A formal breakfast has little distinctive character. It differs very slightly from an early luncheon, except that the viands are more distinctly breakfast dishes; as, toast, hot muffins, omelettes and other preparations of eggs, delicate farinaceous foods, cafÉ au lait, etc. If it is the veritable breaking of the fast the guests must be very late risers indeed, as 11 o'clock, or even 12, noon, is a fashionable hour for this so-called breakfast, which is a phase of social entertaining reserved for the "leisure class," or only at odd intervals possible to people of active pursuits. The morning hours are precious to the hurried man of business, and the care-environed housekeeper; and "promptness and dispatch" is the motto of the breakfast table in most houses.

The real breakfast of everyday life is the meal where we least expect to meet guests—unless it be some one who is staying at the house. It is a rare thing for a friend to "drop in" to breakfast, and to invite him to do so is perhaps the rarest expression of hospitality, and will probably remain so, while we remain a nation of brain and hand workers.

During the summer vacation, when we pause for a breathing spell, no more charming hospitality can be offered than a dainty breakfast, especially in the country. It may be the preliminary to an all-day house party, or a picnic excursion; or the breakfast may be the goal of an early morning drive by carriage or motor, and the hour may be early or late, just as you please; for is not vacation a period of emancipation from the tyranny of the clock? But let not the hour be too early, for tired people are heavy sleepers; yet not too late either, lest the heat of the sun may have become too suggestive of the approaching noon-tide; late enough for weary eyelids to unclose willingly, early enough for the fresh dewy odor still to cling to the vines on the porch.

The conventional breakfast in town is given very seldom as compared with dinners and luncheons. It is peculiarly a holiday hospitality, reserved until the men are at leisure; for breakfast without the man of the house would be Hamlet with the prince left out.

There is another significant distinction: the guests are chosen from the inner circle. When, on Christmas morning, Mr. and Mrs. A. entertain Mr. and Mrs. B. and Mr. and Mrs. C. at breakfast, we infer at once their intimate friendship and congenial companionship. One may lunch impersonally with comparative strangers; one may dine formally touching elbows with one's dearest foe but one does not of choice breakfast with any one but a friend, or a friend of a friend—graciously accepted on trust. Breakfast is the most intimate breaking of bread; not even the festive elaboration can make the friendly breakfast seem like anything but "playing at" formality. The service is essentially the same as it usually is in that household, except that the children are not at the table. The more homelike it is, the better; for home atmosphere is revealed as at no other meal, and on no other occasion can a visitor be made to feel so entirely "one of the family."

The guests remain but a short time after a breakfast, chatting in a leisurely way, but leaving rather promptly.

The problem of the family breakfast is complicated by the modern stress of business life. In suburban towns the typical "commuter" must flee away with little ceremony; for the 7:08 will not wait, and the 7:10 is a way train. In most families breakfast is on the European plan, so to speak. For this very reason, perhaps, the occasional holiday breakfast is the more attractive. With no train to "catch," no boat to "make," no office hours to "keep," no demon of driving work to lash one to the treadmill, how delightful to be able to breakfast with the serenity of the genial "Autocrat" himself; and how very odd it seems to find oneself sociably disposed at this unwonted hour! May it not convey the gentle admonition that we might be more social every day, if we only thought so?

Psychologically, the breakfast is peculiar. It is the first commingling of the day; and whether it be the late holiday feast, or the usual family gathering, it sets the pace for the twenty-four hours. A cheerful start in the morning may give an optimistic momentum for all-day hill-climbing; or, one may slip dejectedly down hill if leaden-weighted with a "morning grouch" (one's own, or somebody else's). Even fellow "boarders" might reflect on this, with profit. Preoccupied with our own affairs, we forget to be mutually considerate. We habitually wake to rush and worry, taking social recreation chiefly at the close of day, when too weary to appreciate it. Might it not sometimes be well to get ourselves into a good humor the first thing in the morning, and then work afterward? Few people are of such a happy, self-contained disposition that they do not need the sustaining influence of other cheerful spirits. Most of us would have more of sunshine in our hearts if the first business of the morning had been to put ourselves in harmony with our fellow-creatures socially. And if we cannot do this every day, nor even often, according to our ideal, we at least doubly appreciate the rare occasions when it has been possible, and we feel impulsively grateful to the hostess whose thoughtful kindness has made our holiday so bright at its dawning. Other ways of entertaining may be more imposing; none are more delightful. Bid whom you will to dine with you, but ask me to breakfast.