T
he first object to be aimed at is to
make your dinners so charming and
agreeable that invitations to them are
eagerly sought for, and to let all feel that it
is a great privilege to dine at your house,
where they are sure they will meet only
those whom they wish to meet. You
cannot instruct people by a book how to
entertain, though Aristotle is said to have
applied his talents to a compilation of a
code of laws for the table. Success in
entertaining is accomplished by magnetism
and tact, which combined constitute social
genius. It is the ladder to social success.
If successfully done, it naturally creates
jealousy. I have known a family who for
years outdid every one in giving exquisite
dinners— (this was when this city was a
small community)— driven to Europe and
passing the rest of their days there on
finding a neighbor outdoing them. I myself
once lost a charming friend by giving a
better soup than he did. His wife rushed
home from my house, and in despair,
throwing up her hands to her husband,
exclaimed, "Oh! what a soup!" I related this
to my cousin, the distinguished gourmet,
who laughingly said: "Why did you not at
once invite them to pork and beans?"
HYLAND
