London Gazette
January 6th, 1874

Readers are encouraged to write to Miss Oglethorpe for guidance in our rapidly changing social landscape. Letters should be hand-written (never mechanically transcribed) and delivered by coach to the Gazette offices, which take pleasure in forwarding correspondence to Miss Oglethorpe's townhome, in order to preserve her privacy. The Editors.

Dear Miss Oglethorpe:

Upon returning from my normal afternoon carriage ride through Kensington Gardens late last week, I was delighted to hear my butler inform me that three visitors had chanced to stop by my humble abode. I eagerly examined the calling cards that had been left by these visitors. But to my shock only two of the visitors had deposited cards upon my tray!

At first I was apt to consider this an act of the highest rudeness, but imagine my surprise when my butler informed me that the third gentleman – for a man it was – had indeed left a calling "card" of a sort. But instead of a crisply printed slip, he had left with me a curious wax cylinder.(1) I could make neither head nor tail of such a thing, and gave it to my butler to dispose of. He informed me that this was apparently some sort of new device for the capture of sound. But after listening closely for several minutes I determined that he was attempting to poke humor at me, and fired him on the spot.

Yet this afternoon I was chatting with Miss K. at tea and she ventured an opinion that Thomson may have not been wholly incorrect. Now I am in quite a quandary. Am I to be expected to deal with this new sort of calling card? If I do not purchase the correct sort of machine, will I soon fall out of social favor? Please assist me.

-L

Dear L:

Have no fear, dearie. While it is true that these new "phonograph" cylinders are becoming quite the fashion among the younger set, it should still be considered quite uncouth to attempt to use one in place of a traditional calling card. To do so places the burden upon the host to provide a suitable listening device, or "phonograph", and a considerate guest never places such demands upon a host. You were quite correct to dispose of the cylinder post haste. I wish you luck in your search for a new butler.

-Miss Oglethorpe

Dear Miss Oglethorpe:

I am a solid tradesman, and I have lived in London all of my life. My sweets shop on Paddington Circle was owned by my father before me. One day I hope to pass it onto my children. I say these things to stress that I am not some faint-hearted woman, or backwards tourist from France or the Colonies.

Yet I am most taken aback by the young lords – and sometimes even ladies – who have taken to racing through the streets of our fair city upon those confounded steam contraptions! It seems sometimes that I may barely attempt to cross the street, lest my life be threatened by some steam-powered ostrich or electrical penny farthing. Business at my shop, Timeron's Sweets on Paddington Circle, has fallen off drastically, as customers are unwilling to pause to look through my front window when I am located so close to a dangerous blind corner.

Would it be considered a breach of etiquette for me to strew bearings in the street outside of my place of business? Perhaps to string up a cord between lampposts? I have heard that there is now a clockwork device which can produce ice on demand – perhaps I should turn my sidewalk into a permanent treacherous route for these devil may care miscreants?

I turn to you for guidance, dear lady.

-N.

Dear N:

My, my! Although she is most sympathetic to your plight, Miss Oglethorpe cannot in any way condone the acts of violence that you have speculated upon here! She only hopes that in your frustration you are giving vent to fantasies that you have no intent of implementing.

Truly the conduct of these street racers is unbecoming and beyond the breach of etiquette. But to curb their endeavors is rightly a matter for the police. Miss Oglethorpe urges you to contact Scotland Yard and implore them to deal with the issue. You may find that showing them this article in print may inspire them to take some degree of action in the name of public safety.

Best of luck to you.

-Miss Oglethorpe

Dear Miss Oglethorpe:

My world is at an end! After many weeks of scrimping and saving I had finally managed to purchase a wondrous silver canary which could sing the sweetest tune upon the activation of a small hidden control in its left foot. We went without meat twice a week to support this effort, and coal to the servants was diminished to an absolute minimum. I had planned an elaborate dinner party to show off my new acquisition, and things were progressing splendidly.

But then only five days before my dinner party the wretched Miss L. began boasting of her own latest acquisition – a silver nightingale which could sing no fewer than seven different melodies! I know that she can't afford such a thing, with her husband only a lowly barrister. And yet she has it, and I simply cannot show my own pitiful toy with the word of her own curiosity already rampant in our social circle. My dinner party is in two days – whatever shall I do?

-T.

Dear T.:

First, Miss Oglethorpe has taken the liberty of removing your direct reference to Miss L.'s full name. Despite her behavior, such public accusations do not befit a column or paper of this stature.

Secondly, the solution to your dilemma is quite plain. Your social rival has already violated the bounds of custom by spreading specific word of her acquisition without a formal unveiling. General hints, of course, are quite within the bounds of propriety. Since you have of course not exhibited this fault, you are free to seize upon an even grander curiosity and have it installed before your dinner party occurs. I have heard of a golden peacock that is capable of spreading its tail feathers and strutting about, available for a quite modest price at one of the Mechanics shops on Fuller Street.

If you are truly worried about the expense, I am certain that your husband should be able to borrow upon his good name with any number of bankers. The rewards to your social situation will more than make up for any temporary financial difficulty.

-Miss Oglethorpe

(1) In reality, wax cylinders for phonographs were invented in 1877. In the world of Brassy's Men this technology has been advanced a bit. Because they're just too nifty to leave lying around with clues on them, that's why.