Mother's Remedies, Thomas Jefferson Ritter [reading well .TXT] 📗

of salt is put on the edge of the plate; both are eaten from the fingers. [706 MOTHERS' REMEDIES]

Vegetables, Fruits, etc.—Green corn is seldom served on the cob at ceremonious dinners. If it is served, it is to be broken in medium-sized pieces and eaten from the cob, a rather messy process, and one not pretty to observe. The fastidious avoid it. If eaten, the piece is held between the fingers of one hand. To take an unbroken ear in both hands and gnaw the length of it suggests the manners of an animal never named in polite society.

It is correct to take up asparagus by the stalk, and eat it from the fingers, but the newer and more desirable custom is to cut off the edible portion with knife and fork. Lettuce is never cut with a knife; a fork is used, the piece rolled up and conveyed to the mouth.

Hard cheese may be eaten from the fingers; soft cheeses, like Neufchatel, Brie, and the like, are eaten with the fork, or a bit is spread on a morsel of bread and conveyed to the mouth with the fingers.

A soft cake is eaten with a fork. The rule is that whatever can be eaten with a fork shall be so eaten.

Roman punch and sherbets require a spoon. Berries, peaches and cream, custards, preserves, jellies, call for the spoon. Strawberries are often served as a first course in their season. They are then arranged with their hulls and a portion of stem left on, dipped in powdered sugar and eaten from the fingers. A little mound of the sugar is pressed into shape in the center of the small plate and the berries laid around it.

Peaches, pears, and apples are peeled with the fruit knife, cut in quarters or eighths, and eaten from the fingers. Bananas are stripped of the skin, cut in pieces with a fork and eaten from it. Oranges are cut in two across the sections and eaten with an orange spoon. Plums, like olives, are eaten by biting off the pulp without taking the stone in the mouth. Pineapple, unless shredded or cut up, requires both knife and fork; it is usually prepared for more convenient eating. Grapes, which should be washed by letting water from the faucet run over them and laid on a folded towel until the moisture drips off, are eaten from behind the half-closed hand, which receives the skins and seeds, then to be deposited on the plate.

If the small cup of coffee—the demi-tasse—is served, the small after-dinner coffee spoon is necessary. Cream is seldom served with the black coffee—cafe noir—with which a meal concludes, cut loaf sugar is passed.

The Spoon.—The spoon must never be left in the cup, no matter what beverage is served. Most of us have seen some absent-minded individual (we will charitably suppose him absent-minded instead of ignorant), stir his coffee round and round and round, creating a miniature whirlpool and very likely slopping it over into the saucer; then, prisoning the spoon with a finger, drink half the cup's contents at a gulp. To do this is positively vulgar. Stir the coffee or tea very slightly, just enough to stir the cream and sugar with it, then drink in sips. To take either from the teaspoon is bad form. Bread is broken, not cut, and only a small portion buttered at a time. Do not play with bread crumbs or spoon, etc., during the progress of a meal. Leave knife and fork on the plate, handles side by side, when it is passed for a second helping, and at a conclusion of a course, or the meal, lay them in the same position, points of the fork upward.

[MANNERS AND SOCIAL CUSTOMS 707]

Finger Bowls.—When finger bowls are brought, the tips of the fingers are dipped in the bowl and dried on the napkin. Men may lift the moistened fingers to the lips; women seldom do this, but wipe the lips with the napkin. At any function the napkin is not folded, but laid at the side of the plate at the conclusion of the repast. If a guest for a day or so, or for more than one meal, note what your hostess does with her napkin and follow her. If a guest at only one meal, never fold the napkin. Be careful not to throw it down so carelessly that it is stained with coffee, fruit, or fruit juices; your hostess will thank you for your consideration.

Be ready to rise when your hostess rises; you do not push your chair into place; simply rise and leave it. Rise on the side of your chair so you will not have to go around it in following your hostess to the drawing room.

RECEPTIONS.

When invitations are sent out for a reception, the recipient dons her handsomest afternoon gown for the occasion. This may be a dressy tailored suit; by this is meant one not severely simple; or she may wear some handsome trained gown under a long coat. Small cards for presentation at the door are sometimes enclosed with invitations to a large reception or buffet luncheon, since "the pushers" have been known to present themselves at such functions without having been invited. These cards are handed to the man who opens the carriage door. An awning extends from the door to the curb, and strips of carpet are laid under it, A maid opens the door and directs guests to the dressing room, where wraps are laid aside, hats and gloves being retained.

Receiving.—The hostess stands near the door of the drawing room, welcoming her guests with hand and smile. Next to her stand the ladies who receive with her. During the hour of arrival there is seldom opportunity for more than a word of greeting, and one should not linger but pass on down the line. A reception is often given to some visiting stranger, who is introduced by the hostess.

The guests then circulate through the rooms, greeting acquaintances, and drifting eventually to the dining room, where refreshments are served. They may stay as long as they find it agreeable, within the hours named on the card of invitation, but people seldom stay more than an hour.

The hostess remains near the door after the rush is over to greet the belated guest and bid adieu to those who are leaving.

