A handbook of hospitality for town and country

Front matter

c/

^ A HANDBOOK

■H OF

Part I

I. The Country Hostess and Her

Problems 11

11. Picnics and Country Frolics . . 22

III. Country Weddings 34

IV. House-parties, Guests and Guest-

Chambers 45

V. Unexpected Visitors . . . . 61

Part II

VI. The Flat-dweller and Her Difficulties 72

VII. Afternoon Teas and Receptions . 87

VIII. Luncheons . 101

IX. How TO Give an Agreeable Dinner . 116

X. The Day of the Dinner . . . 132

XI. Dances 148

Part III

XII. Twentieth Century Costume Dances

and Masked Balls . . . .169

Contents

CHAPTER

XIII.

XIV.

Part IV

Hints for Club Festivities , . . 247 Novel Ideas for Patriotic Entertainments 255

Progressive Dinners, Barmecide's Feasts, Magic Suppers, and Other

Novelties 264

The Stranger within Our Gates . 277

Hospitality in Modern Europe . . 289

Outgrown Ideals of Hospitality . 304

FOR TOWN AND COUNTRY

Part I Chapter I The Country Hostess And Her Problems

INY woman who has Hved for any length of time in the country is sadly familiar with the problems confronting the country hostess. Men and things tend to concentrate in cities. There seems to be some mysterious attraction which constantly draws everything within its reach, cooks, fresh eggs, the very fish of the sea, to the great centres of trade and commerce.

In providing for her guests, nay, often in securing these, the country hostess must fight a series of battles royal with this great centripetal force, which drags everything from her grasp.

She will soon grow discouraged unless she remembers that there is another law which works in an opposite direction. Just as the cities cannot exist by themselves, and must draw their supplies from the surrounding country, so the minds and souls of men would starve, did they not from time to time " Return to Nature." This centrifugal force works most strongly, of course, in the heated months, when stone pavements and arid wastes of brick seem so odious in the towns, and even the rulers of the kitchen prefer the seaside or the mountains " For a time."

The country is beautiful however, even in winter to those who know and love it. The almost unbearably rapid pace of our city life, and the imitation of our British brethren, have combined to bring people back to rural localities, at all times of the year. They are beginning to find " The quiet of woods and meadows " the best tonic for tired nerves. The country hostess should take comfort in the thought that Fashion is coming her way. She should remember also that when she invites her city friends to spend a week-end with her, she often does them a real kindness.

The servant problem is a very serious one to the dwellers in small communities. Yet even this offers advantages to those who look at things in the right way. The woman who finds it difficult to procure competent help, and impossible to prevent their sudden departure, learns to rely more on herself and less on the angel of the kitchen. If she is wise, she will make herself familiar with household arts. She will take lessons in cooking, from some notable neighbor if no training school is at hand. She will even learn how to kindle and how to dump the kitchen fire. Instead of a helpless being, absolutely dependent on the caprices of foreign mercenaries, she will become a capable and truly independent house-mistress, who can herself look after the comfort and well-being of her guests whenever this is necessary.

The same spirit of self-reliance should lead her to train a daughter, or even a young son, to wait on the table. I have seen a boy of twelve perform this service very acceptably. His mother explained the situation to us, which indeed required no explanation beyond telling us who he was. The country hostess and her family, who " Know how to do things," can meet their guests with the serenity born of knowledge of their own powers, — provided always they do not attempt to do too much! Half the troubles of rural hospitality arise from the mistaken efforts of the hosts to copy the ways and the entertainments of dwellers in cities. This is not desirable and not possible, for any save very rich people.

As we pass out of the smoky and dusty town, and go farther and farther into the country, we leave behind us more and more the elaborate products of civilization and return nearer and nearer to Great Mother Nature. From her we learn the important lesson of simphcity. We feel by instinct the appropriateness of simple dress as we walk abroad on country roads; and the same simplicity, quiet and dignified, should characterize country life in all its phases. This alone gives us the feeling of repose and rest which is especially delightful to those who have come from the bustle and rush of a great town.

Simple things need to be excellent, and the rural hostess should make the necessary effort to provide for her guests the best products of the country-side — fresh fruit, vegetables and eggs, chickens that have never darkened the door of the cold-storage warehouse, cream and milk that have never travelled by train. It sometimes requires forethought and contrivance to procure these, but they are always appreciated and are infinitely more appropriate to the countryside than the elaborate dishes which adorn city feasts.

Our country hostess holds other trump cards in her hand. Fresh and invigorating air, the beauties of natural scenery, quiet and repose, all these she should be able to offer her friends. I am afraid however that, like the rest of mankind, she is too often occupied with thinking of the difficulties under which she labors, rather than of the advantages that she possesses.

