



Produced by Julia Miller, S.D., and the Online Distributed
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  THE

  GENTLEMEN'S BOOK OF ETIQUETTE,

  AND

  MANUAL OF POLITENESS;

  BEING

  A COMPLETE GUIDE FOR A GENTLEMAN'S CONDUCT IN ALL
  HIS RELATIONS TOWARDS SOCIETY.

  CONTAINING

  RULES FOR THE ETIQUETTE TO BE OBSERVED IN THE STREET, AT
  TABLE, IN THE BALL ROOM, EVENING PARTY, AND MORNING
  CALL; WITH FULL DIRECTIONS FOR POLITE CORRESPONDENCE,
  DRESS, CONVERSATION, MANLY EXERCISES,
  AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

  FROM THE BEST FRENCH, ENGLISH, AND AMERICAN AUTHORITIES.

  BY
  CECIL B. HARTLEY.

  BOSTON:
  G. W. COTTRELL, PUBLISHER,
  36 CORNHILL.


Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by

G. G. EVANS,

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of
Pennsylvania.




INTRODUCTION.


Man was not intended to live like a bear or a hermit, apart from others
of his own nature, and, philosophy and reason will each agree with me,
that man was born for sociability and finds his true delight in society.
Society is a word capable of many meanings, and used here in each and
all of them. Society, _par excellence_; the world at large; the little
clique to which he is bound by early ties; the companionship of friends
or relatives; even society _tete a tete_ with one dear sympathizing
soul, are pleasant states for a man to be in.

Taking the word in its most extended view, it is the world; but in the
light we wish to impress in our book it is the smaller world of the
changing, pleasant intercourse of each city or town in which our reader
may chance to abide.

This society, composed, as it is, of many varying natures and elements,
where each individual must submit to merge his own identity into the
universal whole, which makes the word and state, is divided and
subdivided into various cliques, and has a pastime for every
disposition, grave or gay; and with each division rises up a new set of
forms and ceremonies to be observed if you wish to glide down the
current of polite life, smoothly and pleasantly.

The young man who makes his first entrance into the world of society,
should know how to choose his friends, and next how to conduct himself
towards them. Experience is, of course, the best guide, but at first
starting this must come second hand, from an older friend, or from
books.

A judicious friend is the best guide; but how is the young man to know
whom to choose? When at home this friend is easily selected; but in this
country, where each bird leaves the parent nest as soon as his wings
will bear him safely up, there are but few who stay amongst the friends
at home.

Next then comes the instruction from books.

True a book will not fully supply the place either of experience or
friendly advice, still it may be made useful, and, carefully written
from the experience of heads grown gray in society, with only well
authenticated rules, it will be a guide not to be despised by the young
aspirant for favor in polite and refined circles.

You go into society from mixed motives; partly for pleasure, recreation
after the fatigues of your daily duties, and partly that you may become
known. In a republican country where one man's opportunities for rising
are as good as those of another, ambition will lead every rising man
into society.

You may set it down as a rule, that as you treat the world, so the world
will treat you. Carry into the circles of society a refined, polished
manner, and an amiable desire to please, and it will meet you with
smiling grace, and lead you forward pleasantly along the flowery paths;
go, on the contrary, with a brusque, rude manner, startling all the
silky softness before you with cut and thrust remarks, carrying only
the hard realities of life in your hand, and you will find society armed
to meet you, showing only sharp corners and thorny places for your
blundering footsteps to stumble against.

You will find in every circle that etiquette holds some sway; her rule
is despotic in some places, in others mild, and easily set aside. Your
first lesson in society will be to study where she reigns supreme, in
her crown and holding her sceptre, and where she only glides in with a
gentle hint or so, and timidly steps out if rebuked; and let your
conduct be governed by the result of your observations. You will soon
become familiar with the signs, and tell on your first entrance into a
room whether kid gloves and exquisite finish of manner will be
appropriate, or whether it is "hail, fellow, well met" with the inmates.
Remember, however, "once a gentleman always a gentleman," and be sure
that you can so carry out the rule, that in your most careless, joyous
moments, when freest from the restraints of etiquette, you can still be
recognizable as a _gentleman_ by every act, word, or look.

Avoid too great a restraint of manner. Stiffness is not politeness, and,
while you observe every rule, you may appear to heed none. To make your
politeness part of yourself, inseparable from every action, is the
height of gentlemanly elegance and finish of manner.




CONTENTS.


                                                     PAGE

    INTRODUCTION                                        3

  CHAPTER I.

    CONVERSATION                                       11

  CHAPTER II.

    POLITENESS                                         31

  CHAPTER III.

    TABLE ETIQUETTE                                    50

  CHAPTER IV.

    ETIQUETTE IN THE STREET                            66

  CHAPTER V.

    ETIQUETTE FOR CALLING                              75

  CHAPTER VI.

    ETIQUETTE FOR THE BALL ROOM                        91

  CHAPTER VII.

    DRESS                                             116

  CHAPTER VIII.

    MANLY EXERCISES                                   154

  CHAPTER IX.

    TRAVELING                                         176

  CHAPTER X.

    ETIQUETTE IN CHURCH                               183

  CHAPTER XI.

    ONE HUNDRED HINTS FOR GENTLEMANLY DEPORTMENT      186

  CHAPTER XII.

    PARTIES                                           222

  CHAPTER XIII.

    COURTESY AT HOME                                  228

  CHAPTER XIV.

    TRUE COURTESY                                     244

  CHAPTER XV.

    LETTER WRITING                                    252

  CHAPTER XVI.

    WEDDING ETIQUETTE                                 280

  CHAPTER XVII.

    ETIQUETTE FOR PLACES OF AMUSEMENT                 294

  CHAPTER XVIII.

    MISCELLANEOUS                                     298




GENTLEMEN'S BOOK OF ETIQUETTE.




CHAPTER I.

CONVERSATION.


One of the first rules for a guide in polite conversation, is to avoid
political or religious discussions in general society. Such discussions
lead almost invariably to irritating differences of opinion, often to
open quarrels, and a coolness of feeling which might have been avoided
by dropping the distasteful subject as soon as marked differences of
opinion arose. It is but one out of many that can discuss either
political or religious differences, with candor and judgment, and yet so
far control his language and temper as to avoid either giving or taking
offence.

