Meetings in the interests of charitable organizations, civic matters, and all stirring questions of the day, make their demands on the time of a hostess whose tact and responsiveness are unfailing. When some interest of an exclusively feminine nature remains to be dealt with, or that bugbear of the male mind, a ladies’ luncheon-party is in order, the genial host escapes to some such favorite haunt as the St. Botolph or the Tavern Club, leaving an almost startling substitute in the shape of a life-size portrait by the well-known Boston artist, Miss S. G. Putnam, to smile a welcome in his stead. The portrait and the little bay-window first seen from the outside are the most conspicuous features of the upper salon. It is from this window that a view of the sunset and of the distant river may be enjoyed; and in looking up and down the street one cannot fail to observe the fine old mansions on the opposite side of the way, set back a considerable distance from the street, and with enough ground round about them to include in their surroundings old-fashioned grass-plots and flowering shrubs belonging to the past century. In presiding at her table Mrs. Deland does the honors with cordial interest in those grouped about her, and while taking full part in the conversation, always contrives to draw out others, rather than to permit her individual views to be drawn upon. As one of the first to introduce the use of the chafing-dish, her experiments in this direction must be quoted as unique, not only because of their most excellent results, but in view of the fact that everything that has to be done is so daintily and gracefully accomplished. It is simply astonishing how she continues to hold her place in the general conversation, while quietly mixing and adding the ingredients out of which some particularly delicious _plat_ is to evolve. Everything has been measured out in advance and stands in readiness. This bit of Venetian glass, whose soft colors are intensified by the sunlight playing about it, holds just the proper quantity of cream; that small jug--an infinitesimal specimen of yellow pottery--contains but a spoonful of some dark liquid, as to whose mission the uninitiated may not guess. It is the very poetry of cooking, and it was hardly in the nature of a surprise when a guest whose travels had extended through the East gravely assured Mrs. Deland, on partaking of a preparation which had served as the _pièce de resistance_ of the occasion, that its name as translated from the Persian could only be explained by the significant phrase,--“The Sultan faints with delight”!