od natured tolerance and wonder what there is that is so funny.

About half-past ten, when stories wane and a change seems desirable, the
little low tea table appears and a rarebit, souffle of oysters, or some
chafing-dish dainty, is prepared by the hostess. Occasionally, when one
of the men has a firmly founded reputation for some special dish he is
asked to officiate, which he does amid the joyous jokes of his
roistering colleagues, while everyone within reach renders able
assistance and the others keep up a running fire of disabling comments.

If one is willing to take advantage of their very present opportunities
it seems to me that limited means lose half their disadvantages. Choose
your apartment with a view to entertaining. If your bed-room opens from
the parlor make it dainty and sweet and close the portieres until merely
a glimpse appears.

Wax your hardwood floors and keep them shining like mirrors; if rugs are
scarce they will be a good apology. Make your friends welcome and give
them a good time when they come. An old-fashioned candy-pull is often
more entertaining than the most elaborately prepared function.

A STAG SUPPER. 1.

In the main room have a mellow light from two or three swinging iron
lanterns and several in Japanese paper. Off in one of the corners, have
a cut-glass bowl filled with punch and around it a ring of smilax. The
guests select their places by each choosing the name of one of six
popular actresses. A silver tray containing six small blank envelopes is
passed, and in each envelope is enclosed one of the host's cards, on the
back of which is inscribed the name of an actress. Passing into the
dining-room they find, at each place, a photo to correspond, on the back
of which is written some well-known quotations from the actresses' most
famous plays. These photos are removed from their original cards by
soaking, and are rebuffed and mounted on rectangular mats of dull gray,
on which the inscriptions are written in white ink.

In the dining room over the heavy damask cloth, is stretched a quaint
old German table runner, reaching from end to end of the table. In the
center, embroidered in the red cotton used in such work, hospitality
encourages jollity in the familiar old motto, "Ein froher Gast is
Niemand's Last" (a merry guest is no one's burden). "Wein, Weib und
Geasang," the faithful trio, is all represented. At each place, beside
the napkin, is a rich red rose, just large enough t