In their place, in circles which have met for such discussions, in a
_tete a tete_ conversation, in a small party of gentlemen where each is
ready courteously to listen to the others, politics may be discussed
with perfect propriety, but in the drawing-room, at the dinner-table, or
in the society of ladies, these topics are best avoided.

If you are drawn into such a discussion without intending to be so, be
careful that your individual opinion does not lead you into language
and actions unbecoming a gentleman. Listen courteously to those whose
opinions do not agree with yours, and _keep your temper_. A man in a
passion ceases to be a gentleman.

Even if convinced that your opponent is utterly wrong, yield gracefully,
decline further discussion, or dextrously turn the conversation, but do
not obstinately defend your own opinion until you become angry, or more
excited than is becoming to a gentleman.

Many there are who, giving their opinion, not as an _opinion_ but as a
_law_, will defend their position by such phrases, as: "Well, if _I_
were president, or governor, I would," &c.--and while by the warmth of
their argument they prove that they are utterly unable to govern their
own temper, they will endeavor to persuade you that they are perfectly
competent to take charge of the government of the nation.

Retain, if you will, a fixed political opinion, yet do not parade it
upon all occasions, and, above all, do not endeavor to _force_ others to
agree with you. Listen calmly to their ideas upon the same subjects, and
if you cannot agree, differ politely, and while your opponent may set
you down as a bad politician, let him be obliged to admit that you are a
_gentleman_.

Wit and vivacity are two highly important ingredients in the
conversation of a man in polite society, yet a straining for effect, or
forced wit, is in excessively bad taste. There is no one more
insupportable in society than the everlasting talkers who scatter puns,
witticisms, and jokes with so profuse a hand that they become as
tiresome as a comic newspaper, and whose loud laugh at their own wit
drowns other voices which might speak matter more interesting. The
really witty man does not shower forth his wit so indiscriminately; his
charm consists in wielding his powerful weapon delicately and easily,
and making each highly polished witticism come in the right place and
moment to be effectual. While real wit is a most delightful gift, and
its use a most charming accomplishment, it is, like many other bright
weapons, dangerous to use too often. You may wound where you meant only
to amuse, and remarks which you mean only in for general applications,
may be construed into personal affronts, so, if you have the gift, use
it wisely, and not too freely.

The most important requisite for a good conversational power is
education, and, by this is meant, not merely the matter you may store in
your memory from observation or books, though this is of vast
importance, but it also includes the developing of the mental powers,
and, above all, the comprehension. An English writer says, "A man should
be able, in order to enter into conversation, to catch rapidly the
meaning of anything that is advanced; for instance, though you know
nothing of science, you should not be obliged to stare and be silent,
when a man who does understand it is explaining a new discovery or a new
theory; though you have not read a word of Blackstone, your
comprehensive powers should be sufficiently acute to enable you to take
in the statement that may be made of a recent cause; though you may not
have read some particular book, you should be capable of appreciating
the criticism which you hear of it. Without such power--simple enough,
and easily attained by attention and practice, yet too seldom met with
in general society--a conversation which departs from the most ordinary
topics cannot be maintained without the risk of lapsing into a lecture;
with such power, society becomes instructive as well as amusing, and you
have no remorse at an evening's end at having wasted three or four hours
in profitless banter, or simpering platitudes. This facility of
comprehension often startles us in some women, whose education we know
to have been poor, and whose reading is limited. If they did not rapidly
receive your ideas, they could not, therefore, be fit companions for
intellectual men, and it is, perhaps, their consciousness of a
deficiency which leads them to pay the more attention to what you say.
It is this which makes married women so much more agreeable to men of
thought than young ladies, as a rule, can be, for they are accustomed to
the society of a husband, and the effort to be a companion to his mind
has engrafted the habit of attention and ready reply."

The same author says: "No less important is the cultivation of taste. If
it is tiresome and deadening to be with people who cannot understand,
and will not even appear to be interested in your better thoughts, it is
almost repulsive to find a man insensible to all beauty, and immovable
by any horror.

"In the present day an acquaintance with art, even if you have no love
for it, is a _sine qua non_ of good society. Music and painting are
subjects which will be discussed in every direction around you. It is
only in bad society that people go to the opera, concerts, and
art-exhibitions merely because it is the fashion, or to say they have
been there; and if you confessed to such a weakness in really good
society, you would be justly voted a puppy. For this, too, some book
knowledge is indispensable. You should at least know the names of the
more celebrated artists, composers, architects, sculptors, and so forth,
and should be able to approximate their several schools.

"So too, you should know pretty accurately the pronunciation of
celebrated names, or, if not, take care not to use them. It will never
do to be ignorant of the names and approximate ages of great composers,
especially in large cities, where music is so highly appreciated and so
common a theme. It will be decidedly condemnatory if you talk of the
_new_ opera 'Don Giovanni,' or _Rossini's_ 'Trovatore,' or are ignorant
who composed 'Fidelio,' and in what opera occur such common pieces as
'_Ciascun lo dice_,' or '_Il segreto_.' I do not say that these trifles
are indispensable, and when a man has better knowledge to offer,
especially with genius or 'cleverness' to back it, he will not only be
pardoned for an ignorance of them, but can even take a high tone, and
profess indifference or contempt of them. But, at the same time, such
ignorance stamps an ordinary man, and hinders conversation. On the other
hand the best society will not endure dilettantism, and, whatever the
knowledge a man may possess of any art, he must not display it so as to
make the ignorance of others painful to them. But this applies to every
topic. To have only one or two subjects to converse on, and to discourse
rather than talk on them, is always ill-bred, whether the theme be
literature or horseflesh. The gentleman jockey will probably denounce
the former as a 'bore,' and call us pedants for dwelling on it; but if,
as is too often the case, he can give us nothing more general than the
discussion of the 'points' of a horse that, perhaps, we have never seen,
he is as great a pedant in his way.

