Another Book Title Tea

Afternoon Dresses for Tea, 

Fashion Plate from 'Art Gout 

Beaute' Magazine, 1924

Maybe you’ll find this book title tea less tricky than the previous — and more fun. 

A Book Title Tea. 2.

This is an original entertainment for a few friends. Have amusing pen and ink sketches handed around together with a small note book and pencil for each guest. Explain that each sketch is supposed to represent some well-known book and each guest is given an opportunity to put on his or her thinking cap and name the volume in his note book and pass the sketch on. This novel game affords no end of mirth and enjoyment and at a given time the hostess looks over the books and corrects them.

The House of Seven Gables is very simple and easy to guess, it being simply a rough sketch of a house with seven gables.

An Old-Fashioned Girl is represented by a girl of ye olden time in simple and quaint costume with a school bag on her arm.

A small snow covered house is enough to suggest "Snow Bound" to many of the guests. (A favorite of mine)

The Lady and the Tiger ought not to puzzle anyone, it is a simple sketch of a lady's head in one corner and a tiger in the other. (“The Lady, or theTiger”, most probably)

On one card appears 15th of March, which seems more baffling than all the others. It proves to be "Middlemarch."

A large letter A in vivid red of course represents "A Scarlet Letter." (I think it should be “The Scarlet Letter”)

"Helen's Babies" is a sketch of two chubby boys in night robes.

"Heavenly Twins" is represented by twin stars in the heavens.

"Darkest Africa" needs nothing but the face of a darkey boy with mouth stretched from ear to ear.

One of the sketches is a moonlight scene with ships going in opposite directions and is easily guessed to represent "Ships that Pass in the Night."

Anyone with originality can devise many other amusing and more difficult sketches. Prizes might be given to the one who guesses the largest number correctly.

A Book-Title Tea

Tea Dresses

One of my latest finds is “Breakfasts and Teas, Novel Suggestions for Social Occasions", by Paul Pierce from 1907. There are two more books by the same author: “Dinners and Luncheons, Novel Suggestions for Social Occasions" and "Suppers, Novel Suggestions for Social Occasions". None of them includes recipes, they are “Respectfully dedicated to the overworked, perturbed American hostess in the sincere hope that the suggestions herein may lighten her perplexities and transform her work of entertaining from a task of dread to one of delight.”

Even if you entertain as seldom as I do, which is never, you might find it as amusing as I do, to read about it. 

A "Book-Title" Tea. 1.

The latest novelty in afternoon entertainments in England is what is called a "book-title" tea. Of course, this would be just as amusing in the evening, and any refreshments may be served that the hostess prefers.
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The guests are all expected to devise and wear some particular badge or ornament which indicates, more or less clearly, the title of some book, preferably works which are well known.

The "badges" worn may be very clever and most tastefully executed. "Dodo" may be impersonated by showing a bar of music containing the two representative notes of the tonic sol-fa method. "Little Men" is represented by a badge bearing the names of little great men, such as Napoleon, Lord Roberts, etc.

A lady may wear around her neck fragments of china tied by a ribbon. This represents "The Break-Up of China," Lord Charles Beresford's book. Another lady, whose name is Alice, may wear a necklace of little mirrors, and this represents "Alice Through A Looking Glass." An ingenious design consists of a nickel coin, a photo of a donkey, another nickel coin, and a little bee, meaning "Nickolas Nickleby." A daisy stuck into a tiny miller's hat stands for "Daisy Miller," and the letters of the word olive twisted on a wire for "Oliver Twist."

Two little gates, made of paste board and a jar, represents "Gates Ajar," and a string of little dolls dressed as men, "All Sorts and Conditions of Men." There are many other interesting and ingenious designs.

March

Month which the warring ancients strangely styled
 The month of war, — as if in their fierce ways
 Were any month of peace! — in thy rough days
 I find no war in Nature, though the wild
 Winds clash and clang, and broken boughs are piled
 At feet of writhing trees. The violets raise
 Their heads without affright, without amaze,
 And sleep through all the din, as sleeps a child.
 And he who watches well may well discern
 Sweet expectation in each living thing.
 Like pregnant mother the sweet earth doth yearn;
 In secret joy makes ready for the spring;
 And hidden, sacred, in her breast doth bear
 Annunciation lilies for the year.
 From "A Calendar of Sonnets" by Helen Hunt Jackson (1891)

A suggestion

 In case you’re without something to read today — I have a most appropriate suggestion. Old Valentines A Love Story by Munson Aldrich Havens.

