw," says the maid, to which
you reply, "Oh." She retires, leaving you alone with grampaw. After a
while he opens his eyes and stares at you for a few minutes. He then
says, "Did the dog bite you?" You answer, "Yes, sir." Grampaw then says,
"He bites everybody," and goes back to sleep. Reassured, you light
a cigaret. A little boy and girl then come to the door, and, after
examining you carefully for several minutes, they burst into giggling
laughter and run away. You feel to see if you have forgotten to put on
a necktie. A severe looking old lady then enters the room. You rise and
bow. "I am Miss Doe's grandmother. Some one has been smoking in here,"
she says, and sits down opposite you. Her remark is not, however, a hint
for a cigaret and you should not make the mistake of saying, "I've only
got Fatimas, but if you care to try one--" It should be your aim to
seek to impress yourself favorably upon every member of the young lady's
family. Try to engage the grandmother in conversation, taking care to
select subjects in which you feel she would be interested. Conversation
is largely the art of "playing up" to the other person's favorite
subject. In this particular case, for example, it would be a mistake
to say to Miss Doe's grandmother, "Have you ever tried making synthetic
gin?" or "Do you think any one will EVER lick Dempsey?" A more
experienced person, and some one who had studied the hobbies of old
people, would probably begin by remarking, "Well, I see that Jeremiah
Smith died of cancer Thursday," or "That was a lovely burial they gave
Mrs. Watts, wasn't it?" If you are tactful, you should soon win the old
lady's favor completely, so that before long she will tell you all about
her rheumatism and what grampaw can and can't eat.

Finally Miss Doe arrives. Her first words are, "Have you been waiting
long? Hilda didn't tell me you were here," to which you reply, "No--I
just arrived." She then says, "Shall we go in the drawing-room?" The
answer to this is, "For God's sake, yes!" In a few minutes you find
yourself alone in the drawing-room with the lady of your choice and the
courtship proper can then begin.

The best way to proceed is gradually to bring the conversation around to
the subject of the "modern girl." After your preliminary remarks about
tonsils and adenoids have been thoroughly exhausted, you should suddenly
say, "Well I don't think girls--nice girls--are really that way." She
replies, of course, "WHAT way?" You answer, "Oh, the way they are in
these modern novels. This 'petting,' for instance." She says, "WHAT
petting'?" You walk over and sit down on the sofa beside her. "Oh,"
you say, "these novelists make me sick--they seem to think that in our
generation every time a young man and woman are left alone on a lounge
together, they haven't a thing better to do than put out the light and
'pet.' It's disgusting, isn't it?" "Isn't it?" she agrees and reaching
over she accidentally pulls the lamp cord, which puts out the light.

On your first visit you should not stay after 12:30.


About the second or third month of a formal courtship it is customary
for the man to propose matrimony, and if the girl has been "out" for
three or four years and has several younger sisters coming along, it
is customary for her to accept him. They then become "engaged," and the
courtship is concluded.



"Matrimony," sings Homer, the poet, "is a holy estate and not lightly to
be entered into." The "old Roman" is right.

A modern wedding is one of the most intricate and exhausting of social
customs. Young men and women of our better classes are now forced to
devote a large part of their lives to acting as brides, grooms, ushers
and bridesmaids at various elaborate nuptials. Weeks are generally
required in preparation for an up-to-date wedding; months are necessary
in recovering from such an affair. Indeed, some of the participants,
notably the bride and groom, never quite get over the effects of a

It was not "always thus." Time was when the wedding was a comparatively
simple affair. In the Paleolithic Age, for example, (as Mr. H. G. Wells
of England points out in his able "Outline of History"), there is no
evidence of any particular ceremony conjunctive with the marriage of
"a male and a female." Even with the advent of Neolithic man, a wedding
seems to have been consummated by the rather simple process of having
the bridegroom crack the bride over the head with a plain, unornamented
stone ax. There were no ushers--no bridesmaids. But shortly after that
(c- 10,329--30 B.C. to be exact) two young Neoliths named Haig, living
in what is now supposed to be Scotland, discovered that the prolonged
distillation of common barley resulted in the creation of an
amber-colored liquid which, when taken internally, produced a curious
and not unpleasant effect.

This discovery had--and still has--a remarkable effect upon the
celebration of the marriage rite. Gradually there grew up around the
wedding a number of customs. With the Haig brothers' discovery of Scotch
whiskey began, as a matter of course, the institution of the "bachelor
dinner." "Necessity is the mother of invention," and exactly twelve
years after the first "bachelor dinner" came the discovery of
bicarbonate of soda. From that time down to the present day the history
of the etiquette of weddings has been that of an increasing number of
intricate forms and ceremonies, each age having added its particular bit
of ritual. The modern wedding may be said to be, therefore, almost an
"Outline of History" itself.


LET us begin, first of all, with the duties of one of the minor
characters at a wedding--the Groom. Suppose that you are an eligible
young man named Richard Roe, who has just become "engaged" to a young
lady named Dorothy Doe. If you really intend to "marry the girl," it is
customary that some formal announcement of the engagement be made, for
which you must have the permission of Miss Dorothy and her father. It
is not generally difficult to become engaged to most girls, but it will
surprise you to discover how hard it is to get the young lady whom you
believe to be your fiancee to consent to a public announcement of the
fact. The reason for this probably is that an engagement which has been
"announced" often leads to matrimony, and matrimony, in polite society,
often lasts for several years. After you have secured the girl's
permission, it is next necessary that you notify her father of the
engagement. In this particular case, as he happens to be your employer,
the notification can take place in his office. First of all, however, it
would be advisable to prepare some sort of speech in advance. Aim to put
him as far as possible at his ease, lead up to the subject gradually and
tactfully. Abruptness is never "good form." The following is suggested
as a possible model. "Good morning, Mr. Doe, say, I heard a good story
from a traveling salesman last night. It seems that there was a young
married couple--(here insert a good story about a young married
couple). Wasn't that RICH? Yes, sir, marriage is a great thing--a great
institution. Every young man ought to get married, don't you think? You
do? Well, Mr. Doe, I've got a surprise for you, (here move toward the
door). I'm going to (here open the door) marry (step out of the room)
your daughter" (close the door quickly).


Before the public announcement of the engagement it is customary for the
bride-to-be to write personal letters to all other young men to whom
she happens to be engaged at the time. These notes should be kindly,
sympathetic and tactful. The same note can be written to all, provided
there is no chance of their comparing notes. The following is suggested:

"Dear Bob--

Bob, I want you to be the very first to know that I am engaged to
Richard Roe. I want you to like him, Bob, because he is a fine fellow
and I would rather have you like him than any one I know. I feel that
he and I shall be very happy together, and I want you to be the first to
know about it. Your friendship will always remain one of the brightest
things in my life, Bob, but, of course, I probably won't be able to go
to the Aiken dance with you now. Please don't tell anybody about it yet.
I shall never forget the happy times you and I had together, Bob, and
will you please return those silly letters of mine. I am sending you

{illustration caption = Nothing so completely betrays the "Cockney" as a
faulty knowledge of sporting terms. The young lady at the left has just
returned from the hunting field hand-in-hand with the dashing "lead,"
who happens to be an eligible billionaire. Her hostess, the mother of
the sub-deb at the right, has greeted her by hissing, "S--o--o! I
see you've had a good day's hunting!" The use of this unsportsmanlike
expression--in stead of the correct "Hope you had a good run," or "Where
did you find?"--at once discloses the hostess's mean origin and the
young lady will almost certainly never accept another invitation to her

{illustration caption = In this work-a-day world, one is likely to
forget that there is an etiquette of pleasure, just as there is an
etiquette of dancing or the opera. One often hears a charming hostess
refuse to invite this or that person to her home for a game of billiards
on the ground that he or she is a "bum sport" or a "rotten loser." The
above scene illustrates one of the little, but conspicuous, blunders
that people make. The gentleman, having missed his fifth consecutive
shot, has broken his cue over his knee and is ripping the baize off the
table with the sharp end. This display is not in the best taste.

{illustration caption = Good form at the beach is still a question of
debate. Some authorities on the subject insist that the Rubenesque
type is preferable, while others claim that the Byzantine is more
fashionable. One thing is certain--it is absolutely incorrect for ladies
who weigh less than 75 or more than 275 pounds (avoirdupois) to appear
in costumes that would offend against modesty. It is also considered
rude to hold one's swimming partner under water for more then the formal
quarter of an hour.}


THE engagement is generally announced at a luncheon given by the parents
of the prospective bride. This is usually a small affair, only fifteen
or twenty of the most intimate friends of the engaged "couple" being
invited. It is one of the customs of engagement luncheons that all
the guests shall be tremendously surprised at the news, and great care
should be taken to aid them in carrying out this tradition. On the
invitations, for example, should be written some misleading phrase, such
as "To meet General Pershing" or "Not to Announce the Engagement of our

The announcement itself which should be made soon after the guests are
seated, offers a splendid opportunity for the display of originality
and should aim to afford the guest a surprise and perhaps a laugh, for
laughter of a certain quiet kind is often welcome at social functions.
One of the most favored methods of announcing an engagement is by the
use of symbolic figures embodying the names of the affianced pair. Thus,
for example, in the case of the present engagement of Richard Roe to
Dorothy Doe it would be "unique" to have the first course at luncheon
consist of a diminutive candy or paper-mache doe seated amorously upon a
heart shaped order of a shad roe. The guests will at first be mystified,
but soon cries of "Oh, how sweet!" will arise and congratulations are
then in order. Great care should be taken, however, that the symbolic
figures are not misunderstood; it would be extremely embarrassing,
for example, if in the above instance, a young man named "Shad" or
"Aquarium" were to receive the congratulations instead of the proper
person. Other suggestions for symbolistic announcements of some of the
more common names are as follows:

"Cohan-O'Brien"--ice cream cones on a plate of O'Brien potatoes.

"Ames-Green--green ice cream in the shape of a man aiming at something.

"Thorne-Hoyt--figure of a man from Brooklyn pulling a thorn from foot
with expression on his face signifying "This hoits."

"Bullitt-Bartlett--bartlett pears full of small 22 or 33 calibre

"Tweed-Ellis"--frosted cake in the shape of Ellis Island with a solitary
figure of a man in a nice fitting tweed suit.

"Gordon-Fuller"--two paper-mache figures--one representing a young man
full of Gordon gin, the other representing a young man fuller.

"Hatch-Gillette"--figure of a chicken surprised at having hatched a
safety razor.

"Graves-Colgate"--figure of a man brushing his teeth in a cemetery.

"Heinz-Fish"--57 assorted small fish tastily arranged on one plate.


AS soon as the engagement has been announced it is the duty of
the prospective bride to select a maid-of-honor and eight or ten
bridesmaids, while the groom must choose his best man and ushers. In
making these selections it should be carefully borne in mind that no
wedding party is complete without the following:

1 bridesmaid who danced twice with the Prince of Wales.

2 Bridesmaids who never danced more than once with anybody.

1 bridesmaid who doesn't "Pet."

1 bridesmaid who was expelled from Miss Spence's.

1 bridesmaid who talks "Southern."

1 bridesmaid who met Douglas Fairbanks once.

1 bridesmaid who rowed on the crew at Wellesley.

1 usher who doesn't drink anything.

9 ushers who drink anything.

In some localities, following the announcement, it is customary for the
bride's friends, to give for her a number of "showers." These are for
the purpose of providing her with various necessities for her wedded
household life. These affairs should be informal and only her dearest
or wealthiest friends should be invited. A clever bride will generally
arrange secretly for several of these "showers" by promising a certain
percentage (usually 15% of the gross up to $500.00 and 25% bonus on all
over that amount) to the friend who gives the party. Some of the more
customary "showers" of common household articles for the new bride are
toothpaste, milk of magnesia, screen doors, copies of Service's poems,
Cape Cod lighters, pictures of "Age of Innocence" and back numbers of
the "Atlantic Monthly."


The proper time to send out invitations to a wedding is between two
and three weeks before the day set for the ceremony, although the
out-of-town invitations should be mailed in plenty of time to allow the
recipient to purchase and forward a suitable present. As the gifts are
received, a check mark should be placed after the name of the donor,
together with a short description of the present and an estimate as
to its probable cost. This list is to be used later, at the wedding
reception, in determining the manner in which the bride is to greet the
various guests. It has been found helpful by many brides to devise some
sort of memory system whereby certain names immediately suggest certain
responses, thus:

"Mr. Snodgrass--copy of 'Highways and Byways in Old France'"--c.
$6.50--"how do you do, Mr. Snodgrass, have you met my mother?"

"Mr. Brackett--Solid silver candlesticks--$68.50"--"hello, Bob, you old
peach. How about a kiss?"

The real festivities of a wedding start about three days before the
ceremony, with the arrival of the "wedding party," in which party the
most responsible position is that of best man. Let us suppose that you
are to be the best man at the Roe-Doe nuptials. What are your duties?

In the first place, you must prepare yourself for the wedding by a
course of training extending for over a month or more prior to the
actual event. It should be your aim to work yourself into such a
condition that you can go for three nights without sleep, talk for hours
to the most impossibly stupid of young women, and consume an unending
amount of alcohol. You are then prepared for the bachelor dinner, the
bridal dinner, the bridesmaids, the wedding, and the wedding reception.


Upon your arrival in the city where the wedding is to take place you
will be met by the bridegroom, who will take you to the home of the
bride where you are to stay. There you are met by the bride's father.
"This is my best man," says the groom. "The best man?" replies her
father. "Well, may the best man win." At once you reply, "Ha! Ha!
Ha!" He then says, "Is this your first visit to Chicago?" to which the
correct answer is, "Yes, sir, but I hope it isn't my last."

The bride's mother then appears. "This is my best man," says the groom.
"Well," says she, "remember--the best man doesn't always win." "Ha! Ha!
Ha!" you at once reply. "Is this your first visit to Chicago?" says she,
to which you answer, "Yes--but I hope it isn't my last."

You are then conducted to your room, where you are left alone to unpack.
In a few minutes the door will open and a small boy enter. This is the
brother of the bride. You smile at him pleasantly and remark, "Is this
your first visit to Chicago?" "What are you doing?" is his answer.
"Unpacking," you reply. "What's that?" says he. "A cutaway," you reply.
"What's that?" says he. "A collar bag." "What's that?" "A dress shirt."
"What's that?" says he. "Another dress shirt." "What's that?" says he.
"Say, listen," you reply, "don't I hear some one calling you?" "No,"
says he, "what's that?" "That," you reply, with a sigh of relief, "is
a razor. Here--take it and play with it." In three minutes, if you have
any luck at all, the bride's brother will have cut himself severely in
several places which will cause him to run crying from the room. You can
then finish unpacking.