"_Reason_ plays a less conspicuous part in good society because its
frequenters are too reasonable to be mere reasoners. A disputation is
always dangerous to temper, and tedious to those who cannot feel as
eager as the disputants; a discussion, on the other hand, in which every
body has a chance of stating amicably and unobtrusively his or her
opinion, must be of frequent occurrence. But to cultivate the reason,
besides its high moral value, has the advantage of enabling one to reply
as well as attend to the opinions of others. Nothing is more tedious or
disheartening than a perpetual, 'Yes, just so,' and nothing more.
Conversation must never be one-sided. Then, again, the reason enables us
to support a fancy or an opinion, when we are asked _why_ we think so.
To reply, 'I don't know, but still I think so,' is silly and tedious.

"But there is a part of our education so important and so neglected in
our schools and colleges, that it cannot be too highly impressed on the
young man who proposes to enter society. I mean that which we learn
first of all things, yet often have not learned fully when death eases
us of the necessity--the art of speaking our own language. What can
Greek and Latin, French and German be for us in our every-day life, if
we have not acquired this? We are often encouraged to raise a laugh at
Doctor Syntax and the tyranny of Grammar, but we may be certain that
more misunderstandings, and, therefore, more difficulties arise between
men in the commonest intercourse from a want of grammatical precision
than from any other cause. It was once the fashion to neglect grammar,
as it now is with certain people to write illegibly, and, in the days of
Goethe, a man thought himself a genius if he could spell badly.

"Precision and accuracy must begin in the very outset; and if we neglect
them in grammar, we shall scarcely acquire them in expressing our
thoughts. But since there is no society without interchange of thought,
and since the best society is that in which the best thoughts are
interchanged in the best and most comprehensible manner, it follows that
a proper mode of expressing ourselves is indispensable in good society.

"The art of expressing one's thoughts neatly and suitably is one which,
in the neglect of rhetoric as a study, we must practice for ourselves.
The commonest thought well put is more useful in a social point of view,
than the most brilliant idea jumbled out. What is well expressed is
easily seized, and therefore readily responded to; the most poetic fancy
may be lost to the hearer, if the language which conveys it is obscure.
Speech is the gift which distinguishes man from animals, and makes
society possible. He has but a poor appreciation of his high privilege
as a human being, who neglects to cultivate, 'God's great gift of
speech.'

"As I am not writing for men of genius, but for ordinary beings, I am
right to state that an indispensable part of education is a knowledge of
the literature of the English language. But _how_ to read, is, for
society more important than _what_ we read. The man who takes up nothing
but a newspaper, but reads it to _think_, to deduct conclusions from its
premises, and form a judgment on its opinions, is more fitted for
society than he, who having all the current literature and devoting his
whole time to its perusal, swallows it all without digestion. In fact,
the mind must be treated like the body, and however great its appetite,
it will soon fall into bad health if it gorges, but does not ruminate.
At the same time an acquaintance with the best current literature is
necessary to modern society, and it is not sufficient to have read a
book without being able to pass a judgment upon it. Conversation on
literature is impossible, when your respondent can only say, 'Yes. I
like the book, but I really don't know why.'

"An acquaintance with old English literature is not perhaps
indispensable, but it gives a man great advantage in all kinds of
society, and in some he is at a constant loss without it. The same may
be said of foreign literature, which in the present day is almost as
much discussed as our own; but, on the other hand, an acquaintance with
home and foreign politics, with current history, and subjects of passing
interest, is absolutely necessary; and a person of sufficient
intelligence to join in good society, cannot dispense with his daily
newspaper, his literary journal, and the principal reviews and
magazines. The cheapness of every kind of literature, the facilities of
our well stored circulating libraries, our public reading rooms, and
numerous excellent lectures on every possible subject, leave no excuse
to poor or rich for an ignorance of any of the topics discussed in
intellectual society. You may forget your Latin, Greek, French, German,
and Mathematics, but if you frequent good company, you will never be
allowed to forget that you are a citizen of the world."

A man of real intelligence and cultivated mind, is generally modest. He
may feel when in every day society, that in intellectual acquirements he
is above those around him; but he will not seek to make his companions
feel their inferiority, nor try to display this advantage over them. He
will discuss with frank simplicity the topics started by others, and
endeavor to avoid starting such as they will not feel inclined to
discuss. All that he says will be marked by politeness and deference to
the feelings and opinions of others.

La Bruyere says, "The great charm of conversation consists less in the
display of one's own wit and intelligence, than in the power to draw
forth the resources of others; he who leaves you after a long
conversation, pleased with himself and the part he has taken in the
discourse, will be your warmest admirer. Men do not care to admire you,
they wish you to be pleased with them; they do not seek for instruction
or even amusement from your discourse, but they do wish you to be made
acquainted with their talents and powers of conversation; and the true
man of genius will delicately make all who come in contact with him,
feel the exquisite satisfaction of knowing that they have appeared to
advantage."

Having admitted the above to be an incontestable fact, you will also see
that it is as great an accomplishment to listen with an air of interest
and attention, as it is to speak well.

To be a good listener is as indispensable as to be a good talker, and it
is in the character of listener that you can most readily detect the man
who is accustomed to good society. Nothing is more embarrassing to any
one who is speaking, than to perceive signs of weariness or inattention
in the person whom he addresses.

Never interrupt any one who is speaking; it is quite as rude to
officiously supply a name or date about which another hesitates, unless
you are asked to do so. Another gross breach of etiquette, is to
anticipate the point of a story which another person is reciting, or to
take it from his lips to finish it in your own language. Some persons
plead as an excuse for this breach of etiquette, that the reciter was
spoiling a good story by a bad manner, but this does not mend the
matter. It is surely rude to give a man to understand that you do not
consider him capable of finishing an anecdote that he has commenced.

It is ill-bred to put on an air of weariness during a long speech from
another person, and quite as rude to look at a watch, read a letter,
flirt the leaves of a book, or in any other action show that you are
tired of the speaker or his subject.

In a general conversation, never speak when another person is speaking,
and never try by raising your own voice to drown that of another. Never
assume an air of haughtiness, or speak in a dictatorial manner; let your
conversation be always amiable and frank, free from every affectation.