"May I call you Phyllis?" asked John, breaking the silence suddenly.

.

"Why, yes; if you wish—and if you think you ought, you know."

"Well, then,—Phyllis. Your name has become to me the one name worth saying in the world. Ever since I met you for the first time, four months ago, I have been saying it, Phyllis; but I wanted to say it to you. So with your face: I know every mood of you by the lights and shadows of it. I can see it in your absence, almost as well as when I am with you. Your dear, sweet face, Phyllis, and your crown of gold, and your loyal eyes, I know by heart, as well as your name. Dear Phyllis. And I know, too, your quick and beautiful mind; its clear, wise judgment of the true and the false. I know its freedom from selfishness, and all littleness. I know its purity and its steadfastness I know your capable hands, Phyllis, and your eager, pitying heart,—for I have seen them at work day after day, and week after week. I love you, my dearest, and I must tell you so. I think I have loved you longer than I have known you, but I know I have loved you as long. Perhaps you can care for me, and perhaps you can't. Sometimes I have dared to hope you might, but almost always I have known it was too high a hope. For I am only a poor poet, with nothing but faith in myself and love for you to offer. I know you have everything; a beautiful home, and beautiful clothes, and beautiful jewels, probably, though I haven't seen them. Every wish of yours is answered almost before you know it is yours. Life's promise to you is the earth and the fullness thereof; and I offer you only love. But in the end I shall win, Phyllis, I am perfectly certain of that. I shall never, never be rich; possibly never even well-to-do; but I love you, Phyllis; I love you. I want to ask you to wait for me—and be my wife."

Valentine Eve

It was Sarah Chauncey Woolsey’s birthday a couple of weeks ago. She is probably better known as Susan Coolidge, the author who wrote the books about Katy and her siblings. As I wrote a short post about her, I couldn’t resist looking through some of her books. In “What Katy Did”, they have a Valentine party — I did remember that, but I didn’t remember that they it was held on “Valentine Eve”. Thinking of it, I can’t recall that I ever heard, or read, about celebrating Valentine on any other day than the 14th .



Valentine's-Day was the next Friday. When the children came home from school on Thursday afternoon, Aunt Izzie met them, and, to their great surprise, told them that Cecy was come to drink tea, and they must all go up stairs and be made nice.

"But Cecy comes most every day," remarked Dorry, who didn't see the connection between this fact and having his face washed.

"Yes—but to-night you are to take tea in Katy's room," said Aunt Izzie; "here are the invitations: one for each of you."

Sure enough, there was a neat little note for each, requesting the pleasure of their company at "Queen Katharine's Palace," that afternoon, at six o'clock.

This put quite a different aspect on the affair. The children scampered up stairs, and pretty soon, all nicely brushed and washed, they were knocking formally at the door of the "Palace." How fine it sounded!
The room looked bright and inviting. Katy, in her chair, sat close to the fire, Cecy was beside her, and there was a round table all set out with a white cloth and mugs of milk and biscuit, and strawberry-Jam and doughnuts. In the middle was a loaf of frosted cake. There was something on the icing which looked like pink letters, and Clover, leaning forward, read aloud, "St. Valentine."

"What's that for?" asked Dorry.

"Why, you know this is St. Valentine's-Eve," replied Katy. "Debbie remembered it, I guess, so she put that on."

Nothing more was said about St. Valentine just then. But when the last pink letter of his name had been eaten, and the supper had been cleared away, suddenly, as the children sat by the fire, there was a loud rap at the door.
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"Who can that be?" said Katy; "please see, Clover!"

So Clover opened the door. There stood Bridget, trying very hard not to laugh, and holding a letter in her hand.

"It's a note as has come for you, Miss Clover," she said.

"For me!" cried Clover, much amazed. Then she shut the door, and brought the note to the table.

"How very funny!" she exclaimed, as she looked at the envelope, which was a green and white one. There was something hard inside. Clover broke the seal. Out tumbled a small green velvet pincushion made in the shape of a clover-leaf, with a tiny stem of wire wound with green silk. Pinned to the cushion was a paper, with these verses:

  "Some people love roses well,
    Tulips, gayly dressed,
  Some love violets blue and sweet,—
    I love Clover best.
  "Though she has a modest air,
    Though no grace she boast,
  Though no gardener call her fair,
    I love Clover most.
  "Butterfly may pass her by,
    He is but a rover,
  I'm a faithful, loving Bee—
    And I stick to Clover."
This was the first valentine Clover had ever had. She was perfectly enchanted.
.
"Oh, who do you suppose sent it?" she cried.