We all know it is not easy to heat a country house in the depth of winter, and our hostess may be so anxious to keep her friends warm as to forget the necessity of having her dwelling thoroughly ventilated. Here again she will do better if she does not attempt to follow city methods too closely. Steam heat and hot-air furnaces may be sufficient in a closely-built block, but in a detached wooden house they should be supplemented by open fireplaces, those best of ventilators. Nothing is so cheerful and cosy as a blazing wood fire on a winter evening.

The country hostess who remembers the advantages of her situation, who occupies herself with trying to give her guests all the pleasant things the neighborhood and her way of life afford, will have a cheerful and robust attitude of mind. This will be infinitely more agreeable to her friends than the apologetic tone induced by dwelling on one's own shortcomings or those of the surroundings. " Who excuses himself, accuses himself," and a hostess should rarely apologize. In order to make her guests enjoy the country, she must herself be fond of it. Perhaps she has been transplanted from the city and would prefer to return there if she could; this need not prevent her from getting all the pleasure possible out of her country residence, and passing it on to others. She should study the beauties and resources of her neighborhood, find out the pretty walks and drives, ascertain what points of interest there are within walking, driving or " motoring " distance. She should have a quick eye too, to perceive the things that may interest people coming from a distance. The village saw-mill, which she passes every day, is to her only a saw-mill on the river's brink, a very familiar and uninteresting object. But to her young friends from the city it may appear an enchanted palace of delight. The whirr of the revolving saws, the swift rushing up and down of the little platforms, the drawing in of the big logs floating in the river below — all is novel and mystical to them.

In order to be a perfect rural hostess, one must not only love the country, but must also have out-of-door tastes and occupations which guests may share. No matter how large and finely appointed a villa we possess, our friends will hardly feel satisfied unless a part at least of their entertainment is under the blue vault of heaven. Whether we offer them horses to ride or drive, motor cars, open-air sports, or only tea in the arbor and a stroll through the garden, we should if possible take them out into the open. When an Englishman visits a friend in the country, he always asks " To see the Estate," and we Americans sometimes laugh and blush as we show him about the few acres with which we have done so little! The present craze for formal and other gardens is changing all this, and it is taking people into the open air. It is now the fashion to serve meals, especially breakfast and afternoon tea, on the lawn or the verandah. Our country hostess should certainly give her friends the pleasure of repasts out of doors, weather permitting. This is a little trouble but it pays. Better two courses served thus than half a dozen in a stuffy dining-room on a hot evening. Every one has a good appetite in the open air and the green trees and blue sky make the simplest meal a pleasure.

" But I do not like to eat breakfast under the eyes of my neighbor," says Mrs. Suburban. Certainly not, have a privet or honeysuckle hedge around your premises, if the neighborhood is not educated up to the point of a walled garden.

A foolish wave of expansiveness swept over our country a few years ago, causing householders to take down their fences and throw their grounds absolutely open to the eyes of all beholders, and to the feet of all wandering dogs and other stray animals. This fenceless and unprotected condition is now taken so much as a matter of course in many localities, that real indignation is shown if a householder possessing a love of privacy and of outdoor life ventures to surround his own grounds with a wall, thus following a custom which is well-nigh universal in France and England. A gentleman who did so, in a town less than thirty miles from New York, endeavored to mitigate his offence by planting ivy on the outside of his brick walls. This was speedily trampled under foot by his irate neighbors, who considered the enclosure in the light of a personal insult.

If privacy is not only allowable but proper in one's dwelling house, why not also in one's grounds? We do not make the walls of our houses of glass, nor even of paper like the Japanese. If you wish to be sure of making your toilet without supervision, in the land of the Mikado, you must take the precaution of tying together with string the little paper sliding screens or partitions that divide you from your neighbors. The love of privacy belongs to a higher civilization; and the people, who at first blush object to walls and enclosures, wdll reconsider when it is suggested to them that the purpose of these is to enable their neighbors to make the garden a place to live and work in.

The country hostess makes a great mistake when she invites her neighbors to her house only on rare and ceremonious occasions. Nothing is pleasanter than to drop in informally and take a meal with a friend in a quiet way. Monotony is a danger of rural life, and these little friendly visitings make an agreeable change, without overtaxing the strength or the purse of the hostess. Guest and host are probably both very busy women, full of household cares. They will return to these, refreshed in spirit, after a pleasant chat over the supper table. Too often however, a rural hostess is so anxious to do her duty as a good housewife, and to set before her guests an elaborate display of eatables and drinkables, that she exhausts herself in making preparations, and is too weary to enjoy the society of her friends, or to make them have a good time.