Put yourself on the same level as the person to whom you speak, and
under penalty of being considered a pedantic idiot, refraining from
explaining any expression or word that you may use.

Never, unless you are requested to do so, speak of your own business or
profession in society; to confine your conversation entirely to the
subject or pursuit which is your own speciality is low-bred and vulgar.

Make the subject for conversation suit the company in which you are
placed. Joyous, light conversation will be at times as much out of
place, as a sermon would be at a dancing party. Let your conversation be
grave or gay as suits the time or place.

In a dispute, if you cannot reconcile the parties, withdraw from them.
You will surely make one enemy, perhaps two, by taking either side, in
an argument when the speakers have lost their temper.

Never gesticulate in every day conversation, unless you wish to be
mistaken for a fifth rate comedian.

Never ask any one who is conversing with you to repeat his words.
Nothing is ruder than to say, "Pardon me, will you repeat that
sentence--I did not hear you at first," and thus imply that your
attention was wandering when he first spoke.

Never, during a general conversation, endeavor to concentrate the
attention wholly upon yourself. It is quite as rude to enter into
conversation with one of a group, and endeavor to draw him out of the
circle of general conversation to talk with you alone.

Never listen to the conversation of two persons who have thus withdrawn
from a group. If they are so near you that you cannot avoid hearing
them, you may, with perfect propriety, change your seat.

Make your own share in conversation as modest and brief as is consistent
with the subject under consideration, and avoid long speeches and
tedious stories. If, however, another, particularly an old man, tells a
long story, or one that is not new to you, listen respectfully until he
has finished, before you speak again.

Speak of yourself but little. Your friends will find out your virtues
without forcing you to tell them, and you may feel confident that it is
equally unnecessary to expose your faults yourself.

If you submit to flattery, you must also submit to the imputation of
folly and self-conceit.

In speaking of your friends, do not compare them, one with another.
Speak of the merits of each one, but do not try to heighten the virtues
of one by contrasting them with the vices of another.

No matter how absurd are the anecdotes that may be told in your
presence, you must never give any sign of incredulity. They may be true;
and even if false, good breeding forces you to hear them with polite
attention, and the appearance of belief. To show by word or sign any
token of incredulity, is to give the lie to the narrator, and that is an
unpardonable insult.

Avoid, in conversation all subjects which can injure the absent. A
gentleman will never calumniate or listen to calumny.

Need I say that no gentleman will ever soil his mouth with an oath.
Above all, to swear in a drawing-room or before ladies is not only
indelicate and vulgar in the extreme, but evinces a shocking ignorance
of the rules of polite society and good breeding.

For a long time the world has adopted a certain form of speech which is
used in good society, and which changing often, is yet one of the
distinctive marks of a gentleman. A word or even a phrase which has been
used among the most refined circles, will, sometimes, by a sudden freak
of fashion, from being caricatured in a farce or song, or from some
other cause, go entirely out of use. Nothing but habitual intercourse
with people of refinement and education, and mingling in general
society, will teach a gentleman what words to use and what to avoid. Yet
there are some words which are now entirely out of place in a parlor.

Avoid a declamatory style; some men, before speaking, will wave their
hands as if commanding silence, and, having succeeded in obtaining the
attention of the company, will speak in a tone, and style, perfectly
suitable for the theatre or lecture room, but entirely out of place in a
parlor. Such men entirely defeat the object of society, for they resent
interruption, and, as their talk flows in a constant stream, no one else
can speak without interrupting the pompous idiot who thus endeavors to
engross the entire attention of the circle around him.

This character will be met with constantly, and generally joins to the
other disagreeable traits an egotism as tiresome as it is ill-bred.

The wittiest man becomes tedious and ill-bred when he endeavors to
engross entirely the attention of the company in which he should take a
more modest part.

Avoid set phrases, and use quotations but rarely. They sometimes make a
very piquant addition to conversation, but when they become a constant
habit, they are exceedingly tedious, and in bad taste.

Avoid pedantry; it is a mark, not of intelligence, but stupidity.

Speak your own language correctly; at the same time do not be too great
a stickler for formal correctness of phrases.

Never notice it if others make mistakes in language. To notice by word
or look such errors in those around you, is excessively ill-bred.

Vulgar language and slang, though in common, unfortunately too common
use, are unbecoming in any one who pretends to be a gentleman. Many of
the words heard now in the parlor and drawing-room, derive their origin
from sources which a gentleman would hesitate to mention before ladies,
yet he will make daily use of the offensive word or phrase.

If you are a professional or scientific man, avoid the use of technical
terms. They are in bad taste, because many will not understand them. If,
however, you unconsciously use such a term or phrase, do not then commit
the still greater error of explaining its meaning. No one will thank you
for thus implying their ignorance.

In conversing with a foreigner who speaks imperfect English, listen with
strict attention, yet do not supply a word, or phrase, if he hesitates.
Above all, do not by a word or gesture show impatience if he makes
pauses or blunders. If you understand his language, say so when you
first speak to him; this is not making a display of your own knowledge,
but is a kindness, as a foreigner will be pleased to hear and speak his
own language when in a strange country.

Be careful in society never to play the part of buffoon, for you will
soon become known as the "funny" man of the party, and no character is
so perilous to your dignity as a gentleman. You lay yourself open to
both censure and ridicule, and you may feel sure that, for every person
who laughs with you, two are laughing at you, and for one who admires
you, two will watch your antics with secret contempt.

Avoid boasting. To speak of your money, connections, or the luxuries at
your command is in very bad taste. It is quite as ill-bred to boast of
your intimacy with distinguished people. If their names occur naturally
in the course of conversation, it is very well; but to be constantly
quoting, "my friend, Gov. C----," or "my intimate friend, the
president," is pompous and in bad taste.

While refusing the part of jester yourself, do not, by stiff manners, or
cold, contemptuous looks, endeavor to check the innocent mirth of
others. It is in excessively bad taste to drag in a grave subject of
conversation when pleasant, bantering talk is going on around you. Join
in pleasantly and forget your graver thoughts for the time, and you will
win more popularity than if you chill the merry circle or turn their
innocent gayety to grave discussions.