But before anybody could answer, there came another loud knock at the door, which made them all jump. Behold, Bridget again, with a second letter!

"It's for you, Miss Elsie, this time," she said with a grin.

There was an instant rush from all the children, and the envelope was torn open in the twinkling of an eye. Inside was a little ivory seal with "Elsie" on it in old English letters, and these rhymes:

  "I know a little girl,
  She is very dear to me,
  She is just as sweet as honey
  When she chooses so to be,
  And her name begins with E, and ends with E.
  "She has brown hair which curls,
  And black eyes for to see
  With, teeth like tiny pearls,
  And dimples, one, two—three,
  And her name begins with E, and ends with E.
  "Her little feet run faster
  Than other feet can flee,
  As she brushes quickly past, her
  Voice hums like a bee,
  And her name begins with E, and ends with E.
  "Do you ask me why I love her?
  Then I shall answer thee,
  Because I can't help loving,
  She is so sweet to me,
  This little girl whose name begins and ends with 'E.'"
"It's just like a fairy story," said Elsie, whose eyes had grown as big as saucers from surprise, while these verses were being read aloud by Cecy.

Another knock. This time there was a perfect handful of letters.
Everybody had one. Katy, to her great surprise, had two.
"Why, what can this be?" she said. But when she peeped into the second one, she saw Cousin Helen's handwriting, and she put it into her pocket, till the valentines should be read.

Dorry's was opened first. It had the picture of a pie at the top—I ought to explain that Dorry had lately been having a siege with the dentist.
.
  "Little Jack Horner
  Sat in his corner,
    Eating his Christmas pie,
  When a sudden grimace
  Spread over his face,
    And he began loudly to cry.
  "His tender Mamma
  Heard the sound from afar,
    And hastened to comfort her child;
  'What aileth my John?'
  She inquired in a tone
    Which belied her question mild.
  "'Oh, Mother,' he said,
  'Every tooth in my head
    Jumps and aches and is loose, O my!
   And it hurts me to eat
   Anything that is sweet—
     So what will become of my pie?'
  "It were vain to describe
  How he roared and he cried,
    And howled like a miniature tempest;
  Suffice it to say,
  That the very next day
    He had all his teeth pulled by a dentist!"
This valentine made the children laugh for a long time. Johnnie's envelope held a paper doll named "Red Riding-Hood." These were the verses:

  "I send you my picture, dear Johnnie, to show
    That I'm just as alive as you,
  And that you needn't cry over my fate
    Any more, as you used to do.
  "The wolf didn't hurt me at all that day,
    For I kicked and fought and cried,
  Till he dropped me out of his mouth, and ran
    Away in the woods to hide.
  "And Grandma and I have lived ever since
    In the little brown house so small,
  And churned fresh butter and made cream cheeses,
    Nor seen the wolf at all.
  "So cry no more for fear I am eaten,
    The naughty wolf is shot,
  And if you will come to tea some evening
    You shall see for yourself I'm not."
Johnnie was immensely pleased at this, for Red Riding-Hood was a great favorite of hers.
.
Philly had a bit of india-rubber in his letter, which was written with very black ink on a big sheet of foolscap:

  "I was once a naughty man,
    And I hid beneath the bed,
  To steal your india-rubbers,
    But I chewed them up instead.
  "Then you called out, 'Who is there?'
    I was thrown most in a fit,
  And I let the india-rubbers fall—
    All but this little bit.
  "I'm sorry for my naughty ways,
    And now, to make amends,
  I send the chewed piece back again,
    And beg we may be friends.
"ROBBER."

"Just listen to mine," said Cecy, who had all along pretended to be as much surprised as anybody, and now behaved as if she could hardly wait till Philly's was finished. Then she read aloud:

"TO CECY.

  "If I were a bird
  And you were a bird,
  What would we do?
  Why you should be little and I would be big,
  And, side by side on a cherry-tree twig,
  We'd kiss with our yellow bills, and coo—
  That's what we'd do!
  "If I were a fish
  And you were a fish,
  What would we do?
  We'd frolic, and whisk our little tails,
  And play all sorts of tricks with the whales,
  And call on the oysters, and order a 'stew,'
  That's what we'd do!
  "If I were a bee
  And you were a bee,
  What would we do?
  We'd find a home in a breezy wood,
  And store it with honey sweet and good.
  You should feed me and I would feed you,
  That's what we'd do!
"VALENTINE."

"I think that's the prettiest of all," said Clover.

