Chapter 9

CORRESPONDENCE

It is narrated of a well-known English lady (who is noted on the other side of the Atlantic for the sharpness of her wit) that on one occasion, when a vainglorious American was boasting of his country’s prowess in digging the Panama Canal, she calmly waited until he had finished and then replied, with an indescribable smile, “Ah—but you Americans do not know how to write letters.” Needless to say the discomfited young man took himself off at the earliest opportunity.

There is much truth, alas, in the English lady’s clever retort, for the automatic typewriter, the telegraph, and the penny postal card have done much to cause a gradual decline in the gentle art of correspondence. As one American woman recently remarked to a visitor (with more wit, however, than good taste), “Yes, we do have correspondents here—but they are all in the divorce courts.”

CORRESPONDENCE FOR YOUNG LADIES

There are certain rules in regard to correct letter-writing which must be followed by all who would “take their pen in hand.” Young people are the most apt to offend in this respect against the accepted canons of good taste and it is to these that I would first address the contents of this chapter. A young girl often lets her high spirits run away with her _amour propre_, with the result that her letters, especially those addressed to strangers, are often lacking in that dignity which is the _sine qua non_ of correct correspondence.

Consider, for example, the following two letters composed by Miss Florence ......, a debutante of New York City, who is writing to a taxidermist thanking him for his neat work in having recently stuffed her deceased pet Alice. The first of these letters illustrates the evil to which I have just referred, viz., the complete absence of proper dignity. The second, written with the aid of her mama, whose experience in social affairs has been considerable, shows the correct method of corresponding with comparative strangers.

An Incorrect Letter from a Débutante to a Taxidermist Thanking Him for Having Stuffed Her Pet Alice

DEAR MR. Epps:

Aren’t you an old _peach_ to have gone and stuffed Alice so prettily! Really, Mr. Epps, I never saw such a knockout piece of taxidermy, even in Europe, and I simply adore it. Mother gave a dinner party last night and _everybody_ was just wild about it and wanted to know who had done it. How on _earth_ did you manage to get the wings to stay like that? And the eyes are just too priceless for words. Honestly, every time I look at it, it’s so _darned_ natural that I can’t believe Alice is really dead. I guess you must be pretty dog-goned crazy about birds yourself to have done such a lovely job on Alice, and I guess you know how perfectly sick I was over her death. Honestly, Mr. Epps, she was such a _peach_ of an owl. But I suppose it had to be, and anyway, thanks just heaps for having done such a really perfectly gorgeous bit of taxidermy.

Gratefully, FLORENCE CHASE. _593 Fifth Avenue, New York City._

The above is, you observe, quite lacking in that reserve with which young ladies should always treat strange gentlemen and especially those who are not in their own social “set.” Slang may be excusable in shop girls or baseball players, but never in the mouth of a young lady with any pretensions to breeding. And the use of “darned” and “dog-goned” is simply unpardonable. Notice, now, the way in which Miss Florence writes the letter after, her mama has given her the proper instruction.

A Correct Letter from a Débutante to a Taxidermist Thanking Him for Having Stuffed Her Pet Alice

Mr. Lloyd Epps, Taxidermist, New York City. DEAR SIR:

It is with sincere pleasure that I take my pen in hand to compliment you upon the successful manner in which you have rendered your services as taxidermist upon my late owl Alice. Death in the animal kingdom is all too often regarded with an unbecoming levity or, at least, a careless lack of sympathetic appreciation, and it is with genuine feelings of gratitude that I pen these lines upon the occasion of the receipt of the sample of the excellent manner in which you have performed your task. Of the same opinion is my father, a vice-president of the Guaranty Trust Co., and himself a taxidermist of no inconsiderable merit, who joins me in expressing to you our most grateful appreciation.

Sincerely yours, FLORENCE ELIOT CHASE. _December_ 11, 1922.

