vantage. And an excellent way to gain that command is to add one new and useful word each day to one's vocabulary.

As to the matter of slang, which seems to bother most writers, we endorse its use at the risk of inviting criticism. Slang can be colourful and expressive without being discourteous. It is part of the American language and as such must be recognized and accepted. Just one word of caution: use it discriminately and in moderation. To be truly colourful and expressive, the word of slang must be like the uncut diamond in a velvet jewel case-an unpolished word in a setting of beautiful language.

We can think of no better way to conclude this chapter on Speech than to quote this excellent bit of advice from Lord Chesterfield to his son:

When you are in company, bring the conversation to some useful subject, but à portée of that company. Points of history, matters of literature, the customs of particular countries, etc., are surely better subjects of conversation than the weather, dress, or fiddle-daddle stories that carry no information along with them. The characters of kings and great men are only to be learned in conversation, for they are never fairly written during their lives.

(Courtesy of American Museum of Natural History, New York)

An Interesting Apache Group.

Notice particularly the type of pottery and the cradle.

CHAPTER V

CONCERNING INTRODUCTION

Human nature is the same all over the world; but its operations are so varied by education and habit that one must see it in all its dresses in order to be intimately acquainted with it. Civility, which is a disposition to accommodate and oblige others, is essentially the same in every country; but good-breeding, as it is called, which is the manner of exerting that disposition, is different in almost every country, and merely local; and every man of sense imitates and conforms to that local good-breeding of the place which he is at. -L. C.

W

THE FIRST INTRODUCTION

E are going to turn back, for a moment, the pages of time. Can you see, with us, the Palæolithic man wandering hungry and alone in a hostile world? He scents food. At the same moment he sees another hungry fellow approaching. They are strangers. Savage, unreasoning, hungry strangers.

Perhaps they fall upon each other and fight then and there. But more likely they stand apart and stare at each. other for a moment or two, clubs grasped firmly, muscles tense as the lion's before it springs.

Both hear a young bear approaching, and both at the same moment turn toward the direction from which it is coming. There is food! There are claws and teeth for ornament! There is a soft, warm skin to sleep on!

Without a sound or gesture the two savage men join forces, and quickly, deftly, silently surround and demolish the bear. That was the first introduction.

They are "friends" now, having joined forces against a common enemy. They build a fire and gorge themselves. They sleep off the bear, and wake up to begin their wanderings together, to hunt and eat and live on a friendly and peaceful basis.

Stripped of its ceremonial, what is the introduction? Is it not a social device for placing two or more people on a friendly basis? "The Book of Etiquette" says that the purpose of the introduction is to create an immediate friendliness between two people who have met for the first time, to do away with all hesitancy and embarrassment, to create smooth and pleasant conversation, to make the strangers want to continue their acquaint

ance.

Is there, then, so very much difference between the introduction of primitive life and the introduction of modern life? Is not the difference one of form rather than reason?

So do instincts which once grew out of grim necessity become custom survivals in our social scheme.

The Introduction in Tribal Life.-We turn a few pages in the book of life, and the wandering individual merges into the clan; the clan grows into the tribe.

Can you see one tribe meeting another-perhaps on the desert edges of Africa, perhaps in the jungles of Australia? There are the chiefs, proud in their paint and their bear-claw ornaments. There are the tribesmen, restless and tense like wolves in a pack.

The tribal chiefs are brave, you notice. They advance a little before their fellows and stand a few paces apart examining each other curiously. They notice, perhaps, a certain similarity in appearance. Both have fuzzy hair, both have piercing black eyes, both have huge, powerful arms. A racial sympathy is born.

Now watch carefully. See how one of the tribal chiefs places his club on the ground and by gesture and pantomime indicates his willingness to be friendly. See how the other chief understands the unspoken language, how he rips off his shell ornament and offers it, how he points toward the great ox that has just been killed.

The men of both tribes relax. There is to be no warfare, but a feast instead! They are not strangers. They are friends! The chiefs squat down together while prep