neighbors by giving them a kind and degree of
entertainment which will make their return of civilities seem poor and
mean by comparison. Unless the rich man is so greatly beyond others in
the scale of wealth that comparisons cease to be odious, it is more
considerate for him to keep within the degree of expense and display
possible to the average of his associates.

There is still another reason why the very rich should be chary of
giving magnificent entertainments.

The dazzled community, gazing spell-bound upon the spectacle of a
flower-decked mansion, brilliant with colored lights and echoing to
bewildering strains of music, is apt to forget, in this aggregation of
the energies of florist, caterer, and band-master, the one man who is
supposed to be, but is not, the author of this occasion.

George (descanting on the glories of the "crush of the season")--"The
music--the champagne--the----"

Montague--"Ah! yes; and how did 'mine host' bear himself?"

George--"The host! (ruefully). B'Jove! I forgot to hunt him up!"

Unfortunately, mine host had allowed his surroundings to belittle
himself. Many a brilliant "social event" might properly be chronicled
under the head-line: "Total Eclipse of the Host!" so insignificant does
the man become when he carries his standards of social entertaining in
his pocket-book instead of in his brains.

However, one need not be very rich in order to make this same mistake.
It is made every time that social life ceases to be social, and becomes
merely a contest of rival displays. This folly is observed in small
villages quite as often as in the metropolis. In contrast, how
refreshing it is to cross the threshold of a refined and cultivated
home, and find awaiting us a cordial welcome and a genuine hospitality,
so true to its author's personality and environment that whether water
or wine be offered we know not, grateful that our host gives us his
best, whatever it is, and, best of all, gives himself.

AFTERNOON RECEPTIONS AND TEAS

Fashions in entertaining have changed within the memory of "those now
living." Once, large parties were given, hundreds of invitations were
issued, a house was crowded from veranda to attic, and the occasion was
one of the few notable social events of the season. Then came the
fashion--partly for exclusiveness, partly for novelty, largely for
convenience--of giving during the season several small parties or
receptions, which in the aggreg