war would think of stopping to run a class in etiquette? The point is
that any girl capable of crossing half the world to do a big job and a
hard one in a foreign land should have been given the opportunity to
learn the rules of social intercourse.


I saw some American girls and men on official occasions at private
houses and at official functions. They were clever, attractive,
fascinating; but when they came to the end of their visit, they rose to
go, and then stood talking, talking, talking. They did not know exactly
how to get away. They did not want to be abrupt nor appear to be glad
to leave.

It would have been so simple for some one to say to them: "One of the
first rules in social life is to get up and go when you are at the end
of your visit."

I was in Paris when Marshal Joffre gave the American Ambassador, Mr.
Sharp, the gold oak leaves as a token of France's veneration for
America. There were young girls around us who did not hesitate to
comment on everybody there. One little New Jersey girl insisted rather
audibly that Clemenceau looked like the old watchman on their block;
and a boy, a young officer, complained that General Foch "had not won
as many decorations as General Bliss and General Pershing." Some
youngsters asked high officers for souvenirs. Many French people
perhaps did worse, but it hurt me to see even a few of our own splendid
young people guilty of such crudities, because our American youth is so
fine at heart.

When the great artist Rodin died, I went to the public ceremony held in