The Two Destinies

THE GUEST WRITES AND TELLS THE STORY OF THE DINNER PARTY.

MANY years have passed since my wife and I left the United States to pay our first visit to England.

We were provided with letters of introduction, as a matter of course.

Among them there was a letter which had been written for us by my wife's brother.

It presented us to an English gentleman who held a high rank on the list of his old and valued friends.

"You will become acquainted with Mr. George Germaine," my brother-in-law said, when we took leave of him, "at a very interesting period of his life.

My last news of him tells me that he is just married.

I know nothing of the lady, or of the circumstances under which my friend first met with her.

But of this I am certain: married or single, George Germaine will give you and your wife a hearty welcome to England, for my sake."

The day after our arrival in London, we left our letter of introduction at the house of Mr. Germaine.

The next morning we went to see a favorite object of American interest, in the metropolis of England — the Tower of London.

The citizens of the United States find this relic of the good old times of great use in raising their national estimate of the value of republican institutions. On getting back to the hotel, the cards of Mr. and Mrs. Germaine told us that they had already returned our visit.

The same evening we received an invitation to dine with the newly married couple.

It was inclosed in a little note from Mrs. Germaine to my wife, warning us that we were not to expect to meet a large party.

"It is the first dinner we give, on our return from our wedding tour" (the lady wrote); "and you will only be introduced to a few of my husband's old friends."

In America, and (as I hear) on the continent of Europe also, when your host invites you to dine at a given hour, you pay him the compliment of arriving punctually at his house.

In England alone, the incomprehensible and discourteous custom prevails of keeping the host and the dinner waiting for half an hour or more — without any assignable reason and without any better excuse than the purely formal apology that is implied in the words,

"Sorry to be late."

Arriving at the appointed time at the house of Mr. and Mrs. Germaine, we had every reason to congratulate ourselves on the ignorant punctuality which had brought us into the drawing-room half an hour in advance of the other guests.

In the first place, there was so much heartiness, and so little ceremony, in the welcome accorded to us, that we almost fancied ourselves back in our own country.

In the second place, both husband and wife interested us the moment we set eyes on them.