Demand, we are told, creates supply.During a short stay in a Florida hotel last winter, I noticed a curious little man who looked like a cross between a waiter and a musician.As he spoke to me several times and seemed very officious, I asked who he was.
The answer was so grotesque that I could not believe my ears.Iwas told that he held the position of official "introducer," or master of ceremonies, and that the guests under his guidance became known to each other, danced, rode, and married to their own and doubtless to his satisfaction.The further west one goes the more pronounced this mania becomes.Everybody is introduced to everybody on all imaginable occasions.If a man asks you to take a drink, he presents you to the bar-tender.If he takes you for a drive, the cab-driver is introduced."Boots" makes you acquainted with the chambermaid, and the hotel proprietor unites you in the bonds of friendship with the clerk at the desk.Intercourse with one's fellows becomes one long debauch of introduction.In this country where every liberty is respected, it is a curious fact that we should be denied the most important of all rights, that of choosing our acquaintances.