________________________________________________
_ I wish it to be distinctly understood (said Reginald) that I
don't want a "George, Prince of Wales" Prayer-book as a
Christmas present. The fact cannot be too widely known.
There ought (he continued) to be technical education classes
on the science of present-giving. No one seems to have the
faintest notion of what anyone else wants, and the prevalent
ideas on the subject are not creditable to a civilised
community.
There is, for instance, the female relative in the country
who "knows a tie is always useful," and sends you some
spotted horror that you could only wear in secret or in
Tottenham Court Road. It MIGHT have been useful had she kept
it to tie up currant bushes with, when it would have served
the double purpose of supporting the branches and frightening
away the birds--for it is an admitted fact that the ordinary
tomtit of commerce has a sounder aesthetic taste than the
average female relative in the country.
Then there are aunts. They are always a difficult class to
deal with in the matter of presents. The trouble is that one
never catches them really young enough. By the time one has
educated them to an appreciation of the fact that one does
not wear red woollen mittens in the West End, they die, or
quarrel with the family, or do something equally
inconsiderate. That is why the supply of trained aunts is
always so precarious.
There is my Aunt Agatha, par exemple, who sent me a pair of
gloves last Christmas, and even got so far as to choose a
kind that was being worn and had the correct number of
buttons. But--THEY WERE NINES! I sent them to a boy whom I
hated intimately: he didn't wear them, of course, but he
could have--that was where the bitterness of death came in.
It was nearly as consoling as sending white flowers to his
funeral. Of course I wrote and told my aunt that they were
the one thing that had been wanting to make existence blossom
like a rose; I am afraid she thought me frivolous--she comes
from the North, where they live in the fear of Heaven and the
Earl of Durham. (Reginald affects an exhaustive knowledge of
things political, which furnishes an excellent excuse for not
discussing them.) Aunts with a dash of foreign extraction in
them are the most satisfactory in the way of understanding
these things; but if you can't choose your aunt, it is wisest
in the long-run to choose the present and send her the bill.
Even friends of one's own set, who might be expected to know
better, have curious delusions on the subject. I am NOT
collecting copies of the cheaper editions of Omar Khayyam. I
gave the last four that I received to the lift-boy, and I
like to think of him reading them, with FitzGerald's notes,
to his aged mother. Lift-boys always have aged mothers;
shows such nice feeling on their part, I think.
Personally, I can't see where the difficulty in choosing
suitable presents lies. No boy who had brought himself up
properly could fail to appreciate one of those decorative
bottles of liqueurs that are so reverently staged in Morel's
window--and it wouldn't in the least matter if one did get
duplicates. And there would always be the supreme moment of
dreadful uncertainty whether it was creme de menthe or
Chartreuse--like the expectant thrill on seeing your
partner's hand turned up at bridge. People may say what they
like about the decay of Christianity; the religious system
that produced green Chartreuse can never really die.
And then, of course, there are liqueur glasses, and
crystallised fruits, and tapestry curtains, and heaps of
other necessaries of life that make really sensible presents-
-not to speak of luxuries, such as having one's bills paid,
or getting something quite sweet in the way of jewellery.
Unlike the alleged Good Woman of the Bible, I'm not above
rubies. When found, by the way, she must have been rather a
problem at Christmas-time; nothing short of a blank cheque
would have fitted the situation. Perhaps it's as well that
she's died out.
The great charm about me (concluded Reginald) is that I am so
easily pleased.
But I draw the line at a "Prince of Wales" Prayer-book. _
Read next: Reginald on the Academy
Read previous: Reginald
Table of content of Reginald
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book