It Is Not the Custom to Comment on the Quantity of Soup Consumed by a Guest _The young man is leaving the home of his host in “high dudgeon.” He is of the type rather slangily known among the members of our younger set as “finale hopper” which means, in the “King’s English,” one who is very fond of dancing. His indignation is well founded, since it is not the custom among members of the socially elite to comment in the presence of the guest on either the quantity of soup consumed or the method of consumption adopted. These things should be left for the privacy of the boudoir or smoking den where they will afford much innocent amusement. Nor is the host mending matters by his kindly meant but perhaps tactless offer of a nickel for carfare._

False Teeth Should Remain in the Mouth throughout any Given Dinner _The gentleman with the excellent teeth has just been guilty of a gross social error. Wrongly supposing that the secret of popularity lies in a helpful spirit and having discovered that the son of his hostess is about to enter a dental school, he has removed the excellent teeth (false) from his mouth and passed them around for inspection. The fact that the teeth are of the latest mode does not in any way condone the breach. Leniency in such matters is not recommended. “Facilis descensus Averni” as one of the great poets of the Middle Ages so aptly put it._

COLLEGE BOYS

It is the tendency of the age to excuse many social errors in young people, and especially is this true of the mischievous pranks of college boys. If Harvard football heroes and their “rooters,” for example, wish to let their hair grow long and wear high turtle-necked red “sweaters,” corduroy trousers and huge “frat” pins, I, for one, can see no grave objection, for “boys will be boys” and I am, I hope, no “old fogy” in such matters. But I also see no reason why these same young fellows should not be interested in the graces of the salon and the arts of the drawing-room. Consider, for example, the following two letters, illustrating the correct and incorrect method in which two young college men should correspond, and tell me if there is not some place in our college curriculum for a Professor of Deportment:

An Incorrect Letter from a Princeton Student to a Yale Student Congratulating the Latter on His Football Victory

DEAR MIKE: Here’s your damn money. I was a fool to give you odds. ED. P. S. What happened at the Nass? I woke up Sunday with a terrific welt on my forehead and somebody’s hat with the initials L. G. T., also a Brooks coat. Do you know whose they are? P. P. S. Please for God’s sake don’t cash this check until the fifteenth or I’m ruined.

And here is the way in which I would suggest that this same letter be indited.

A Correct Letter from a Princeton Student to a Yale Student Congratulating the Latter on His Football Victory

MY DEAR “FRIENDLY ENEMY”: Well, well, it was a jolly game, wasn’t it, and it was so good to see you in “Old Nassau.” I am sorry that you could not have come earlier in the fall, when the trees were still bronze and gold. I also regret exceedingly that you did not stay over until Sunday, for it would have been such a treat to have taken you to see the Graduate School buildings and the Cleveland Memorial Tower. However, “better luck next time.” The enclosed check is, as you may well guess, in payment of our wager on the result of the gridiron-contest. Truly, I am almost glad that I lost, for I can not but think that gambling in any form is at best an unprofitable diversion, and this has taught me, I hope, a lesson from which I may well benefit. Do not think me a “prig,” dear Harry, I beg of you, for I am sure that you will agree with me that even a seemingly innocent wager on a football match may lead in later life to a taste for gambling with dice and cards or even worse. Shall we not agree to make this our last wager—or at least, next time, let us not lend it the appearance of professional gambling by giving “odds,” such as I gave you this year. You must have thought it frightfully rude of me not to have seen you to the train after that enjoyable evening at the Nassau Inn, but to tell you the truth, Harry, the nervous excitement of the day proved too much for me and I was forced to retire. My indisposition was further accentuated by a slight mishap which befell me outside the Inn but which need cause you no alarm as a scalp wound was the only result and a few days’ rest in my cozy dormitory room will soon set matters to rights. I trust, however, that you will explain to your friends the cause of my sudden departure and my seeming inhospitality. Such jolly fellows they were—and I am only too glad to find that the “bulldogs” are as thoroughly nice as the chaps we have down here. Incidentally, I discovered, somewhat to my dismay, as you may well imagine, that in taking my departure I inadvertently “walked off” with the hat and overcoat of one of your friends whose initials are L. G. T. I am mortified beyond words and shall send the garments to you by the next post with my deepest apologies to the unlucky owner. Rest assured, Harry my friend, that I am looking forward to visiting you some time in the near future, for I have always been curious to observe the many interesting sights of “Eli land.” Particularly anxious am I to see the beautiful trees which have given New Haven its name of “the City of Elms,” and the collection of primitive paintings for which your college is justly celebrated. And in closing may I make the slight request that you postpone the cashing of my enclosed check until the fifteenth of this month, as, due to some slight misunderstanding, I find that my account is in the unfortunate condition of being “overdrawn.” Believe me, Harry, with kindest regards to your nice friends and yourself and with congratulations on the well deserved victory of your “eleven,” Your devoted friend and well wisher, EDWARD ELLIS COCHRAN.

