26 March 1881 - Answers to Correspondents - Miscellaneous

PETITE (Addiscombe) - 1. Blue blood has no reference to venous as contrasted with arterial blood. It is only by a figure of speech we say that persons of high rank have "blue blood in their veins." "Of gentle blood" is a phrase used by Shakespeare, and long familiar. Blue blood is of more recent use. It is probably taken from the Spanish "Sang azul," when the old Castilian families disclaimed any taint of Moorish or other connections. 2. Aesthetic signifies that which belongs to good taste. Like many other words of modern introduction, it is often used in a burlesque or ironical way. As tastes proverbially differ, so does the application of the term "aesthetic." There is much affectation about "culture" and "high art" in our time, and those who talk most about such things are often very deficient in good taste and common sense. 3. We wish all our correspondents wrote as clearly and as briefly.

ZULU - Corned beef in tins, if of a good brand, from some respectable firm, is made from the best meat, and is often more wholesome than fresh beef, if that is not of first quality. Sometimes, but rarely, a tin is bad from imperfect exclusion of air in closing, and it is well always to make the retail dealer open the tin when for immediate use. Poor people and servants are usually prejudiced against anything cheap.

GOODY TWO SHOES - The tinted paper makes your letter almost illegible. Sensible people prefer white paper. The medical questions can only be answered by a doctor, after examination. If the lungs are diseased the treatment would be different from what an attack of pleurisy would require. Removal from the sea would not necessarily be beneficial. It may be colder and bleaker inland than on the coast, as of the Isle of Wight or Devonshire, for instance. 

BRENDA RONALDSON - The Editor thanks you heartily for your kind gift of a box of beautiful snowdrops.

THREE BLIND MICE - We advise you not to use the remedy advertised, but to trust to diet and exercise.  For the etiquette of visiting, see our first volume. A hedgehog is not a suitable pet, especially if on duty as a policeman against the black beetles.

ILL-USED GIRL - We hardly believe that any lady would shut up a child in a dark room all day without food as a punishment. You ought to be glad to be sent to post letters and to do other little services, instead of showing temper on such occasions.

MARY - You wish us not to repeat your questions, which makes it difficult to give an explanation. Your whole sentence is incorrect, and does not keep up throughout "correspondence in time;" "You were naughty when you broke," &c., would be correct. "Do not disappoint me after having promised," &c., is also correct. Study the various tenses of the regular and irregular verbs; and be careful not to write half the sentence in one tense and the remainder in another.

THREE FRIENDS - We prefer Amy's writing. Alice promises well, but her hand is not quite formed. That of Gertrude is cramped. She should practise making graceful flourishes so as to arrive at a more free and flowing style.

12 February 1881 - Answers to Correspondents - Miscellaneous

G.P.M. - As a general rule we should advise any young girl, tried and perplexed as you are, to consult her mother. In your especial case we do not recommend your informing her of any particular act of rudeness to you, but state your difficulties in general terms, and act towards your brothers and sister according to her counsel. Your writing is fairly good.

AN IRISH GIRL - 1. Probably you are in the habit of wetting your lips. It could not be the cod-liver oil, nor the other beverage that is to blame for their sore state. Use lip salve every night, and on going out on a cold day. 2. Your mother should be consulted in reference to the introduction you wish to make. If she approve, your course is clear; but you must confide all you know to her respecting your acquaintance before you act upon any permission you may obtain. Your writing is fairly good.

A LOVER OF PEACE wishes us to give her advice, but states her case in rather a mystifying way. "What remedy would you prescribe for a sister to take to prevent her brother teasing her?" We think it seems as if the brother should have the remedy prescribed to him, instead of the sister, but doubt whether the mischievous little tormentor would take it. We should recommend the sister to assume an appearance of perfect indifference to any annoyance intended

MOUSE - In a case such as you describe your parents would be your best advisers. We think that a little extra cordiality of manner is expected on a first meeting, after some years of absence; but rather more reserve had better be shown afterwards, and if reproached for it, playfully yet decidedly maintained, and excused in a kindly way, on account of being "now no longer in the schoolroom."

POMMES-DE-TERRE - We believe that the author respecting whom you inquire is still living; but we have no desire to "shed some light on his ancestors," to which proceeding we entertain *grave objections.

VALERIA - If not allowed to heat your room by means of any kind of stove, and you have no chimney nor fireplace, we recommend you supply yourself with a large tin, or stone-jar to be replenished from time to time with hot water.

