Departure is from half to three-quarters of an hour after the repast, and no matter what the entertainment, eleven o’clock should find every dinner guest departed.
Functions.
The practice of calling the ordinary reception, ball, party or dinner a “function” is simply a bad habit. It comes to us from England, where a confusion of ideas has made this word the popular synonym for any social happening. The error in England is perhaps pardonable, for the reason that very many of the society performances there are actually functions, and in course of time the unlearned and the careless have come to call every society performance a function. The royal “drawing-rooms” (so-called) are functions, and the Lord Mayor’s dinner is a function—in fine, that is a function which is “a course of action peculiarly pertaining to any public office in church or state.”
The receptions and dinners which, in his official capacity as President of the World’s Fair, Mr. Higinbotham gave were functions. But the receptions, dinners, high teas, given by people holding no official position whatsoever, do not partake of the nature of “functions.”
Dinner Favors.
Favors may be simple or elaborate, as the purse of the giver may dictate. Appropriateness and simplicity, however, show better taste than the extraordinary vagaries in which some indulge.
Among the really admirable selections which are offered by dealers of many sorts, nothing is better than the bonbonnieres shown by confectioners of the higher grade. They are delightful in color, exquisite in design, and while they are made into receptacles for sweets for the time being, they can later be turned to a dozen more permanent uses. One design which is, perhaps, the most elegant of all, takes the form of an opera bag. It is made of the heaviest cream-white silk and has embroidered on it in dainty ribbon work forget-me-nots, tiny rosebuds, or jessamine. At the top it is finished with the popular extension clasp of fine burnished gilt, and when in use as a favor is lined with tinted paper and filled with the finest chocolates or with candied violets.
Slippers, too, are seen, and, while not of glass, are suggestive of Cinderella’s tiny foot. They are crocheted of fine colored cord, are stiffened and molded over a form, then fitted with a bag of silk and tied with ribbons of the same shade. Like the bags, they are made the excuse of sweets, and, like them, they add to the decorative effect, for they stand in coquettish fashion before each cover and challenge the admiration inspired in the prince of fairy legend.
Books and “booklets” are much in vogue and make as acceptable favors as any that can be desired if only selected with judgment and with care. Small volumes of verse bound in vellum are always good. Single poems from any one of the recognized poets put up in artistic booklet form are as nearly perfect as favors can be. Book covers, too, are good, and some bookmarks are shown that are excellent both in color and in their evident ability to withstand the usage they are sure to get if they are allowed to do any service at all.
One clever hostess who gave a dinner, and who handles her brush unusually well, devised a book cover and leaflet combined that proved a great success. She had the covers made in the regulation size of pale sage chamois skin and added the decoration herself. She painted each in the flower that the guest loved best, for her feminine friends, and each in some convenient design for the men, and across the corner was the name of each in quaint gold letters. She folded heavy parchment paper in booklet form, and with her brush wrote in silver bronze selections from the wit and wisdom of the ages. Then she slipped the miniature books within the covers and left the brilliant thoughts that they contained to start the conversational ball. Her dinner was pronounced a great success, and it was remarked by many that there was none of that awkward silence which so often precedes the soup.