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Title: Perfect Behavior: A Guide for Ladies and Gentlemen in All Social Crises
Author: Stewart, Donald Ogden
Language: English
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Perfect Behavior
by Donald Ogden Stewart
Illustrated by Ralph Barton
A Guide for Ladies and Gentlemen in all Social Crises
[Illustration]
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
TO THE BRIDEGROOM WHOSE WEDDING WAS RUINED
BECAUSE THE BRIDE CAME DOWN THE AISLE
ON THE RIGHT INSTEAD OF THE LEFT
ARM OF HER FATHER
_With Deepest Sympathy_
Contents
CHAPTER ONE: THE ETIQUETTE OF COURTSHIP
CHAPTER TWO: THE ETIQUETTE OF ENGAGEMENTS AND WEDDINGS
CHAPTER THREE: THE ETIQUETTE OF TRAVEL
CHAPTER FOUR: AT THE CONCERT AND THE OPERA
CHAPTER FIVE: ETIQUETTE FOR DRY AGENTS
CHAPTER SIX: A CHAPTER FOR SCHOOLGIRLS
CHAPTER SEVEN: THE ETIQUETTE OF GAMES AND SPORTS
CHAPTER EIGHT: CORRESPONDENCE AND INVITATIONS
CHAPTER NINE: THE ETIQUETTE OF DINNERS AND BALLS
CONTENTS
I. THE ETIQUETTE OF COURTSHIP 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.
II. THE ETIQUETTE OF ENGAGEMENTS AND WEDDINGS 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.
III. THE ETIQUETTE OF TRAVEL 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.
IV. AT THE CONCERT AND THE OPERA 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.
V. ETIQUETTE FOR DRY AGENTS 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.
VI. A CHAPTER FOR SCHOOLGIRLS 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.
VII. THE ETIQUETTE OF GAMES AND SPORTS 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 Mystify—Games.
VIII. CORRESPONDENCE AND INVITATIONS 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.
IX. THE ETIQUETTE OF DINNERS AND BALLS 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
CHAPTER ONE: THE ETIQUETTE OF COURTSHIP
A FEW WORDS ABOUT LOVE
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.
CORRECT INTRODUCTIONS; HOW TO MAKE THEM
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 follows:
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]
Table Manners Betray One’s Bringing-Up _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]
Hat? Toupee? or Book? _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]
Park Benches and Their Uses _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]
Travelling with a Player Piano _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]
A Child, a Banana, A Hard-Boiled Egg _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_.
CARDS AND FLOWERS
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.”
FLOWERS AND THEIR MESSAGE IN COURTSHIP
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.
RECEIVING AN INVITATION TO CALL
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.”
THE ETIQUETTE OF TELEPHONING
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.
[Illustration]
A Crude Bridegroom _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]
A Best Man’s Blunder _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]
The Pun “De Rigueur” _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 authoritatively._
[Illustration]
The Young Man Doesn’t Know How to Drink _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._
MAKING THE FIRST CALL
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.
CONVERSATION AND SOME OF ITS USES
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.
A PROPER CALL
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.
THE PROPOSAL PROPER
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.
CHAPTER TWO: THE ETIQUETTE OF ENGAGEMENTS AND WEDDINGS
THE HISTORIC ASPECT
“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 marriage.
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.
ANNOUNCING THE ENGAGEMENT
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 fiancée 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).
THE BRIDE-TO-BE
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
yours.”
[Illustration]
Ignorance of Sporting Terms Betrays the “Cockney” _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 house._
[Illustration]
Proper Attitude Towards the Hostess’ Furniture _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]
Correct Bathing Costumes for Ladies _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 LUNCHEON
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
Daughter.”
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
bullets.
“_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.
SELECTING THE BRIDAL PARTY
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.”
INVITATIONS AND WEDDING PRESENTS
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.
DUTIES OF THE BEST MAN
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 BRIDE’S TEA
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 mother.
As you step out of the hotel elevator you hear at the end of the
hall a chorus shouting, “Mademoiselle from Armentières—_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 vous_.”
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 word.
THE MAID OF HONOR
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.
THE BACHELOR DINNER AND AFTER
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
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.
THE BRIDAL DINNER
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!
A CHURCH WEDDING
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 groom.
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 says.
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]
The Man of Refinement Controls His Emotions _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]
Comparative Advantages of the Pen—the Phone _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._
CHAPTER THREE: THE ETIQUETTE OF TRAVEL
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.
HINTS FOR THE CORRECT PEDESTRIAN
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.
Débutantes 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 versa_.
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 “tennis.”
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 sister.
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.
TRAVELLING BY RAIL
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” coach.
GOOD FORM ON A STREET CAR
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]
Hints on Homely Young Ladies at a Dance _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]
The Law of Reprisal in Etiquette _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._
IN THE SUBWAY
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.
A HONEYMOON IN A SUBWAY
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.
TRAVELLING UNDER STEAM
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’œuvres?” you say. “Waaaaa!” says
the baby. “No hors d’œuvres,” 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.”
A CORRECT NIGHT IN A PULLMAN
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.
CHAPTER FOUR: AT THE CONCERT AND THE OPERA
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 _Aïda_, 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]
Chivalry or the Instinct of Self-Preservation? A Fine Point _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]
An Inexperienced “Gun” _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._
LISTENING TO A SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA
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 prefer.
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.”
CORRECT BEHAVIOR AT A PIANO RECITAL
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.
IN A BOX AT THE OPERA
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, Técla
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.
CHAPTER FIVE: ETIQUETTE FOR DRY AGENTS
SOME BROADER ASPECTS OF PROHIBITION
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’œuvres.
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 bootlegger.
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.
THE COLLEGE GRADUATE AS DRY AGENT
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.
PLANNING A DRY RAID ON A MASQUERADE BALL
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.”
A WORD ABOUT CORRECT COSTUMES
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]
Packets of Old Letters Make Acceptable Wedding Gifts _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]
Correct Methods of Using Table Hardware _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]
It Is Sometimes Best to Be Frank _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._
GOOD FORM FOR DRY AGENTS DURING A RAID
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.