The first function of the pre-nuptial festivities is generally a tea
at the bride's home, where the ushers and bridesmaids meet to become
"acquainted." It is your duty, as best man, to go to the hotel where the
ushers are stopping and bring them to this tea. Just as you will leave
on this mission the groom will whisper in your ear, "For God's sake,
remember to tell them that her father and mother are terribly opposed
to drinking in any form." This is an awfully good joke on her father and

As you step out of the hotel elevator you hear at the end of the hall a
chorus shouting, "Mademoiselle from Armentieres--parlez vous!" Those are
your ushers.

Opening the door of the room you step forward and announce, "Fellows,
we have got to go to a tea right away. Come on--let's go." At this,
ten young men in cutaways will stand up and shout, "Yeaaa--the best
man--give the best man a drink!" From then on, at twelve minute
intervals, it is your duty to say, "Fellows, we have got to go to a tea
right away. Come on--let's go." Each time you will be handed another
drink, which you may take with either your right or left hand.

After an hour the telephone will ring. It will be the groom. He will
say, "Everybody is waiting for you and the ushers," to which you reply,
"We are just leaving." He then says, "And don't forget to tell them what
I told you about her father and mother."

You then hang up the receiver, take a drink in one hand and say,
"Fellows, I have a very solemn message for you. It's a message which
is of deep importance to each one of us. Fellows--her father and mother
object to the use of alcohol in any form."

This statement will be greeted with applause and cheers. You will all
then take one more drink, put on your silk hats and gray gloves, and
leave the room singing, "Her father and mother object to drink--parlez

The tea given by the bride's parents is generally a small affair to
which only the members of the wedding party are invited. When you and
the ushers arrive, you will find the bride, the maid of honor and the
bridesmaids waiting for you. As you enter the room, make a polite bow
to the bride's father and mother, and be sure to apologize for your
lateness. Nothing so betrays the social "oil can" as a failure to make
a plausible excuse for tardiness. Whenever you are late for a party you
must always have ready some good reason for your fault, such as, "Excuse
me, Mrs. Doe, I'm afraid I am a little late, but you see, just as I was
dressing, this filling dropped out of my tooth and I had to have it put
back in." If the host and hostess seem to doubt your statement, it would
be well to show them the recalcitrant filling in question, although if
they are "well-bred" they will probably in most cases take you at your


You and the ushers will then be introduced to the bridesmaids and the
maid of honor. As you meet this latter young lady, who is the bride's
older sister and, of course, your partner for the remainder of the
wedding festivities, she will say, "The best man? Well, they say that
the best man wins... Ha! Ha! Ha!" This puts her in class G 6 without
further examination, and your only hope of prolonging your life
throughout the next two days lies in the frequent and periodic
administration of stimulants.


That evening the groom gives for the best man and the ushers what is
known as a "bachelor dinner." It is his farewell to his men friends
as he passes out of the state of bachelorhood. The formal passing out
generally occurs toward the end of the dinner, and is a quaint ceremony
participated in by most of those present.

It is customary for the best man to wake up about noon of the following
day. You will not have the slightest idea as to where you are or how
you got there. You will be wearing your dress trousers, your stiff or
pleated bosom dress shirt, black socks and pumps, and the coat of your
pajamas. In one hand you will be clutching a chrysanthemum. After a few
minutes there will come a low moan from the next bed. That is usually
the groom, also in evening dress with the exception that he has tried
to put on the trousers of your pajamas over his dress trousers. You then
say, "What happened?" to which he replies, "Oh, Judas." You wait several
minutes. In the next room you hear the sound of a shower bath and some
one whistling. The bath stops; the whistling continues. The door then
opens and there enters one of the ushers. He is the usher who always
"feels great" the next day after the bachelor dinner. He says to you,
"Well, boys, you look all in." You do not reply. He continues, "Gosh,
I feel fine." You make no response. He then begins to chuckle, "I don't
suppose you remember," he says, "what you said to the bride's mother
when I brought you home last night." You sit quickly up in bed. "What
did I say?" you ask. "Was I tight?" "Were you tight?" he replies, still
chuckling. "Don't you remember what you said? And don't you remember
trying to get the bride's father to slide down the banisters with you?
Were you tight--Oh, my gosh!" He then exits, chuckling. Statistics of
several important life insurance companies show that that type of man
generally dies a violent death before the age of thirty.


The rehearsal for the wedding is usually held in the church on the
afternoon preceding the day of the nuptials. The ushers, of course, are
an hour late, which gives the bridegroom (Bap.) an opportunity to meet
the minister (Epis.) and have a nice, long chat about religion, while
the best man (Atheist) talks to the eighty-three year old sexton who
buried the bride's grandpa and grandma and has knowed little Miss
Dorothy come twenty years next Michaelmas. The best man's offer of
twenty-five dollars, if the sexton will at once bury the maid of honor,
is generally refused as a matter of courtesy.


In the evening, the parents of the bride give the bridal dinner, to
which all the relatives and close friends of the family are invited.
Toasts are drunk in orange juice and rare old Virginia Dare wine, and
much good-natured fun is indulged in by all. Speeches are usually made
by the bride and groom, their parents, the best man, the maid of honor,
the minister and Aunt Harriet.

Just a word about the speeches at a bridal dinner. Terrible!


On the day of the wedding the ushers should arrange to be at the church
an hour or so in advance of the time set for the ceremony. They should
be dressed in cutaways, with ties, gloves and gardenias provided by the

It is the duty of the best man to dress the bridegroom for the wedding.
As you enter his room you see, lying half-dressed on the bed, a pale,
wan, emaciated creature, who is staring fixedly at the ceiling. It is
the happy bridegroom. His lips open. He speaks feebly. "What time is
it?" he says. You reply, "Two-thirty, old man. Time to start getting
dressed." "Oh, my God!" says the groom. Ten minutes pass. "What time is
it?" says the groom. "Twenty of three," you reply. "Here's your shirt."
"Oh, my God!" says the groom.

He takes the shirt and tries to put it on. You help him. "Better have a
little Scotch, old man," you say. "What time is it?" he replies. "Five
of three," you say. "Oh, my God!" says the groom.

At three-thirty you and he are dressed in cutaways and promptly at
three-forty-two you arrive at the church. You are ushered into a little
side room where it is your duty to sit with the corpse for the few
brief hours which elapse between three-forty-five and four o'clock.
Occasionally he stirs and a faint spark of life seems to struggle in
his sunken eyes. His lips move feebly. You bend over to catch his
dying words. "Have--you--got--the ring?" he whispers. "Yes," you reply.
"Everything's fine. You look great, too, old man." The sound of the
organ reaches your ears. The groom groans. "Have you got the ring?" he

Meanwhile the ushers have been performing their duty of showing the
invited guests to the various pews. A correctly trained usher will
always have ready some cheery word or sprightly bit of conversation
to make the guests feel perfectly at home as he conducts them to their
seats. "It's a nice day, isn't it?" is suggested as a perfectly safe
and yet not too unusual topic of conversation. This can be varied by
remarking, "Isn't it a nice day?" or in some cases, where you do not
wish to appear too forward, "Is it a nice day, or isn't it?" An usher
should also remember that although he has on a cutaway, he is neither
a floor-walker nor a bond salesman, and remarks such as "Something in a
dotted Swiss?" or "Third aisle over--second pew--next the ribbon goods,"
are decidedly non au fait.

The first two pews on each side of the center aisle are always reserved
for members of the immediate family, but it is a firmly established
custom that the ushers shall seat in these "family pews" at least three
people with whom the family are barely on speaking terms. This slight
error always causes Aunt Nellie and Uncle Fred to sit up in the gallery
with the family cook.

With the arrival of the bride, the signal is given to the organist to
start the wedding march, usually either Mendelssohn's or Wagner's. About
this time the mother of the bride generally discovers that the third
candle from the left on the rear altar has not been lighted, which
causes a delay of some fifteen minutes during which time the organist
improvises one hundred and seventy-three variations on the opening
strains of the march.

Finally all is adjusted and the procession starts down the aisle led by
the ushers swaying slowly side by side. It is always customary for three
or four of the eight ushers to have absolutely no conception of time
or rhythm, which adds a quaint touch of uncertainty and often a little
humor to the performance.

After the Scotch mist left by the passing ushers has cleared, there come
the bridesmaids, the maid of honor, and then, leaning on her father's
arm (unless, of course, her father is dead), the bride.

In the meantime, the bridegroom has been carried in by the best man and
awaits the procession at the foot of the aisle, which is usually four
hundred and forty yards long. The ushers and bridesmaids step awkwardly
to one side; the groom advances and a hush falls over the congregation
which is the signal for the bride's little niece to ask loudly, "What's
that funny looking man going to do, Aunt Dotty?"

Then follows the religious ceremony.

Immediately after the church service, a reception is held at the bride's
home, where refreshments are served and two hundred and forty-two
invited guests make the same joke about kissing the bride. At the
reception it is customary for the ushers and the best man to crawl off
in separate corners and die.

The wedding "festivities" are generally concluded with the disappearance
of the bride, the bridegroom, one of the uninvited guests and four of
the most valuable presents.

{illustration caption = The man of culture and refinement, while
always considerate to those beneath him in station, never, under any
circumstances, loses control of his emotions for an instant. Though
the gentleman-rider in the picture may be touchingly fond of his
steeplechase horse, it is unpardonably bad form for him to make an
exhibition of his affection while going over the brush in plain view of
numbers of total strangers. In doing so he simply is making a "guy"
of himself, and it is no more than he deserves if those in the gallery
raise their eyebrows at each other and smile knowingly.}

{illustration caption = The Romans had a proverb, "Litera scripta
manet," which means "The written letter remains." The subtle wisdom of
these words was no doubt well known to the men of the later Paleolithic
Age before them, but evidently the gentleman in the engraving
never heard of it. If he had kept this simple little rule of social
correspondence in mind he would have avoided the painful experience
of hearing his obsolete emotions exposed to the eager ears of twelve
perfect strangers. It is customary nowadays for unmarried elder sons
of our most aristocratic families to express their appreciation of
the qualities of fascinating bachelor girls over the sensible, though
plebeian, telephone.}


The etiquette of travel, like that of courtship and marriage, has
undergone several important changes with the advent of "democracy" and
the "mechanical age." Time was when travel was indulged in only by the
better classes of society and the rules of travellers' etiquette were
well defined and acknowledged by all. But Yankee ingenuity has indeed
brought the "mountain to Mahomet"; the "iron horse" and the "Pullman
coach" have, I believe, come to stay, bringing with them many new
customs and manners for the well-bred gentleman or lady who would travel
correctly. Truly, the "old order changeth" and it is, perhaps, only
proper that one should keep (if you will pardon the use of the word),
"abreast" of the times.


Let us suppose, for example, that you are a young gentleman of
established social position in one of the many cities of our great
middle west, and it is your desire to travel from your home to New York
City for the purpose of viewing the many attractions of that metropolis
of which I need perhaps only mention the Aquarium or Grant's Tomb or the
Eden Musee. Now there are many ways of getting to New York, such as (a)
on foot, (b) via "rail"; it should be your first duty to select one
of these methods of transportation. Walking to New York ("a" above)
is often rejected because of the time and effort involved and it is
undoubtedly true that if one attempted to journey afoot from the middle
west one would probably be quite fatigued at the end of one's journey.
The etiquette of walking, however, is the same for short as for long
distances, and I shall at this point give a few of the many rules for
correct behavior among pedestrians.

In the first place, it is always customary in a city for a young lady,
either accompanied or unaccompanied, to walk on the sidewalk. A young
"miss" who persists in walking in the gutters is more apt to lose than
to make friends among the socially "worth while."

Gentlemen, either with or without ladies, are never seen walking after
dark in the sewers or along the elevated, tracks.

It is not au fait for gentlemen or ladies wearing evening dress to
"catch on behind" passing ice wagons, trucks, etc.; the time and energy
saved are doubtfully repaid should one happen to be driven thus past
other members of one's particular social "set."

Ladies walking alone on the street after dark do not speak to gentlemen
unless they have been previously introduced or are out of work with
winter coming on.

A gentleman walking alone at night, when accosted by a young woman whom
he has not met socially, removes his hat politely, bows and passes on,
unless she looks awfully good.

Debutantes meeting traffic policemen always bow first in America; in the
Continental countries, with their age-old flavor of aristocratic court
life, this custom is reversed.

A bachelor, accompanied by a young unmarried woman, when stepping
accidentally into an open coal or sewer hole in the sidewalk, removes
his hat and gloves as inconspicuously as possible.

It is never correct for young people of either "sex" to push older
ladies in front of swiftly approaching motor vehicles or street cars.

A young man, if run over by an automobile driven by a strange lady,
should lie perfectly still (unless dead) until an introduction can be
arranged; the person driving the car usually speaks first.

An unmarried woman, if run into and knocked down by a taxicab driven
by someone in her own "set," usually says "Why the hell don't you look
where you're going?" to which the taxi driver, removing his hat, replies
"Why the hell don't YOU?"

A correct costume for gentlemen walking in the parks or streets of a
city, either before or after dark, consists of shoes (2), socks (2),
undergarments, trousers, shirt, necktie, collar, vest, coat and hat. For
pedestrians of the "opposite" sex the costume is practically the same
with the exception of the socks, trousers, shirt, necktie, collar,
vest and coat. However, many women now affect "knickerbockers" and vice

A young lady of good breeding, when walking alone, should not talk
or laugh in a loud boisterous manner. "Capers" (e. g. climbing trees,
etc.), while good exercise and undoubtedly fashionable in certain
"speedy" circles, are of questionable taste for ladies, especially
if indulged in to excess or while walking with young gentlemen on the
Sabbath. Sport is sport, and no one loves a stiff game of "fives" or
"rounders" more than I, but the spectacle of a young unmarried lady and
her escort hanging by their limbs on the Lord's Day from the second
or third cross arm of an electric telegraph pole is certainly carrying
things a bit too far, in my opinion, even in this age of "golf" and lawn

A young gentleman escorting a young lady on foot to a formal ball or the
opera should walk on the outside, especially if they are both in evening
dress and have a long distance to go. It is never incorrect to suggest
the use of a street car, or as one gets near the Opera House, a carriage
or a "taxicab."

A young man walking with a young lady, when accosted by a beggar, always
gives the beggar something unless the young lady is his wife or his

So much for pedestrians. I can not, of course, pretend to give here all
the rules for those who "go afoot" and I can only say that the safest
principle for correct behavior in this, as in many social matters, is
the now famous reply Thomas Edison once made to the stranger who asked
him with what he mixed his paints in order to get such marvellous
effects. "One part inspiration," replied the great inventor, "and NINE
parts perspiration." In other words, etiquette is not so much a matter
of "genius" as of steady application to small details.