In a word, her efforts at hospitality are so strenuous that they defeat themselves. She has not yet learned the charm of simplicity.

Chapter II Picnics And Country Frolics

pTHING is more delightful than a country frolic, provided time and place are suitable and the guests persons of the right sort. Good spirits, good temper, imagination and a sense of humor are essentials to the success of such an occasion. We cannot expect that a whole company will be thus happily endowed, but there should be enough funloving and good-natured men and women to act as a leaven for the rest. It is important to have at least one humorist, who can see the amusing side even of a misfortune, and make the rest laugh.

I remember a family picnic where everybody was justly incensed at the stupidity of the Irish cook. This faithful woman, having received orders to make the sandwiches " half strawberry jam and half cold beef," complied literally with the directions as she miderstood them. Now nothing is more odious than beef and jam combined in a single sandwich, unless it be the same ingredients happily mingled in several dozen. We tried conscientiously to eat them, but it was impossible. Every one looked sad or indignant until the humorist saw the absurdity of the situation and broke into peals of laughter. Soon we were all laughing merrily !

The imaginative man is as necessary as the humorist. He must supply the touch of poetry which makes a ride in a hay -rigging romantic and delightful, while to the prosaic soul a springless wagon and a load of straw convey no meaning, unless it be a sense of discomfort and a fear of dampness. Fortunately young people are usually full of both fun and romance, if they have not been spoiled by the too great luxury of our modern city life.

In the country where cultivating the soil is the business of life, men are brought into close touch with the earth and realize their dependence upon its bounty. Hence rural festivals from the earliest days have gathered about the fruitful phases of Nature — beginning with Easter, the glorious resurrection from the death of Winter, and ending with the Harvest in its many varieties. Country frolics celebrating the great events of the farmer's calendar, have the sanction of old tradition, as well as the inestimable advantage of fitness. They are in reality the festivals of labor, rejoicings in the triumph of man's industry cooperating with Nature's bounty. Hence the idea of cheerful work, in which all should join, followed by play, underlies them. This idea should if possible be maintained, modified to suit modern tastes, since our generation does not love manual labor. Yet we all instinctively feel that at a country merry-making every one should make himself useful. That is a part of the fun. The lazy and purely ornamental person, who is incapable of doing anything, always seems out of place at a picnic. All need not work; but all should be ready to work if it should be necessary.

We are beginning to understand in America the beauty and value of old associations. Fortunate is the town or village which continues to celebrate rural festivities, established by old tradition! It is wise to keep them up, preserving all the touches of local color, and by no means omitting the old-fashioned country refreshments. Unfortunately doughnuts and pie require the vigorous digestion that accompanies a life of bodily activity, so that for persons of sedentary habits it is necessary to add some other simple items to the bill of fare.

If we import forms of merry-making, we should be careful to have them suitable to the season and to the natural tendencies of our people. Never shall I forget the inclement May-days of my childhood, and the little Irish children shivering in their thin white dresses and crowns of paper flowers, on Boston Common. The first of May is doubtless balmy and delightful in the Mother Country, but in New England it finds Winter still lingering in the lap of Spring. In our Northern states those who follow the beautiful old custom of going a-Maying must wait for a good day, and carry plenty of wraps. Many a delightful picnic did we have as children in that merrie month. The most poetic ended by the seaside, and we cast garlands into the sea, wondering to whom the waves would carry them. Then we returned home, bringing in our hands the dehcate spring wild flowers, and in our minds pictiu-es of shore and woodland beauty, never to be forgotten.

Even in snow-bound INIaine the pretty custom of hanging JVIay-baskets still persists. Dainty paper baskets, decorated with artificial flowers and containing candy, fruit or other goodies, are hung on the handle of the door. The giver rings the bell, then runs away and hides, but not too well, for old tradition prescribes that he must be chased, brought back and hospitably entertained. According to the more primitive and romantic method, a kiss is exchanged.