CHAPTER SIX: A CHAPTER FOR SCHOOLGIRLS
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 itself.
SELECTING A PROPER SCHOOL
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.
CORRECT EQUIPMENT FOR THE SCHOOLGIRL
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.
EN ROUTE
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 world.
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 sherbet.
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 Buffalo.
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.
A JOURNEY AROUND 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 Marguéry 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 DAYS IN THE NEW 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.
BECOMING ACCLIMATIZED
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 inhale.
A VISITOR FROM PRINCETON
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 fugaces!_
[Illustration]
“Who Shall Write First?” _“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 congé,” 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._
CHAPTER SEVEN: THE ETIQUETTE OF GAMES AND SPORTS
GOLF AS A PASTIME
“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, and _suspenders_.
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 blind.
AN AFTERNOON AT THE OLD FARM WITH THE DICE
“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 aged.
CORRECT BEHAVIOR ON A PICNIC
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 mother.
“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 drenched.”
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]
Correct Negotiations for a Seat in the Subway _Nowhere is the etiquette
of travel more abused than our subways. The gentleman shown above is en
route to his fiancée’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]
Old Fashioned Letter and Writers vs. Perfect Behavior _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 perplexities._
[Illustration]
What to Avoid in Crests _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
above._
BOXING IN AMERICAN SOCIETY
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
“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.
FORMAL AND INFORMAL DRINKING
“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 _démodé_, and the correct drinker of 1910 is as
obsolete and out of date in the present decade as the
“frock-coat.”
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.
A JOLLY HALLOWE’EN PARTY
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]
Care Should Be Exercised in the Choice of Post-Cards _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]
Cards Concealed about the Person Betray the Boor _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.”_
INVITATIONS
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.”
or
“On Monday next comes All-Hallows-Even,
My grandmother’s maiden name was Stephens.”
or
“On Hallowe’en you may see a witch
If you don’t look out, you funny fellow.”
or
“Harry and I are giving a Hallowe’en party;
Harry says you owe him four dollars; please be prompt.
or
“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
further
ha ha ha
further
ha ha ha,
further
ha ha ha
further
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.
RECEIVING THE GUESTS
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 reading:
“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.
HOW TO MYSTIFY
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 details.
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.
GAMES
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 Conqueror.
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 suggested:
“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 own.”
“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 fun.
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.
CHAPTER EIGHT: CORRESPONDENCE AND INVITATIONS
CORRESPONDENCE
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.”
CORRESPONDENCE FOR YOUNG LADIES
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 Débutante 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.
Gratefully,
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 Débutante to a Taxidermist Thanking Him
for Having Stuffed Her Pet Alice
Mr. Lloyd Epps, Taxidermist,
New York City.
DEAR SIR:
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]
It Is Not the Custom to Comment on the Quantity of Soup Consumed by a
Guest _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]
False Teeth Should Remain in the Mouth throughout any Given Dinner _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._
COLLEGE BOYS
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
DEAR MIKE:
Here’s your damn money. I was a fool to give you odds. ED. 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 indited.
A Correct Letter from a Princeton Student to a Yale Student
Congratulating the Latter on His Football Victory
MY DEAR “FRIENDLY ENEMY”:
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 “overdrawn.”
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, EDWARD ELLIS
COCHRAN.
LETTERS TO PARENTS
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
DEAR MOTHER:
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, JEANNETTE.
LETTERS FROM PARENTS
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
DEAR FREDERICK:
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?
LETTERS TO PROSPECTIVE FATHERS-IN-LAW
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, 10-6-22 Your letter, In
reply please refer to: ————
File—Love—personal— N. Y.—1922 No. G,
16 19 Mr. Harrison Williams, Vice-Pres.
Kinnear-Williams Mfg. Co., Buffalo, N.
Y.
DEAR SIR:
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 EF/F
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
JUST A MOMENT!
Have you ever stopped to consider the problem of grandchildren?
Do you know, for example, that ONLY 58% of the fathers in America are
GRANDFATHERS?
Did it ever occur to you that only 39% of the grandfathers in America
EVER HAVE GRANDCHILDREN?
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!_
COMPLIMENTS OF EDWARD FISH
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.
11-2-22 DEAR MR. ROBERTS:
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 month. Yours truly,
EDWARD FISH.
(Registered Mail) 12-2-22 DEAR SIR:
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.”
LOVE LETTERS
A young man corresponding with his fiancée 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 fiancée a letter
which, while it is replete with proper expressions of amatory
good will, yet manages to embody a fund of sensible and useful
information:
A Correct Letter from a Young Man Traveling in Europe to His
Fiancée
MY DEAREST EDITH:
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 Père
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 Molière (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
Opéra Comique fire (1887)—no, dearest, it was the tomb of Abelard and
Heloïse, those late 11th early 12th century lovers, and you may well
imagine what thoughts, centering upon a young lady whose first name
begins with E, filled my heart as I gazed at this impressive tomb,
the canopy of which is composed of sculptured fragments collected by
Lenoir from the Abbey of Nogent-sur-Seine (Aube).
Edith dearest, I am sitting in my room gazing first at your dear
picture and then out of my window at the Eiffel Tower which is the
tallest structure in the world, being 984 feet high (Woolworth
Building 750 feet, Washington Obelisk 555 feet, Great Pyramid 450
feet). And although it may sound too romantic, yet it seems to me,
dearest, that our love is as strong and as sturdy as this masterpiece
of engineering construction which weighs 7,000 tons, being composed
of 12,000 pieces of metal fastened by 2,500,000 iron rivets.
Farewell, my dearest one—I must go now to visit the Catacombs, a huge
charnelhouse which is said to contain the remains of nearly three
million persons, consisting of a labyrinth of galleries lined with
bones and rows of skulls through which visitors are escorted on the
first and third Saturday of each month at 2 P. M. I long to hold you
in my arms. Devotedly, PAUL.