When thrown into the society of literary people, do not question them
about their works. To speak in terms of admiration of any work to the
author is in bad taste; but you may give pleasure, if, by a quotation
from their writings, or a happy reference to them, you prove that you
have read and appreciated them.

It is extremely rude and pedantic, when engaged in general conversation,
to make quotations in a foreign language.

To use phrases which admit of a double meaning, is ungentlemanly, and,
if addressed to a lady, they become positively insulting.

If you find you are becoming angry in a conversation, either turn to
another subject or keep silence. You may utter, in the heat of passion,
words which you would never use in a calmer moment, and which you would
bitterly repent when they were once said.

"Never talk of ropes to a man whose father was hanged" is a vulgar but
popular proverb. Avoid carefully subjects which may be construed into
personalities, and keep a strict reserve upon family matters. Avoid, if
you can, seeing the skeleton in your friend's closet, but if it is
paraded for your special benefit, regard it as a sacred confidence, and
never betray your knowledge to a third party.

If you have traveled, although you will endeavor to improve your mind in
such travel, do not be constantly speaking of your journeyings. Nothing
is more tiresome than a man who commences every phrase with, "When I was
in Paris," or, "In Italy I saw----."

When asking questions about persons who are not known to you, in a
drawing-room, avoid using adjectives; or you may enquire of a mother,
"Who is that awkward, ugly girl?" and be answered, "Sir, that is my
daughter."

Avoid gossip; in a woman it is detestable, but in a man it is utterly
despicable.

Do not officiously offer assistance or advice in general society. Nobody
will thank you for it.

Ridicule and practical joking are both marks of a vulgar mind and low
breeding.

Avoid flattery. A delicate compliment is permissible in conversation,
but flattery is broad, coarse, and to sensible people, disgusting. If
you flatter your superiors, they will distrust you, thinking you have
some selfish end; if you flatter ladies, they will despise you, thinking
you have no other conversation.

A lady of sense will feel more complimented if you converse with her
upon instructive, high subjects, than if you address to her only the
language of compliment. In the latter case she will conclude that you
consider her incapable of discussing higher subjects, and you cannot
expect her to be pleased at being considered merely a silly, vain
person, who must be flattered into good humor.

Avoid the evil of giving utterance to inflated expressions and remarks
in common conversation.

It is a somewhat ungrateful task to tell those who would shrink from the
imputation of a falsehood that they are in the daily habit of uttering
untruths; and yet, if I proceed, no other course than this can be taken
by me. It is of no use to adopt half measures; plain speaking saves a
deal of trouble.

The examples about to be given by me of exaggerated expressions, are
only a few of the many that are constantly in use. Whether you can
acquit yourselves of the charge of occasionally using them, I cannot
tell; but I dare not affirm for myself that I am altogether guiltless.

"I was caught in the wet last night, the rain came down in torrents."
Most of us have been out in heavy rains; but a torrent of water pouring
down from the skies would a little surprise us, after all.

"I am wet to the skin, and have not a dry thread upon me." Where these
expressions are once used correctly, they are used twenty times in
opposition to the truth.

"I tried to overtake him, but in vain; for he ran like lightning." The
celebrated racehorse Eclipse is said to have run a mile in a minute, but
poor Eclipse is left sadly behind by this expression.

"He kept me standing out in the cold so long, I thought I should have
waited for ever." There is not a particle of probability that such a
thought could have been for one moment entertained.

"As I came across the common, the wind was as keen as a razor." This is
certainly a very keen remark, but the worst of it is that its keenness
far exceeds its correctness.

"I went to the meeting, but had hard work to get in; for the place was
crowded to suffocation." In this case, in justice to the veracity of the
relater, it is necessary to suppose that successful means had been used
for his recovery.

"It must have been a fine sight; I would have given the world to have
seen it." Fond as most of us are of sight-seeing, this would be buying
pleasure at a dear price indeed; but it is an easy thing to proffer to
part with that which we do not possess.

"It made me quite low spirited; my heart felt as heavy as lead." We most
of us know what a heavy heart is; but lead is by no means the most
correct metaphor to use in speaking of a heavy heart.

"I could hardly find my way, for the night was as dark as pitch." I am
afraid we have all in our turn calumniated the sky in this manner; pitch
is many shades darker than the darkest night we have ever known.

"I have told him of that fault fifty times over." Five times would, in
all probability, be much nearer the fact than fifty.

"I never closed my eyes all night long." If this be true, you acted
unwisely; for had you closed your eyes, you might, perhaps, have fallen
asleep, and enjoyed the blessing of refreshing slumber; if it be not
true, you acted more unwisely still, by stating that as a fact which is
altogether untrue.

"He is as tall as a church-spire." I have met with some tall fellows in
my time, though the spire of a church is somewhat taller than the
tallest of them.

"You may buy a fish at the market as big as a jackass, for five
shillings." I certainly have my doubts about this matter; but if it be
really true, the market people must be jackasses indeed to sell such
large fishes for so little money.

"He was so fat he could hardly come in at the door." Most likely the
difficulty here alluded to was never felt by any one but the relater;
supposing it to be otherwise, the man must have been very broad or the
door very narrow.

"You don't say so!--why, it was enough to kill him!" The fact that it
did not kill him is a sufficient reply to this unfounded observation;
but no remark can be too absurd for an unbridled tongue.

Thus might I run on for an hour, and after all leave much unsaid on the
subject of exaggerated expressions. We are hearing continually the
comparisons, "black as soot, white as snow, hot as fire, cold as ice,
sharp as a needle, dull as a door-nail, light as a feather, heavy as
lead, stiff as a poker, and crooked as a crab-tree," in cases where such
expressions are quite out of order.

The practice of expressing ourselves in this inflated and thoughtless
way, is more mischievous than we are aware of. It certainly leads us to
sacrifice truth; to misrepresent what we mean faithfully to describe; to
whiten our own characters, and sometimes to blacken the reputation of a
neighbor. There is an uprightness in speech as well as in action, that
we ought to strive hard to attain. The purity of truth is sullied, and
the standard of integrity is lowered, by incorrect observations. Let us
reflect upon this matter freely and faithfully. Let us love truth,
follow truth, and practice truth in our thoughts, our words, and our
deeds.