In America much of the travelling is done by "rail." The etiquette of
railroad behavior is extremely complicated, especially if one is forced
to spend the night en route (on the way) and many and ludicrous are the
mistakes made by those whose social training has apparently fitted them
more for a freight car than for an up-to-date "parlor" or "Pullman"


Let us, first of all, however, take up some of the simpler forms of rail
transportation, such as, for example, the electric street or "tram" car
now to be seen on the main highways and byways of all our larger cities.
The rules governing behavior on these vehicles often appear at first
quite complicated, but when one has learned the "ropes," as they say in
the Navy, one should have no difficulty.

An elderly lady with a closed umbrella, for example, desiring to take
a street car, should always stand directly under a large sign marked
"Street Cars Do Not Stop On This Corner." As the car approaches she
should run quickly out to the car tracks and signal violently to the
motorman with the umbrella. As the car whizzes past without stopping she
should cease signalling, remark "Well I'll be God damned!" and return
to the curbstone. After this performance has been repeated with three
successive cars she should then walk slowly out and lie down, in a
dignified manner, across the car tracks. In nine cases out of ten
the motorman of the next "tram" will see her lying there and will be
gentleman enough to stop his car.

When this happens the elderly lady should get quietly up from the street
and stand outside the door marked "Exit Only" until the motorman opens
it for her. She should then enter with the remark, "I signalled to three
cars and not one of them stopped," to which the motorman will reply,
"But, lady, that sign there says they don't stop on this corner." The
lady should then say "What's your number--I'm going to report you."

After taking his number she should enter the car. At the opposite end
of the vehicle there will undoubtedly be three or four vacant seats;
instead of taking one of these she should stand up in front of some
young man and glare at him until he gets up and gives her his place.

It is not customary in American cities for ladies to thank gentlemen who
provide them with seats.

After a few minutes she should turn to the man at her right and ask
"Does this car go to Madison Heights?" He will answer "No." She should
then turn to the man on her left and ask "Does this car go to Madison
Heights?" He will answer "No." Her next question--"Does this car go to
Madison Heights?"--should be addressed to a man across the aisle, and
the answer will be "No." She should then listen attentively while
the conductor calls out the names of the streets and as he shouts
"Blawmnoo!" she should ask the man at her right "Did he say Madison
Heights?" He will reply "No." At the next street the conductor will
shout "Blawmnoo!" at which she should ask "Did he say Madison Heights?"
Once more the answer will be in the negative. The car will proceed, the
conductor will now call "Blawmnoo!" and as the elderly lady once more
says "Did he say Madison Heights?" the man at her left, the man at her
right, the man across the aisle and eight other male passengers will
shout "YES!"

It is then correct for her to pickup her umbrella and, carefully waiting
until the conductor has pulled the "go ahead" signal, she should cry
"Wait a minute, conductor--I want to get off here." The car will then
be stopped and she should say "Is this Madison Heights?" to which the
conductor will reply "This ain't the Madison Heights car, lady." She
should then say "But you called out Madison Heights," to which he will
answer "No, lady--that's eight miles in the opposite direction." She
should then leave the street car, not forgetting, however, to take the
conductor's number again.

The above hints for "tram" car etiquette apply, of course, only to
elderly ladies. For young men and women the procedure would be in many
cases quite different. A young married woman, for example, on entering a
street car, should always have her ticket or small "change" so securely
buried in the fourth inside pocketbook of her handbag that she cannot
possibly find it inside of twelve minutes. Three or more middle-aged
ladies, riding together, should never decide as to who is to pay the
fare until the conductor has gone stark raving mad.

{illustration caption = Her conduct has stamped the young lady as a
provincial and it is not to be wondered at if suppressed titters and
half audible chuckles follow her about the room. PERFECT BEHAVIOR would
have taught her that it is not the prerogative of a muddy-complexioned
dud--even if she has had only one dance and her costume is very
expensive--to cut in on a gentleman (by grabbing his neck or any other
method) when he is dancing with the wide-eyed beauty from the South who
leaves in five minutes to catch a train. He will be within his rights
when, at the end of five minutes, after three unsuccessful attempts to
loosen her grip, he will carry her into the garden under false pretences
and there play the hose on her until she drowns.

{illustration caption = They are leaving the home of an intimate friend
of several weeks' standing, after having witnessed a Private Theatrical.
Both feel that some return should be made for their hostess's kindness
but neither is certain as to just what form the return should take. The
Book of PERFECT BEHAVIOR would have pointed out to them that the only
adequate and satisfactory revenge for this sort of thing is to invite
the lady, as soon as possible without exciting her suspicion, to attend
an Italian opera or a drawing-room musicale.


The rules governing correct behavior in the underground "subway" systems
of our great cities (particularly the New York subways) are, however,
much more simple and elemental than the etiquette for surface cars. In
the subway, for example, if you are a married man and living with your
wife, or head of a family, i. e., a person who actually supports one or
more persons living in (or under) his (or her) household on the last
day of the preceding calendar year, provided that such person or persons
shall not on or before July 1 or if July 1 shall fall on a Sunday then
on the day nearest preceding July 1, himself (or themselves) have filed
a separate report as provided in paragraph (g), you should precede a
lady when entering, and follow a lady when leaving, the train.


On the other hand, a wedding or a "honeymoon" trip in a subway brings
up certain problems of etiquette which are entirely different from the
above. Let us suppose, for example, that the wedding takes place at high
noon in exclusive old "Trinity" church, New York. The nearest subway
is of course the "Interborough" (West Side) and immediately after the
ceremony the lucky couple can run poste haste to the "Battery" and board
a Lenox Ave. Local. Arriving at romantic Chambers St. they should change
at once to a Bronx Park Express which will speedily whizz them past 18th
St., 23rd St. and 28th St. to the Pennsylvania Station where they can
again transfer, this time to a Broadway Local. In a jiffy and two winks
of an eye they will be at Times Square, the heart of the "Great White
Way" (that Mecca of pleasure seekers and excitement lovers) where they
can either change to a Broadway Express, journeying under Broadway
to historic Columbia University and Harlem, or they can take the
busy little "shuttle" which will hurry them over to the Grand Central
Station. There they can board the aristocratic East Side Subway, either
"up" or "down" town. The trip "up town" (Lexington Ave. Express) passes
under some of the better class residential districts, but the journey
in the other direction is perhaps more interesting, including as it does
such stops as 14th St., Brooklyn Bridge, Fulton Street, Wall Street (the
financial center) etc., not to mention a delightful passage under the
East River to Brooklyn, the city of homes and churches. Thus without
getting out of their seats the happy pair can be transported from
one fascinating end of the great city to the other and when they have
exhausted the possibilities of a honeymoon in the Interborough they can
change, with the additional cost of only a few cents apiece, to the B.
R. T. or the Hudson Tubes which will gladly carry them to a thousand new
and interesting places--a veritable Aladdin's lamp on rails.


And now we come to that most complex form of travel--the railroad
journey. Let us suppose that instead of attempting to walk to New York
you have elected to go on the "train." On the day of your departure you
should carefully pack your bag or suitcase, taking care to strap and
lock it securely. You can then immediately unstrap and unlock it in
order to put in the tooth paste and shaving brush which you forgot to
bring from the bathroom.

Arriving at the station promptly on the time scheduled for the train
to depart you will find that because of "daylight saving time" you
have exactly an hour to wait. The time, however, can be amusingly and
economically spent in the station as follows: 11 weighing machines
@.01 =.11; 3 weighing machines @.05 =.15; 1 weighing machine (out
of order).09; 17 slot machines (chocolate and gum) @.01 =.17. Total
cost--.50, unless, of course, you eat the chocolate.

Upon the arrival of the train you consult your ticket to find that
you have "lower 9" in car 43. Walking back to the end of the train and
entering car 43 you will find, in berth number 9, a tired woman and
two small children. You will also find a hat box, a bird cage, a bag of
oranges, a bag of orange peelings, a shoe-box of lunch, a rag doll, a
toy balloon, half a "cookie" and 8,000,000 crumbs. The tired woman will
then say to you "Are you the gentleman who has the lower berth?" to
which you answer "Yes." She will then say "Well say--we've got the
upper--and I wonder if you would mind--" "Not at, all," you reply, "I
should be only too glad to give you my lower." This is always done.

After you have seated yourself and the train has started the lady's
little boy will announce, "I want a drink, Mama." After he has repeated
this eleven times his mother will say to you "I wonder if you would mind
holding the baby while I take Elmer to get a drink?"

The etiquette of holding babies is somewhat difficult for bachelors to
master at first as there are no hard and fast rules governing conduct
under these circumstances. An easy "hold" for beginners and one which is
difficult for the ordinary baby to break consists in wrapping the left
and right arms firmly around the center of the child, at the same time
clutching the clothing with the right hand and the toes with the left
and praying to God that the damn thing won't drop.

In this particular case, after Elmer and his mother have gone down the
aisle after a drink, the baby which you are holding will at once begin
to cry. Now as every mother knows, and especially those mothers who have
had children, a baby does not cry without some specific reason and all
that is necessary in the present instance is to discover this reason.
First of all, the child may be merely hungry, in which case you should
at once ask the porter to bring you the a la carte menu. You should then
carefully go over the list of dishes with the infant, taking care to
spell out and explain such names as he may not understand. "How would
you like some nice assorted hors d'oeuvres?" you say. "Waaaaa!" says
the baby. "No hors d'oeuvres," you say to the waiter. "Some blue points,
perhaps--you know, o-y-s-t-e-r-s?" You might even act out a blue point
or two, as in charades, so that the child will understand what you mean.
In case, however, the baby does not cease crying after having eaten
the first three or four courses, you should not insist on a salad and a
dessert, for probably it is not hunger which is occasioning the outcry.
Perhaps it is a pin, in which case you should at once bend every
effort to the discovery and removal of the irritant. The most generally
accepted modern way of effecting this consists in passing a large
electro-magnet over every portion of the child's anatomy and the pin
(if pin there be) will of course at once come to light. Then, too, many
small children cry merely because they have swallowed something which
does not agree with them, such as, for example, a gold tooth or a shoe
horn; the remedy in this case consists in IMMEDIATELY feeding the child
the proper counter irritant. There is, really, no great mystery
about the successful raising of children and with a few common sense
principles, such as presented above, any mother may relieve herself of a
great deal of useless anxiety. I hope I may be pardoned for a digression
here, but I feel very strongly that "today's babies are tomorrow's
citizens" and I do want to see them brought up in the proper way.

But to return to our train. Perhaps by this time the mother and Elmer
will have returned and you will be relieved of further investigation as
to the cause of the infant's discomfort. A few minutes later, however,
little Elmer will say "Mama, I want the window open." This request will
be duly referred to you via the line of authority. It is then your duty
to assume a firm upright stance, with the weight evenly distributed
on both feet, and work for twelve minutes and thirty-nine seconds in a
terrific struggle to raise the windows. At the end of twelve minutes and
forty seconds you will succeed, the window will slowly go up, and the
train will at once enter a tunnel, filling the car and you with coal
smoke. In the resulting darkness and confusion you should seize little
Elmer, throw him quickly out of the open window and make your escape to
the gentlemen's smoking compartment in the rear of your car.

In the "smoker" you will find three men. The first of these will be
saying "and he told me that a bootlegger he knew had cleaned up a
thousand dollars a week since January." The second will say "Well down
where I come from there's men who never took a drink before prohibition
who get drunk all the time now." The third will say "Well, I tell you,
men--the saloon had to go."

Provision for satisfying the "inner man" is now a regular part of the
equipment of all modern trains, and about 6:30 or 7 you should leave
your companions in the "smoker" and walk through the train until you
reach the "diner." Here you will seat yourself at a table with three
other gentlemen, the first of whom will be remarking, as you sit
down, "and I know for a fact that this bootlegger is making over fifty
thousand dollars a year."


Before the days of modern railroads one could not very well travel over
night but now, thanks to Mr. Pullman, it is possible for the traveller
to go to bed en route and be every bit as snug and comfortable as the
proverbial insect in a rug. Shortly after dinner the porter will "make
up" the berths in the car and when you desire to retire for the night you
should ask him to bring you the ladder in order that you may ascend to
upper 9. While you are waiting you should stand in the aisle and remove
your coat, vest and shoes, and then begin to search for your suitcase
which you will finally locate by crawling on your chin and stomach under
berth number 11. When you again resume an upright position the train
will give a sudden lurch, precipitating you into berth number 12. A
woman's voice will then say "Alice?" to which you should of course
answer "No" and climb quickly up the ladder into your proper berth.

A great deal of "to do" is often made of the difficulty involved in
undressing in an upper berth but most of this is quite uncalled for.
Experienced travellers now generally wait until the lights of the car
have been dimmed or extinguished when the disrobing can be done quite
simply in five counts, as follows: One--unloosen all clothing and lie
flat on the back. The respiration should be natural, easy and through
the lungs. The muscles should be relaxed; Two--pivoting on the back of
the head and neck, inhale quickly, at the same time drawing the
muscles of the legs and arms sharply under the body, as for a spring;
Three--spring suddenly upward and to the right (or left), catching the
bell cord (which extends along the roof of the train) with the teeth,
hands and feet; Four--holding firmly to the cord with the knees,
describe a sudden arc downward with the head and body, returning to
position as soon as the shirt and undershirt have dropped off into
the aisle; Five--taking a firm hold on the cord with the teeth, let go
sharply with the knees. The trousers, etc., should at once slide off,
and you can (and, in fact, should) then swing yourself quickly back into
your berth and pajamas.

Once inside your "bunk" you should drift quickly off to slumberland, and
when you wake up it will be five minutes later and the--------engineer
will be trying to see what he can do with an air brake and a few steel
sleeping cars.

In the morning you will be in New York.


In order to listen to music intelligently--or what is really much
more important--in order to give the appearance of listening to music
intelligently, it is necessary for the novice to master thoroughly two
fundamental facts.

The first, and most important of these, is that the letter "w" in
Russian is pronounced like "v"; the second, that Rachmaninoff has a
daughter at Vassar.

Not very difficult, surely--but it is remarkable how much enjoyment one
can get out of music by the simple use of these two formulas. With a
little practise in their use, the veriest tyro can bewilder her escort
even though she be herself so musically uninformed as to think that the
celeste is only used in connection with Aida, or that a minor triad is
perhaps a young wood nymph.

One other important fundamental is that enthusiasm should never be
expressed for any music written after 1870; by a careful observance of
this rule one will constantly experience that delightful satisfaction
which comes with finding one's opinions shared by the music critics in
the daily press.

