It is an affectation of ultra-fashion to eat pie with a fork, and has a very awkward and inconvenient look. Cut it up with your knife and fork, then proceed to eat it with the fork in your right hand.
Much of this determined fork-exercise may be considered foolish; but it is fashionable.
It is, however, customary in eating sweet potatoes of a large size to break them in two, and, taking a piece in your hand, to pierce down to the bottom with your fork, and then mix in some butter, continuing to hold it thus while eating it.
If a lady wishes to eat lobster, let her request the waiter that attends her to extract a portion of it from the shell, and bring it to her on a clean plate—also to place a castor near her.
On no consideration let any lady be persuaded to take two glasses of champagne. It is more than the head of an American female can bear. And she may rest assured that (though unconscious of it herself) all present will find her cheeks flushing, her eyes twinkling, her tongue unusually voluble, her talk loud and silly, and her laugh incessant. Champagne is very insidious, and two glasses may throw her into this pitiable condition.
We have seen a young gentleman lift his plate of soup in both hands, hold it to his mouth, and drink, or rather lap it up. This was at no less a place than Niagara.
On Shipboard.
If you are sick yourself, say as little about it as possible. And never allude to it at table, where you will receive little sympathy, and perhaps render yourself disgusting to all who hear you. At no time talk about it to gentlemen. Many foolish commonplace sayings are uttered by ladies who attempt to describe the horrors of seasickness. For instance this: "I felt all the time as if I wished somebody to take me up and throw me overboard." This is untrue—no human being ever really did prefer drowning to seasickness.
A piano never sounds well on shipboard—the cabins are too small and the ceilings too low. To the sick and nervous (and all who are seasick become very nervous) this instrument is peculiarly annoying. Therefore, be kind enough to spare them the annoyance. You can practise when the weather is fine, and the invalids are on deck. Pianos have been abolished in many of the finest ships. Such instruments as can be carried on deck and played in the open air are, on the contrary, very delightful at sea, when in the hands of good performers—particularly on a moonlight evening.