ROBERT H.W. - What do you mean by sending us your amateur verses? Try THE BOY'S OWN PAPER.

FLORENCE GREAVES - British wine, as also cider and perry, all contain alcohol, and are certainly not allowed to teetotallers. There are now so many pleasant drinks which are free from spirit, such as Zoedone, Sparkling Hygeia, Ginger Ale, &c., that there need by no difficulty in providing for those who desire a little variety on festive occasions. Handwriting too spidery; study some good model which has some character to it.

M.H.C. - We think you have made a mistake in the name. Your writing is very legible and pretty. We hope the character you give yourself is not true, and that if it is, you will set about improving yourself at once.

MURIEL WINTLE - We do not see anything to prevent your contributing to a charitable object because the promoter is a gentleman.

16 October 1880 - Answers to Correspondents - Miscellaneous

LONG SHANKS  - Give your canary a little saffron in the water, as a tonic; and let him have some groundsel and plantain, not much hemp-seed, as it is apt to make the legs gouty; a little crumb of bread and canary, millet, and rape seed from the proper food. Your writing needs much improvement.

POOR FIFTEEN -  For the growing out of the shoulder-blades it will be necessary to use a back-board; and if necessary a face board too. You have been stooping too much, which is very injurious to the chest. You have made no mistake in spelling; but you do not write well, though legibly.

EMILE J. - 1. We are sorry to hear of your mother's deafness. Try the audiphone, consisting of a small piece of card held between the teeth, which throat-deafness enables persons to hear, who obtain no benefit from an ear trumpet. Borrow albums and illustrated papers for her, give her some kind of manual work to do, such as a pretty patchwork quilt, and ask her to help you. This also would probably do, and end by doing most of it herself. Or commence a picture screen, and ask her to help in cutting out and arranging the scraps. Her mind might be diverted thus, and her depression relieved. But be sure to let her think that she is helping you, and her advice and aid required. 2. It is too long to fast from 4 p.m. to 8 a.m. You should consult a doctor about your digestion. Your hand, though not good, is very legible.

GYPSY - 1. If her mother do not object, a girl of 18 may wear one or two things. 2. Watches are considered to require cleaning and oiling every 18 months, or so; and should never be permitted to run down.

A CONSTANT AND ADMIRING READER - We cannot offer an opinion on the few facts you give us, and should advise you to take legal advice.

AN EQUESTRIAN - We advise you to ride on the gentleman's right side, because, as he is your protector, his right hand is free to assist you in case of need, while the left controls his own horse.

YOLANDE - We do not quite understand your question. If you are offered any refreshment, and like to take it, do so. There is no other acknowledgment needed but "thank you," or "I am obliged to you."

PEPITA - If the mourning be for one of the heads of a house, the servants should have two dresses each, a print, and a Coburg. Your writing is fairly good.

FAD - 1. As you do not like to use the powders sold to kill cockroaches you must get a tame hedgehog. 2. Dress lightly and take a dose of cream of tartar now and then of a morning, and the heat spots will go. Use a bath and take cooling drinks, but no stimulants. 3. Half an ounce of the flowers infused for half an hour in half a pint of boiling water, with a teaspoonful of bruised ginger and a few cloves. Dose, one ounce three times a day.

3 July 1880 - 'How Girls are Presented at Court' by Ardern Holt

For a story about presentation at court written by one such girl from her own perspective, please click here for part one and here for part two. And because Tumblr has eaten the scans of the illustrations from La Petite's first-hand account of presentation, I have re-scanned and added them here. :) Although as an edit to the edit on one of those pages - I'm now not certain whether the illustration is of La Petite, as the description of the dress doesn't match (it's lilacs instead of La Petite's lilys of the valley). But it's still a good depiction of the general costume mandated. 

 

Her Majesty generally holds four Drawing-rooms in the course of the year; two before Easter, two after, and seldom later than the month of May. As a rule, young ladies are presented by their mothers. Even if they are only presented themselves  for the first time the same day as their daughters, it is still en regle that they should make the presentation. But it is necessary - absolutely necessary - that the lady who undertakes the duty shall be present at the same Drawing-room, though she may not even see the young girl, and, except in the case of relatives, they rarely go together, and do not for a moment think of passing the Royal presence together. In asking any lady to make a presentation to Her Majesty it must be recognised as a great kindness and favour, for she is personally responsible. Unmarried ladies do not exercise the privilege of making presentations.