{illustration caption = The young lady in the picture has just laid out
a perfect drive. She had, unfortunately, neglected to wait until the
gentleman playing ahead of her had progressed more than fifteen yards
down the fairway, and her ball, traveling at a velocity of 1675 f.s.,
has caught the gentleman squarely in the half-pint bottle. What mistake,
if any, is the gentleman making in chasing her off the course with his
niblick, if we assume that she called "Fore!" when the ball had attained
to within three feet of the gentleman?}

{illustration caption = You will exclaim, no doubt, on looking at the
scene depicted above, "Cherchez la femme." It is, however, nothing
so serious as you will pardonably suppose. The gentleman is merely an
inexperienced "gun" at a shooting-party, who has begun following his
bird before it has risen above the head of his loader. This very clumsy
violation of the etiquette of sport proves, beyond the shadow of a
doubt, that he has learned to shoot from the comic papers, and that his
coat-of-arms can never again be looked upon as anything but bogus.}


The first thing to do on arriving at a symphony concert is to express
the wish that the orchestra will play Beethoven's Fifth. If your
companion then says "Fifth what?" you are safe with him for the rest
of the evening; no metal can touch you. If, however, he says "So do
I"--this is a danger signal and he may require careful handling.

The next step is a glance at the program. If your escort is quite good
looking and worth cultivating, the obvious remark is "Oh dear--not a
very interesting program, to-night. But George--LOOK at what they are
playing next Thursday! My, I wish--." If George shies at this, it can be
tried again later--say during an "appassionato" passage for the violins
and cellos.

As soon as the music starts, all your attention should be directed
toward discovering someone who is making a noise--whispering or
coughing; having once located such a creature, you should immediately
"sh-sh" him. Should he continue the offence, a severe frown must
accompany the next "sh-sh," a lorgnette--if available--adding great
effectiveness to the rebuke. This will win you the gratitude of your
neighbors and serve to establish your position socially, as well as
musically--for perfect "sh-shers" do not come from the lower classes.

At the conclusion of the first number the proper remark is "hmmm,"
accompanied by a slow shake of the head. After this you may use any one
of a number of remarks, as for example, "Well, I suppose Mendelssohn
appeals to a great many people," or "That was meaningless enough to have
been written by a Russian." This latter is to be preferred, for it leads
your companion to say, "But don't you like TschaiKOWsky?", pronouncing
the second syllable as if the composer were a female bull. You can
then reply, "Why, yes, TschaiKOFFsky DID write some rather good
music--although it's all neurotic and obviously Teutonic." Don't fail to
stress the "v."

The next number on the program will probably be the soloist--say, a
coloratura soprano. Your first remark should be that you don't really
care for the human voice--the reason being, of course, that symphonic
Music, ABSOLUTE music, has spoiled you for things like vocal gymnastics.
This leads your bewildered friend to ask you what sort of soloist you

Ans.--Why, a piano concerto, of course.

Ques.--And who is your favorite pianist?

Ans.--Rachmaninoff. And then, before the boy has time to breathe
--SHOOT! "Did you knoow that he has a daughter at Vassar?"

Although not necessary, it might be well to finish off the poor fellow
at the end of the concert with one or two well placed depth bombs. My
own particular favorite for this is the following, accompanied by a low
sigh: "After all--Beethoven IS Beethoven."


The same procedure is recommended for the piano or violin recital, with
the possible addition of certain phrases such as "Yes--of course, she
has technique--but, my dear, so has an electric piano." This remark
gives you a splendid opportunity for sarcasm at the expense of Mr.
Duo-Art and other manufacturers of mere mechanical perfection; the word
"soul"--pronounced with deep feeling, as when repeating a fish order to
a stupid waiter--may be introduced effectively several times.

The program at these recitals is likely to be more complex than that
at a symphony concert. This is a distinct advantage, for it gives you a
splendid opportunity to catch some wretch applauding before the music
is really finished. Nothing is quite comparable to the satisfaction of
smiling knowingly at your neighbors when this faux pas is committed,
unless it be the joy of being the first to applaud at the REAL
conclusion. This latter course, however, is fraught with danger for the
beginner; the chances for errors in judgment are many, and the only sure
way to avoid anachronistic applause is to play the safe game and
refrain altogether from any expression of approval--a procedure which
is heartily recommended for the musically ignorant, it being also the
practise among the majority of the critics.


The opera differs from the symphony concert, or piano recital, in the
same way that the army drill command of "At Ease!" differs from "Rest!"
When one of these orders (I never could remember which is given to a
battalion in formation), it signifies that talking is permitted; opera,
of course, corresponds to that command.

Before the invention of the phonograph it was often necessary for the
opera goer to pay some attention to the performance--at least while
certain favorite arias were being sung; this handicap to the enjoyment
of opera has now fortunately been overcome and one can devote one's
entire attention to other more important things, safe in one's knowledge
that one has Galli-Curci at home on the Vic.

In order really to get the most out of an opera a great deal of study
and preparation is required in advance; I have not space at this time to
cover these preliminaries thoroughly, but would recommend to the earnest
student such supplemental information as can be obtained from Lady
Duff-Gordon, or Messrs. Tiffany, Tecla and Pinaud.

Upon entering one's box the true opera lover at once assumes a musical
attitude; this should be practised at home, by my lady, before a mirror
until she is absolutely sure that the shoulders and back can be seen
from any part of the house. Then, with the aid of a pair of strong opera
glasses, she may proceed to scrutinize carefully the occupants of the
boxes--noting carefully any irregular features. Technical phraseology,
useful in this connection, includes "unearthly creature," "stray
leopard" or, simply, "that person."

Your two magical formulas--the Russian "w" and the sad story about
Rachmaninoff's daughter--may, of course, be held in reserve--but the
chances are that you will be unable to use them, for during an evening
at the opera there will probably be no mention of music.



In spite of the great pride and joy which we Americans feel over the
success of National Prohibition; in spite of the universal popularity of
the act and the method of its enforcement; in spite of the fact that it
is now almost impossible to obtain in any of our ex-saloons anything
in the least resembling whiskey or gin,--there still remains the
distressing suspicion that quite possibly, at some of the dinner
parties and dances of our more socially prominent people, liquor--or its
equivalent--is openly being served. Dry agents have, of course, tried on
several occasions to verify this suspicion; their praiseworthy efforts
have met, for the most part, with scant success.

The main difficulty has been, I believe, that the average dry agent is
too little versed in the customs and manners of polite society. It is
lamentably true that, too often, has a carefully planned society dry
raid been spoiled because the host noticed that one of his guests was
wearing white socks with a black tie, or that the intruder was using his
dessert spoon on the hors d'oeuvres.

The solution of this difficulty lies, of course, in the gradual
procuring of a better class of dry agent. There are signs (though,
unfortunately, in the wrong direction) that some of our younger college
generation are already casting envious eyes toward the rich rewards,
the social opportunities and the exciting life of the professional

It might be well to interest some of these promising youngsters in the
no less exciting occupation of National Prohibition Enforcement Officer.
At present the chief difficulty seems to lie in the fact that, in our
preparatory schools and colleges, a young man acquires a certain code
of honor which causes him to look with distaste on what he calls
pussyfooting and sneaking.

People too often forget that, in order to make effective such a
universally beneficent law, any means are justified. It will be, I hope,
only a matter of years before this distrust of the "sneak" will have
died out, and the Dry Agent will come to be regarded with the
reverence and respect due to one who devotes his life to the altruistic
investigation of his neighbor's affairs.


Then, too, many young college men are deterred from becoming Dry Agents
by thinking of the comparative scantiness of the monetary rewards. This
difficulty is only an imaginary one--for, luckily, as soon as a man's
code of honor has been elevated to the extent that it permits him to
take up a career of pussy-footing there is generally eliminated at the
same time any objection he might have to what is often called bribery.
Thus, by a fortunate combination of circumstances, a Dry Agent is
enabled to serve mankind and, at the same time, greatly increase his own
personal fortune.

But we cannot wait until our college graduates come to regard
pussyfooting as a career. We must do what we can with the material at
our disposal. We must in some way educate our present Dry Agents so
that they can go to any function in polite society and remain as
inconspicuous and as completely disregarded as the host. As a first step
in such a social training I offer the following suggestions, in the hope
that before long no function will be complete without the presence
of four or five correctly dressed National Prohibition Enforcement
Officers, ready and eager to arrest the host and hostess and all the
guests on the slightest provocation.


Let us suppose, for example, that you are a Dry Agent and that your name
is Isador Eisenberg, and, one day, you and your chief are sitting around
the Dry Agent's Club and he says to you, "Izzy--I see by the paper
that there's a swell society masquerade ball to be given by the younger
married set tomorrow night at the Glen Cove Country Club. Take your
squad to cover it." At this point you doubtless say, "Chief, I'm afraid
I can't use my squad. My men have been disguised as trained seals all
this week, and tomorrow night, they are to raid all the actresses'
dressing rooms at the Hippodrome" and then the Chief says, "Well, Izzy,
you'll have to rent a costume and pull off the raid all by yourself."


Your first concern should be, of course, your costume. If you have a
high voice (although really there is no reason for supposing that all
Dry Agents have high voices), you might well attend the masquerade
disguised as a lady. One of the neatest and, on the whole, most
satisfactory of ladies' disguises is that of Cleopatra. Cleopatra, as
you know, was once Queen of Egypt and the costume is quite simple and
attractive. It may be, however, that you would prefer to appear as a
modern rather than an ancient queen. A modern Queen (if one may judge
from the illustrated foreign periodicals) always wears a plain suit
and carries a tightly rolled umbrella. Should you care to attend the
masquerade as an allegorical figure--say "2000 Years of Progress"--you
might wear the Cleopatra costume and carry the umbrella. Or you might
go attired as some other less prominent member of the nobility--for
instance, Lady Dartmouth, whose delightful costume is more or less
featured in the advertising on our better class subways and street cars,
and can be obtained at a comparatively small cost at any reliable dry
goods store.

Should you, however, feel that you would be more at ease in a male
costume, there are several suggestions which might cleverly conceal
your real identity. You might, for example, attend the ball as Jurgen--a
costume which would assure you a pleasurable evening and many pleasing
acquaintances. You might, with equal satisfaction, go as an Indian.

It occurs to me that it might even be a clever move to attend the party
dressed as a Dry Agent. All suspicion would be instantly lost in the
uproar of laughter which would greet your announcement of your disguise;
many men would probably so far enter into the spirit of the joke as to
offer you drinks from their flasks, and much valuable evidence could
be obtained in this way. And the costume is quite easy--simply wear a
pleated soft-bosom dress shirt with your evening dress, and tuck the
ends of your black tie under your collar.

{illustration caption = Packets of old letters, bits of verse, locks
of hair, pressed flowers, inscribed books, photographs, etc., all
make acceptable wedding gifts. By telling you whether they should be
presented to the Bride or to the Groom PERFECT BEHAVIOR has, we feel,
settled the question of future happiness in many a new-made home.}

{illustration caption = You are, let us say, one of the Ushers attending
the Bachelor Dinner. You are handed a bottle of Chateau Lafitte '69.
Can you select, from the diagram above, the proper implement to use in
getting at its contents? The correct methods of choosing and using table
hardware are explained in PERFECT BEHAVIOR.}

{illustration caption = The young couple in the picture are trying
to word a plausible letter of regret in answer to an invitation to a
house-party. Had they consulted their PERFECT BEHAVIOR they would have
known that there is no plausible excuse for not accepting any invitation
whatever, and that the simplest and most dignified, method is to write
the attached model letter.}

{illustration caption = Not realizing his mistake, the Groom stands
waiting for the Bridal Procession, apparently in high spirits and
the best of health. Such an attitude toward a wedding is in the worst
possible taste. PERFECT BEHAVIOR tells all about the correct appearance
and conduct of Bridegrooms.}

{illustration caption = The Best Man has just been introduced to the
Maid of Honor. Instead of waiting for her to extend her hand and make
the acknowledgment, he has turned on his heel and bolted from the room.
This constitutes a social blunder, after the commission of which he
could never again, in polite society, be considered quite a gentleman.
PERFECT BEHAVIOR would have told him how the man of birth and breeding
learns to face anything with perfect "Sang froid."}

{illustration caption = The Groom has just presented his Best Man to
his sister, who, though she is more than eager to make every one feel at
home, has failed to make at once the pun "de rigueur" on the words "best
man." An awkward silence has ensued. What is to be done? Should one of
the gentlemen fill the breach by making the pun for her? If so, which?
PERFECT BEHAVIOR covers the whole subject of making the "best man" pun

{illustration caption = The young man at the right does not know how to
drink. Nevertheless, he has been selected by a friend to act as Best Man
at his wedding and has attended the Bachelor Dinner. Instead of
doing what he should do under the circumstances, he is making himself
conspicuous by remaining coherent while the others sing "Mademoiselle
from Alabam'." Had the Bridegroom provided himself with a copy of
PERFECT BEHAVIOR he would have known better than to have selected him.}


After the costume, you should arrange to obtain a mask and a breath.
The former is, of course, for the purpose of hiding your identity; the
latter is essential at any party where you wish to remain inconspicuous.
A good whisky breath can usually be obtained from a bottle of any of the
better known brands of Scotch or Rye whisky by holding a small quantity
of the liquor in the mouth for a short period of time. It is not, of
course, necessary to swallow the liquor and in this connection I would
suggest that you use only the best grade whisky, for there are at
present being manufactured for domestic consumption several brands
which, if held in the mouth for a longer interval than, say, three
seconds, are apt to eat away the tongue or dissolve several of your more
important teeth.

On the night of the party, therefore, having donned your Dry Agent
costume, having put on your mask, having secured a good breath--you
jump into a taxicab and drive to the Glen Cove Country Club. And, as
you enter the door of the club, some girl, dressed, probably, as Martha
Washington, will run up and kiss you. This is not because she thinks
you are George Washington; it is because she drank that eighth Bronx
cocktail at dinner.

And right at this point is where most Dry Agents have displayed their
ignorance of the usages of polite society, for most of them are wofully
ignorant of the correct way to handle such a situation. Your average Dry
Agent, not being accustomed to the ways of Younger Marrieds, is often
confused upon being unexpectedly kissed, and in his confusion betrays
his unfortunate lack of social training.

The correct way to meet the above situation is based on the fundamental
rule of all social etiquette--common sense. Return the lady's kiss in an
easy, natural manner and pass on. If she follows you, lead her at once
to a quiet unoccupied corner of the club and knock her over the head
with a chair or some other convenient implement. It has been found that
this is the only effective way to deal with this type of woman and it
is really only a kindness to her and her husband to keep her from
embarrassing you with her attentions during the rest of the evening.