The uncertainty of the weather is always the great obstacle in the path of the country hostess, who is planning some out-of-door frolic. The telephone has now come to her assistance, even in remote spots, so that she may invite her guests or postpone the affair, at short notice. A friendly barn or a sheltered verandah, sometimes proves a pleasant refuge from a sudden thundershower. A hospitable country gentleman had colored panes of glass set around his parlor windows, so that his friends, looking through these, could behold the tender green of Spring, the yellow tones of Midsummer, or the red hues of Autumn, even when skies were dull and rain pouring down. The passing of the scythe has divested haying time of some of its old picturesqueness, but the scent of the freshly cut grass and the beauty of the fields still remain. Truly delightful is a supper party in the meadows, where the new-mown hay is piled in little fragrant cocks. The sun sinking in the west, perhaps a slender new moon hanging timidly in the sky, like a bashful maiden, the frogs whistling in the marshes, the delicious odor of the fresh hay, all combine to charm the senses. To drink lemonade through the slender straws of drying grass is a part of the pleasant programme. A pitcher of the old-time beverage — molasses, ginger and water — should certainly be provided, as it is supposed to be very satisfying to thirst. Doughnuts and pie or sandwiches and cake, may complete the simple supper. A good story-teller is a pleasant addition to a hay-stack party, although he must not feel hurt if the younger guests stroll away in couples. A small hay-cock makes a very comfortable back for two persons to lean against.

If the guests are muscular as well as merry, they may hke to whet their appetite for supper and help the farmer, by tossing the hay and piling it up into the traditional little green mounds, while the sun sinks in the west. After the sweet-smelling crop has been gathered in, and while it is still fresh and fragrant, a barn-party is in order. There is a mysterious charm about a barn, enhanced by the sense of dangers remembered from childish days. Does not one recollect Thomas Blank who lost the ends of his fingers in the hay-cutter, and Susy Nameless who almost slid on the tines of a pitchfork lying in wait for her? Tales of adventure seem highly appropriate in this setting and as the shadows fall, all may adjourn to the hay-mow and listen to thrilling ghost stories.

The simple country supper should include new milk, warm from the cow. The company sit about on milking stools, piles of hay or other improvised seats. Sometimes supper is served in the house and a procession is made afterward to the hay-mow, each guest carrying a lighted lantern.

Husking bees still survive in some parts of our country. Youths and maidens still look for the red ears among the corn, amid much blushing and laughter, if they turn up in the hands of the right couple. Cider and apples taste very good after the exercise of stripping the husks from the corn.

With dances in the barn every one is famihar. If a village fiddler can be procured, one who will call the figures for old-fashioned country dances, stamping his foot to mark the time, it adds greatly to the fun.

The Harvest Home is one of the prettiest and most easily arranged of rural festivals. It may begin with a short religious service of Thanksgiving, the church being decorated with fruit, ripe grain, flowers and vegetables. A midday lunch under the trees follows and gives the country housewives a chance to display their skill in bread- and cake-making. If the weather is at all cool, hot coffee makes an excellent addition to the feast.

To most of us one great charm of the picnic in its endless varieties consists in its simplicity. Yet we must beware of confusing simplicity with carelessness. No entertainment can be successful unless somebody gives thought and attention to it. A suitable place must be selected, the baskets must be well packed, no necessary article must be forgotten, the food must be good of its kind. Some other form of amusement beside eating arid drinking, even though it is a very simple one, should be provided for the guests ; and this requires a little forethought on somebody's part. If there is an artist present, very effective tableaux can be arranged with little trouble, the greenery forming a lovely background. Scenes from the old Greek Mythology are especially adapted to such a setting, while a few sheets and pillow-cases will do wonders in reproducing classic draperies. Perhaps amateur actors who can give a scene from " As you like it," or some other sylvan drama, are among the guests. A screen of woven boughs stretched between two trees, may separate the stage proper from the tiringroom.

Impromptu charades are excellent for out-of-door occasions, the improvised scenery and odd stage properties adding to the amusement. If some one has brought a guitar, a banjo or a mandolin, popular songs make a pleasant programme, although singing in the open air is said to be bad for the voice. The fancy dances now so much in vogue, are never prettier than on the greensward.

One of the most charming meetings of the Newport Town and Country Club was a Botanical Picnic at Paradise Rocks. The guests searched diligently for wild flowers, and after luncheon a Professor of Botany dissected and explained the flora of the locality.

A pretty fancy for people who are fond of poetiy is to prepare, with the aid of " Bartlett/' a number of short quotations. These are written on shps of paper which are cut in two in such a way as to separate the hnes. A member of the company pins these to the different trees, after the f asliion of Orlando. Each guest takes down a shp and tries to find liis or her affinity, namely the person who has the other half of the quotation.

A list of comitry merry-makings would be incomplete, did it not include the Rhode Island clam-bake, of mid}4ng fame and popularity. The great drawback to it is the length of time required to prepare the repast — clams cannot be gathered in a moment and heating the stones red-hot is a slow process. When the guests have admired the great mound of bivalves, decorated with circles of chicken, corn and lobster, when they have seen the wet seaweed put on, and the whole covered by a great rubber blanket, the initiated know by sad experience that a long waiting is still before them. Games, songs, stories, the plaiting of oak garlands for the table, some form of entertainment is necessary to occupy the company until the feast is ready.