As soon as it is determined at which Drawing-room the young lady is to make her debut, the mode of proceeding is as follows. A card is sent in to the Chamberlain's office, Stable Yard, St. James's, on which is written the name of the person to be presented and the person presenting, thus: 'Miss Smith, by her mother, Mrs. Smith," accompanied by a letter from Mrs. Smith giving necessary particulars as to address, etc., and saying that it is her intention to be present at the Drawing-room of the date fixed. This must be done two clear days at least before the Drawing-room. The names having been submitted for Her Majesty's approval, on application at the same office, two pink presentation cards will be given, on which must be most legibly written, as before, "Miss Smith by her mother, Mrs. Smith," and these must be taken to the palace. One will be given to the page-in-waiting on first arriving at the top of the stairs, and the other handed to the Lord Chamberlain, who stands beside Her Majesty, when the Royal presence is reached, and from this he will read, in a loud, clear voice, the names to the Queen.

The proper Court dress is the next important consideration. A young girl, on her presentation, wears white, and every lady attending the court must have a train, lappets, Court plumes, and a really low dress. So strict are the laws with regard to this, that people are appointed to prevent ladies passing who fall short in any of these requirements. I was myself accompanied to a Drawing-room two or three years ago by a friend who had had her dress from Paris. It proved too high on her shoulders for regulation; moreover, she had only one small piece of tulle in lieu of lappets, and before entering the presence of Her Majesty she was compelled to tear some tulle trimmings from her dress and pin this on as another lappet, and to have the bodice cut down on the shoulders and turned in. These lappets may be either really lace or blonde, with the ends hanging at the back, or two pieces of tulle, which young ladies find more becoming. The width is mostly split in half, one end gathered on a thread, and so pinned on. White plumes are essential - three for married, two for unmarried women - placed in such a manner that they can be distinctly seen in front. The train must be at least three yards long, and is generally four. It is sometimes cut in one with the bodice, sometimes attached by braces to the shoulders, sometimes plaited on the shoulders, but young ladies generally have it sewn on at the waist. Just now white satin and brocade is most used, with tulle skirts and a profusion of white flowers. Pearls are considered the most appropriate ornaments for a debutante. The dress must be well made and all the details well carried out. Many-buttoned gloves are worn, but when presented, before appearing in the Queen's presence, the right hand one must be removed, and this is generally simplified by not being put on at all. Having a handkerchief, a fan, the one glove, and the card to hold, it is far better not to carry a bouquet, especially as the end of the train, neatly folded, has to be borne on the left arm.

The mode of proceeding at a Drawing-room is as follows; - The palace doors generally open at two, the Queen entering the Throne-room at three. Of late years Her Majesty's health has not permitted her to remain throughout the reception. Therefore, in order to pass before her, it is well to go early, especially when presented, as it is only in a case of presentation that the Queen's hand is kissed,  and this ceremony is not gone through if the Princess of Wales or any of the Royal Princesses have taken her place. Then you merely pass courtseying low, as you would if you were only attending a Drawing-room, though the presentation thus made is in every respect equivalent to actual presentation to the Sovereign. But being an event that will hardly happen more than twice in a woman's life, it is advisable to do it thoroughly. Once presented, you can annually attend one Drawing-room  for the future, and will only require to be re-presented when you marry, or you attain some title. People anxious to arrive early leave homes mostly at half-past twelve to one, being content to wait patiently in the line of carriages down the Mall or Buckingham Palace-road, and endure the eager inspection of a dense crowd, who, wet or fine, line the roadway, peer into the carriages,  and often laugh and make audible remarks about the inmates. There is, however, no lack of amusement. The beefeaters, in their quaint scarlet Tudor dresses, bedizened with gold, their ruffs, and low-crowned hats, encircled with red, white and blue ribbon, march, halberds in hand, to Buckingham Palace to take up their stations along the corridors and staircases. The Gentlemen-at-Arms troop in by twos and twos, in scarlet uniform, gold helmets, and white, waving plumes. They are also on duty within the palace. You see them in each room guarding the barriers, and preventing the entrance of more people than will comfortably fill them.