After you have removed your coat, you should go to the ball room where
you will find the dance in full swing--full being of course used in its
common or alcoholic sense. Take your place in the stag line and don't,
under any circumstances, allow anyone to induce you to cut in on any of
the dancers. In the first place, you won't be able to dance because Dry
Agents, like Englishmen, never can; secondly, if you TRY to dance, you
are taking the enormous chance, especially at a masquerade, that the man
who introduced you to your partner will disappear for the rest of the
evening, leaving you with Somebody's Albatross hanging around your
neck. And, of all Albatrosses, the married one is perhaps farthest
South--especially if she happens to be a little tight and wants to talk
about her husband and children.

Your policy, therefore, should be one of complete non-partisanship. If
you do not dance, do not let yourself be drawn into conversation, and do
not, above all things, show any consideration for the host or hostess.
By closely observing the actions of the men and women about you, by
wandering down into the club bar, by peeking into the automobiles
parked outside the club, you will probably be able to obtain sufficient
evidence of the presence of alcohol to justify a raid. And then, when
you have raided the Glen Cove Country Club, you can turn your attention
to the 12,635,439 other clubs and private houses where the same thing is
going on. And, if Mr. Volstead has a dress suit, you might take him with
you, and show him just how beautifully Prohibition is working and how
enthusiastic the better classes of American society are about it.


Every Fall a larger number of young girls leave home to come East to
the various Finishing Schools in this section of the country. For the
benefit of those who are making this trip for the first time, we outline
a few of the more important points in connection with the preliminaries
to the trip East, together with minute instructions as to the journey


This is, of course, mainly a parent's problem and is best solved by
resorting to the following formula: Let A and B represent two young
girls' finishing schools in the East. Mrs. Raleigh-Jones (X), from the
West, sends her daughter to A; Mrs. Borax (Y), from the same city, sends
her daughter to B. Upon consulting the local social register, it is
found that Mr. Raleigh-Jones is a member of the Union, Colonial, Town
and Country, and Valley Hunt Clubs; upon consulting the telephone
directory it is found that the Boraxes live at 1217 S. Main Street, and
that Mr. Borax is an undertaker. Shall Mrs. F. B. Gerald (Z) send her
daughter Annette to A or to B, and why?

Answer: A, because life is real, life is earnest, and the grave is not
its goal.


Having selected an educational institution, the next requisite is a
suitable equipment. Girls who live in other parts of the United States
are often surprised to discover that the clothes which they have
purchased at the best store in their home town are totally unsuited
for the rough climate of the East. I would, therefore, recommend the
following list, subject, of course, to variation in individual cases.

     1 Dress, chine, crepe de, pink, for dancing.
     1 Dress, chine, crepe de, pink, for petting.
     1 Dress, Swiss, Dotted, blue, or
     1 Dress, Swiss, undotted, white.
     15 yards Tulle, best quality, pink.
     4 bottles perfume, domestic, or
     1 bottle, perfume, French.
     12 Dozen Dorine, men's pocket size.
     6 Soles, cami, assorted.
     1 Brassiere, or riding habit.
     100 boxes aspirin, for dances and house-parties.
     1 wave, permanent, for conversation.
     24 waves, temporary.
     10,000 nets, hair.
     100,000 pins, hair.
     1 bottle Quelques Fleurs, for knockout.


After the purchase of a complete outfit, it will be necessary to say
goodbye to one's local friends. Partings are always somewhat sad, but
it will be found that much simple pleasure may be derived from the last
nights with the various boys to whom one is engaged.

In this connection, however, it would be well to avoid making any rash
statements regarding undying friendship and affection, because, when you
next see Eddie or Walter, at Christmas time, you will have been three
months in the East, while they have been at the State University, and
really, after one starts dancing with Yale men--well, it's a funny

In case you do not happen to meet any friends on the train, the surest
way to protect yourself from any unwelcome advances is to buy a copy of
the Atlantic Monthly and carry it, in plain view. Next to a hare lip,
this is the safest protection for a travelling young girl that I know
of; it has, however, the one objection that all the old ladies on the
train are likely to tell you what they think of Katherine Fullerton
Gerould, or their rheumatism.

If you are compelled to go to the dining car alone, you will probably
sit beside an Elk with white socks, who will call the waiter "George."
Along about the second course he will say to you, "It's warm for
September, isn't it?" to which you should answer "No." That will dispose
of the Elk.

Across the table from you will be a Grand Army man and his wife, going
to visit their boy Elmer's wife's folks in Schenectady. When the fish is
served, the Grand Army man will choke on a bone. Let him choke, but do
not be too hopeful, as the chances are that he will dislodge the bone.
All will go well until the dessert, when his wife will begin telling how
raspberry sherbet always disagrees with her. Offer her your raspberry

After dinner you may wish to read for a while, but the porter will
probably have made up all the berths for the night. It will also be
found that the light in your berth does not work, so you will be awake
for a long time; finally, just as you are leaving Buffalo, you will at
last get to sleep, and when you open your eyes again, you will be--in

There will be two more awakenings that night--once at Batavia, where a
merry wedding party with horns and cow bells will follow the lucky bride
and groom into your car, and once at Schenectady, where the Pullman car
shock-absorbing tests are held. The next morning, tired but unhappy, you
will reach New York.


The Aquarium. Take Fifth Avenue Bus to Times Square. Transfer to 42nd
Street Crosstown. Get off at 44th Street, and walk one block south to
the Biltmore. The most interesting fish will be found underneath the
hanging clock, near the telephone booths.

Grant's Tomb. Take Fifth Avenue bus, and a light lunch. Change at
Washington Square to a blue serge or dotted Swiss. Ride to the end of
the line, and walk three blocks east. Then return the same way you came,
followed by three fast sets of tennis, a light supper and early to bed.
If you do not feel better in the morning, cut out milk, fresh fruit and
uncooked foods for a while.

Metropolitan Museum of Art. Take Subway to Brooklyn. (Flatbush.) Then
ask the subway guard where to go; he will tell you.

The Bronx. Take three oranges, a lemon, three of gin, to one of
vermouth, with a dash of bitters. Serve cold.

The Ritz. Take taxicab and fifty dollars. If you have only fifty dollars
the filet of sole Marguery is very good.

Brooklyn Bridge. Terrible. And their auction is worse.

When you have visited all these places, it will probably be time to take
the train to your school.


The first week of school life is apt to be quite discouraging, and we
can not too emphatically warn the young girl not to do anything rash
under the influence of homesickness. It is in this initial period that
many girls, feeling utterly alone and friendless, write those letters to
boys back home which are later so difficult to pass off with a laugh.
It is during this first attack of homesickness also that many girls,
in their loneliness, recklessly accept the friendship of other strange
girls, only to find out later that their new acquaintance's mother was a
Miss Gundlefinger of Council Bluffs, or that she lives on the south side
of Chicago. We advise: Go slow at first.


In your first day at school you will be shown your room; in your room
you will find a sad-eyed fat girl. You will be told that this will be
your room mate for the year. You will find that you have drawn a blank,
that she comes from Topeka, Kan., that her paw made his money in oil,
and that she is religious. You will be nice to her for the first week,
because you aren't taking any chances at the start; you will tolerate
her for the rest of the year, because she will do your lessons for you
every night.

Across the hall from you there will be two older girls who are back for
their second year. One of them will remind you of the angel painted on
the ceiling of the Victory Theatre back home, until she starts telling
about her summer at Narragansett; from the other you will learn how to


About the middle of the first term your cousin Charley Waldron, that
freshman at Princeton, will write and say that he would like to come
up and see you. You go to Miss French and ask her if you can have your
cousin visit you. She sniffs at the "cousin" and tell's you that she
must have a letter from Charley's father, one from Charley's minister,
one from the governor of your state, and one from some disinterested
party certifying that Charley has never been in the penitentiary, has
never committed arson, and is a legitimate child. After you have secured
these letters, Miss French will tell you that Charley will be allowed to
see you next Saturday from four till five.

Charley will come and will be ushered into the reception room. While he
is sitting there alone, the entire school will walk slowly, one by
one, past the open door and look in at him. This will cause Charley to
perspire freely and to wish to God he had worn his dark suit.

It is not at all likely that you will be allowed to go to New Haven
during your first year, which is quite a pity, as this city, founded in
1638, is rich in historical interest. It was here, for example, in 1893,
that Yale defeated Harvard at football, and the historic Pigskin which
was used that day is still preserved intact. Many other quaint relics
are to be seen in and around the city of elms, mementos of the past
which bring to the younger generation a knowledge and respect for things
gone. In the month of June, for example, there is really nothing
which quite conjures up for the college youth of today a sense of the
mutability and impermanence of this mortal life so much as the sight of
a member of the class of 1875 after three days' intensive drinking. Eheu

{illustration caption = "Who shall write first?" is a question that
has perplexed many a lady or gentleman who is anxious to do the correct
thing under any circumstances. A lady who has left town may send a brief
note or a "P. P. C." ("pour prendre conge," i.e., "to take leave") card
to a gentleman who remains at home, if the gentleman is her husband and
if she has left town with his business partner. Neither the note nor the
card requires an acknowledgment, but many a husband takes pleasure in
penning his congratulations to the lady, concluding with an expression
of gratitude to his friend.}



"Golf" (from an old Scottish word meaning "golf") is becoming
increasingly popular in the United States, and almost every city now
has at least one private club devoted to the pursuit of this stylish
pastime. Indeed, in many of our larger metropolises, the popular
enthusiasm has reached such heights that free "public" courses have been
provided for the citizens with, I may say, somewhat laughable results,
as witness the fact that I myself have often seen persons playing on
these "public" courses in ordinary shirts and trousers, tennis shoes,

The influence of this "democratization" on the etiquette of what was
once an exclusive sport has been, in many instances, deplorable, and
I am sure that our golf-playing forefathers would turn over in their
graves were they to "play around" today on one of the "public" courses.
In no pastime are the customs and unwritten laws more clearly defined,
and it is essential that the young lady or gentleman of fashion who
contemplates an afternoon on the "links" devote considerable time and
attention to the various niceties of the etiquette of this ancient and
honorable game.

A young man, for example, when playing with his employer, should
always take pains to let his employer win. This is sometimes extremely
difficult, but with practice even the most stubborn of obstacles can
be overcome. On the first tee, for instance, after the employer, having
swung and missed the ball completely one or two times, has managed to
drive a distance of some forty-nine yards to the extreme right, the
young man should take care to miss the ball completely THREE times, and
then drive forty-eight yards to the extreme left. This is generally
done by closing the eyes tightly and rising up sharply on both toes just
before hitting the ball.

On the "greens" it is customary for a young man to "concede" his
employer every "putt" which is within twenty feet of the hole. If the
employer insists on "putting" [Ed. note:--He won't] and misses, the
young man should take care to miss his own "putt." After both have
"holed out," the young man should ask, "how many strokes, sir?" The
employer will reply, "Let me see--I think I took seven for this hole,
didn't I?" A well-bred young man will not under any circumstances remind
his employer that he saw him use at least three strokes for the drive,
three strokes for his second shot, four strokes in the "rough," seven
strokes in the "bunker," and three "putts" on the "green," but will
at once reply, "No, sir, I think you only took six, altogether." The
employer will then say, "Well, well, call it six. I generally get
five on this hole. What did you take?" The young man should then laugh
cheerily and reply, "Oh, I took my customary seven." To which the
employer will sympathetically say, "Too bad!"

After the employer has thus won his first three holes he will begin to
offer the young man advice on how to improve his game. This is perhaps
the most trying part of the afternoon's sport, but a young man of
correct breeding and good taste will always remember the respect due an
older man, and will not make the vulgar error of telling his employer
for God's sake shut up before he gets a brassie in his-------- ear.

A wife playing with her husband should do everything in her power to
make the game enjoyable for the latter. She should encourage him, when
possible, with little cheering proverbs, such as, "If at first you don't
succeed, try, try again," and she should aid him with her advice when
she thinks he is in need of it. Thus, when he drives into the sycamore
tree on number eleven, she should say, "Don't you think, dear, that if
you aimed a little bit more to the right...." et cetera. When they come
to number fourteen, and his second shot lands in the middle of the lake,
she should remark, "Perhaps you didn't hit it hard enough, dear." And
when, on the eighteenth, his approach goes through the second-story
window of the club-house, she should say, "Dear, I wonder if you didn't
hit that too hard?" Such a wife is a true helpmate, and not merely a
pretty ornament on which a silly husband can hang expensive clothes,
and if he is the right sort of man, he will appreciate this, and refrain
from striking her with a niblick after this last remark.

A young wife who does not play the game herself can, nevertheless, be
of great help to her husband by listening patiently, night after night,
while he tells her how he drove the green on number three, and took a
four on number eight (Par five), and came up to the fourteenth one under
fours. Caddies should be treated at all times with the respect and
pity due one's fellow creatures who are "unfortunate." The sins of the
fathers are visited upon the children, and one should always remember
that it is not, after all, the poor caddy's fault that he was born


"Craps" is a game played with dice, which is often popular in the men's
coat and smoking-rooms before and during formal receptions, balls,
recitals, etcetera. It should not be imagined, however, that "craps" is
a sport for men only; on the contrary, smart women are enthusiastically
taking up this sport in numerous localities, and many an affair which
started as a dinner party or a musicale has ended in a crap game, with
all the guests seated in an excited circle on the floor, contributing to
the host's efforts to make expenses for the evening.

It is in connection with these "mixed" games, however, that most of the
more serious questions of "craps" etiquette arise. If, for example, you
are a young man desirous of "shooting craps" with your grandmother, the
correct way of indicating your desire when you meet the old lady in a
public place is for you to remove your hat deferentially and say "Shoot
a nickel, Grandmother?" If she wishes to play she will reply "Shoot,
boy!" and you should then select some spot suitable for the game and
assist her, if she wishes your aid, to kneel on the ground. It might be
an added mark of gentility to offer her your handkerchief or coat upon
which to rest her knees.

You should then take out the dice and "shoot." Your grandmother will
look at your "throw" and say, "Oh, boy! He fives--he fives--a three and
a two--never make a five--come on, you baby seven!" You should then
take up the dice again and shake them in your right hand while your
grandmother chants, "A four and a three--a four and a two--dicety
dice, and an old black joe--come on, you SEVEN!" You should then again
"shoot." This time, as you have thrown a six and a one, your grandmother
will then exclaim, "He sevens--the boy sevens--come on to grandmother,
dice--talk to the nice old lady--Phoebe for grandma, dice, for grandpa
needs a new pair of shoes--shoot a dime!"