"I don't," said Elsie. "I think mine is the prettiest. Cecy didn't have any seal in hers, either." And she fondled the little seal, which all this time she had held in her hand.

"Katy, you ought to have read yours first because you are the oldest," said Clover.

"Mine isn't much," replied Katy, and she read:

  "The rose is red the violet blue,
    Sugar is sweet, and so are you."
"What a mean valentine!" cried Elsie, with flashing eyes. "It's a real shame, Katy! You ought to have had the best of all."

Katy could hardly keep from laughing. The fact was that the verses for the others had taken so long, that no time had been left for writing a valentine to herself. So, thinking it would excite suspicion to have none, she had scribbled this old rhyme at the last moment.

"It isn't very nice," she said, trying to look as pensive as she could, "but never mind."

"It's a shame!" repeated Elsie, petting her very hard to make up for the injustice.

February

Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white;
And reigns the winter's pregnant silence still;
No sign of spring, save that the catkins fill,
And willow stems grow daily red and bright.
These are the days when ancients held a rite
Of expiation for the old year's ill,
And prayer to purify the new year's will:
Fit days, ere yet the spring rains blur the sight,
Ere yet the bounding blood grows hot with haste,
And dreaming thoughts grow heavy with a greed
The ardent summer's joy to have and taste;
Fit days, to give to last year's losses heed,
To reckon clear the new life's sterner need;
Fit days, for Feast of Expiation placed!

                From "A Calendar of Sonnets" by Helen Hunt Jackson (1891)

What I forgot

 CHAPTER I.


Tom and the Andirons


It was perfectly natural in one respect, anyhow. There was really no reason in the world why Tom should not lie upon the great bear-skin rug in front of the library fire those cold winter nights if he wanted to, nor need anyone be surprised that he should want to. It was indeed a most delightful place to lie in. The bear-skin was soft and in every way comfortable and comforting. The fireplace itself was one of those huge hospitable affairs that might pass in some apartment houses in our narrow cooped-up city streets for a butler's pantry or small reception room—in fact in the summer time Tom used to sit in the fireplace and pretend he was in his office transacting business with such of his sister's dolls as could be induced to visit him there; giving orders to imaginary clerks and bookkeepers and keeping an equally fanciful office boy continually on the run. And then apart from the rug and the fireplace it was a beautiful room in which they were. Tom's father was very fond of books, and, although he was a great many years older than Tom, he had not forgotten how to enjoy the very same kind of books that Tom liked. He was not ashamed to have one little niche of his library filled with the stories which had delighted him in his boyhood days, and which still continued to please him, and, of course, this lent an additional charm to the library in Tom's eyes. It held his heroes, and on some of those drowsy nights when the only sounds to break the stillness of the room were the scratching of his father's pen, the soft humming of some little tune by his mother sitting and sewing by the evening lamp, and the fierce crackling of the burning logs, Tom could almost see these heroes stepping down from the shelves and like so many phantoms flitting in and about the room. In fact, upon one occasion, Tom is convinced he did see these very people having a dance upon the great tiled hearth—but of that you shall hear later.
From "Andiron Tales" from 1906, by John Kendrick Bangs and illustrations by Clare Victor Dwiggins.



My mind is not only simple — it’s tired. In the last post I forgot to write about the other simple books I’ve read this fall. Maybe beacuse I had forgotten the titles (I told you my mind is tired), and when I went over to Gutenberg to check the titles, I forgot what I was looking for, and I started to look at other interesting books!
So here I am with only a vague notion of what I’ve read, and what I thought about it. Yes, I remember that I read “The Enchanted Barn” by Grace Livingston Hill Lutz, but not what I meant to say about it. I’ve written about the author before, and I’m still not quite sure what I think about her. This time I kept notes while I read — notes that now are resting in my other computer. The men in her books are either unlikely gentlemanly, or terrible villans — while the the female protagonist is feminine and ladylike (and usually poor). It sure sounds as cheap pulp literature, doesn’t it?

One of the books I’ve enjoyed is “Dandelion Cottage” by Carroll Watson Rankin. The book was first published in 1904, but this edition was printed in 1977, and had rather modern illustration by Mary Stevens. They are not bad, but I don’t care for them.
I’ve never heard of the book before, but I understand that it is considered a classic — at least in the midwest where it take place. It’s a charming book, and I think I’ll read “The Cinder Pond“, by the same author, which also is available at Gutenberg.


I’m about to start reading “Andiron Tales” — so far I haven’t read much more than the paragraph above. If the rest of the book is as delightful as the beginning, I will not be disappointed.