"TO THE MANOR BORN"

What is wrong with this picture? Here is a man seated at a dinner table between three ladies a butter plate and a dish of soup. He is in evening dress. In and around his buttonhole is a secondhand rose. More vegetables and even soup and fish are scattered about on the table and the guests. Both his hands are, strangely enough immersed part way in a finger bowl. Offhand there seems to be nothing wrong with the picture. But the faults are glaring to one who has studied a few rules of etiquette. Even those who are "to the manor born" may well profit by these hints on "How to Eat in Cambridge".

Freshmen should be among the first to be helped if possible. Etiquette about dining in the Dormitories is a delicate subject, for great care is necessary in ordering and eating a meal, lest dark clouds of despair overcast an otherwise perfect day. Suppose a meal which could occur any day and show just what Willie, the office boy would do to it. He is selected from all the other contestants as a young man of impeccable manners, at the same time embodying the spirits of Young America.

"Soup?" a slip of a waitress whispers to him.

"Unhuh. Thanks". (HE realizes that politeness will get him farther in the long run than any other policy.)

"Fish?"

"Sure. Caviar on a griddle cake with a side of heavy oream." Most people would not have dared ask for this particular kind of flash, knowing the "drag" necessary to get it. Willie realizes the reward for his politeness for the waitress appears with his order.

Fully as great in importance as his procuring the dish is his method of eating it. He takes fork with l., (l means left hand; r., right.) Changes same to r., tries to eat griddlecake with same, returns fork to l., whence to table and exhales. Picks up fork with l, and knife (by handle) with r., gets firm hold on both and approaches griddle cake. Griddle-cake slipping well on the mixture of caviar and heavy alights in neighbor's lap. (Now here is where his training is evident.) With a jovial laugh, Willie bursts out.

"Don't mention it. I never really wanted it anyway." By keeping his head in this particular case, he remains on the right side of everybody, for even the waitresses sympathize in his bereavement. It is needless to describe now he ate the shredded wheat on the cob, or the steak, or the jellied egg, or the dessert of pie a la mode, sauce oyster. If one merely understands and imitates the epicurean spirit in ordering, and the knack of turning apt phrases, then one can rest assured oft success.

And here is the answer to the original picture. The finger bowl is too small.