CORRESPONDENCE OF PUBLIC OFFICIALS
Congressmen and other public officials are as a rule more careful
correspondents than are men whose letters are never to be seen by
the public at large. There is a certain well-defined form for a
letter meant for public consumption which distinguishes it from
correspondence of a more private nature. Thus a Congressman,
writing a “public letter,” would cast it in the following form:
A Correct “Public Letter” from a Congressman
Mr. Ellison Lothrop, Vice-Pres. Washington Co.. “Better Citizenship”
League,
MY DEAR MR. LOTHROP:
You have requested that I give to the Washington County Better
Citizenship League, of which you are an active vice-president, some
expression of my views upon the question of Prohibition.
Sir, can there be any doubt as to the belief of every right thinking
American citizen in this matter? The Eighteenth Amendment is here and
here, thank God, to stay! The great benefit which Prohibition has
done to the poor and the working classes is reason enough for its
continued existence. It is for the manufacturers, the professional
class, the capitalists to give up gladly whatever small pleasure they
may have derived from the use of alcohol, in order that John Jones,
workingman, may have money in the bank and a happy home, instead of
his Saturday night debauch. In every democracy the few sacrifice for
the many—“the greatest good of the greatest number” is the slogan.
And I, for one, am proud to have been a member of that legislative
body which passed so truly God-bidden and democratic an act as the
Eighteenth Amendment.
I beg to remain, with best wishes to your great organization,
Sincerely yours, WALTER G. TOWNSLEY.
A Correct Private Letter of a Congressman
DEAR BOB:
Tell that fellow on Mulberry Street that I will pay $135 a case for
Scotch and $90 for gin _delivered_ and not a cent more. W. G. T.
[Illustration]
Vision and Ingenuity in Courtship _The problem of an introduction when
there is no mutual acquaintance is sometimes perplexing. But the young
man, having had the good taste to purchase a copy of_ PERFECT BEHAVIOR,
_is having no difficulty. He has fastened a rope across the sidewalk in
front of the lady’s house and, with the aid of a match and some
kerosene, has set fire to the house. Driven by the heat, the young lady
will eventually emerge and in her haste will fall over the rope. To a
gentleman of gallantry and ingenuity the rest should be comparatively
simple._
[Illustration]
“Say It with Flowers” _A knowledge of the language of flowers is
essential to a successful courtship and may avoid much unnecessary
pain. With the best intentions in the world the young man is about to
present the young lady with a flower of whose meaning he is in total
ignorance. The young lady, being a faithful student of_ PERFECT
BEHAVIOR, _knows its exact meaning and it will be perfectly correct for
her to turn and, with a frigid bow, break the pot over the young man’s
head. Alas, how differently this romance might have ended if the
so-called “friends” of the young man had tactfully but firmly pointed
out to him the value of a book on etiquette such as_ PERFECT BEHAVIOR.
LETTERS TO NEWSPAPERS, MAGAZINES, ETC.
Another type of public correspondence is the letter which is
intended for publication in some periodical. This is usually
written by elderly gentlemen with whiskers and should be cast in
the following form:
A Correct Letter from an Elderly Gentleman to the Editor of a
Newspaper or Magazine
To the Editor: SIR:
On February next, _Deo volente_, I shall have been a constant reader
of your worthy publication for forty-one years. I feel, sir, that
that record gives me the right _ipso facto_ to offer my humble
criticism of a statement made in your November number by that worthy
critic of the drama, Mr. Heywood Broun. _Humanum est errare_, and I
am sure that Mr. Broun (with whom I have unfortunately not the honour
of an acquaintance) will forgive me for calling his attention to what
is indeed a serious, and I might say, unbelievable, misstatement. In
my younger days, now long past, it was not considered _infra dig_ for
a critic to reply to such letters as this, and I hope that Mr. Broun
will deem this epistle worthy of consideration, and recognize the
justice of my complaint.
I remember well a controversy that raged between critic and public
for many weeks in the days when Joe Jefferson was playing Rip Van
Winkle. Ah, sir, do you remember (but, of course, you don’t) that
entrance of Joe in the first act with his dog Schneider? That was not
my first play by many years, but I believe that it is still my
favorite. I think the first time I ever attended a dramatic
performance was in the winter of ’68 when I was a student at Harvard
College. Five of us freshmen went into the old Boston Museum to see
_Our American Cousin_. Joe Chappell was with us that night and the
two Dawes boys and, I think, Elmer Mitchell. One of the Dawes twins
was, I believe, afterwards prominent in the Hayes administration.
There were many men besides Will Dawes in that Harvard class who were
heard from in later years. Ed Twitchell for one, and “Sam” Caldwell,
who was one of the nominees for vice president in ’92. I sat next to
Sam in “Bull” Warren’s Greek class. _There_ was one of the finest
scholars this country has ever produced—a stern taskmaster, and a
thorough gentleman. It would be well for this younger generation if
they could spend a few hours in that old classroom, with “Bull”
pacing up and down the aisle and all of us trembling in our shoes.
But _Delenda est Carthago—fuit Ilium—Requiescat in pace_. I last saw
“Bull” at our fifteenth reunion and we were all just as afraid of him
as in the old days at Hollis.
But I digress. _Tempus fugit_,—which reminds me of a story “Billy”
Hallowell once told at a meeting of the American Bar Association in
Minneapolis, in 1906. Hallowell was perhaps the most brilliant
after-dinner speaker I have ever heard—with the possible exception of
W. D. Evarts. I shall never forget the speech that Evarts made during
the second Blaine campaign.
But I digress. Your critic, Mr. Heywood Broun, says on page 33 of the
November issue of your worthy magazine that _The Easiest Way_ is the
father of all modern American tragedy. Sir, does Mr. Broun forget
that there once lived a man named William Shakespeare? Is it possible
to overlook such immortal tragedies as _Hamlet_ and _Othello?_ I
think not. _Fiat justitia, ruat cœlum._ Sincerely, SHERWIN G.
COLLINS.
A Correct Letter from an Indignant Father to an Editor of Low
Ideals
To the Editor: Sir:
I have a son—a little fourteen-year-old boy who proudly bears my
name. This lad I have brought up with the greatest care. I have
spared no pains to make him an upright, moral, God-fearing youth.
