nearly all of which have some excellent cause for existence, although we do not always pause to examine into their raison d’etre.  They may be founded upon hygienic principles, or on the idea of the greatest good to the greatest number.  Many seemingly slight breaches of etiquette, if practiced by everyone, would create a state of affairs which even the most ardent hater of les convenances would deplore.  If, for instance, all men were so entirely a law unto themselves that they despised the rule which commands a man to resign his chair to a lady, what would become of us poor women?  In crowded rooms we would have the pleasure of standing still or walking around the masculine members of the company, who would sit at ease.  Were the unmannerly habit of turning the leaves of a book with the moist thumb or finger indulged in by all readers, the probabilities are that numberless diseases would thus be transmitted from one person to another.

It argues an enormous amount of self-conceit in man or woman when he or she calmly refuses to conform to rules of etiquette.  In plain language, we are none of us in ourselves pur et simple so agreeable as to be tolerable without the refinement and polish of manners upon which every “artist of the beautiful” should insist in her own house.  Too many mothers and housekeepers think that “anything will do for home people.”  It is our duty to keep ourselves and our children “up” in “the thing” in table and parlor manners, dress and the etiquette of visiting, letter-writing, etc.  Even among well-born people there are certain small tokens of good breeding which are too often neglected.  One of these is what a college boy recently described in my hearing as the “bread-and-butter letter.”  At my inquiring look he explained that it was “the note of thanks a fellow writes to his hostess after having made a visit at her house—­don’t you know?”

This note should be written as soon as possible after the guest returns to her home, even if she has been entertained for only a night.  In it she informs her hostess of her safe arrival, and thanks her for her kind hospitality.  A few lines are all that is necessary.

It seems incredible that in decent society anyone should be so little acquainted with the requirements of the drawing-room as to enter a lady’s parlor, and stop to speak to another person before first seeking his hostess and paying her his respects.  And yet I have seen men come into a room and stop to chat first with one, then with another friend, before addressing the entertainer.  If, while searching for the lady of the house in a parlor full of people, a man is addressed by some acquaintance, he should merely make an apology and pass on until he has found his hostess.  After that he is free to talk with whom he pleases.