DEAR MISS MANNERS: In our increasingly high-tech world, it's become easier than ever to keep up with the events in the lives of people one has known, even if one has fallen out of touch with the actual person. I hope you can help me understand what the rules of etiquette are in these situations.

Specifically, I'm referring to the practice of "Googling" others; that is, typing someone's name into an Internet search engine and seeing what entries result from the search.

Recently, I came across information that a high school classmate and friend, whom I haven't spoken with in years, recently lost his wife, whom I did not know. This information prompted a flurry of searches, and I discovered that another classmate has also passed away, and a third has been jailed for repeated alcohol-impaired driving offenses.

How does one (indeed, should one) admit to having this information, without causing undue distress?

I would like to contact my old friend whose wife died to express my sympathy, but I simply don't know how to initiate the contact. It seems one thing to say, "I was talking with Christine, who told me about your wife. I'm so sorry for your loss," while it's quite another to admit that I came by the information through a practice that's not far removed from stalking. What would Miss Manners do?

GENTLE READER: What she is doing at the moment is wondering whether this matter will always be considered delicate, or is, even now, other than by you and Miss Manners.

It is true that, as a people, we are fiercely protective of our privacy. But that is only to make others stop bothering us while the population is busy posting everything it does, thinks or feels, accompanied by pictures, on its personal Web sites.

Perhaps not in the situations you mention, however. Presumably, people do not post their own arrests, deaths and bereavements. Yet these are matters of public record, and there are many ways you could have found out about them.

How you actually did is not that important. You need only begin your letter to your friend who lost his wife -- and the survivor of your other classmate, should you be prompted to send condolences -- with "I was so sorry to learn of your loss."

As for your other unfortunate classmate, Miss Manners suggests checking his Web site and your school's self-submitted alumni notes, and offering sympathy only if it appears to be solicited by his telling his version of what happened.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I received an invitation to a party whose purpose was to meet a candidate for a soon-to-be-elected office. It was given by the candidate, a person I do not know and will not be supporting.

At the bottom of the "party" invitation, it said "Regrets only." Although I did not plan to go, I did not reply. I did not feel I could have a comfortable telephone conversation with this person I do not know and will not support. Was this impolite?

GENTLE READER: The social rules that pertain to offers of hospitality from friends do not apply to offers from strangers attempting to extract an advantage for themselves. Had you telephoned, Miss Manners feels sure that you would have encountered -- depending on the size of the office -- either a staff member mechanically recording replies or a desperately pleading candidate. You may consider that you saved them trouble.

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"The love affair that people have had with automobiles has in some ways grown stale, and some would say it's even dying."

Once everybody got over the astonishment of learning that such a statement had come from the chairman and chief executive of the Ford Motor Co., a Mr. Ford, Miss Manners began musing about whether motoring manners had changed as dramatically. Some say these are dying, or that others are as a result.

When automobiles first appeared, the etiquette complaint was that drivers sped about recklessly, heedless of pedestrians and other traffic. Nothing new there, except that the offending speed is above 20 miles per hour, and those miffed tend to be speedier drivers, rather than horses.

Huge goggles were worn, and still are, although no longer with those fetching linen dusters, motor bonnets and veils. Now the goggles are made with dark glass.

The rule about monogramming one's motor car -- that it be done discreetly, on both doors of a two-door one but only the back doors of a four-door -- remains unchanged, although the preference now is to post one's loyalties and sentiments in large banners on the front and back, and discretion has been left in the dust.

The factor to which the present disenchantment with automobiles is attributed -- nasty emissions -- is, indeed, a modern issue. It is not that people used to revel in messes instead of caring about the environment as we enlightened folk do; it was only that the traffic to which they had been accustomed had produced smellier messes.

Etiquette rules that were adapted from previous modes of transportation have long since fallen into disuse, Miss Manners has observed. It no longer seems necessary to do a motor-car seating arrangement reserving the place of honor on the host's right, although, even then, an exception was made if it interfered with his sitting within easy reach of the speaking tube connecting him with the driver.

However, the rule that no lady should have to sit backward still applies in those elongated cars that carry entire proms careening around town. Unfortunately, with built-in bars, the seating plan tends to rearrange itself.

It is in a larger sense that conditions inside the automobile have changed, giving rise to the need for different rules of etiquette. Early motorists did not require regulations for an entertainment center, a communications department, a dining room and a dressing room.