CHAPTER II.

POLITENESS.


Real politeness is the outward expression of the most generous impulses
of the heart. It enforces unselfishness, benevolence, kindness, and the
golden rule, "Do unto others as you would others should do unto you."
Thus its first principle is love for the neighbor, loving him as
yourself.

When in society it would often be exceedingly difficult to decide how to
treat those who are personally disagreeable to us, if it were not for
the rules of politeness, and the little formalities and points of
etiquette which these rules enforce. These evidences of polite breeding
do not prove hypocrisy, as you may treat your most bitter enemy with
perfect courtesy, and yet make no protestations of friendship.

If politeness is but a mask, as many philosophers tell us, it is a mask
which will win love and admiration, and is better worn than cast aside.
If you wear it with the sincere desire to give pleasure to others, and
make all the little meetings of life pass off smoothly and agreeably, it
will soon cease to be a mask, but you will find that the manner which
you at first put on to give pleasure, has become natural to you, and
wherever you have assumed a virtue to please others, you will find the
virtue becoming habitual and finally natural, and part of yourself.

Do not look upon the rules of etiquette as deceptions. They are just as
often vehicles for the expression of sincere feeling, as they are the
mask to conceal a want of it.

You will in society meet with men who rail against politeness, and call
it deceit and hypocrisy. Watch these men when they have an object to
gain, or are desirous of making a favorable impression, and see them
tacitly, but unconsciously, admit the power of courtesy, by dropping for
the time, their uncouth ways, to affect the politeness, they oftentimes
do not feel.

Pass over the defects of others, be prudent, discreet, at the proper
time reserved, yet at other times frank, and treat others with the same
gentle courtesy you would wish extended to yourself.

True politeness never embarrasses any one, because its first object is
to put all at their ease, while it leaves to all perfect freedom of
action. You must meet rudeness from others by perfect politeness and
polish of manner on your own part, and you will thus shame those who
have been uncivil to you. You will more readily make them blush by your
courtesy, than if you met their rudeness by ill manners on your own
part.

While a favor may be doubled in value, by a frankly courteous manner of
granting it, a refusal will lose half its bitterness if your manner
shows polite regret at your inability to oblige him who asks the favor
at your hand.

Politeness may be extended to the lowest and meanest, and you will
never by thus extending it detract from your own dignity. A _gentleman_
may and will treat his washerwoman with respect and courtesy, and his
boot-black with pleasant affability, yet preserve perfectly his own
position. To really merit the name of a polite, finished gentleman, you
must be polite at all times and under all circumstances.

There is a difference between politeness and etiquette. Real politeness
is in-born, and may exist in the savage, while etiquette is the outward
expression of politeness reduced to the rules current in good society.

A man may be polite, really so in heart, yet show in every movement an
ignorance of the rules of etiquette, and offend against the laws of
society. You may find him with his elbows upon the table, or tilting his
chair in a parlor. You may see him commit every hour gross breaches of
etiquette, yet you will never hear him intentionally utter one word to
wound another, you will see that he habitually endeavors to make others
comfortable, choosing for them the easiest seats, or the daintiest
dishes, and putting self entirely aside to contribute to the pleasure of
all around him. Such a man will learn, by contact with refined society,
that his ignorance of the rules which govern it, make him, at times,
disagreeable, and from the same unselfish motive which prompts him to
make a sacrifice of comfort for the sake of others, he will watch and
learn quickly, almost by instinct, where he offends against good
breeding, drop one by one his errors in etiquette, and become truly a
gentleman.

On the other hand, you will meet constantly, in the best society, men
whose polish of manner is exquisite, who will perform to the minutest
point the niceties of good breeding, who never commit the least act that
is forbidden by the strictest rules of etiquette; yet under all this
mask of chivalry, gallantry, and politeness will carry a cold, selfish
heart; will, with a sweet smile, graceful bow, and elegant language,
wound deeply the feelings of others, and while passing in society for
models of courtesy and elegance of manner, be in feeling as cruel and
barbarous as the veriest savage.

So I would say to you, Cultivate your heart. Cherish there the Christian
graces, love for the neighbor, unselfishness, charity, and gentleness,
and you will be truly a gentleman; add to these the graceful forms of
etiquette, and you then become a _perfect_ gentleman.

Etiquette exists in every corner of the known world, from the savages in
the wilds of Africa, who dare not, upon penalty of death, approach their
barbarous rulers without certain forms and ceremonies, to the most
refined circles of Europe, where gentle chivalry and a cultivated mind
suggest its rules. It has existed in all ages, and the stringency of its
laws in some countries has given rise to both ludicrous and tragic
incidents.

In countries where royalty rules the etiquette, it often happens that
pride will blind those who make the rules, and the results are often
fatal. Believing that the same deference which their rank authorized
them to demand, was also due to them as individuals, the result of such
an idea was an etiquette as vain and useless as it was absurd.

For an example I will give an anecdote:

"The kings of Spain, the proudest and vainest of all kings of the
earth, made a rule of etiquette as stupid as it was useless. It was a
fault punishable by death to touch the foot of the queen, and the
individual who thus offended, no matter under what circumstances, was
executed immediately.

"A young queen of Spain, wife of Charles the Second, was riding on
horseback in the midst of her attendants. Suddenly the horse reared and
threw the queen from the saddle. Her foot remained in the stirrup, and
she was dragged along the ground. An immense crowd stood looking at this
spectacle, but no one dared, for his life, to attempt to rescue the poor
woman. She would have died, had not two young French officers, ignorant
of the stupid law which paralyzed the Spaniards, sprung forward and
saved her. One stopped the horse, and whilst he held the bridle, his
companion disengaged from its painful position the foot of the young
queen, who was, by this time, insensible from fear and the bruises which
she had already received. They were instantly arrested, and while the
queen was carried on a litter to the palace, her young champions were
marched off, accompanied by a strong guard, to prison. The next day,
sick and feeble, the queen was obliged to leave her bed, and on her
knees before the king, plead for the pardon of the two Frenchmen; and
her prayer was only granted upon condition that the audacious foreigners
left Spain immediately."

