In another chapter I have spoken of the great changes which have taken place in the constitution of what is known as “Society,” but since I first knew it there is one respect in which there has in reality been no alteration at all—I refer to its love of amusement and pleasure. True it is, perhaps, that in past days these were indulged in with a certain reserve and dignity—qualities which to-day seem to be considered as being of small account. True it is also that seldom did the passing fancies and follies of its leaders find their way into the public Press. Nevertheless they existed, though perhaps in a more modified form than to-day, when publicity is too often welcomed rather than shunned. Society, which is after all but a collection of quite ordinary individuals—many with more money than brains,—naturally contains (as it always has done) a certain number of people whose wealth prompts them to gratify many a costly caprice. There is nothing very astonishing about this, nor is it likely that any effect will be produced by the fulminations of those critics whose ideal society would appear to consist of a collection of prigs, faddists, and cranks, perpetually interfering in other people’s business as well as lecturing and boring the world in general. In all probability London society is no better or worse than it was in the past, though certainly more stupid. Clever people seem rarer than in former days, whilst an undue importance is attached to wealth, no matter how uninteresting may be its possessor. Nevertheless, considering all things, society might be a great deal worse, and it certainly does not deserve the indiscriminate censure which is frequently passed upon it, there being, after all, a large measure of real kindliness and generous feeling to be found hidden beneath its veneer of frivolity. Society, however, is always an easy and attractive subject for attack, the British public being apparently never tired of hearing of its crimes. Sometimes it is blamed for the vast sums expended in entertaining, which, after all, circulates money and is good for trade; nor is it clear why people in a position to do so should not entertain their friends, or even their enemies for that matter. By the austere it is upbraided for its bridge playing, and here, perhaps, is a more legitimate reason for censure, the game in question (which I do not play, disliking all card games) having utterly destroyed much pleasant conversation. At the same time it seems to amuse a great number who would otherwise be bored, and many people welcome the game as a pleasant change from the exchange of empty and commonplace remarks.