So far, attention on these activities has focused on the more urgent question of whether they impair public safety. One hears theories that a driver who is responding to music, receiving a fax, eating breakfast and clipping his fingernails may not be paying full attention to the road. This has not daunted people who grew up claiming they could do their homework while watching television.

But what of the social conditions within? Miss Manners admits that the potential danger here is minor compared to the possibilities for creating highway havoc, but she worries all the same.

Etiquette wars in households in which people have had to share such equipment have been so vicious that families who can afford it avoid the necessity of polite cooperation with multiple telephones and tape decks, not to mention bathrooms. And that is in a situation where they can at least get away from one another.

The family car may be the last place where the etiquette of sharing, taking turns, compromising and obtaining a consensus are necessary. At least until the children are old enough to drive their own cars.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My friends live in an older home on a lovely street and work tirelessly to improve their home -- beautiful gate, wonderful rock garden, etc. They enjoy their home -- or they would, if it were not for the busybody who lives in the neighborhood who believes she has the right to criticize them and others.

She invades their privacy. She enters their house uninvited, and if she sees them in their yard, she hustles over to inform them what she thinks of them and what they need to do to their place. She is nasty and uses foul language, calling people names that I shouldn't like to hear.

Should they have a restraining order placed on her? It's too late to try to teach her any manners. She's 70-plus years old.

GENTLE READER: What your friends have there is a genuine Neighborhood Character, in the Crusty Old Nuisance category.

This does not mean that they need to cherish her, but they do need to restrain themselves from over-reacting.

Miss Manners advises locking their doors and garden gates, replying, "Yes, ma'am" in reply to unpleasant remarks, and continuing to enjoy their home. If further restraint becomes necessary, it is the lady's relatives, not the police, they need to call, dumping on them both the problem and a lot of sympathy.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have been bothered that I may have made a social gaffe and rudely hurt someone's feelings at the same time:

At a wedding reception, I noticed a young woman who had been standing alone on the fringes of the gathering for several minutes. Being of a gregarious and friendly nature, I approached, her extending my hand, and introduced myself.

She looked at me warily and said, "I don't shake hands."

Feeling rebuffed and surprised, I interpreted her refusal to shake my hand as a personal affront, as if she thought I had just crawled out of the gutter, and I replied with cutting sarcasm, "Oh, arthritis? I'm so sorry. I do hope it gets better," and briskly walked away with a smirk on my face.

I was later told that the young lady belongs to an orthodox religion that forbids married women from shaking hands with men. After hearing this, I was uncomfortable and felt guilty, and I avoided going near the lady for the rest of the evening.

How about it, Miss Manners? How big of a fool did I make of myself?

GENTLE READER: Huge. Immense. Gigantic.

It is not just the sarcasm and the smirk, either, although Miss Manners deplores them both, and would even if it were certain that an affront was intended. Not giving people the benefit of the doubt, but starting from the assumption that one has been insulted and must retaliate is in large part responsible for the pugnacious state of society today.

There could be a number of reasons that a polite person would be unable to shake hands. Your crack about arthritis, presumably intended to ridicule illness and, for good measure, old age, indicates that you know this. Would you have felt better if it turned out that she did have arthritis?

Just for good measure, you, not the lady, violated simple hand-shaking etiquette. A gentleman does not offer his hand but waits until a lady offers hers, which she is by no means obligated to do.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: When my husband and I attended the wedding of my first cousin, we brought our wedding gift with us, and during the reception my husband retrieved the gift from our car and put it on the gift table.

Several weeks after the wedding, I was unloading items from the trunk of my car and found the wedding card that was to have accompanied the gift. Apparently, it had fallen off the gift, and my husband failed to notice that it was missing.

Is there a tactful way to let the bride and groom know that we did indeed get them a gift, and which one it was? My cousin came to our wedding and gave us a very nice gift, and I don't want her to think I've forgotten her.

GENTLE READER: You have a trifling etiquette problem here, but you have the solution to a hideous one. For heaven's sake, call them immediately and tell them what happened. Miss Manners keeps hearing from frantic brides who are eager to do their solemn duty of writing thanks for presents, but prevented because cards were lost, or even because presents were stolen. This is why Miss Manners keeps telling people not to bring their presents to the wedding -- to send them ahead or -- since one Gentle Reader waxed indignant about the extra expense for postage -- drop them off before the wedding at the bride's house.

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