She will then "throw," and so the game will go on until the old lady
evidences a desire to stop, or, possibly, until either you or she are
"cleaned out." In this latter case, however, it would be a customary
act of courtesy towards an older person for you to offer to shoot your
grandmother for her shawl or her side combs, thus giving her several
more chances to win back the money she has lost. It should be
recommended that young men never make a mistake in going a little out of
their way on occasion to make life more pleasant and agreeable for the


There often comes a time in the life of the members of "society" when
they grow a little weary of the ceaseless round of teas, balls and
dinners, and for such I would not hesitate to recommend a "picnic."

A day spent in the "open," with the blue sky over one's head, is indeed
a splendid tonic for jaded nerves. But one should not make the mistake
of thinking that because he (or she) is "roughing it" for a day, he (or
she) can therefore leave behind his (or her) "manners," for such is not
the case. There is a distinct etiquette for picnics, and any one who
disregards this fact is apt to find to his (or her) sorrow that the
"shoe" in this case is decidedly "on the other foot."

A young man, for example, is often asked by a young lady to accompany
her on a "family picnic." To this invitation he should, after some
consideration, reply either "Yes" or "No," and if the former, he should
present himself at the young lady's house promptly on the day set for
the affair (usually Sunday).

A "family picnic" generally consists of a Buick, a father, a mother, a
daughter, a small son, beef loaf, lettuce sandwiches, a young man (you),
two blow-outs, one spare tire, and Aunt Florence.

The father drives with his small boy beside him; in the rear are the
mother, the daughter, Aunt Florence, the thermos bottles, the lunch
baskets and you. As you take your seat you must remember that it is
a distinct evidence of bad breeding to show in any way that you are
conscious of the fact that the car has been standing for the last hour
and forty-four minutes in the hot July sun.

"We're off!" cries father, pressing his foot on the self-starting pedal.
Thirty minutes later you roll away from the curb and the picnic has
begun. The intervening time has, of course, been profitably spent by you
in walking to the nearest garage for two new sparkplugs.

It should be your duty, as guest, to see that the conversation in the
rear seat is not allowed to lag. "It's a great day," you remark, as the
car speeds along. "I think it's going to rain," replies Aunt Florence.
"Not too fast, Will!" says mother. "Mother!" says the daughter.

Ten minutes later you should again remark, "My, what a wonderful day!"
"Those clouds are gathering in the west," says Aunt Florence, "I think
we had better put the top up." "I think this is the wrong road," says

"Dear, I know what I'm doing," replies father.

The secret of good conversation lies in discovering the "hobby" of the
person with whom one is conversing, and a good talker always throws out
several "feelers" in order to find out the things in which his partner
is most interested. You should, therefore, next say to mother, "Don't
you think this is a glorious day for a picnic?" to which she will reply,
"Well, I'm sure this is the wrong road. Hadn't you better ask?" The
husband will answer nothing, but Aunt Florence will murmur, "I think I
felt a drop of rain, Will. If you don't put the top up now, we'll all be

The husband will then stop the car, and you and he will proceed to put
up the top. In doing this, it is customary for the guest to get the
second and third fingers of his right hand so severely pinched that he
can not use the hand for several days. As soon as the top is up and the
rain curtains are in place the sun will come out and you can at once get
out and put the top down, taking care this time to ruin two fingers of
the LEFT hand.

No good conversationalist confines himself exclusively to one subject,
and when you are once more "under way" you should remark to the mother,
"I think that motoring is great fun, don't you, Mrs. Caldwell?" Her
answer will be, "I wish you wouldn't drive so fast!" You should then
smile and say to Aunt Florence, "Don't YOU think that motoring is great
fun, Mrs. Lockwood?" As she is about to reply, the left rear tire will
blow out with a loud noise and the car will come to a bumping stop.

The etiquette of changing a tire is fairly simple. As soon as the
"puncture" occurs one should at once remark, "Is there anything I can
do?" This request should be repeated from time to time, always taking
care, however, that no one takes it at all seriously. The real duty of a
young man who is a "guest" on a motor trip on which a "blow-out" occurs
is, of course, to keep the ladies of the party amused during the delay.
This can be accomplished by any of the conventional methods, such as
card tricks, handsprings, and other feats of athletic agility, or making
funny jokes about the host who is at work on the tire.

When the damage has been repaired and the car is once more speeding
along, leaving behind it mile after mile of dusty road as well as
father's best "jack" and set of tire tools, the small boy will suddenly
remark, "I'm hungry." His father will then reply, "We'll be at a fine
place to eat in ten minutes." Thirty minutes later mother will remark,
"Will, that looks like a good place for a picnic over there." The father
will reply, "No--we're coming to a wonderful place--just trust me,
Mary!" Twenty minutes later Aunt Florence will say, "Will, I think that
grove over there would be fine for our lunch," to which the husband
will reply, "We're almost at the place I know about--it's ideal for a
picnic." Forty minutes after this, father will stop the car and point
to a clump of trees. "There," he will say, "what do you think of that?"
"Oh, we can't eat THERE!" will be the answer of mother, daughter and
Aunt Florence. "Drive on a bit further--I think I know a place."

Three hours and thirty minutes later (i. e. four hours past your normal
lunch hour) there will be another puncture and as the car stops beside a
wheat field it will begin to rain, and the daughter will sigh, "Well, we
might as well eat here." The "picnic" will then be held in the car, and
nothing really quite carries one back to nature and primeval man as does
warm lemonade and a lettuce sandwich in a Buick with the top up and side
curtains on.

After lunch it will be time to return home, and after you and father
have ruined your clothes in repairing the punctures, the merry party
will proceed on its way. The next morning, if you have not caught
pneumonia, you will be able to go to your work greatly refreshed by your
day's outing in the lap of old Mother Nature.

{illustration caption = Nowhere is the etiquette of travel more abused
than our subways. The gentleman shown above is en route to his fiancee's
flat in the Bronx. He has neglected to purchase the customary bouquet
for his intended and has offered his seat to the lady, who is standing,
in exchange for her corsage bouquet. Should she accept the proposition
without further ado, or should she request the guard to introduce the
gentleman first?}

{illustration caption = The young lady has received an invitation to a
quilting-bee from a Mrs. Steenwyck and, anxious to make a correct reply,
she has bought a Complete Letter Writer to aid her to this end. To her
surprise and dismay, she finds that it contains three model replies to
such an invitation beginning "Dear Mrs. Peartree," "Dear Mrs. Rombouts,"
and "Dear Mrs. Bevy," and one invitation to a christening beginning,
"Dear Mrs. Steenwyck," but no reply to an invitation to a quilting-bee
beginning "Dear Mrs. Steenwyck." PERFECT BEHAVIOR settles such

{illustration caption = Crests or other armorial bearings on notepaper
are no longer considered absolutely necessary to establish one's social
position. Nevertheless, if one feels that note-paper that does not bear
the family escutcheon is not quite all that note-paper should be, it
is permissible to have it stamped neatly at the top of the first sheet.
Care should be exercised to avoid selecting coats-of-arms that might be
recognized, such as that of the United States or Great Britain. Rather
solicit the taste of a good stationer than commit the blunders depicted


Although many of America's foremost boxers have been persons whom one
would not care to know socially, yet much fun and pleasure can be had
out of the "manly art" if practised in a gentlemanly manner.

"Boxing parties" are generally held in the evening. The ballroom of
one's home can be pleasantly decorated for the occasion, with a square
ring roped off in the centre surrounded by seats for the ladies and
gentlemen who come as invited guests. Evening dress is usually worn.

The contests should be between various members of one's social "set"
who are fond of the sport and can be counted on to remember at all times
that they are gentlemen.

The matches should be arranged in tournament form, so that the winner of
one bout meets the winner of the next bout, et cetera, until all but
two have been eliminated. The boxer who wins this final contest shall be
proclaimed the "champion."

Great fun can then be had by announcing that the "champion" will be
permitted to box three rounds with a "masked marvel." The identity
of this "unknown" (who is usually Jack Dempsey or some other noted
professional pugilist) should be kept carefully secret, so that all the
guests are in a glow of mystified excitement when the contest begins,
and you can imagine their delight and happy enthusiasm when the "masked
marvel" cleverly knocks the "champion" for a double loop through the
ropes into the lap of some tittering "dowager."

Refreshments should then be served and the "champion" can be carried
home in a car or ambulance provided by the thoughtful host.


"Bridge whist," or "Bridge," as it is often called by the younger
generation, is rapidly replacing whist as the favorite card game of good
society, and "bridge" parties are much en vogue for both afternoon and
evening entertainments. In order to become an expert "bridge" player
one must, of course, spend many months and even years in a study of the
game, but any gentleman or lady of average intelligence can, I believe,
pick up the fundamentals of "bridge" in a short while.

Let us suppose, for example, that you, as a "young man about town," are
invited to play "bridge" on the evening of Friday, November seventeenth,
at the home of Mrs. Franklin Gregory. Now, although you may have played
the game only once or twice in your life, it would never do to admit the
fact, for in good society one is supposed to play "bridge" just as one
is supposed to hate newspaper publicity, and on the evening of Friday,
November seventeenth, you should present yourself in suitable attire at
Mrs. Gregory's home.

There you will find fifteen or twenty other guests, and after a few
minutes of light social banter a bell will ring and the players will
take their places. At your table will be Mrs. F. Jamison Dollings (your
partner) and Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Watts. Mrs. Dollings (Sept. 6, 1880)
is considered one of the most expert "bridge" players in the city, while
Mr. Watts has one of the largest retail clothing stores in the central
part of the State. Mrs. Watts was one of the Van Cortlandt girls (the
plain one).

As you are probably (next to Mr. and Mrs. Watts) the worst "bridge"
player in the room it should be your duty to make up for this deficiency
by keeping the other three players conversationally stimulated, for
nothing so enlivens a game of "bridge" as a young man or woman with
a pleasing personality and a gift for "small talk." Thus, at the very
beginning, after you have finished dealing the cards, you should fill in
what seems to you an embarrassing pause by telling one of your cleverest
stories, at the conclusion of which Mrs. Dollings will remark, "We are
waiting for your bid, Mr. S----."

The etiquette of "bidding," as far as you are concerned, should resolve
itself into a consistent effort on your part to become "dummy" for each
and every game. The minute your partner (Mrs. Dollings) bids anything,
it should be your duty as a gentleman to see that she gets it, no matter
what the cost.

Thus, on the first hand, you "pass." Mr. Watts then says, "Wait a
minute, till I get these cards fixed"; to which Mrs. Watts replies,
"Theodore, for Heaven's sake, how long do you want?" Mr. Watts then
says, "Which is higher--clubs or hearts?" to which Mrs. Watts replies,
"Clubs." Mrs. Dollings then says, "I beg your pardon, but hearts have
always been considered higher than clubs." Mrs. Watts says, "Oh, yes,
of course," and gives Mr. Watts a mean look. Mr. Watts then says, "I
bid--let's see--I bid two spades--no, two diamonds." Mrs. Dollings
quickly says, "Two lilies," Mr. Watts says, "What's a lily?" to which
Mrs. Watts replies, "Theodore!" and then bids "Two spades," at which
Mrs. Dollings says, "I beg your pardon, but I have just bid two spades."
Mr. Watts then chuckles, and Mrs. Watts says (but not to Mr. Watts),
"I beg your pardon." Mrs. Watts then bids "Three spades," at which you
quickly say, "Four spades."

This bid is not "raised." Mrs. Dollings then says to you, "I am counting
on your spades to help me out," at which you look at the only spade in
your hand (the three) and answer, "Ha! Ha! Ha!" There is then a wait
of four minutes, at the end of which Mrs. Dollings wearily says, "It is
your first lead, is it not, Mrs. Watts?" Mrs. Watts then blushes, says,
"Oh, I beg your pardon!" and leads the four of hearts. You then lay down
your "dummy" hand. Before Mrs. Dollings has had time to discover just
what you have done to her, you should rise quickly and say, "Excuse me,
but I want to use the telephone a minute." You should then go into the
next room and wait ten or fifteen minutes. When you return Mrs. Dollings
will have disappeared, Mrs. Watts will be looking fixedly at Mr. Watts,
and Mr. Watts will be saying, "Well, it's a silly game, anyway."

You and Mr. and Mrs. Watts can then have a nice game of twenty-five cent
limit stud poker for the rest of the evening, and it would certainly be
considered a thoughtful and gracious "gesture" if, during the next two
or three weeks, you should call occasionally at the hospital to see how
Mrs. Dollings is "getting on," or you might even send some flowers or a
nice potted plant.


"Drinking" has, of course, always been a popular sport among the members
of the better classes of society, but never has the enthusiasm for this
pastime been so great in America as since the advent of "prohibition."
Gentlemen and ladies who never before cared much for "drinking" have now
given up almost all other amusements in favor of this fascinating sport;
young men and debutantes have become, in the last few years, fully
as expert in the game as their parents. In many cities "drinking" has
become more popular than "bridge" or dancing and it is predicted that,
with a few more years of "prohibition," "drinking" will supersede golf
and baseball as the great American pastime.

The effect of this has been to change radically many of the fundamental
rules of the sport, and the influence on the etiquette of the game has
been no less marked. What was considered "good form" in this pastime
among our forefathers now decidedly demode, and the correct drinker
of 1910 is as obsolete and out of date in the present decade as the

The game today is divided into (a) formal and (b) informal drinking.
"Formal drinking" is usually played after dinner and is more and more
coming to take the place of charades, sleight-of-hand performances,
magic lantern shows, "dumb crambo," et cetera, as the parlor amusement
par excellence. "Formal drinking" can be played by from one to fifteen
people in a house of ordinary dimensions; for a larger number it is
generally better to provide a garage, a large yard, and special police,
fire and plate glass insurance. The game is played with glasses, ice,
and a dozen bottles of either whisky or gin.

The sport is begun by the host's wife, who says, "How would you all like
to play a little bridge?" This is followed by silence. Another wife then
says, "I think it would be awfully nice to play a little bridge." One of
the men players then steps forward and says "I think it would be awfully
nice to have a little drink."

An "It" is then selected--always, by courtesy, the host. The "It" then
says, "How would you all like to have a little drink?" The men players
then answer in the affirmative and the "It's" wife says, "Now Henry
dear, please--remember what happened last time." The "It" replies, "Yes,
dear," and goes into the cellar, while the "It's" wife, after providing
each guest with a glass, puts away the Dresden china clock, the
porcelain parrot. and the gold fish globe.

Sides are chosen--usually with the husbands on one "team" and the wives
on the other. The purpose of the game is for the "husbands', team" to
try to drink up all the "It's" liquor before the "wives' team" can get
them to go home.