[708 MOTHERS' REMEDIES]

Decorations.—It is usual to decorate the rooms with flowers, and the services of the florist as well as the caterer are required if it is a large affair. Cards are usually left, as a token that one has been present, but in this case a card is manifestly not a visit, since it would be absurd for a woman to invite fifty, a hundred, or even five hundred people, who would expect her to call on them afterwards. Cards are sent by those who do not attend, on the day. A reception given for forty or fifty people is less formal, perhaps, but requires flowers—in less profusion—and refreshments. The awning may be dispensed with if the day is fine, but seldom is. The door must be promptly opened, and the maid remains at her post during the affair if there are many guests, to open it for those who leave as well as those who arrive.

HOSPITALITY IN THE HOME.

"There is an emanation from the heart in genuine hospitality which cannot
be described, but is immediately felt, and puts the stranger at once at
his ease."
                                                   —Washington Irving.

Were we to look up the meaning of the word hospitality in the dictionary, we would find it defined as the act of receiving and entertaining guests kindly, generously, and gratuitously, without expectation of reward.

According to such a definition, much that passes for hospitality in the social realm does not deserve the name. Society is a give-and-take arrangement, somewhat resembling the gift exchange we practise at Christmas. If you do not give you do not get; if you do not entertain you are not invited, unless it is understood that circumstances prevent your doing so. Then one is asked for what one can contribute in the way of good company, promotion of gayety, and the like. One "pays her way" by being agreeable, well gowned, popular. Thus, in a way, much social hospitality is merely social bargaining. The woman who feels indebted to her circle—or circles, for these impinge upon each other—gives a large reception or "at home." She can seldom do more than welcome the coming and speed the parting guest. Her greeting is "So delighted to see you here;" her farewell, "Good-bye; so glad you were able to come." Her guests have greeted each other in much the same casual fashion, have had some refreshments warranted to destroy their appetite for dinner; have shown a handsome gown and hat—and perhaps had the former injured in the crush. One is reminded of Bunthorne's "Hollow! Hollow! Hollow!!"

Real Hospitality.—Quite different is this from what we offer when we invite our friends to visit us. Here is genuine hospitality—the receiving and entertaining gratuitously those whose companionship we enjoy. One of the chief joys of having one's own home is the pleasure of being able to welcome one's friends and afford them the privilege of enjoying it also. An invitation of this kind means we are willing to incommode ourselves, incur expense, and give a measure of our time to the entertainment of those of our friends whose society we wish to enjoy familiarly. Thus it seems that an invitation to visit a friend in her home is a compliment of no mean order, although Nicole says: "'Visits are for the most part neither more nor less than inventions for discharging upon our neighbors somewhat of our own unendurable weight."

[MANNERS AND SOCIAL CUSTOMS 709]

Short Visits.—Visits are of much shorter duration than in those "old times" people talk about so enthusiastically—and would find so tiresome were they to return again. Then visitors stayed week after week; were urged to remain longer when they proposed departure. The story goes of a Virginia planter who invited an old war-time friend to visit him. At the end of a month the major proposed departure. His host objected so strenuously that he agreed to stay another month. And so it went on, the guest regularly proposing to leave, the host hospitably insisting on his remaining, until in the end the old veteran died in and was buried from his friend's house. This, however, is an example not to be emulated in these less hospitable days.

There is a saying, "Short visits make long friends," that is worth consideration by those who visit. Probably the truth of the saying has been so often attested that it has given rise to the custom of specifying the date of arrival and departure of a guest when giving the invitation. It has become to be understood that the vague, indefinite invitation "Do come and see us sometime," means nothing. No one would think for a moment of taking it in good faith. If the giver wishes to entertain her friend she will ask if it will be convenient for her to visit her at a certain specified date. Nothing less counts. An understanding of this might save the unexperienced from the awkwardness of making an unwelcome visit.

The Unexpected Visit.—Nothing is worse form than "the surprise visit." Generally you do surprise your hostess and very often most disagreeably. A housekeeper does not enjoy an intrusion—for such it is—of that kind any more than you would be pleased to have a chance caller rush unannounced into your private rooms. Even among relatives and the most intimate friends, there is nothing to justify the unexpected arrival. Nothing so strikes terror to a woman's soul as the thud of trunks on the piazza and the crunch of wheels on the gravel, meaning someone has "come to stay."

Such an arrival is a piece of presumption on the part of the visitor. She assumes she will be welcome at any time she chooses to present herself. This may be true; but at the same time there is an obligation of courtesy which requires her to consult her friend's convenience. Instead, she consults her own and utterly ignores that of her hostess, who is thus forced into entertaining her.

[710 MOTHERS' REMEDIES]

The Inopportune Arrival.—Many awkward and sometimes amusing anecdotes are told in connection with the inopportune visit. Thus not long ago the newspapers chronicled the plight of a woman who undertook to surprise an acquaintance from whom she had not heard for several years. She was driven to their house and dismissed the carriage. A strange face met her at the door, and she learned that her friend had removed