I had succeeded, I thought, in inculcating in him all those worthy
principles for which our Puritan fathers fought and—aye—died. I do
not believe that there existed in our neighborhood a more virtuous,
more righteous boy.
From his earliest childhood until now Mrs. Pringle and I have kept
him carefully free from any suggestion of evil. We have put in his
hands only the best and purest of books; we have not allowed him to
attend any motion picture performances other than the yearly visit of
the Burton Holmes travelogues, and, last year, a film called _Snow
White and Rose Red;_ we have forbidden him to enter a theater. Roland
(for that is his name) has never in his life exhibited any interest
in what is known as sex.
Sir, you may imagine my chagrin when my Roland—my boy who, for
fourteen years, I have carefully shielded from sin—rushed in last
night to where Mrs. Pringle and I were enjoying our evening game of
Bézique, bearing in his hand a copy of your magazine which, I
presume, he had picked up at some so-called friend’s house. “Papa,
look,” said my boy to me, pointing to the cover of the magazine.
“What are these?”
Sir, I looked. Mrs. Pringle gave a shriek, and well may she have. My
boy was pointing to a cover on which was what is called—in barroom
parlance—a “nude.” And not _one_ nude but _twelve!_
Sir, you have destroyed the parental labors of fourteen years. I
trust you are satisfied. Yours, etc., EVERETT G. PRINGLE.
A Letter from a Member of the Lower Classes. Particular pains
should be taken in answering such letters as it should always be
our aim to lend a hand to those aspiring toward better things.
To the Editor: Dear Sir:
I am a motorman on the Third Ave. South Ferry local, and the other
day one of the passengers left a copy of your magazine on my car and
I want to ask you something which maybe you can tell me and anyway it
don’t do no harm to ask what I want to know is will it be O. K to
wear a white vest with a dinner coat this coming winter and what
color socks I enclose stamps for reply. Yrs. ED. WALSH.
A Correct Letter to the Lost and Found Department of a
Periodical, inquiring for a Missing Relative. This should be
referred to the persons mentioned in the letter who will probably
take prompt and vigorous action.
Literary Editors: Dear Sirs:
I have been very much interested in the clever work of Nancy and
Ernest Boyd which has been appearing in your magazine, and I wonder
if you could take the time to give me a little piece of information
about them. You see there was a Nancy Boyd (her mother was Nancy
Kroomen of Beaver Dam) and her bro. Ernest, who was neighbors to us
for several years, and when they moved I sort of lost track of them.
You know how those things are. But it’s a small world after all,
isn’t it? and I shouldn’t be at all surprised if this was the same
party and, if it is, will you say hello to Nancy for me, and tell
Ernest that Ed. Gold still comes down from Akron to see E. W. every
Saturday. He’ll know who I mean. Ever sincerely, MAY WINTERS.
LETTERS TO STRANGERS
In writing to a person with whom you have only a slight
acquaintance, it is a sign of proper breeding to attempt to show
the stranger that you are interested in the things in which he is
interested. Thus, for example, if you were to write a letter to a
Frenchman who was visiting your city for the first time, you
would endeavor, as in the following example, to speak to him in
his own idiom and put him at his ease by referring to the things
with which he is undoubtedly familiar. It is only a “boor” who
seeks to impose his own hobbies and interests upon a stranger,
disregarding entirely the presumable likes and dislikes of the
latter.
A CORRECT LETTER TO A FRENCH VISITOR
Monsieur Jules La Chaise, Hotel Enterprise, City.
MONSIEUR:
I hope that you have had a _bon voyage_ on your trip from _la belle
France_, and my wife and I are looking forward to welcoming you to
our city. Although I cannot say, as your great king Louis XV. so
justly remarked, “_L’etat, c’est moi_,” yet I believe that I can
entertain you _comme il faut_ during your stay here. But all _bon
mots_ aside, would you care to join us this afternoon in a ride
around the city? If you say the word, _voila!_ we shall be at your
hotel in our automobile and I think that you will find here much that
is interesting to a native of Lafayette’s great country and
especially to a citizen of Paris. Did you know, for example, that
this city manufactures 38% of the toilet soap and perfumery _je ne
sais quoi_ which are used in this state? Of course, our sewers are
not to be compared to yours, _mon Dieu_, but we have recently
completed a pumping station on the outskirts of the city which I
think might almost be denominated an _objet d’art_.
I am enclosing a visitor’s card to the City Club here, which I wish
you would use during your stay. I am sure that you will find there
several _bon vivants_ who will be glad to join you in a game of
_vingt et un_, and in the large room on the second floor is a
victrola with splendid instrumental and vocal records of “La
Marseillaise.”
_Au revoir_ until I see you this afternoon. Robert C. Crocker.
And above all, in writing to strangers or comparative strangers,
seek to avoid the mention of subjects which might be distasteful
to the recipient of the letter. Many a friendship has been
utterly ruined because one of the parties, in her correspondence
or conversation, carelessly referred to some matter—perhaps some
physical peculiarity—upon which the other was extremely
sensitive. The following letter well illustrates how the use of a
little tact may go “a long way.”
A CORRECT LETTER TO A BEARDED LADY
My dear Mrs. Lenox:
I wonder if you would care to go with us to the opera Wednesday
evening? The Cromwells have offered us their box for that night,
which accounts for our selection of that particular evening. “Beggars
cannot be choosers,” and while personally we would all rather go on
some other night, yet it is perhaps best that we do not refuse the
Cromwells’ generous offer. Then, too, Wednesday is really the only
evening that my husband and I are free to go, for the children take
so much of our time on other nights. I do hope, therefore, that you
can go with us Wednesday to hear “The Barber of Seville.” Sincerely,
Esther G. (Mrs. Thomas D.) Franklin.
INVITATIONS
The form of the invitation depends a great deal upon the
character of the function to which one wishes to invite the
guests to whom one issues the invitation. Or, to put it more
simply, invitations differ according to the nature of the party
to which one invites the guests. In other words, when issuing
invitations to invited guests one must have due regard for the
fact that these invitations vary with the various types of
entertainments for which one issues the invitations. That is to
say, one would obviously not send out the same form of invitation
to a wedding as to a dinner party, and vice versa. This is an
iron-clad rule in polite society.