When the "It" returns with the liquor he pours out a portion for each
player and at a given signal all drink steadily for several minutes. The
"It's" wife then says, "Now--how about a few rubbers of bridge?" She is
immediately elected "team captain" for the rest of the evening. It is
the duty of the "team captain" to provide cracked ice and water, to get
ready the two spare bedrooms, to hold Wallie Spencer's hand, to keep
Eddie Armstrong from putting his lighted cigaret ends on the piano, and
to break up the party as soon as possible. The game generally ends when
(1) the liquor is all gone, (2) the "It" (or three guests) have passed
"out," (3) Wallie Spencer starts telling about his war experiences.
"Informal" drinking needs, of course, no such elaborate preparations
and can be played anywhere and any time there is anything to drink. The
person who is caught with the liquor is "It," and the object of the game
is to take all the liquor away from the "It" as soon as possible. In
order to avoid being "It," many players sometimes resort to various low
subterfuges, such as sneaking down alone to the club locker-room
during a dance, but this practise is generally looked upon with great
disfavor--especially by that increasingly large group of citizens who
are unselfishly devoting their lives to the cause of a "dry America" by
consuming all of the present rapidly diminishing visible supply.


The problem of providing suitable entertainment for one's informal
parties is something which has perplexed many a host and hostess in
recent years. How often has it happened that just when you had gotten
your guests nicely seated around the parlor listening to the Caruso
record, some ill-mannered fellow would remark, "Oh, Lord--let's go over
to the Tom Phillips' and get something to drink." How many times in the
past have you prepared original little "get-together" games, such as
Carol Kennicott did in Main Street, only to find that, when you again
turned the lights on, half the company had disappeared for the evening.

Of course we cannot all be as startlingly clever as Carol, but
Hallowe'en, which comes this year on October 31st, offers a splendid
opportunity for originality and "peppy" fun. The following suggestions
are presented to ambitious hostesses with the absolute guaranty that no
matter what other reactions her guests may have, they will certainly not
be bored.

{illustration caption = Few people realize the value of picture
post-cards as indicators of the birth, breeding, and character of the
sender, yet nothing so definitely "places" a person socially as his
choice of these souvenirs. Could you have selected the senders of the
above cards?}

{illustration caption = In spite of his haughty airs and fine clothes,
the gentleman betrays that he is not much accustomed to good society
when, having been asked by his hostess if he would care to remove his
coat and waistcoat during the warm evening of bridge, he, in doing so,
reveals the presence of several useful cards hidden about his person.
This sort of thing, while often tolerated at less formal "stag"
poker-parties, is seldom, ever, permissible when ladies are present. The
young man was simply ignorant of the fact that Hoyle and not Herman the
Great is the generally accepted authority on cards in the "beau monde."}


The whole spirit of Hallowe'en is, of course, one of "spooky" gayety and
light-hearted ghastliness. Witches and ghosts run riot; corpses dance
and black cats howl. "More work for the undertaker" should be the
leitmotif of the evening's fun.

The moribund spirit can be delightfully observed, first of all, in the
preparation of the invitations. I know of one hostess, for instance, who
gained a great reputation for originality by enclosing a dead fish with
each bidding to the evening's gayeties. It is, of course, not at all
necessary to follow her example to the letter; the enclosure of anything
dead will suffice, providing, of course, that it is not TOO dead. There
is such a thing as carrying a joke beyond the limits of propriety, and
the canons of good taste should always be respectfully observed.

Another amusing way of preparing invitations is to cut out colored paper
in the shape of cats, witches, etc., upon which appropriate verses are
inscribed. Such as:

 "Next Monday night is Hallowe'en,
 You big stiff."
 "On Monday next comes All-Hallows-Even,
 My grandmother's maiden name was Stephens."
 "On Hallowe'en you may see a witch
 If you don't look out, you funny fellow."
 "Harry and I are giving a Hallowe'en party;
 Harry says you owe him four dollars; please be
 "Monday night the ghosts do dance;
 Why didn't you enlist and go to France,
 You slacker?"

Another novel invitation is made by cutting a piece of yellow paper
thirteen inches long and four inches wide, and writing on each inch one
of the lines given below. Then begin at the bottom and fold the paper
up, inch by inch. Fasten the last turn down with a "spooky" gummed
sticker, and slip into a small envelope. When the recipient unfolds the
invitation, he will be surprised to read the following:

 Now what on earth
 do you suppose
 is in this
 little folder
 keep turning
 ha ha ha
 ha ha ha
 ha ha ha,
 ha ha ha

It would perhaps be best to telephone the next day to those guests whom
you really want, and give them further details as to the date and time
of the party. Additional fun can be gotten out of this invitation by
failing to put postage stamps on the envelopes when you mail them;
the two cents which each guest will have to pay for postage due can be
returned in a novel manner on the night of the party by inserting them
in sandwiches or stuffed tomatoes.

For those who may wish to send out more elaborate invitations, the
following distinctly original plan is suggested: Procure a number
of small alarm clocks and a quantity of nitroglycerine or other high
explosive. Insert in each clock a small amount of the nitroglycerine,
being careful not to put too much; a quantity sufficient to wreck a room
20 X 30 Will generally suffice. Then arrange the alarm mechanism so that
the explosion will occur at 12 midnight. Attach to the clock a card,
neatly decorated with witches, goblins, etc., on which is written

 "Midnight is the mystic hour
 Of yawning graves and coffins dour.
 Beneath your bed this clock please hide
 And when it strikes---you'll be surprised."

These clocks should then be delivered in the afternoon to those of the
guests whom you are merely inviting because they are your husband's
business associates, or because they were nice to your mother when she
did her own work. Later on, in order to avoid hard feelings on the part
of relatives and friends of the deceased, it might be well to explain to
them that you sent the clocks only in the spirit of Hallowe'en fun; it
might even help to invite them to one of your next parties.


On Hallowe'en night great care should be taken in the preparations for
receiving the guests in a mystic manner; no pains should be spared in
the effort to start the evening off with a "bang."

Several novel ideas are offered for starting the guests off on the
right informal spirit. Before they arrive, it is a good plan to take
the street number off your house and fasten it to the porch of your
next door neighbors, who will, of course, be at home because they
are perfectly impossible people whom no one would invite anywhere.
Extinguish all the lights in your own house; your neighbor, as he comes
downstairs twenty-five or thirty times in the next hour, will obligingly
tell your bewildered friends specifically where to go.

When the guest finally learns from the neighborhood policeman which
house on the block is really yours he will discover on your door a sign

 "If you would be my Valentine,
 Follow please the bright green line."

Leading from the door is a green cord which the mystified guest proceeds
to follow, according to directions. This cord should guide the way to
the coal cellar of your other neighbor who has recently purchased an
automatic revolver under the delusion that burglars are operating in the
neighborhood. As your bewildered guest gropes his way about the cellar,
it is quite likely that he will be shot at several times and by the time
he emerges (if he does emerge) he will be quite delightfully full of the
informal spirit of Hallowe'en and ready for anything.


At this point, your wife, dressed as a witch, should unexpectedly rush
out at him; there is always the delightful possibility that he will pick
up a convenient rock and brain her on the spot--an event which often
adds an unexpected touch of gayety to the evening's fun. If, however,
no such event occurs, the guest should be blindfolded and led into the
house. Once inside he is conducted upstairs to the attic, where he will
find three or four earlier arrivals also blindfolded.

The hands and feet of these four are then securely tied and they are
told that they are to be left there all evening. This is really a great
joke, because they do not, of course, at the time, believe what you say,
and when you come up to untie them the next morning, their shame-faced
discomposure is truly laughable.

The green-cord-into-neighbor's-coal-cellar joke can be cleverly varied
by taking the lid off your cistern and making the green line lead in
that direction. Great care should be taken, however, to keep an exact
account of the number of guests who succumb to this trick, for although
an unexpected "ducking" is excruciatingly humorous, drowning often
results fatally.

Great fun can be added to the evening's entertainment by dressing
several of the guests as ghosts, witches, corpses, etc; these costumes
can be quite simply and economically made in the home, or can be
procured from some reliable department store.

An "old-fashioned" witch's costume consists of a union suit (Munsing or
any other standard brand), corset, brassiere, chemise, underpetticoat,
overpetticoat, long black skirt, long black stockings, shoes, black
waist and shawl, with a pointed witch's hat and a broomstick. The
"modern" witch's costume is much simpler and inexpensive in many

A particularly novel and "hair raising" effect may be produced by
painting the entire body of one of the male guests with phosphorus. As
this glowing nude stalks uncannily through the darkened rooms you may
easily imagine the ghastly effect--especially upon his wife.


After the guests have sufficiently amused themselves with the ghosts
and witches it will be time to commence some of the many games which are
always associated with Hallowe'en. "Bobbing for apples" is, of course,
the most common of these games and great sport it is, too, to watch the
awkward efforts of the guests as they try to pick up with their teeth
the apples floating in a large tub. I know of one hostess who added
greatly to the evening's fun by pouring twelve quarts of gin into the
tub; the effect on the bobbers was, of course, extremely comical, except
for the unfortunate conduct of two gentlemen, one of whom went to sleep
in the tub, the other so far forgetting himself as playfully to throw
all the floating fruit at the hostess' pet Pomeranian.

Most Hallowe'en games concern themselves with delving into the future in
the hopes that one may there discover one's husband or bride-to-be.
In one of these games the men stand at one end of the room, facing the
girls, with their hands behind their backs and eyes tightly closed. The
girls are blindfolded and one by one they are led to within six feet of
the expectant men and given a soft pin cushion which they hurl forward.
The tradition is that whichever man the girl hits, him will she marry.
Great fun can be added to the game by occasionally substituting a rock
or iron dumb-bell in place of the romantic pin cushion.

Another game based on a delightful old Hallowe'en tradition is as
follows: A girl is given a lighted candle and told to walk upstairs into
the room at the end of the hall where, by looking in a mirror, she will
see her future husband. Have it arranged so that you are concealed alone
in the room. When the girl arrives, look over her shoulder into the
mirror. She had better go downstairs after ten minutes, though, so that
another girl can come up. This tradition dates from before William the

No Hallowe'en is complete, of course, without fortune telling. Dress
yourself as a wizard and have the guests led in one by one to hear their
fortune told. Hanging in front of you should be a caldron, from which
you extract the slip of paper containing the particular fortune.
These slips of paper should be prepared beforehand. The following are

"You will meet a well dressed, good looking man who understands you
better than your husband. How about Thursday at the Plaza?"

"You are about to receive a shipment of Scotch whisky that you ordered
last month. And it's about time you kicked across with some of your

"You will have much trouble in your life if you lie about your golf
score as you did last Sunday on Number 12."

Still another pleasing Hallowe'en game, based on the revelation of one's
matrimonial future, is played as follows: Seven lighted candles are
placed in a row on a table. The men are then blindfolded, whirled
around three times and commanded to blow out the candles. The number
extinguished at a blow tells the number of years before they meet their
bride. This game only grows interesting, of course, when some old goat
with long whiskers can be induced to take a blind shot at blowing out
the candles. Have Pyrene convenient--but not too convenient to spoil the

For the older members of the party, the host should provide various
games of cards and dice. In keeping with the ghastly spirit of the
occasion, it would be well to have the dice carefully loaded. Many hosts
have thus been able to make all expenses and often a handsome profit out
of the evening's entertainment.

If the crap game goes particularly well, many hosts do not hesitate to
provide elaborate refreshments for the guests. Here, too, the spirit of
fun and jollity should prevail, and great merriment is always provoked
by the ludicrous expression of the guest who has broken two teeth on the
cast-iron olive. Other delightful surprises should be arranged, and a
little Sloan's liniment in the punch or ground glass in the ice cream
will go a long way toward making the supper amusing. And finally, when
the guests are ready to depart and just before they discover that you
have cut cute little black cats and witches out of the backs of their
evening wraps and over coats, it would perhaps be well to run up stairs
and lock yourself securely in your room.



It is narrated of a well-known English lady (who is noted on the other
side of the Atlantic for the sharpness of her wit) that on one occasion,
when a vainglorious American was boasting of his country's prowess in
digging the Panama Canal, she calmly waited until he had finished and
then replied, with an indescribable smile, "Ah--but you Americans do not
know how to write letters." Needless to say the discomfited young man
took himself off at the earliest opportunity.

There is much truth, alas, in the English lady's clever retort, for the
automatic typewriter, the telegraph, and the penny postal card have done
much to cause a gradual decline in the gentle art of correspondence.
As one American woman recently remarked to a visitor (with more wit,
however, than good taste), "Yes, we do have correspondents here--but
they are all in the divorce courts."


There are certain rules in regard to correct letter-writing which must
be followed by all who would "take their pen in hand." Young people are
the most apt to offend in this respect against the accepted canons of
good taste and it is to these that I would first address the contents of
this chapter. A young girl often lets her high spirits run away with
her amour propre, with the result that her letters, especially those
addressed to strangers, are often lacking in that dignity which is the
sine qua non of correct correspondence.

Consider, for example, the following two letters composed by Miss
Florence ......, a debutante of New York City, who is writing to a
taxidermist thanking him for his neat work in having recently stuffed
her deceased pet Alice. The first of these letters illustrates the evil
to which I have just referred, viz., the complete absence of proper
dignity. The second, written with the aid of her mama, whose experience
in social affairs has been considerable, shows the correct method of
corresponding with comparative strangers.

An Incorrect Letter from a Debutante to a Taxidermist Thanking Him for
Having Stuffed Her Pet Alice

  DEAR MR. Epps:

  Aren't you an old PEACH to have gone and stuffed Alice so
  prettily! Really, Mr. Epps, I never saw such a knockout piece of
  taxidermy, even in Europe, and I simply adore it. Mother gave a
  dinner party last night and EVERYBODY was just wild about it and
  wanted to know who had done it. How on EARTH did you manage to
  get the wings to stay like that? And the eyes are just too
  priceless for words. Honestly, every time I look at it, it's so
  DARNED natural that I can't believe Alice is really dead. I guess
  you must be pretty dog-goned crazy about birds yourself to have
  done such a lovely job on Alice, and I guess you know how
  perfectly sick I was over her death. Honestly, Mr. Epps, she was
  such a PEACH of an owl. But I suppose it had to be, and anyway,
  thanks just heaps for having done such a really perfectly
  gorgeous bit of taxidermy.
                      FLORENCE CHASE.
  593 Fifth Avenue,
  New York City.

The above is, you observe, quite lacking in that reserve with which
young ladies should always treat strange gentlemen and especially those
who are not in their own social "set." Slang may be excusable in shop
girls or baseball players, but never in the mouth of a young lady with
any pretensions to breeding. And the use of "darned" and "dog-goned" is
simply unpardonable. Notice, now, the way in which Miss Florence writes
the letter after, her mama has given her the proper instruction.