In the room adjoining the Throne-room, they stand in a line ready to act as a veritable body-guard to the Royal Family if required, and another line divides off the lower end of the picture gallery, forming a sort of corridor to the Throne-room. There is no better place for seeing the dresses. I always make a rule of getting close behind these Gentlemen-at-Arms, as soon as I have passed the Royal presence, and so, peering between their shoulders, see the rest of the company pass in single file, their trains flowing behind them. One or more of the Household Troops are on duty in the Court-yard, and act as escort to the Royal personages who attend the Drawing-room, and it is a very pretty sight to see the bandmen in their gold coats march through St. James's Park, to take up their position and play throughout the reception. I have never myself heard them in the palace, but in some of the rooms you can and when "God Save the Queen" is played, you know that Her Majesty has entered the Presence Chamber. The equipages of ambassadors, ministers, and other distinguished people also flit to and fro, but they do not fall into the line, having the privilege of the entree which entitles them to enter the palace by a special entrance to occupy the first Drawing-room, next to the Throne-room, and to pass before the Queen first.

At last, after a long waiting, the line of carriages begins to move slowly, and in time you pass through the fine gateway into the inner quadrangle, and alight at the steps of the grand entrance. Here you will see some few scarlet-coated servants and officials, and much crimson carpeting. You cross the really magnificent hall, paved with variegated marble, the ceiling supported by white marble columns, with Corinthian capitals of mosaic and gold, and up a few steps reach a dining-room, where cloaks and wraps are left. Leaving this, you ascend the staircase, enter the picture gallery, leave one of the two cards with which you are provided with the page-in-waiting, who stands by a raised crimson-coloured desk, and then hurry on through the concert-room into the furthest of the suite of drawing-rooms not yet filled. There is the Blue Drawing-room, hung with blue silk panelled in gold, with Winterhalter's portraits of the Queen and Prince Consort; the Dark Blue Drawing-room and the Red and Yellow Drawing-rooms; they all command a view of the beautiful gardens of Buckingham Palace, where the fountains are generally set playing. They are filled with rows of chairs and as soon as these are occupied the Gentlemen-at-Arms cross their halberds, an no more are admitted, and so on till all the rooms are filled. People sit chatting to their friends, and thus while the time away. There are only a few gentlemen present, and they must be in attendance on ladies, and do not generally pass the Royal presence, but are nevertheless occasionally presented with their wives.

After a time there is a rustle and a rush. The "Entree" has passed the Queen, and the rest of the world are about to do so in turn; the stream moves through the suite of rooms in single file, until they reach the end of the picture gallery, lined with the Gentlemen-at-Arms. Here the Queen's pages remove the train from the right arm, spread it on the ground, and thus you walk across the gallery to the Throne-room. The door on the left-hand side is glass, and scarcely any one passes it without looking how her trains set. When you enter the Presence Chamber you find a narrow half-circular alley left, down which you are to proceed. Quite in the background is the Throne and its canopy. IN front of it are the ladies and gentlemen in attendance on the Queen and other Royal personages, and in front of them are the Royal Family. Near the doorway next the Queen is the Lord Chamberlain, then Her Majesty, the Princess of Wales, and the other Princesses, and then the Princes. The general circle fills the rest of the room. Just in front of you will be the end of the train of the lady passing next before you. In case of mother and daughter the mother would go first. You have no longer to think about your own train; your glove, fan, and handkerchief hold in your left hand, your card in your right. As you pass through the doorway give this to the Lord Chamberlain. You will find his hand ready to receive it. As soon as he mentions the word "presentation" the Queen will put out her right hand, then courtesy very low, place your own right hand beneath it, and bend and kiss it. When you rise courtesy low to each member of the Royal Family, and walk along this semi-circular alley sideways, being careful on no account to turn your back; but by the time you have well passed the Royalties, you will find your train being placed on your arm, and, the crowd intervening, you leave the room by the centre doorway without any necessity for further backing. You make your way at once to the picture gallery, which is now thronged. You can look at the pictures which are worth seeing, including gems of Greuze, Wilkie, Maas and others. But the beautiful people and beautiful dresses will distract your attention. By-and-bye you will proceed to the great entrance hall, and, having obtain your cloaks, wait there until your carriage is called, a tedious process, for if it happens to come up before you are ready, it goes to the very end of the rank.

I should advise all young girls about to be presented to rehearse the actual ceremony well beforehand, for I notice at many drawing-rooms how badly it is done. It is necessary to remember that courtesies made to Royalty must be very low. Avoid, above all things, "fluster," and do not be alarmed at the idea of having to walk backwards with your train on the ground. You really hardly have to do this at all, it is a crab-like sideway movement you have to execute. The important points to bear in mind are - to have your hand ungloved, to place it beneath the Queen's, and to make separate and distinct courtesies to every Royal person in the circle.

12 October 1901 - 'The White House Class' by Lina Orman Cooper - Chapter 1

Another educational serial story, in which a saintly invalid teaches three girls the finer points of middle-class cookery.