For example, a gentleman and lady named Mr. and Mrs. Weems,
respectively, living at 1063 Railroad Ave., wishing to invite a
gentleman named Mr. Cleek to dinner, would send him the following
engraved invitation:
MR. AND MRS. LIONEL THONG WEEMS
_request the pleasure of_
MR. WALLACE TILFORD CLEEK’S
_company at dinner
on Tuesday January the tenth
at half after seven o’clock_
1063 Railroad Avenue.
This invitation would of course be worded differently for
different circumstances, such as, for example, if the name of the
people giving the party wasn’t Weems or if they didn’t live at
1063 Railroad Ave., or if they didn’t have any intention of
giving a dinner party on that particular evening.
Many prospective hostesses prefer to send written notes instead
of the engraved invitation, especially if the dinner is to be
fairly informal. This sort of invitation should, however, be
extremely simple. I think that most well-informed hostesses would
agree that the following is too verbose:
DEAR MR. BURPEE.
It would give us great pleasure if you would dine with us on Monday
next at seven-thirty. By the way, did you know that Mr. Sheldon died
yesterday of pneumonia? Cordially, ESTELLE G. BESSERABO.
For receptions in honor of noted guests, word the invitation in
this manner:
MR. AND MRS. CORNELIUS VANDERBILT
_request the pleasure of your company
on Friday evening February sixth
from nine to twelve_
AT DELMONICO’S
to meet Asst. Fire-Chief CHARLEY SCHMIDT and
Mrs. SCHMIDT
Invitations to graduating exercises are worded thus:
THE SENIOR CLASS
of the
SOUTH ROCHESTER FEMALE DENTAL INSTITUTE
requests the honor of your presence at the
Commencement Exercises
_on Tuesday evening, June the fifth
at eight o’clock_
MASONIC OPERA HOUSE
_“That Six” Orchestra._
ACCEPTANCES AND REGRETS
Responses to invitations usually take the form of “acceptances”
or “regrets.” It is never correct, for example, to write the
following sort of note:
DEAR MRS. CRONICK:
Your invitation for the 12th inst. received and in reply would advise
that I am not at the present time in a position to signify whether or
not I can accept. Could you at your convenience furnish me with
additional particulars re the proposed affair—number of guests,
character of refreshments, size of orchestra, etc.? Awaiting an early
reply, I am, Yours truly, ALFRED CASS NAPE.
If one wishes to attend the party, one “accepts” on a clean sheet
of note-paper with black ink from a “fountain” pen or inkwell. A
hostess should not, however, make the mistake of thinking that a
large number of “acceptances” implies that anybody really wishes
to attend her party.
The following is a standard form of acceptance:
Dr. Tanner accepts with pleasure the kind invitation of Mrs.
Frederick Cummings Bussey for Thursday evening, December twelfth, at
half after eight.
This note need not be signed. The following “acceptance” is
decidedly demode:
DEAR MRS. ASTOR:
Will I be at your ball? Say, can a duck swim? Count on me sure.
FRED.
It is also incorrect and somewhat boorish to write “accepted”
across the face of the invitation and return it signed to the
hostess.
If one does not care to attend the party, one often sends one’s
“regrets” although one just as often sends one’s “acceptances,”
depending largely upon the social position of one’s hostess. The
proper form of “regret” is generally as follows:
Alice Ben Bolt regrets that she will be unable to accept the kind
invitation of Major General and Mrs. Hannafield for Wednesday evening
at half after eight.
Sometimes it is better to explain in some manner the cause of the
“regret,” as for example:
Alice Ben Bolt regrets that, owing to an ulcerated tooth in the left
side of her mouth, and severe neuralgic pains all up and down her
left side, she will be unable to accept the kind invitation of Major
General and Mrs. Hannafield for Wednesday evening at half after
eight, at “The Bananas.”
This is not, however, always necessary.
[Illustration]
Etiquette without Tears, Mother’s Artful Aid _This is an admirable
picture with which to test the “kiddies’” knowledge of good manners at
a dinner table. It will also keep them occupied as a puzzle picture
since the “faux pas” illustrated herewith will probably not be apparent
to the little ones except after careful examination. If, however, they
have been conscientiously trained it will not be long, before the
brighter ones discover that the spoon has been incorrectly left
standing in the cup, that the coffee is being served from the right
instead of the left side, and that the lettering of the motto on the
wall too nearly resembles the German style to be quite “au fait” in the
home of any red-blooded American citizen._
[Illustration]
Illustrating the Inestimable Value of Stewart’s Lightning Calculation
_Dessert has been reached and the gentleman in the picture is
perspiring freely—in itself a deplorable breach of etiquette. He has
been attempting all evening to engage the ladies on either side of him
in conversation on babies, Camp’s Reducing Exercises, politics, Camp’s
Developing Exercises, music or Charlie Chaplin, only to be rebuffed by
a haughty chin on the one hand and a cold shoulder on the other. If he
had taken the precaution to consult Stewart’s Lightning Calculator of
Dinner Table Conversation (one of the many aids to social success to be
found in_ PERFECT BEHAVIOR) _he would have realized the bad taste
characterizing his choice of topics and would not have made himself a
marked figure at this well-appointed dinner table._
CHAPTER NINE: THE ETIQUETTE OF DINNERS AND BALLS
FORMAL DINNERS IN AMERICA
Eating is an extremely old custom and has been practiced by the
better classes of society almost without interruption from
earliest times. And “society,” like the potentate of the parable
whose touch transformed every object into gold, has embellished
and adorned the all-too-common habit of eating, until there has
been evolved throughout the ages that most charming and exquisite
product of human culture—the formal dinner party. The gentleman
of today who delightedly dons his dress suit and escorts into a
ten-course dinner some lady mountain climber or other celebrity,
is probably little aware of what he owes to his forefathers for
having so painstakingly devised for him such a pleasant method of
spending his time.
