mely modest concerning the
length to which that welcome would be likely to extend" is an addenda
to it. Failing any other calculation, forty-eight hours of being a
"fixture" and twelve hours of packing up are generally the safe limit.
Following that advice, you will generally enjoy the dullest visit and
will want to come again; following that advice, also, your hostess will
enjoy seeing you and hope you will. Not to follow it is to risk losing
a friend. Everybody hates the visitor who comes whenever he is asked
and stays far too long when he arrives.

_The Unimpassioned English_

I have just been to see the latest musical comedy. Of course, I feel
in love with the heroine. Could I help myself? Even women have fallen
in love with her--so what chance has a mere male, and one at the
dangerous age at that? But what struck me almost as much as the
youthful charm and cleverness of the new American "star" and the
invigoratingly "catchy" music, was the way in which _all the young men
on the stage put both their hands into their trouser pockets the moment
they put on evening clothes_! They didn't do it in their glad day-rags
. . . or, at least, only one hand at a time, anyway. But immediately
they appeared _en grande tenue_, both their hands disappeared as if by
magic! _C'etait bien drole, j'vous assure!_ Perhaps . . . who knows?
. . . they were but counting their "moneys." . . . For the chorus
ladies are certainly rather attractive, and even a svelte figure _has
been known_ to hold a big dinner! But the fact still remains . . . if
one night some wicked dresser takes it into his evil head to stitch up
their trouser pockets, every one of the young men will have to come on
and do physical "jerks," or go outside and cut his own arms off!

But then, most Englishmen seem at a loss to know what to do with their
limbs when they are not using them for anything very special at the
moment. Have you ever sat and watched the "niggly" things which
people--especially Englishmen--do with their hands when they don't know
what to do with them otherwise? It is very instructive, I assure you.
I suppose our language does not lend itself to anything except being
spoken out of our mouths. Unlike Frenchmen, we have not learnt to talk
also with our hands. We consider it "bad form" . . . _like scratching
in public where you itch_! Well, perhaps our decision in this respect
has added to the general fun of existence. In life's e