There was great excitement at Merton House.  The master and mistress were going out to dine.  This in itself was no extraordinary thing.  But as it was a vice-regal dinner-party to which they had been bidden, this particular feast excited much interest.  First of all, the dress proper for such an occasion had to be thought of; feathers and lapels arranged according to the Chamberlain’s order; ancient buckles fished out of a grandmother’s chest; diamonds burnished up and fresh flowers begged, borrowed or stolen.

It was early when Mrs Merton set forth in the festive chariot, it was late when she returned.  It was very late when she showed her face next morning, for the dinner had been heavy and her sleep deep in consequence.

Now, I should not have mentioned this dinner-party save that it determined Mrs Merton to give all her growing-up daughters a course of cookery lectures.  It came about in this way.  Mrs Merton went, as usual, to a certain little white house ro7und the corner to tell a certain invalid, there resident, of how the grand dinner-party had gone off.  It had not been a success in one way: though a cook had been hired for the occasion at one hundred pounds for the week, the dinner was sadly lacking in many points.  The lemon sponge had been lemon rock, the ice pudding full of lumps, the soup cold, the entree uneatable.

“It has determined me, dear Miss Benson,” concluded Mrs Merton, as she finished the recital of all the deficits as well as the pleasures of the last night’s entertainment, “to have Linda and Lucilla and Eva taught the rudiments of cookery at all events.  If Lady Canforth had known anything about it, she would never have allowed her guests to go hungry away from the table.”

“Probably not,” answered little Miss Benson calmly.  “Such a thing as housewifely training amongst the ‘upper suckles’ as Jeames Yellow Plush called them, is almost unknown.”

“And it is almost as sealed an art in our middle-class circles as well,” moaned the mother of five.  “It ought to be one of the courses in our elementary schools.  Isn't it Mr Ruskin who writes, ‘The education of girls should begin in learning how to cook’.”

“Yes,” answered Miss Benson.  “And he says even more than this.  He considers a knowledge of cookery to imply a pretty extensive acquaintance with most other things.  Give me my commonplace book, dear, and I will look it up.”

Mrs Merton brought the thick strongly-bound volume to her old friend, for, alas, Miss Benson was tied to her couch with an incurable disease.  From that couch, however, radiated more light and wisdom than from most of the scholastic centres in our midst.  Mrs Merton, at least relied almost more entirely on the old lady’s sound sanctified common-sense than on anything else in this world.  So near the veil of futurity lived Miss Benson that she seemed to have drunk in a sibylline spirit, and to have a stock of good advice on almost every subject.  The quotation she was looking for was quickly found.  She bade Mrs Merton read it aloud.

“A knowledge of cookery means the knowledge of all herbs, and fruits, and balms, and spices, and of all that is healing and sweet in fields and groves, and savoury in meats; it means carefulness, and inventiveness, and watchfulness, and willingness and readiness of appliance; it means the economy of your great-grandmothers and the science of modern chemists; it means much tasting and no wasting; it means English thoroughness and French art, and Arabian hospitality; and as you are to see imperatively that everybody has something pretty to put on so you are to see yet more imperatively that everybody has something nice to eat.”

Mrs Merton was silent for a while.  This extract had altogether raised the subject into a higher realm than that of an ordinary kitchen.  Then she broke on.

“If cooking is indeed all that Mr Ruskin claims it to be, however are we foolish enough to leave it to the ignorant women called ‘plain cooks’?”

“I think, my dear, we do not leave it as much as we used to do.  Kensington has done much towards making it into a fine art.  It trains its students on a sound principle; it supplies reasons for each act of the culinary calling.  For instance it tells its students why potatoes are peeled thinly and why turnips are peeled thickly; it gives rules about the proper course of events in a kitchen – why onions should be shred before potatoes are cut if we wish to eliminate their particular flavour from a knife; it teaches economical habits, it insists on cleanliness.”

“I had thought I might teach the girls myself,” said Mrs Merton hopelessly, “but you and Mr Ruskin show me how little I know myself after all.”

“You know enough to teach your young fry,” answered Miss Benson firmly.  “All the same, I think you had better not do so.  The fact is, one of the chief moral lessons taught by learning how to cook is self-reliance.  It is far better that too much help should not be given at the commencement.  For this reason I, who seem a useless log lying on this sofa –“ Mrs Merton made a gesture of denial, “- am a far more competent teacher than an active mother could ever be.  Lucilla and Linda will have to cultivate their powers of memory because I cannot get off my chair to fetch forgotten ingredients fo them.”

