A CORRECT NIGHT IN A PULLMAN
Before the days of modern railroads one could not very well travel over night but now, thanks to Mr. Pullman, it is possible for the traveller to go to bed en route and be every bit as snug and comfortable as the proverbial insect in a rug. Shortly after dinner the porter will “make up” the berths in the car and when you desire to retire for the night you should ask him to bring you the ladder in order that you may ascend to upper 9. While you are waiting you should stand in the aisle and remove your coat, vest and shoes, and then begin to search for your suitcase which you will finally locate by crawling on your chin and stomach under berth number 11. When you again resume an upright position the train will give a sudden lurch, precipitating you into berth number 12. A woman’s voice will then say “Alice?” to which you should of course answer “No” and climb quickly up the ladder into your proper berth.
A great deal of “to do” is often made of the difficulty involved in undressing in an upper berth but most of this is quite uncalled for. Experienced travellers now generally wait until the lights of the car have been dimmed or extinguished when the disrobing can be done quite simply in five counts, as follows: One—unloosen all clothing and lie flat on the back. The respiration should be natural, easy and through the lungs. The muscles should be relaxed; Two—pivoting on the back of the head and neck, inhale quickly, at the same time drawing the muscles of the legs and arms sharply under the body, as for a spring; Three—spring suddenly upward and to the right (or left), catching the bell cord (which extends along the roof of the train) with the teeth, hands and feet; Four—holding firmly to the cord with the knees, describe a sudden arc downward with the head and body, returning to position as soon as the shirt and undershirt have dropped off into the aisle; Five—taking a firm hold on the cord with the teeth, let go sharply with the knees. The trousers, etc., should at once slide off, and you can (and, in fact, should) then swing yourself quickly back into your berth and pajamas.
Once inside your “bunk” you should drift quickly off to slumberland, and when you wake up it will be five minutes later and the————engineer will be trying to see what he can do with an air brake and a few steel sleeping cars.
In the morning you will be in New York.
CHAPTER FOUR:
AT THE CONCERT AND THE OPERA
In order to listen to music intelligently—or what is really much more important—in order to give the appearance of listening to music intelligently, it is necessary for the novice to master thoroughly two fundamental facts.
The first, and most important of these, is that the letter “w” in Russian is pronounced like “v”; the second, that Rachmaninoff has a daughter at Vassar.
Not very difficult, surely—but it is remarkable how much enjoyment one can get out of music by the simple use of these two formulas. With a little practise in their use, the veriest tyro can bewilder her escort even though she be herself so musically uninformed as to think that the celeste is only used in connection with Aïda, or that a minor triad is perhaps a young wood nymph.
One other important fundamental is that enthusiasm should never be expressed for any music written after 1870; by a careful observance of this rule one will constantly experience that delightful satisfaction which comes with finding one’s opinions shared by the music critics in the daily press.
The young lady in the picture has just laid out a perfect drive. She had, unfortunately, neglected to wait until the gentleman playing ahead of her had progressed more than fifteen yards down the fairway, and her ball, traveling at a velocity of 1675 f.s., has caught the gentleman squarely in the half-pint bottle. What mistake, if any, is the gentleman making in chasing her off the course with his niblick, if we assume that she called “Fore!” when the ball had attained to within three feet of the gentleman?
You will exclaim, no doubt, on looking at the scene depicted above, “Cherchez la femme.” It is, however, nothing so serious as you will pardonably suppose. The gentleman is merely an inexperienced “gun” at a shooting-party, who has begun following his bird before it has risen above the head of his loader. This very clumsy violation of the etiquette of sport proves, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he has learned to shoot from the comic papers, and that his coat-of-arms can never again be looked upon as anything but bogus.