DEAR MISS MANNERS: Could you please explain the custom of the bride and groom leaving their reception early? I tried to explain this to my fiance, but could think of no better reason than, "That's just what you're supposed to do." Also, do you have an idea of when would be best to leave? I had assumed it would be about an hour before the reception is scheduled to end.

GENTLE READER: Miss Manners fears that there is no way she can make young people today understand why brides and bridegrooms were eager to get away to be alone with each other, instead of partying all night, showing up at breakfast with their guests the next morning, and generally hanging on until their babies get cranky and they have to take them home.

She can, however, tell you when. After the cutting of the wedding cake and before the guests are asking one another when they can decently cut out.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Please advise on the proper heading and salutation on a letter of recommendation going to a U.S. Congressman.

GENTLE READER: In the heading, the honorific and name require separate lines:

The Honorable

Jimmy Bramble

House of Representatives, etc.

The salutation, however, is simply "Dear Mr. Bramble." Miss Manners cautions you that this is the form whether you are recommending your niece for a job or recommending that your duly elected representative jump in a lake.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: As a single woman who sometimes takes the train on a long (7 to 8 hour) journey, I enjoy sitting by the window to pass the time. Since I board at the beginning of the line, I usually get a window seat.

During my last trip, I was asked by the conductor to give up my window seat so that a couple who boarded at a later stop could sit next to each other. I refused, simply saying "No," with, I am ashamed to say, a bit of eye-rolling.

I don't feel that my single status should make me the handmaiden of every married couple. How could I have politely but firmly gotten this message across?

GENTLE READER: It is not a polite message. You may be entitled to a window seat, but you are not entitled to generalize this request into a grudge against the married state.

Besides being unpleasant, it is ridiculous: plenty of people traveling alone are married, and many people who want to sit together, whether to hold hands or to do business, are not. Travelers should try to accommodate one another if they can, without unduly inconveniencing themselves.

Miss Manners is glad to hear that you are ashamed of the curt refusal and the eye-rolling. She expects you to keep your eyes still while you say to the conductor, "Of course, I'd be glad to, but I especially wanted to sit by the window. Would you be good enough to find me another window seat? And then we could change."

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"Because I'm your mother and I say so, that's why."

As an explanation to settle domestic disputes, this has always struck Miss Manners as reasonable. Well, perhaps not always. It takes a certain amount of maturity to realize the value of a certain amount of maturity.

She would hate to think that a lack of this hard-earned quality is why so few mothers now use that triumphant argument on their children. Even if they insist on claiming that they are hardly old enough to possess said quality.

The traditional counterargument to the traditional maternal assertion of divine right was that Mother couldn't make the correct judgment because she was of a different era and out of step with the way things were done in the modern world.

"You better believe it," was her rejoinder.

But there are mothers loose in the world today who would rather be young than right. That this choice is not available to them does not seem to register. So you see why Miss Manners worries.

The argument that now prevails over maternal authority, that the world is ever changing, has always been true. It is also true that the young hear about certain social changes first, sometimes generations before the changes become generally accepted.

This is interesting information, if not wishful thinking, and the parent who listens will be entertained, if not enlightened. Nevertheless, it is raw material in need of being run through the perspective of wisdom and experience. Not all change is for the better, and high selectivity is required about what a sensible person should adopt.

Mothers who believe that they have no special advantage over their minor children in accomplishing this may, unfortunately, be right. Or they may only be unable to come up with the proper facial expression to accompany authority after their Botox injections.

Miss Manners does not truly believe that these are the only reasons that mothers -- and fathers, too, for that matter -- are more apt to discount their own judgment than they used to be. Many are modest about their own discernment, distrustful of anything smacking of authoritarianism, and acting in the belief that they are fostering the development of the child's independence.

Draconian though she admittedly is, Miss Manners does not really believe that parents should refuse to listen to dissent or to yield when they have been convinced. But she is seriously worried about the pride with which many declare themselves "non-judgmental" and the ease with which they accept the idea that their children know what is best for themselves.

Everyone does judge the world, of course, and many parents struggle valiantly to improve it for the benefit of their children. But deploring bad influences -- television, corporate morality, the personal behavior of athletes and politicians and such -- is not enough. It must be accompanied by confidence that one does not have to succumb to such influences. The opinionated parent offers a confident alternative to peer and cultural pressure.

And even if the child disagrees with every fiber of his being and never grows up to change his mind, she has given him something to work with -- or against. Miss Manners has never understood how the non-judgmentalists expect their children to develop judgment without having observed the process.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: How does one politely detach oneself from an acquaintance/friend who tends to whisper uncomfortably critical remarks about others?

GENTLE READER: By responding out loud to the whispered remarks:

"Why no, I don't think she looks terrible; I think she looks wonderful."

"He's not stupid; on the contrary, he's being subtle."

"They seem perfectly happily married to me."

In return for teaching this valuable technique, Miss Manners insists that you avoid identifying the target of the whispers, even by a stray glance. You must even allow your unpleasant acquaintance/friend to retreat by not contradicting any claim that it was not someone present who was under discussion.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: My sisters and I will be hosting a party for my dad's 75th birthday. This happy event will soon be followed by another, when one of my sisters gives birth to her first child. She is thrilled, we are thrilled, my parents are thrilled ... and her boyfriend is thrilled.

Unfortunately, when this thrilled family meets up with its various extensions -- aunts, uncles, cousins -- at my dad's party, there are going to be a lot of pointed questions and comments about the order in which my sister has engaged in some of life's big events: getting pregnant, buying a house and eventually getting married.

Since our guests are the same people who spent several years trying to corner all of us on why we hadn't yet made my mother a grandmother, I think my apprehensions are well-founded. I don't want to be rude to the very people we have invited to celebrate with us, but I am afraid my sister is going to go ballistic and I dread spending the day with a fixed smile on my face trying to head things off at the pass. Please, can you tell me how we can best avert disaster? Or should we just assume that the worst will happen and live with it?

GENTLE READER: Why don't you use the same technique with which you discouraged these people from asking why you hadn't yet made your mother a grandmother?

Oh -- it didn't work?

Miss Manners supposes that this is because many consider it their duty to dispense futile advice to the younger members of their families. If your sister really wants to make that point -- instead of going ballistic and thus proving their contention that she doesn't know how to handle herself -- she will say, "You're right; I think I'll postpone having this baby."

DEAR MISS MANNERS: A friend and I are not the adventurous types when it comes to restaurants, and therefore find ourselves frequenting the same couple of places week after week after week. Eventually the staff gets to know us, and occasionally the manager or owner will offer a drink or dessert on the house.

These gestures are appreciated, but there is one problem. If it's dessert that is offered, we graciously accept and justify our increased caloric intake that evening by convincing ourselves it would be rude not to eat it. But neither my friend nor I drink alcohol as we're both recovering alcoholics, and sacrificing our sobriety in the name of polite behavior is above and beyond the call of duty, so even daintily sipping on the beverage is not an option.

How does one decline the kind offer of a drink on the house without looking ungrateful and rude, while simultaneously conveying to the person who bought it for us that we are flattered by his or her thoughtfulness? Is there a diplomatic way to say "Thanks but no thanks"?

GENTLE READER: Yes: "That is extremely kind, and please convey our thanks, but I'm afraid we don't drink."

Miss Manners could also tell you how to decline those desserts politely, but she suspects you are just as happy not to know. (Oh, here it is, just in case the staff gives you second desserts to replace the drinks: "It looks wonderful, but we're still savoring your excellent food, and better leave it at that.")

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