LETTERS TO PARENTS

Of course, when young people write to the members of their immediate family, it is not necessary that they employ such reserve as in correspondence with friends. The following letter well illustrates the change in tone which is permissible in such intimate correspondence:

A Correct Letter from a Young Lady in Boarding School to Her Parents

DEAR MOTHER: Of course I am terribly glad that you and father are thinking of coming to visit me here at school next week, but don’t you think it would be better if, instead of your coming all the way up here, I should come down and stay with you in New York? The railroad trip up here will be very hard on you, as the trains are usually late and the porters and conductors are notorious for their gruffness and it is awfully hard to get parlor-car seats and you know what sitting in a day-coach means. I should love to have you come only I wouldn’t want you or father to get some terrible sickness on the train and last month there were at least three wrecks on that road, with many fatalities, and when you get here the accommodations aren’t very good for outsiders, many of the guests having been severely poisoned only last year by eating ripe olives and the beds, they say, are extremely hard. Don’t you really think it would be ever so much nicer if you and father stayed in some comfortable hotel in New York with all the conveniences in the world and there are some wonderful things at the theaters which you really ought to see. I could probably get permission from Miss Spencer to come and visit you over Saturday and Sunday if you are stopping at one of the five hotels on her “permitted” list. However, if you do decide to come here, perhaps it would be better to leave father in New York because I know he wouldn’t like it at all with nothing but women and girls around and I am sure that he couldn’t get his glass of hot water in the morning before breakfast and he would have a much better time in New York. But if he does come please mother don’t let him wear that old gray hat or that brown suit, and mother couldn’t you get him to get some gloves and a cane in New York before he comes? And please, mother dear, make him put those “stogies” of his in an inside pocket and would you mind, mother, not wearing that brooch father’s employees gave you last Christmas? I shall be awfully glad to see you both but as I say it would be better if you let me come to New York where you and father will be ever so much more comfortable. Your loving daughter, JEANNETTE.

LETTERS FROM PARENTS

THE same familiarity may be observed by parents when corresponding with their children, with, of course, the addition of a certain amount of dignity commensurate with the fact that they are, as it were, _in loco parentis_. The following example will no doubt be of aid to parents in correctly corresponding with their children:

A Correct Letter from a Mother to Her Son Congratulating Him on His Election to the Presidency of the United States

DEAR FREDERICK: I am very glad that you have been elected President of the United States, Frederick, and I hope that now you will have sense enough to see Dr. Kincaid about your teeth. It would be well to have him give you a thorough looking over at this time. And Mrs. Peasely has given me the name of a splendid throat specialist in New York whom I wish you would see as soon as possible, for it has been almost a year since you went to Dr. Ryan. Are you getting good wholesome food? Mrs. Dennison stopped in this morning and she told me that Washington is very damp in the spring and I think you had better get a new overcoat—a heavy warm one. She also told me the name of a place where you can buy real woolen socks and pajamas. I hope that you aren’t going to be so foolish as to wear those short B. V. D.’s all winter because now that you are president you must take care of yourself, Edward dear. Are you keeping up those exercises in the morning? I found those dumb-bells of yours in the attic yesterday and will send them on to you if you wish. And, dear, please keep your throat covered when you go out—Mrs. Kennedy says that the subways are always cold and full of draughts. I saw a picture of you at the “movies” the other evening and you were making a speech in the rain without a hat or rubbers. Your uncle Frederick was just such a fool as you are about wearing rubbers and he almost died of pneumonia the winter we moved to Jefferson Avenue. Be sure and let me know what Dr. Kincaid says and tell him _everything_. Your _loving_ mother. P. S. What direction does your window face?

LETTERS TO PROSPECTIVE FATHERS-IN-LAW

A young man desiring to marry a young girl does not, in polite society, “pop the question” to her by mail, unless she happens, at the time, to be out of the city or otherwise unable to “receive.” It is often advisable, however, after she has said “yes,” to write a letter to her father instead of calling on him to ask for his permission to the match, as a personal interview is often apt to result unsatisfactorily. In writing these letters to prospective fathers-in-law, the cardinal point is, of course, the creation by the young man of a good impression in the mind of the father, and for this purpose he should study to make his