In going in to dinner, there is but one rule to be observed. The lady of the house in almost every case goes in last, all her guests preceding her, with this exception, that if the President of the United States dines with you, or Royalty, he takes in the lady of the house, preceding all of the guests. When no ladies are present, the host should ask the most distinguished guest, or the person to whom the dinner is given, to lead the way in to dinner, and he should follow all the guests. The cards on the plates indicate his place to each one. By gesture alone, the host directs his guests to the dining-room, saying aloud to the most distinguished guest, “Will you kindly take the seat on my right?” The placing of your guests at table requires an intimate knowledge of society. It is only by constant association that you can know who are congenial. If you are assigned to one you are indifferent to, your only hope lies in your next neighbor; and with this hope and fear you enter the dining-room, not knowing who that will be. At the table conversation should be crisp; it is in bad taste to absorb it all. Macaulay, at a dinner, would so monopolize it that the great wit, Sydney Smith, said he did not distinguish between monologue and dialogue. When the President of the United States goes to a dinner, all the guests must be assembled; they stand in a horseshoe circle around the _salon_; the President enters; when the lady of the house approaches him, he gives her his arm, and they lead the way to the dining-room, the President sitting in the host’s place, with his hostess on his right. On arriving at the house where he is to dine, if the guests are not all assembled, he remains in his carriage until he is notified that they are all present. No one can rise to leave the table until the President himself rises. If he happens to be deeply interested in some fair neighbor, and takes no note of time, the patience of the company is sadly tried. On entering a _salon_ and finding yourself surrounded by noted or fashionable people, you are naturally flattered at being included; if the people are unnoted, you are annoyed. The surprise to me is that in this city our cleverest men and politicians do not oftener seek society and become its brilliant ornaments, as in England and on the Continent of Europe. Disraeli, Mr. Gladstone, Lord Palmerston, all were in society and were great diners out. In fact, all the distinguished men of Europe make part and parcel of society; whilst here, they shirk it as if it were beneath their dignity. They should know that there is no power like the social power; it makes and unmakes. The proverb is that, “The way to a man’s heart is through the stomach.”