A Correct Letter from a Debutante to a Taxidermist Thanking Him for
Having Stuffed Her Pet Alice

  Mr. Lloyd Epps, Taxidermist,
  New York City.

  It is with sincere pleasure that I take my pen in hand to
  compliment you upon the successful manner in which you have
  rendered your services as taxidermist upon my late owl Alice.
  Death in the animal kingdom is all too often regarded with an
  unbecoming levity or, at least, a careless lack of sympathetic
  appreciation, and it is with genuine feelings of gratitude that I
  pen these lines upon the occasion of the receipt of the sample of
  the excellent manner in which you have performed your task. Of
  the same opinion is my father, a vice-president of the Guaranty
  Trust Co., and himself a taxidermist of no inconsiderable merit,
  who joins me in expressing to you our most grateful appreciation.
                 Sincerely yours,
                      FLORENCE ELIOT CHASE.
  December 11, 1922.

{illustration caption = The young man is leaving the home of his host
in "high dudgeon." He is of the type rather slangily known among the
members of our younger set as "finale hopper" which means, in the
"King's English," one who is very fond of dancing. His indignation is
well founded, since it is not the custom among members of the socially
elite to comment in the presence of the guest on either the quantity of
soup consumed or the method of consumption adopted. These things should
be left for the privacy of the boudoir or smoking den where they will
afford much innocent amusement. Nor is the host mending matters by his
kindly meant but perhaps tactless offer of a nickel for carfare.}

{illustration caption = The gentleman with the excellent teeth has just
been guilty of a gross social error. Wrongly supposing that the secret
of popularity lies in a helpful spirit and having discovered that the
son of his hostess is about to enter a dental school, he has removed
the excellent teeth (false) from his mouth and passed them around for
inspection. The fact that the teeth are of the latest mode does not in
any way condone the breach. Leniency in such matters is not recommended.
"Facilis descensus Averni" as one of the great poets of the Middle Ages
so aptly put it.}


It is the tendency of the age to excuse many social errors in young
people, and especially is this true of the mischievous pranks of college
boys. If Harvard football heroes and their "rooters," for example, wish
to let their hair grow long and wear high turtle-necked red "sweaters,"
corduroy trousers and huge "frat" pins, I, for one, can see no grave
objection, for "boys will be boys" and I am, I hope, no "old fogy" in
such matters. But I also see no reason why these same young fellows
should not be interested in the graces of the salon and the arts of
the drawing-room. Consider, for example, the following two letters,
illustrating the correct and incorrect method in which two young college
men should correspond, and tell me if there is not some place in our
college curriculum for a Professor of Deportment:

An Incorrect Letter from a Princeton Student to a Yale Student
Congratulating the Latter on His Football Victory


  Here's your damn money. I was a fool to give you odds.
  P. S. What happened at the Nass? I woke up Sunday with a terrific
  welt on my forehead and somebody's hat with the initials L. G.
  T., also a Brooks coat. Do you know whose they are? P. P. S.
  Please for God's sake don't cash this check until the fifteenth
  or I'm ruined.

And here is the way in which I would suggest that this same letter be

A Correct Letter from a Princeton Student to a Yale Student
Congratulating the Latter on His Football Victory


  Well, well, it was a jolly game, wasn't it, and it was so good to
  see you in "Old Nassau." I am sorry that you could not have come
  earlier in the fall, when the trees were still bronze and gold. I
  also regret exceedingly that you did not stay over until Sunday,
  for it would have been such a treat to have taken you to see the
  Graduate School buildings and the Cleveland Memorial Tower.
  However, "better luck next time."

  The enclosed check is, as you may well guess, in payment of our
  wager on the result of the gridiron-contest. Truly, I am almost
  glad that I lost, for I can not but think that gambling in any
  form is at best an unprofitable diversion, and this has taught
  me, I hope, a lesson from which I may well benefit. Do not think
  me a "prig," dear Harry, I beg of you, for I am sure that you
  will agree with me that even a seemingly innocent wager on a
  football match may lead in later life to a taste for gambling
  with dice and cards or even worse. Shall we not agree to make
  this our last wager--or at least, next time, let us not lend it
  the appearance of professional gambling by giving "odds," such as
  I gave you this year.

  You must have thought it frightfully rude of me not to have seen
  you to the train after that enjoyable evening at the Nassau Inn,
  but to tell you the truth, Harry, the nervous excitement of the
  day proved too much for me and I was forced to retire. My
  indisposition was further accentuated by a slight mishap which
  befell me outside the Inn but which need cause you no alarm as a
  scalp wound was the only result and a few days' rest in my cozy
  dormitory room will soon set matters to rights. I trust, however,
  that you will explain to your friends the cause of my sudden
  departure and my seeming inhospitality. Such jolly fellows they
  were--and I am only too glad to find that the "bulldogs" are as
  thoroughly nice as the chaps we have down here. Incidentally, I
  discovered, somewhat to my dismay, as you may well imagine, that
  in taking my departure I inadvertently "walked off" with the hat
  and overcoat of one of your friends whose initials are L. G. T. I
  am mortified beyond words and shall send the garments to you by
  the next post with my deepest apologies to the unlucky owner.

  Rest assured, Harry my friend, that I am looking forward to
  visiting you some time in the near future, for I have always been
  curious to observe the many interesting sights of "Eli land."
  Particularly anxious am I to see the beautiful trees which have
  given New Haven its name of "the City of Elms," and the
  collection of primitive paintings for which your college is
  justly celebrated. And in closing may I make the slight request
  that you postpone the cashing of my enclosed check until the
  fifteenth of this month, as, due to some slight misunderstanding,
  I find that my account is in the unfortunate condition of being

  Believe me, Harry, with kindest regards to your nice friends and
  yourself and with congratulations on the well deserved victory of
  your "eleven,"
       Your devoted friend and well wisher,


Of course, when young people write to the members of their immediate
family, it is not necessary that they employ such reserve as in
correspondence with friends. The following letter well illustrates the
change in tone which is permissible in such intimate correspondence:

A Correct Letter from a Young Lady in Boarding School to Her Parents


  Of course I am terribly glad that you and father are thinking of
  coming to visit me here at school next week, but don't you think
  it would be better if, instead of your coming all the way up
  here, I should come down and stay with you in New York? The
  railroad trip up here will be very hard on you, as the trains are
  usually late and the porters and conductors are notorious for
  their gruffness and it is awfully hard to get parlor-car seats
  and you know what sitting in a day-coach means. I should love to
  have you come only I wouldn't want you or father to get some
  terrible sickness on the train and last month there were at least
  three wrecks on that road, with many fatalities, and when you get
  here the accommodations aren't very good for outsiders, many of
  the guests having been severely poisoned only last year by eating
  ripe olives and the beds, they say, are extremely hard. Don't you
  really think it would be ever so much nicer if you and father
  stayed in some comfortable hotel in New York with all the
  conveniences in the world and there are some wonderful things at
  the theaters which you really ought to see. I could probably get
  permission from Miss Spencer to come and visit you over Saturday
  and Sunday if you are stopping at one of the five hotels on her
  "permitted" list.

  However, if you do decide to come here, perhaps it would be
  better to leave father in New York because I know he wouldn't
  like it at all with nothing but women and girls around and I am
  sure that he couldn't get his glass of hot water in the morning
  before breakfast and he would have a much better time in New
  York. But if he does come please mother don't let him wear that
  old gray hat or that brown suit, and mother couldn't you get him
  to get some gloves and a cane in New York before he comes? And
  please, mother dear, make him put those "stogies" of his in an
  inside pocket and would you mind, mother, not wearing that brooch
  father's employees gave you last Christmas?

  I shall be awfully glad to see you both but as I say it would be
  better if you let me come to New York where you and father will
  be ever so much more comfortable.
                 Your loving daughter,


THE same familiarity may be observed by parents when corresponding with
their children, with, of course, the addition of a certain amount of
dignity commensurate with the fact that they are, as it were, in loco
parentis. The following example will no doubt be of aid to parents in
correctly corresponding with their children:

A Correct Letter from a Mother to Her Son Congratulating Him on His
Election to the Presidency of the United States


  I am very glad that you have been elected President of the United
  States, Frederick, and I hope that now you will have sense enough
  to see Dr. Kincaid about your teeth. It would be well to have him
  give you a thorough looking over at this time. And Mrs. Peasely
  has given me the name of a splendid throat specialist in New York
  whom I wish you would see as soon as possible, for it has been
  almost a year since you went to Dr. Ryan. Are you getting good
  wholesome food? Mrs. Dennison stopped in this morning and she
  told me that Washington is very damp in the spring and I think
  you had better get a new overcoat--a heavy warm one. She also
  told me the name of a place where you can buy real woolen socks
  and pajamas. I hope that you aren't going to be so foolish as to
  wear those short B. V. D.'s all winter because now that you are
  president you must take care of yourself, Edward dear. Are you
  keeping up those exercises in the morning? I found those
  dumb-bells of yours in the attic yesterday and will send them on
  to you if you wish. And, dear, please keep your throat covered
  when you go out--Mrs. Kennedy says that the subways are always
  cold and full of draughts. I saw a picture of you at the "movies"
  the other evening and you were making a speech in the rain
  without a hat or rubbers. Your uncle Frederick was just such a
  fool as you are about wearing rubbers and he almost died of
  pneumonia the winter we moved to Jefferson Avenue. Be sure and
  let me know what Dr. Kincaid says and tell him EVERYTHING.
            Your LOVING mother.
  P. S. What direction does your window face?


A young man desiring to marry a young girl does not, in polite society,
"pop the question" to her by mail, unless she happens, at the time,
to be out of the city or otherwise unable to "receive." It is often
advisable, however, after she has said "yes," to write a letter to her
father instead of calling on him to ask for his permission to the match,
as a personal interview is often apt to result unsatisfactorily. In
writing these letters to prospective fathers-in-law, the cardinal point
is, of course, the creation by the young man of a good impression in
the mind of the father, and for this purpose he should study to make
his letter one which will appeal irresistibly to the older gentleman's
habits and tastes.

Thus, in writing to a father who is above everything else a "business
man," the following form is suggested:

A Correct Letter to a Prospective Father-in-Law Who Is a Business Man

                                My letter,
                                Your letter,
       In reply please refer to: --------
                      N. Y.--1922
                      No. G, 16 19
  Mr. Harrison Williams,
  Vice-Pres. Kinnear-Williams Mfg. Co.,
  Buffalo, N. Y.


  Confirming verbal message of even date re: being in love with
  your daughter, this is to advise that I am in love with your
  daughter. Any favorable action which you would care to take in
  this matter would be greatly appreciated.
                 Yours truly,
                           EDWARD FISH.
  Copy to your Daughter                   per E. F.
    "  "  "   Wife

Or, should the girl's father be prominent in the advertising business,
the following would probably create a favorable impression, especially
if printed on a blotter or other useful article:

A Correct Letter to a Prospective Father-in-Law Who Is in the
Advertising Business


  Have you ever stopped to consider the problem of grandchildren?

  Do you know, for example, that ONLY 58% of the fathers in America

  Did it ever occur to you that only 39% of the grandfathers in

  Honestly, now, don't there come moments, after the day's work is
  done and you are sitting in your slippers before the fire, when
  you would give any thing in the world for a soft little voice to
  call you GRANDPA?

  Be fair to your daughter
  Give her a College educated husband!

Perhaps, if the old gentleman is employed in the Credit Department of
Brooks Brothers, Frank Brothers, or any one of the better class stores,
the following might prove effective:

A Correct Letter to a Prospective Father-in-Law Who Is Employed in a
Credit Department

  MY DEAR MR. ROBERTS:     10-6-22

  I am writing you in regard to a little matter of matrimony which
  no doubt you have overlooked in the press of business elsewhere.
  This is not to be considered as a "dun" but merely as a gentle
  reminder of the fact that it would be extremely agreeable if you
  could see fit to let me marry your daughter before the first of
  next month. I feel sure that you will give this matter your
  immediate attention.
            Yours truly,
                      ED. FISH.


  As you have not as yet replied to my communication of 10-6-22
  regarding marriage to your daughter, I presume that you were not
  at the time disposed to take care of the matter to which I
  referred. I feel sure that upon consideration you will agree that
  my terms are exceedingly liberal and I must therefore request
  that you let me have some word from you before the first of next
            Yours truly,
                      EDWARD FISH.

            (Registered Mail)             12-2-22

  You have not as yet replied to my communication of 10-6-22 and
  11-2-22. I should regret exceedingly being forced to place this
  matter in the hands of my attorneys, Messrs. Goldstein and
  Nusselmann, 41 City Nat'l Bank Bldg.
                                E. FISH.

Of course, it would never do to carry this series to its conclusion and
if no reply is received to this last letter it might be well to call on
the gentleman in his place of business--or, possibly, it might even
be better to call off the engagement. "None but the brave deserve the
fair"--but there is also a line in one of Byron's poems which goes, I
believe, "Here sleep the brave."


A young man corresponding with his fiancee is never, of course, as
formal as in his letters to other people. This does not mean, however,
that his correspondence should be full of silly meaningless "nothings."
On the contrary, he should aim to instruct and benefit his future spouse
as well as convey to her his tokens of affection. The following letter
well illustrates the manner in which a young man may write his fiancee
a letter which, while it is replete with proper expressions of
amatory good will, yet manages to embody a fund of sensible and useful

A Correct Letter from a Young Man Traveling in Europe to His Fiancee


  How I long to see you--to hold tight your hand--to look into your
  eyes. But alas! you are in Toledo and I am in Paris, which, as
  you know, is situated on the Seine River near the middle of the
  so-called Paris basin at a height above sea-level varying from 85
  feet to 419 feet and extending 7 1/2 miles from W. to E. and 5
  1/2 miles from N. to S. But, dearest, I carry your image with me
  in my heart wherever I go in this vast city with its population
  (1921) of 2,856,986 and its average mean rainfall Of 2.6 inches,
  and I wish--oh, how I wish--that you might be here with me.
  Yesterday, for example, I went to the Pere Lachaise cemetery
  which is the largest (106 acres) and most fashionable cemetery in
  Paris, its 90,148 (est.) tombs forming a veritable open-air
  sculpture gallery. And what do you think I found there which made
  me think of you more than ever? Not the tombs of La Fontaine (d.
  1695) and Moliere (d. 1673) whose remains, transferred to this
  cemetery in 1804, constituted the first interments--not the last
  resting place of Rosa Bonheur (d. 1899) or the victims of the