taking a luncheon, and would rather foolishly spend their money in getting a meal, because they thought it looked the right thing, than in taking a lunch with them. Of course, it may not be possible for you to carry all your meals with you, but this first one you certainly can. To the silly girl I would like to say as an encouragement that the people whom she envies and whom she calls "the best," are always those who look out for their own comfort, provided it does not interfere with that of any one else. That eating one's luncheon from a box should to her suggest poverty is ridiculous; it suggests, instead, that one is fortunate enough to have home people who look after one's comfort. And it may be added that no people so consistently carry their luncheons with them as do the members of the English aristocracy, whom she so much admires.
WHAT IT MAY CONSIST OF
In the lunch-box, which, by-the-by, is a nice clean white one, there is laid a dainty paper, the kind that confectioners use, in which are four or five delicate sandwiches made of thin bread with the crust cut off, and having spread between them, over the thin scraping of butter, a layer of canned meat, or thin slices of chicken, tongue, or ham, finely minced. Then, wrapped up in another piece of paper are some olives that have
