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Perfect Behavior

<h2>CHAPTER EIGHT: CORRESPONDENCE AND INVITATIONS</h2> <h3> CORRESPONDENCE </h3> 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.” <h3> CORRESPONDENCE FOR YOUNG LADIES </h3> 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. <h3> An Incorrect Letter from a Débutante to a Taxidermist Thanking Him for Having Stuffed Her Pet Alice </h3> 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. <h3> A Correct Letter from a Débutante to a Taxidermist Thanking Him for Having Stuffed Her Pet Alice </h3> 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. <div class="fig"> <ANTIMG src="images/image29.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="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.</div> <div class="fig"> <ANTIMG src="images/image30.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="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.</div> <h3> COLLEGE BOYS </h3> 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: <h3> An Incorrect Letter from a Princeton Student to a Yale Student Congratulating the Latter on His Football Victory </h3> 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. <h3> A Correct Letter from a Princeton Student to a Yale Student Congratulating the Latter on His Football Victory </h3> 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. <h3> LETTERS TO PARENTS </h3> 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: <h3> A Correct Letter from a Young Lady in Boarding School to Her Parents </h3> 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. <h3> LETTERS FROM PARENTS </h3> 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: <h3> A Correct Letter from a Mother to Her Son Congratulating Him on His Election to the Presidency of the United States </h3> 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? <h3> LETTERS TO PROSPECTIVE FATHERS-IN-LAW </h3> 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: <h3> A Correct Letter to a Prospective Father-in-Law Who Is a Business Man </h3> 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: <h3> A Correct Letter to a Prospective Father-in-Law Who Is in the Advertising Business </h3> 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.” <h3> LOVE LETTERS </h3> 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: <h3> A Correct Letter from a Young Man Traveling in Europe to His Fiancée </h3> 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. <h3> CORRESPONDENCE OF PUBLIC OFFICIALS </h3> 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: <h3> A Correct “Public Letter” from a Congressman </h3> 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. <h3> A Correct Private Letter of a Congressman </h3> 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. <div class="fig"> <ANTIMG src="images/image31.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="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.</div> <div class="fig"> <ANTIMG src="images/image32.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="“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.</div> <h3> LETTERS TO NEWSPAPERS, MAGAZINES, ETC. </h3> 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: <h3> A Correct Letter from an Elderly Gentleman to the Editor of a Newspaper or Magazine </h3> 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. <h3> A Correct Letter from an Indignant Father to an Editor of Low Ideals </h3> 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. <h3> 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. </h3> 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. <h3> 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. </h3> 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. <h3> LETTERS TO STRANGERS </h3> 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. <h3> A CORRECT LETTER TO A FRENCH VISITOR </h3> 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.” <h3> A CORRECT LETTER TO A BEARDED LADY </h3> 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. <h3> INVITATIONS </h3> 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. <h3> ACCEPTANCES AND REGRETS </h3> 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. <div class="fig"> <ANTIMG src="images/image33.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="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.</div> <div class="fig"> <ANTIMG src="images/image34.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="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.</div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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