When dinner is over, and you see that nearly all the company, except two or three, have left the table, it is not well to be one of that two or three, and to remain to an indefinite period, loitering over the last pickings of a plate of nuts—nut-picking being always a tedious business. The waiters are, by this time, very tired of standing, and they (like all other people) are entitled to some consideration of their comfort. Even the attraction of a beau drinking his wine beside her, ought not to induce a young lady to outstay all the company, with the pretext of being passionately fond of nuts. She may indulge this passion at any time by keeping a bag of them in her own room.
The English travellers who visit America are often right in their remarks on many of our customs. And instead of resenting these remarks, we might profit by them, and reform.
For instance, it is true that the generality of Americans eat too fast, for their own health, and the comfort of those about them; masticating their food very slightly, and not allowing themselves time enough to enjoy their meals. The French, however, eat faster still, and can dispatch a surprising quantity of food in less time than any people in the civilized world. If we pattern after either nation in the customs of the table, the genteel English are far better models than most of their neighbours across the Channel. But the best class of Americans are unsurpassed in the essentials of all these observances. The English attach too much importance to ceremonies merely conventional, and for which there seems no motive but the ever-changing decrees of fashion. Yet, on going to England, let every American lady take care to make herself acquainted with these ceremonies; for her ignorance of them will find no quarter there—and she need not flatter herself that it will be passed over unnoticed.
In most hotels it is not customary to have hot cakes or any warm dishes on the tea-table, except in cold weather. We think, in a summer afternoon, they can be easily dispensed with, and that ladies might be satisfied with sweet cakes, fruit, preserves, and other things more delicate, and more suited to the hour, than the hot preparations they sometimes call for; and which, by not seeing them on the table, they may be assured do not come within scope of the tea-arrangements. It is expecting too much to suppose the cook will be willing to mix batter-cakes and bake them, or to scorch over the fire with broiling or stewing relishes, in a warm summer evening—or even to make toast, except for an invalid. Also, every one should know that a substantial meal (including tea and coffee) can generally be had at the nine o'clock supper-table. In houses where there is no nine o'clock supper, the tea-table is set out with greater profusion and variety.
At hotels, the interval between dinner and tea is usually short; the tea-hour being early, that the guests may have ample time to prepare for going to places of amusement. Yet there are ladies who, though spending all the evening at home, will remain sitting idly in the parlour till eight o'clock, (or later still,) keeping the table standing and servants waiting in attendance, that they may have a better appetite, and be able to make a heartier meal at their tea. This is selfish and inconsiderate, particularly as they might easily wait a little longer, and take their tea or coffee at the supper-table. Their appetites would then be still better. The servants certainly require rest, and should be exempt from all attendance in the ladies' eating-room, for an hour or two in the evening.
No lady can remain long in the drawing-room talking to a gentleman after all the rest have retired for the night, without subjecting herself to remarks which it would greatly annoy her to hear—whether merited or not. Neither is it well for her to be seen continually sitting at the same window with the same gentleman.
Ladies and gentlemen who wish to hold private dialogues, should not for that purpose monopolize a centre-table; thereby preventing persons who wish to read from availing themselves of the light of the chandelier above it. Lovers who have proper consideration, (a rare occurrence,) always sit as far as possible from the rest of the company, and so they should—unless they can bring themselves to join in general conversation. That is, if the lovership is real. In many cases the semblance is only assumed to produce effect, and the talk has really nothing secret or mysterious about it, and might just as well be uttered audibly.
In making acquaintance with a stranger at a hotel, there is no impropriety (but quite the contrary) in enquiring of her from what place she comes. In introducing yourself give your name audibly; or what is still better, if you have a card about you, present that; and she should do the same in return. Before you enter into conversation on any subject connected with religion, it will be well to ask her to what church she belongs. This knowledge will guard you from indulging, inadvertently, in sectarian remarks which may be displeasing to her, besides producing a controversy which may be carried too far, and produce ill-feeling between the parties. We have known the mere question, "Have you been to church to-day?" when asked of a stranger at a Sunday dinner-table, bring on a dialogue of great asperity, and very annoying to the hearers. As it cannot possibly concern yourself whether the strangers at a hotel have been to church or not, or what church they have visited, omit catechising them at table on this or any other religious subject. We have never known a clergyman guilty of this solecism in good sense and good manners.
When you give a gratuity to a servant—for instance, to the man who waits on you at table, or he that attends your room, or to the chambermaid or the errand-boy—give it at no regular time, but whenever you think proper, or find it convenient. It is injudicious to allow them to suppose that they are to do you no particular service without being immediately paid for it. It renders them mercenary, rapacious, and neglectful of other boarders who are less profuse; not reflecting that the servants are hired to wait on the company, and are paid wages for doing so, by the proprietor of the establishment, and that it is therefore their duty to him, and to his guests, to exert themselves so to give satisfaction. Still, it is right and customary to pay them extra for conveying your baggage up and down stairs when you are departing from the house or returning to it. Carrying heavy baggage is very hard work even for strong men. If you are a permanent boarder, and from ill-health require extra attendance, it is well to give a certain sum monthly to each of the servants who wait upon you; and then they will not expect any thing more, except on extraordinary occasions. And to each of them, separately, give the money with your own hand. In short, whatever you give to any one, (servants or others,) it is safest, when convenient, to bestow it in person. There will then be no mistakes, no forgettings, and no temptation to embezzlement.
If you live in Philadelphia, you will find it very convenient, in most cases, to send messages by a note with a stamp on it, put into the city-post. There is a mail-bag and a letter-box at all hotels, and at most of the large boarding-houses. The errand-boy of the hotel carries parcels, and takes such messages as require an immediate answer. For a distance of any consequence, he will expect from twelve to twenty-five cents. For little errands in the immediate neighbourhood, less will suffice. When a servant brings you small change, do not tell him to keep it. It is giving him the bad habit of expecting it always; and at times when you may have occasion, yourself, for that very change. It is the worst way of feeing them. On leaving the house, and at Christmas, it is customary to give a fee rather larger than usual, to the servants who have been your attendants. But as we have said before, give it with your own hands.