At all evening entertainments a woman’s head is uncovered. A woman who retains her hat even when sitting in a box inevitably suggests that she wishes to be conspicuous. If a woman is invited to be one of a box-party she need not bother to go to the dressing-room, as in most cases each box has hooks on which cloaks may be hung and a mirror convenient for the single glance that is desired.
The same rules hold good with regard to a musicale or a concert.
I wish there were any chance that anything anybody might say could impress on women that their habit of talking or, worse still, whispering, during a musical performance is abominably rude! Let those who have suffered by this almost universal practise testify to the misery it causes. To have one’s favorite passage from a beloved composer marred by “Now this is where he dies, you know,” or “Just hear the thunder in that orchestra, and now just listen to the chirping of the dear little birds!” or,—“I don’t think I _can_ lunch with you to-morrow, dear, but perhaps the next day,” “_Do_ you think those long coats are becoming to short women?”—who that has undergone the agony of being in the vicinity of such a talker can fail to utter a fervent “Amen” to the frenzied petition that they be suppressed.
The person who has seen the play before and who obligingly keeps his neighbors informed of what is coming next is an equal offender.
At public meetings when the national hymn is played, it is proper for every one to stand and to remain standing until it is ended.
THERE is no better place than a hotel in which to study the manners, or lack of manners, of the world at large. It is here that selfishness is rampant, and unselfishness hides its diminished head.
Before we discuss the ethics of hotel life it will be well to give a few general directions as to what one does from the time one enters the door of the building which will, for a long or short time, be his place of abode. He proceeds at once to the office, makes known his desires with regard to a room or rooms, and writes his name in the register handed to him by the clerk. He is then assigned to his room, and a page directs him thither, carrying hand luggage. To this page he hands his trunk-check, and the trunk is soon brought to his room.