Introductions.
Where the company is large, the ladies of the house should have tact enough to avoid introducing and placing together persons who cannot possibly assimilate, or take pleasure in each other's society. The dull and the silly will be far happier with their compeers. To a woman of talent and a good conversationalist it is a cruelty to put her unnecessarily in contact with stupid or unmeaning people. She is wasted and thrown away upon such as are neither amusing nor amusable. Neither is it well to bring together a gay, lively woman of the world, and a solemn, serious, repulsive dame, who is a contemner of the world and all its enjoyments.
Avoid giving invitations to bores. They will come without.
We saw no less a person than Charles Dickens compelled at a large party to devote the whole evening to writing autographs for a multitude of young ladies—many of whom, not satisfied with obtaining one of his signatures for themselves, desired half a dozen others for "absent friends." All conversation ceased with the first requisition for an autograph. He had no chance of saying anything. We were a little ashamed of our fair townswomen.
DINNERS THAT CONSISTED OF BOOKS.
Some Authors Have Been Compelled to Eat Their Printed Volumes—Tartars Tried to
Acquire Knowledge That Way.
With the exception of minerals it is difficult for one to find on the earth's surface substances that do not tempt the appetite of some sort of animal. The list of queer articles of diet includes the earth, which is munched with satisfaction by the clay-eater, and the walrus hide, which the Eskimo relishes as much as does John Bull his joint of beef.
It is not generally known, however, that men, as well as mice and book-worms, have eaten dinners that have consisted only of books. This tendency has been described as "bibliophagia," though the word has not yet gained scholarly approval. An interesting account of some of these extraordinary meals appeared in a recent issue of the Scientific American, and is as follows:
In 1370 Barnabo Visconti compelled two Papal delegates to eat the bull of excommunication which they had brought him, together with its silken cords and leaden seal. As the bull was written on parchment, not paper, it was all the more difficult to digest.
A similar anecdote was related by Oelrich, in his "Dissertatio de Bibliothecarum et Librorum Fatis" (1756), of an Austrian general, who had signed a note for two thousand florins, and when it fell due compelled his creditors to eat it. The Tartars, when books fall into their possession, eat them, that they may acquire the knowledge contained in them.
A Scandinavian writer, the author of a political book, was compelled to choose between being beheaded or eating his manuscript boiled in broth.
Isaac Volmar, who wrote some spicy satires against Bernard, Duke of Saxony, was not allowed the courtesy of the kitchen, but was forced to swallow them uncooked.
Still worse was the fate of Philip Oldenburger, a jurist of great renown, who was condemned not only to eat a pamphlet of his writing, but also to be flogged during his repast, with orders that the flogging should not cease until he had swallowed the last crumb.
How They Got On In The World.
Brief Biographies of Successful Men Who Have Passed Through
the Crucible of Small Beginnings and Won Out.
Compiled and edited for The Scrap Book.