Miss Benson looked quite pleased at the prospect of her cooking lectures, and Mrs Merton gave in gratefully.  A somewhat lengthy conversation followed the compact.  In it Miss Benson spoke of the observation required by cooking, of the self-control cultivated by preparation of dainties which might never be tasted save in the preliminary stages, of the accuracy indispensable, of the alertness acquired even by the most lethargic young persons when a few minutes may turn a light sponge into a piece of lead, of the deftness and delicacy of touch so valuable; lastly, but by no means leastly, of the habits of tidiness and cleanliness engendered by the culinary art when properly understood.  Mrs Merton went away from the White House thinking more of the moral than the economical side of the classes to be given to her young fry.  She felt that Miss Benson would raise the subject even higher than Mr Ruskin had done, that her three daughters would understand more forcibly by means of her instruction than by any other the sacredness of food and our responsibility in connection to it.

His wife enlarged on all these points to Mr Merton when he came home from the City that night.  Manlike he thought more of the physical than of the spiritual side of the question. 

“Why, my dear, I shall be able to retire from business years sooner than I had contemplated, for Lucilla and Linda and our little Eva will require about half the dot I had thought would be necessary for them!  Any man will jump at the chance of such virtuous and educated wives.  They have each a certificate for swimming, haven’t they?”  Mrs Merton nodded.  “Well, if any suitors come, I had intended to meet them armed with that fine piece of parchment.  ‘Here,’ I would say, ‘is a wife who will help you out of deep water whenever you get into it.  Is not she a valuable person?’  But if Miss Benson teaches my girls all she intends, I shall wave a far more important document in my right hand.  ‘Here,’ I shall say, ‘is the hallmark on Lucilla and Linda, and the rest of them which shows that any of them are capable of keeping you out of deep water’.”

Mrs Merton smiled.  Her husband would have his joke, as she knew.  But there was truth in what he said, nevertheless, for by teaching the girls cooking her old friend was giving them a good dowry of commonsense and usefulness. 

Not many days after this a small group were gathered in Miss Benson’s kitchen.  It was a “lovely” one, if loveliness consists of perfect adaptability to a purpose; it was long and rather low, with thick rafters intersecting its ceiling.  Originally a barn-like excrescence from the house, these rafters could not be hidden, but were found useful for hanging up flitches of bacon and the home-cured hams Miss Benson delighted in.  The windows were two; in one of them was placed a solid square table, in the other a small couch on which lay the mistress of the house.  Behind it on a writing table – Miss Benson supplied her housemaidens with many luxuries not usually given to servants, and had cheerful willing service rendered in consequence – rested a cookery-book, a ledger and pencils.  Ranged on the walls were cover-dishes and jam-pans in silver and copper and block-tin.  Roses peeped into the two windows, and God’s sunshine permeated the room, lighting up its comfortable corners and allowing no place for dust or debris of any sort.  A tile patterned linoleum was on the floor, pretty prints bound with red braid, and therefore easily replaceable when an annual turn-out called for spotless prints, a bookcase full of intelligent readable volumes, a bright steel range and a glowing fire.  These were some of the object lessons which surrounded three demure apron-clad figures on the morning of Miss Benson’s opening lecture.  What was taught thereby I will tell in our next paper.

12 November, 1887 - Answers to Correspondents - Miscellaneous

YOUNG GIRL: - At your early age (fifteen years) the less you read in the way of novels the better. Better be satisfied with history and travels, in the brief space of time free for recreation in the way of reading. In any case, we can only say in such matters, consult your mother. If she sanction your reading any particular work of fiction, well and good. She will probably allow you to read those in prose and verse by Sir Walter Scott.

RATTLE-CAP:- You are an infant in the eye of the law until you attain twenty-one years of age. If in the upper class of society you ought to be in the schoolroom, and go to bed early at your age (sixteen). If in a lower class you are old enough to be apprenticed to some trade, or to enter domestic service under an older and more experienced servant.

"YOUNG LADY OF TWELVE":- YOu should ride out with your father, or brother if old enough, or else with some grown-up lady. But your mother is the right person to decide such matters for you. It is not for you to take a stranger's opinion and to regulate your conduct. The name Mozart is pronounced as spelt. Beethoven as Bet-o-ven, Chopin as Sho-pain, the French for bread; the last syllable being nasal in the French style. If you do not speak that language, we cannot explain by writing. Inquire for the duets you require at a music shop.