I have thus attempted to sketch in outline some country merry-makings, not with the idea of exhausting the subject, but rather of furnishing hints for the assistance of the young hostess. If she is ingenious, she will evolve many improvements and additions. The informality of such occasions makes them very elastic, and pleasant novelties may readily be combined with or substituted for the good old ways, if people grow tired of these and want a change.

Chapter III Country Weddings

|0W lovely is the closing scene in " As You Like It," where the true lovers plight their troth " Under the greenwood tree!" The Temple of Nature is surely the most beautiful and the most fitting for the performance of the marriage ceremony : — we strive to imitate it, so far as we can, by filling the churches with greens and flowers, making a counterfeit presentment of Paradise. For Paradise, as all the world knows, was in a garden, and no poet would dream of locating it in the streets of a crowded city. Happy the bride whose marriage takes place on the smooth greensward, under the higharching trees of a lovely country-place, whether it be

** In spring-time, the only pretty ring-time "

or in the full glory of midsummer.

The perennial interest and romance attaching to a wedding are sufficient to make beautiful any marriage ceremony which unites two people who truly love each other, even though it take place in the Mayor's office. But the country bride has an immense advantage in her surroundings.

In the city, weddings have come to be stereotyped affairs and are too often occasions of a display to which many persons seriously object. The bride is the centre of a gorgeous pageant produced by the joint efforts of florist, dress-maker, milliner and caterer. In the country there is more simplicity, a greater opportunity for the exercise of individual taste, and greater friendliness. There is also a certain delicate, intangible atmosphere of home, which too often evaporates in the crowded haunts of men.

The hands of loving friends may twine the decorations for the village church or for the house if it is to be a home wedding, weaving a bit of sentiment, a touch of poetry into their work, which we must not expect to find in the stereotyped labors of the hired florist.

Now that we are recovering from the foolish old superstition about the month of May, the bride may stand in a bower of freshlygathered apple blossoms, or of roses from the home garden if June be the month chosen. In the Autumn beautiful effects are obtained from the golden and crimson leaves mingled with the bright hues of the late Fall flowers. Even bluff Winter contributes its share of home-grown decorations — cedar, pine and holly in our cold North, laurel, smilax and live oak from our bright Southland.

In the country, the neighbors are for the most part friends. Many of them have seen the bride grow up and blossom into womanhood. They take a real interest in her and if this is sometimes expressed too freely, if uncalled-for advice or criticism is offered, the intent is usually kindly.

Surely there is friendliness in cities also, but there our neighbors are too much engrossed with the rush and hurry of life, to pay much attention to a bride not belonging to their own special circle.

Hence young women of wealth and high social position often prefer to have the wedding take place at the family home in the country, rather than at the city dwelling. Indeed a fair bride of my acquaintance carried this sentiment so far that she entrusted the making of her bridal dress to the village dress-maker. The latter was so pleased and proud that she fairly outdid her- |

self!

A wedding affords a country hostess a great opportunity to display her hospitality, for there are almost always friends from a distance to be entertained. If the parents or near relatives of the groom are among these, she will receive them beneath her own roof, • if possible; or she will arrange for their pleasant accommodation at the houses of friends and neighbors. Indeed her own dwelling and those of all connected with her will make themselves highly elastic, and will take in all the guests who can in any way be bestowed.

Where nothing better can be done, she will engage rooms for relatives or friends at the village hotel or at a suitable boarding house. Even in this case, she can show her hospitable intent by sending one of the family or a friend to meet them at the station; if the friend possess a carriage or an automobile, so much the better. To be thus personally conducted to lodgings, by somebody interested in one's comfort, who will act as a friendly go-between, bespeaking the favor of the landlord, is much more agreeable than to go alone to an unknown hostelry in a strange city. A bunch of flowers placed beforehand in the room, may breathe a fragrant welcome and show the thoughtfulness of the absent host.

A dinner or supper, on the evening before the wedding, is sometimes given at the house of the bride's parents or other relatives. It is a pleasant attention to the guests staying elsewhere, and shows the desire of the hostess and her family to extend all the hospitality which circumstances will permit.

Does some one ask whether the mother of the bride should pay for the entertainment of friends staying at a hotel? If she has invited them to come to the town or village as her guests, she will do so; otherwise it is not obligatory. A wedding necessarily involves much expense, and it is not good economic policy to make it so costly that only people of wealth can afford to invite their friends.