There is no country in the world where the absurdities of etiquette are
carried to so great a length as in Spain, because there is no nation
where the nobility are so proud. The following anecdote, which
illustrates this, would seem incredible were it not a historical fact:

"Philip the Third, king of Spain, was sick, and being able to sit up,
was carefully placed in an arm chair which stood opposite to a large
fire, when the wood was piled up to an enormous height. The heat soon
became intolerable, and the courtiers retired from around the king; but,
as the Duke D'Ussede, the fire stirrer for the king, was not present,
and as no one else had the right to touch the fire, those present dared
not attempt to diminish the heat. The grand chamberlain was also absent,
and he alone was authorized to touch the king's footstool. The poor
king, too ill to rise, in vain implored those around him to move his
chair, no one dared touch it, and when the grand chamberlain arrived,
the king had fainted with the heat, and a few days later he died,
literally roasted to death."

At almost all times, and in almost all places, good breeding may be
shown; and we think a good service will be done by pointing out a few
plain and simple instances in which it stands opposed to habits and
manners, which, though improper and disagreeable, are not very uncommon.

In the familiar intercourse of society, a well-bred _man_ will be known
by the delicacy and deference with which he behaves towards females.
That man would deservedly be looked upon as very deficient in proper
respect and feeling, who should take any physical advantage of one of
the weaker sex, or offer any personal slight towards her. Woman looks,
and properly looks, for protection to man. It is the province of the
husband to shield the wife from injury; of the father to protect the
daughter; the brother has the same duty to perform towards the sister;
and, in general, every man should, in this sense, be the champion and
the lover of every woman. Not only should he be ready to protect, but
desirous to please, and willing to sacrifice much of his own personal
ease and comfort, if, by doing so, he can increase those of any female
in whose company he may find himself. Putting these principles into
practice, a well-bred man, in his own house, will be kind and respectful
in his behaviour to every female of the family. He will not use towards
them harsh language, even if called upon to express dissatisfaction with
their conduct. In conversation, he will abstain from every allusion
which would put modesty to the blush. He will, as much as in his power,
lighten their labors by cheerful and voluntary assistance. He will yield
to them every little advantage which may occur in the regular routine of
domestic life:--the most comfortable seat, if there be a difference; the
warmest position by the winter's fireside; the nicest slice from the
family joint, and so on.

In a public assembly of any kind, a well-bred man will pay regard to the
feelings and wishes of the females by whom he is surrounded. He will not
secure the best seat for himself, and leave the women folk to take care
of themselves. He will not be seated at all, if the meeting be crowded,
and a single female appear unaccommodated.

Good breeding will keep a person from making loud and startling noises,
from pushing past another in entering or going out of a room; from
ostentatiously using a pocket-handkerchief; from hawking and spitting
in company; from fidgeting any part of the body; from scratching the
head, or picking the teeth with fork or with finger. In short, it will
direct all who study its rules to abstain from every personal act which
may give pain or offence to another's feelings. At the same time, it
will enable them to bear much without taking offence. It will teach them
when to speak and when to be silent, and how to behave with due respect
to all. By attention to the rules of good breeding, and more especially
to its leading principles, "the poorest man will be entitled to the
character of a gentleman, and by inattention to them, the most wealthy
person will be essentially vulgar. Vulgarity signifies coarseness or
indelicacy of manner, and is not necessarily associated with poverty or
lowliness of condition. Thus an operative artizan may be a gentleman,
and worthy of our particular esteem; while an opulent merchant may be
only a vulgar clown, with whom it is impossible to be on terms of
friendly intercourse."

The following remarks upon the "Character of a Gentleman" by Brooke are
so admirable that I need make no apology for quoting them entire. He
says; "There is no term, in our language, more common than that of
'Gentleman;' and, whenever it is heard, all agree in the general idea of
a man some way elevated above the vulgar. Yet, perhaps, no two living
are precisely agreed respecting the qualities they think requisite for
constituting this character. When we hear the epithets of a 'fine
Gentleman,' 'a pretty Gentleman,' 'much of a Gentleman,' 'Gentlemanlike,'
'something of a Gentleman,' 'nothing of a Gentleman,' and so forth; all
these different appellations must intend a peculiarity annexed to the
ideas of those who express them; though no two of them, as I said, may
agree in the constituent qualities of the character they have formed in
their own mind. There have been ladies who deemed fashionable dress a
very capital ingredient in the composition of--a Gentleman. A certain
easy impudence acquired by low people, by casually being conversant in
high life, has passed a man current through many companies for--a
Gentleman. In taverns and brothels, he who is the most of a bully is the
most of--a Gentleman. And the highwayman, in his manner of taking your
purse, may however be allowed to have--much of the Gentleman. Plato,
among the philosophers, was 'the most of a man of fashion;' and therefore
allowed, at the court of Syracuse, to be--the most of a Gentleman. But
seriously, I apprehend that this character is pretty much upon the
modern. In all ancient or dead languages we have no term, any way
adequate, whereby we may express it. In the habits, manners, and
characters of old Sparta and old Rome, we find an antipathy to all the
elements of modern gentility. Among these rude and unpolished people,
you read of philosophers, of orators, of patriots, heroes, and demigods;
but you never hear of any character so elegant as that of--a pretty
Gentleman.

"When those nations, however, became refined into what their ancestors
would have called corruption; when luxury introduced, and fashion gave a
sanction to certain sciences, which Cynics would have branded with the
ill mannered appellations of drunkenness, gambling, cheating, lying,
&c.; the practitioners assumed the new title of Gentlemen, till such
Gentlemen became as plenteous as stars in the milky-way, and lost
distinction merely by the confluence of their lustre. Wherefore as the
said qualities were found to be of ready acquisition, and of easy
descent to the populace from their betters, ambition judged it necessary
to add further marks and criterions for severing the general herd from
the nobler species--of Gentlemen.

"Accordingly, if the commonalty were observed to have a propensity to
religion, their superiors affected a disdain of such vulgar prejudices;
and a freedom that cast off the restraints of morality, and a courage
that spurned at the fear of a God, were accounted the distinguishing
characteristics--of a Gentleman.