But “before one runs, one must learn to walk”—and the joys of the
dinner-party are not to be partaken of without a long preliminary
course of training, as many a young man has learned to his sorrow
when he discovered that his inelegant use of knife and fork was
causing humorous comment up and down the “board” and was drawing
upon himself the haughty glances of an outraged hostess. The
first requisite of success in dining out is the possession of a
complete set of correct table manners—and these, like anything
worth while, can be achieved only by patient study and daily
practise.
TABLE MANNERS FOR CHILDREN
AS a matter of fact, it is never too early to begin to acquire
the technique of correct eating, and the nursery is the best
possible place for the first lessons in dining-room behavior.
Children should be taught at an early age the fundamentals of
“table” manners in such a way that by the time they have reached
the years of manhood the correct use of knife, fork, spoon and
fingerbowl is to them almost second nature. But the parents
should remember, above everything else, to instruct their
children in such a way that the pupil takes pleasure in his
lessons. This is the method which is employed today in every
successful school or “kindergarten”; this is the method which
really produces satisfactory results.
Thus, for example, if you are a father and your boy Edward
persists in bringing his pet tadpole to the table in a glass jar,
you should not punish or scold him; a much more effective and
graphic method of correcting this habit would be for you to
suddenly pick up the tadpole one day at luncheon and swallow it.
No whipping or scolding would so impress upon the growing boy the
importance of the fact that the dinner table is not the place for
pets.
Another effective way of teaching table manners to children
consists in making up attractive games about the various lessons
to be learned. Thus, whenever you have guests for dinner, the
children can play “Boner” which consists in watching the visitor
closely all during the meal in order to catch him in any
irregularity in table etiquette. As soon as the guest has
committed a mistake, the first Child to discover it points his
finger at him and shouts, “Pulled a Boner, Pulled a Boner!” and
the boy or girl who discovers the greatest number of “Boners”
during the evening is rewarded with a prize, based on the
following table of points:
If the guest has dirty hands, 5 points.
If the guest uses wrong fork or spoon, 5 points.
If the guest chokes on bone, 8 points.
If the guest blows on soup, 5 points.
If the guest drops fork or spoon, 3 points.
If the guest spills soup on table, 10 points.
If the guest spills soup on self, 1 point.
Of course it is often well to tell the guests about the game in
advance in order that they may not feel embarrassed but will
enter thoroughly into the spirit of this helpful sport.
A CHILD’S GARDEN OF ETIQUETTE
Children can also acquire knowledge more easily if it is imparted
to them in the form of verse or easy rhymes, and many valuable
facts about the dinner table can be embodied in children’s
verses. A few of these which I can remember from my own happy
childhood are as follows:
Oh, wouldn’t it be jolly
To be a nice _hors d’œuvre_
And just bring joy to people
Whom fondest you were of.
Soup is eaten with a spoon
But not to any haunting tune.
Oysters live down in the sea
In zones both temp. and torrid,
And when they are good they are very good indeed,
And when they are bad they are horrid.
My papa makes a lovely Bronx
With gin so rare and old,
And two of them will set you right
But four will knock you cold.
The boys with Polly will not frolic
Because she’s eaten too much garlic.
Mama said the other day,
“A little goes a long, long way.”
A wind came up out of the sea
And said, “Those dams are not for me.”
Uncle Frank choked on a bone
From eating shad _au gratin_
Aunt Ethel said it served him right
And went back to her flat in
NEWARK (spoken)
Poor Uncle Frank! (chanted)
I love my little finger bowl
So full of late filet of sole.
Cousin George at lunch one day
Remarked, “That apple looks quite tasty.
Now George a dentist’s bill must pay
Because he was so very hasty.
The proverb’s teachings we must hold
“All that glitters is not gold.”
And mama said to George, “Oh, shoot,
You’ve gone and ruined my glass fruit.”
Jim broke bread into his soup,
Jim knocked Mrs. Vanderbilt for a loop.
Kate drank from her finger bowl,
Kate knocked Mrs. Vanderbilt for a goal.
Children who perform such tricks
Are socially in Class G-6.
ETIQUETTE IN THE SCHOOL
Of course, as the children become older, the instruction should
gradually come to embrace all forms of correct behaviour, and the
youthful games and rhymes should give way to the more complex and
intricate problems of mature social etiquette. It is suggested
that the teachings during this period may be successfully
combined with the young gentleman’s or lady’s other schoolroom
studies; in the case of mathematics, for example, the instruction
might be handled in somewhat the following manner:
_A Problem in Mathematics (7th grade)_
_A swimmer starts across a stream which is 450 yards wide. He
swims for five minutes at the rate of three miles per hour, and
for three minutes at the rate of four miles per hour. He then
reaches the other bank, where he sees a young lady five feet ten
inches tall, walking around a tree, in a circle the circumference
of which is forty-two yards._
_A. What is the diameter of the circle?
B. How fast is the current flowing in the stream?
C. At what point would the swimmer land if there were no current
in the stream?
D. At what point does the swimmer actually land?
E. But suppose that he has no bathing suit on?_
And so, when the young person has reached the age for his first
formal dinner party, he will undoubtedly be able to handle the
fundamentals of correct etiquette in a satisfactory manner. But,
as in every sport or profession, there are certain
refinements—certain niceties which come only after long
experience—and it is with a view of helping the ambitious
diner-out to master these more complex details, that I suggest
that he study carefully the following “unwritten laws” which
govern every dinner party.
In the first place, a guest is supposed tacitly to consent to the
menu which the hostess has arranged, and the diner-out who makes
a habit of saying “Squab, you know, never agrees with me—I wonder
if I might have a couple of poached eggs,” is apt to find that
such squeamishness does not pay in the long run.
Practical jokes are never countenanced at a formal affair of this
sort. I do not mean that a certain amount of good-natured fun is
out of place, but such “stunts” as pulling the hostess’ chair out
from under her—or gleefully kicking the shins of your neighbor
under the table and shouting “Guess who?”—are decidedly among the
“non-ests” of correct modern dinner-table behaviour.
