The Table Talk of Samuel Marchbanks Read Online Free PDF

she casts a gloom over her own party. Far, far better to offer something simple and good, in a spirit of revelry, than to toil to produce pretentious mediocrity. It is the spirit which makes a party, and not dainty sandwiches, cut in the form of hearts and tasting like spades.
• O F H IS C ONCERTINA B ROW •
    I CAME ACROSS a chart in
Life
magazine yesterday which was designed to help me decide whether I am a Highbrow, a Lowbrow, an Upper Middlebrow or a Lower Middlebrow. After some pondering I think I must be a Concertina Brow, for I like such Lowbrow things as beer and parlour sculpture, and I also like such apparently Highbrow things as red wine, art, ballet and pre-Bach music. But then I am a great fellow for the theatre, which is rated as only Upper Middlebrow. I even likefront-yard sculpture, which is supposed to be Lower Middlebrow, though I also admire the fat naked female statues of Maillol, which are Upper Middlebrow. In short, my brow heaves up and down alarmingly, like a concertina, and I have a few tastes which do not fit into any of these categories, like my affection for corduroy trousers, and my fondness for bananas dipped in hot coffee. I am inclined to think that it must be very dull to have one’s brow stuck at a particular point; I am glad my brow is able to expand and contract.
• O F B IRDS •
    I MET AN ornithologist just before dinner and as the conversation lagged, I sought to beguile him by talking about his hobby. Dale Carnegie says that you should always talk to people about what interests them, whether it interests you or not, so I began thus: “I saw a funny-looking bird this morning; a blackish bird, or maybe it was a dirty brown; what would you say it was?” He pricked up his ears. “Had it a yellow spot about half a centimetre in diameter under each wing?” he asked. “I am not accustomed to peeping into the armpits of birds,” I replied, haughtily, “but it had two feet, instead of the usual four, if that gives you a clue.” “What size did you say?” he continued. “Roughly the size of a two-year-old child’s shoe,” I said after some thought, “but rather a different shape; it was shaped like an ocarina, or a sweet potato.” “Was its mate nearby?” he persisted. “I couldn’t say,” I parried, “but it was on the lawn of a church, and I don’t suppose it would go there with anybody else’s mate, do you?” “I think you must have seen a squirrel,” said he, in what I think was meant to be a satirical tone. And yet I am always nice to ornithologists when they talk about my subjects.
•O F H IS L ACK OF S OCIAL G RACE •
    O UR HOST asked me before dinner if I play bridge. No, I don’t. An ancestor of mine was once a fair euchre player, but the talent for cards died out of the family when he passed. In my youth, when I still thought that by Herculean efforts I might turn myself into a social success, I tried to read a book about bridge, but it was worse than geometry. For the same reason I tried to learn to dance, and although I enjoyed it I found that I got on better without a partner than with one, and this was considered eccentric in the circle in which I moved. Still pursuing the fleeting goal of popularity, I attempted to become a raconteur, and memorized several funny stories and a number of witty rejoinders which I dragged painfully into any conversation in which I was engaged; this device failed me, also. It was quite a long time before I realized that I lacked the qualities which make a man the darling of a large and brilliant circle of friends, and resigned myself to being an outcast and a curmudgeon. Nowadays when I am asked to a party I sit in a corner and snarl at anyone who comes near me. This is called Being a Character, and although it is not very much fun for anyone, it is the best I can manage.
• O F D IVORCE •
    A MAN BEWAILED the increase of divorce today until I could bear it no longer. “My dear creature,” I cried, “you attack this