Then, too, it is now distinctly bad form to practise legerdemain
or feats of sleight-of-hand at a dinner party. Time was when it
was considered correct for a young man who could do card or other
tricks to add to the gayety of the party by displaying his skill,
but that time is past, and the guest of today, who thinks to make
a “hit” by pulling a live rabbit or a potted plant from the back
of the mystified hostess or one of the butlers, is in reality
only making a “fool” of himself if he only knew it. The same
“taboo” also holds good as concerns feats of juggling and no
hostess of today will, I am sure, ever issue a second invitation
to a young man who has attempted to enliven her evening by
balancing, on his nose, a knife, a radish, a plate of soup and a
lighted candle. “Cleverness” is a valuable asset but only up to a
certain point, and I know of one unfortunately “clever” young
chap who almost completely ruined a promising social career by
the unexpected failure of one of his pet juggling tricks and the
consequent dumping of a large dish of mashed potatoes on the head
of a vice-president of the Equitable Trust Company. Besides,
people almost always distrust “clever” persons.
It does not “do,” either, to “ride your hobby” at a dinner party,
and the real truth as to the cause of the sudden social ostracism
of young Freddie H——, a New York clubman of some years ago (now
happily deceased), is that on one occasion this young fellow, who
had developed a craze for marksmanship amounting almost to a
mania, very nearly ruined a dinner party given by a prominent
Boston society matron by attempting to shoot the whiskers off a
certain elderly gentleman, who happened to be a direct descendant
of John Smith and Priscilla Alden.
It might also be remarked that the possession of certain physical
gifts—such as the ability to wriggle one’s ears or do the
“splits”—is in itself no “open sesame” to lasting social success.
“Slow and sure” is a good rule for the young man to follow, and
although he may somewhat enviously watch his more brilliant
colleagues as they gain momentary applause by their ability to
throw their thumbs out of joint or squirt water through a hole in
their front teeth, yet he may console himself with the thought
that “the race is not always to the swift” and that “Rome was not
built in a day.” The gifts of this world have been distributed
fairly equally, and you may be sure that the young girl who has
been born a ventriloquist very likely is totally unable to spell
difficult words correctly or carry even a simple tune.
Ventriloquism, by the way, is also passing out as a form of
dinner party diversion, and it is no longer considered a
priceless accomplishment to be able to make a dog bark or a baby
cry under the hostess’s chair.
CONVERSATION AT DINNER
Gradually, however, conversation—real conversation—is coming into
its own as the favorite pastime of dinner guests, and the young
man or lady who can keep the conversational “ball” rolling is
coming more and more into demand. Good conversationalists are, I
fear, born and not made—but by study and practise any ambitious
young man can probably acquire the technique, and, with time,
mould himself into the kind of person upon whom hostesses depend
for the success of their party. As an aid in this direction I
have prepared the following chart which I would advise all my
readers to cut out and paste in some convenient place so that at
their next dinner party it can be readily consulted.
STEWART’S LIGHTNING CALCULATOR OF DINNER TABLE CONVERSATION
This chart divides the dinner into its various courses, and under
each course is given what I call an “opening sentence,” together
with your partner’s probable reply and the topic which is then
introduced for discussion. And, most valuable of all, under each
such topic I have listed certain helpful facts which will enable
you to prolong the conversation along those lines until the
arrival of the next course, and the consequent opening of another
field for discussion. The chart follows:
I. _Cocktails._
You say to the partner on your right: “What terrible gin!” She
(he) replies: “Perfectly ghastly.” This leads to a discussion of:
Some Aspects of Alcohol. Helpful Facts:
1. An oyster soaked in alcohol becomes quite rigid in eleven
minutes.
2. Senator Volstead was born Sept. 4, 1869.
3. Alcohol, if taken in too great quantities, often produces
internal disorders.
II. _Oysters._
You say to the partner on your right: “Think of being an oyster!”
She (he) replies: “How perfectly ghastly.”
This leads to a discussion of: Home Life of Oysters.
Helpful Facts:
1. The average life of an oyster is 38 days, 11 hours.
2. Polygamy is practised among certain classes of oysters.
3. The first oyster was eaten by Ossip Gatch, a Pole (d. 1783).
III. _Fish._
You say to the partner at your right: “Do you enjoy fish?”
She (he) replies: “I simply adore fish.”
This leads to a discussion of: Fish—Then, and Now.
Helpful Facts:
1. Fish make notoriously bad pets, whereas seals can be taught to
do many novel tricks.
2. Gloucester (Mass.) smells badly in summer.
3. Gloucester (Mass.) smells badly in winter.
IV. _Meat._
You say to the partner at your right: “Have you ever been through
the Stock-Yards?”
She (he) replies: “No.” (“Yes.”)
This leads to a discussion of: “The Meat Industry in America.”
Helpful Facts:
1. Every time a street car goes over the Brooklyn Bridge, a steer
is killed in Chicago—and oftener.
2. Raw beefsteak in quantities is harmful to children under two
years of age.
3. A man died recently in Topeka, Kansas, weighing 312 pounds.
4. Many prominent people live on the North Side of Chicago.
V. _Salad._
You say to the partner at your right: “What is your favorite
salad?”
She (he) replies: “I don’t know, what’s yours?”
This leads to a discussion of: Favorite Things.
Helpful Facts:
1. Richard Barthelmess is married.
2. B. V. D. stands for “Best Value Delivered.”
3. Amy Lowell is fond of cigars.
_VI. Dessert._
You say to the partner at your right: “I love ice cream.”
She (he) replies: “So do I.”
This leads to a discussion of: Love.
Helpful Facts:
1. New York is the hardest state in which to get a divorce in
America.
2. Dr. Sigmund Freud is now living in Vienna, Austria.
3. D. H. Lawrence has a black beard.
BALLS AND DANCES
In order to succeed in the modern ballroom, and especially in the
ballrooms of our exclusive country clubs, a young gentleman or
lady of fashion must today be possessed of the following two
requisites: i. A “Line.” 2. A closed car. The latter of these
“sine qua nons” is now owned as a matter of course by most
families and is no longer regarded as a mark of distinction. The
former requisite, however, is not so common, but it is
nevertheless true that any young person with ambition and a good
memory can eventually acquire a quite effective “Line.” It is a
great aid in this direction if one happens to have spent a year
or more at one of our leading eastern universities or “finishing
schools.” These vary, of course, in degree of excellence, but it
does not pay to be dogmatic on this subject, and to those who
would insist that the Princeton “Line” is more effective than the
Harvard ditto, or that the Westover “Line” flows more smoothly
than that of Farmington or Spence, one can only say “De gustibus
non disputandum est.” “Lines” vary also in accordance with the
different types of girls who happen to be using them, and (to
misquote a rather vulgar proverb) “What is one girl’s food may be
another girl’s poison.” Thus it happens that the “Line” which is
most universally and interminably employed by the “beautiful”
type of girl (consisting, in its entirety, of the three words
“How perfectly priceless”) would never in the world do for the
young miss whose chief asset is a kind heart or a love for really
good books.
[Illustration]
A Word of Warning and Encouragement _The above diagram (one of man),
filling the instructive and refined pages of_ PERFECT BEHAVIOR, _will
serve as a model to any debutante or dancing man who seriously sets out
to achieve social eminence. It is only fair to warn aspirants that
rigid adherence to the formula is essential and that any slight
slackening of the pace is likely to prove fatal. On the other hand, we
confidently guarantee complete success to those who, in reverence and
faith, keep the final goal always in sight. His (or hers) be it to keep
the sacred flame burning and to pass the torch along from father to
son, from mother to daughter till the end of time, or so long as they
do not make any mesalliances, which is just as important in America,
whatever may be said to the contrary, as among our “English cousins.”_
MIXED DANCING
Another quality which is often helpful on the dance floor,
especially to girls, is the ability to dance. This seems to have
become largely a trick of keeping abreast of the latest “mode”
and while, personally, I greatly regret the passing of the
stately lancers and other dignified “round dances,” yet, if
“mixed dancing” has come to stay, it is the duty of every young
person to learn to dance as well as possible in the generally
accepted manner, even though this often involves some
compromising of one’s _amour propre_.
But in addition to all these necessary qualifications the really
great person—the true super man or woman of the ballroom—must be
possessed of that certain divine something, that _je ne sais
quoi_ ability to rise superior to all occasions, to overcome the
most difficult situations, which has distinguished the great men
and women of all ages. Joan of Arc had it, George Washington had
it, Napoleon had it—and I venture to say that any of these three,
had they lived today, Would have been a social success. But
perhaps this fact can best be illustrated by taking a typical
instance in the ballroom in which “When duty whispered low ‘Thou
must,’ the youth replied ‘I can.’”
HINTS FOR STAGS
Let us suppose, for example, that you are a young man who has
been invited to a dance to be given at the East Shore Country
Club. It is your original intention, let us say, to attend as a
“stag,” but on the afternoon of the party you receive a note from
a young lady of your acquaintance asking if you would be so kind
as to accompany to the ball a guest of hers, a “sweet girl from
South Orange” who was in her class at college.
The correct costume for a dance of this sort is usually a dinner
coat with a black or white vest, and when you have robed yourself
correctly, you should drive in your car to the young lady’s home.
There you are presented to the sweet girl from South Orange, who
is six feet tall and has protruding teeth. After the customary
words of greeting and a few brief bits of pleasantry, you set off
with your partner for the dance.
Arrived at the East Shore Club, you find the party in “full
swing,” and after shaking hands with your host and hostess, you
should ask your partner if she would care to dance.
The first three times that she steps on your left foot, you
should politely murmur, “My fault.” But when she begins to sing
in your ear it is proper to steer her over toward the “stag line”
in order to petition for an injunction or a temporary restraining
order.
The “stag line” consists of a group of the wisest, shrewdest and
most hard-hearted young men ever gathered together under one
roof. The original purpose of a “stag line” was to provide a
place where unattached young men might stand while searching for
a partner, but the institution has now come to be a form of
Supreme Court, passing life or death sentence upon the various
debutantes who pass before it.
After you have piloted your partner five times along the length
of this line you have a pretty fair idea as to her merits or
demerits, and, in this particular case, you have a pretty fair
idea as to just what the evening holds out for you. When the
music stops you should therefore lead the girl over to a chair
and ask to be allowed to bring her a glass of punch.
Instead of going directly to the punch bowl, you should turn your
steps toward the “stag line.” There you will find several young
men whom only as late as that afternoon you counted among your
very best friends, but who do not, at the present, seem to
remember ever having met you before. Seizing the arm of one of
these you say, “Tom, I want you to meet——” That is as far as you
will get, for Tom will suddenly interrupt you by remarking,
“Excuse me a minute, Ed—, I see a girl over there I’ve simply got
to speak to. I’ll come right back.”
He will not come right back. He will not come back at all. And
after you have met with the same response from four other
so-called friends, you should return to the South Orange visitor
and “carry on.”
At the end of the second hour, however, your mind should begin to
clear, and if you are at all possessed of the qualifications for
future ballroom leadership, you should gradually throw off the
slough of despond and determine to make a fight for life, liberty
and the pursuit of happiness. And when the music has once more
ceased, you should ask your partner if she would not care to take
a jaunt in the open air.
“I know a lovely walk,” you should say, “across a quaint old
bridge.”
The rest is, of course, easy. Arrived in the middle of the quaint
old bridge, which leads across a cavern some three hundred feet
deep, you should quickly seize the tall college graduate, and
push her, not too roughly or ungentlemanly, off the bridge.
And, if you are really a genius, and not merely “one of the
crowd” you will return to the ballroom and, going up to the young
lady who was responsible for your having met the sweet girl from
South Orange, you will offer her your arm, and smile invitingly.
“I know a lovely walk,” you will say, “across a quaint old
bridge.”
[Illustration]
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Perfect Behavior: A Guide for Ladies and Gentlemen in All Social Crises" ***
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