"If the populace, as in China, were industrious and ingenious, the
grandees, by the length of their nails and the cramping of their limbs,
gave evidence that true dignity was above labor and utility, and that to
be born to no end was the prerogative--of a Gentleman.

"If the common sort, by their conduct, declared a respect for the
institutions of civil society and good government; their betters
despised such pusillanimous conformity, and the magistrates paid
becoming regard to the distinction, and allowed of the superior
liberties and privileges--of a Gentleman.

"If the lower set show a sense of common honesty and common order; those
who would figure in the world, think it incumbent to demonstrate that
complaisance to inferiors, common manners, common equity, or any thing
common, is quite beneath the attention or sphere--of a Gentleman.

"Now, as underlings are ever ambitious of imitating and usurping the
manners of their superiors; and as this state of mortality is incident
to perpetual change and revolution, it may happen, that when the
populace, by encroaching on the province of gentility, have arrived to
their _ne plus ultra_ of insolence, irreligion, &c.; the gentry, in
order to be again distinguished, may assume the station that their
inferiors had forsaken, and, however ridiculous the supposition may
appear at present, humanity, equity, utility, complaisance, and piety,
may in time come to be the distinguishing characteristics--of a
Gentleman.

"It appears that the most general idea which people have formed of a
Gentleman, is that of a person of fortune above the vulgar, and
embellished by manners that are fashionable in high life. In this case,
fortune and fashion are the two constituent ingredients in the
composition of modern Gentlemen; for whatever the fashion may be,
whether moral or immoral, for or against reason, right or wrong, it is
equally the duty of a Gentleman to conform. And yet I apprehend, that
true gentility is altogether independent of fortune or fashion, of time,
customs, or opinions of any kind. The very same qualities that
constituted a gentleman, in the first age of the world, are permanently,
invariably, and indispensably necessary to the constitution of the same
character to the end of time.

"Hector was the finest gentleman of whom we read in history, and Don
Quixote the finest gentleman we read of in romance; as was instanced
from the tenor of their principles and actions.

"Some time after the battle of Cressy, Edward the Third of England, and
Edward the Black Prince, the more than heir of his father's renown,
pressed John King of France to indulge them with the pleasure of his
company at London. John was desirous of embracing the invitation, and
accordingly laid the proposal before his parliament at Paris. The
parliament objected, that the invitation had been made with an insidious
design of seizing his person, thereby to make the cheaper and easier
acquisition of the crown, to which Edward at that time pretended. But
John replied, with some warmth, that he was confident his brother
Edward, and more especially his young cousin, were too much of the
GENTLEMAN, to treat him in that manner. He did not say too much of the
king, of the hero, or of the saint, but too much of the GENTLEMAN to be
guilty of any baseness.

"The sequel verified this opinion. At the battle of Poictiers King John
was made prisoner, and soon after conducted by the Black Prince to
England. The prince entered London in triumph, amid the throng and
acclamations of millions of the people. But then this rather appeared to
be the triumph of the French king than that of his conqueror. John was
seated on a proud steed, royally robed, and attended by a numerous and
gorgeous train of the British nobility; while his conqueror endeavored,
as much as possible, to disappear, and rode by his side in plain attire,
and degradingly seated on a little Irish hobby.

"As Aristotle and the Critics derived their rules for epic poetry and
the sublime from a poem which Homer had written long before the rules
were formed, or laws established for the purpose: thus, from the
demeanor and innate principles of particular gentlemen, art has borrowed
and instituted the many modes of behaviour, which the world has adopted,
under the title of good manners.

"One quality of a gentleman is that of charity to the poor; and this is
delicately instanced in the account which Don Quixote gives, to his fast
friend Sancho Pancha, of the valorous but yet more pious knight-errant
Saint Martin. On a day, said the Don, Saint Martin met a poor man half
naked, and taking his cloak from his shoulders, he divided, and gave him
the one half. Now, tell me at what time of the year this happened. Was I
a witness? quoth, Sancho; how the vengeance should I know in what year
or what time of the year it happened? Hadst thou Sancho, rejoined the
knight, anything within thee of the sentiment of Saint Martin, thou must
assuredly have known that this happened in winter; for, had it been
summer, Saint Martin would had given the whole cloak.

"Another characteristic of the true gentleman, is a delicacy of
behaviour toward that sex whom nature has entitled to the protection,
and consequently entitled to the tenderness, of man.

"The same gentleman-errant, entering into a wood on a summer's evening,
found himself entangled among nets of green thread that, here and there,
hung from tree to tree; and conceiving it some matter of purposed
conjuration, pushed valorously forward to break through the enchantment.
Hereupon some beautiful shepherdesses interposed with a cry, and
besought him to spare the implements of their innocent recreation. The
knight, surprised and charmed by the vision, replied,--Fair creatures!
my province is to protect, not to injure; to seek all means of service,
but never of offence, more especially to any of your sex and apparent
excellences. Your pretty nets take up but a small piece of favored
ground; but, did they inclose the world, I would seek out new worlds,
whereby I might win a passage, rather than break them.

"Two very lovely but shamefaced girls had a cause, of some consequence,
depending at Westminster, that indispensably required their personal
appearance. They were relations of Sir Joseph Jeckel, and, on this
tremendous occasion, requested his company and countenance at the court.
Sir Joseph attended accordingly; and the cause being opened, the judge
demanded whether he was to entitle those ladies by the denomination of
spinsters. 'No, my Lord,' said Sir Joseph; 'they are lilies of the
valley, they toil not, neither do they spin, yet you see that no
monarch, in all his glory, was ever arrayed like one of these.'

"Another very peculiar characteristic of a gentleman is, the giving
place and yielding to all with whom he has to do. Of this we have a
shining and affecting instance in Abraham, perhaps the most accomplished
character that may be found in history, whether sacred or profane. A
contention had arisen between the herdsmen of Abraham and the herdsmen
of his nephew, Lot, respecting the propriety of the pasture of the
lands wherein they dwelled, that could now scarce contain the abundance
of their cattle. And those servants, as is universally the case, had
respectively endeavored to kindle and inflame their masters with their
own passions. When Abraham, in consequence of this, perceived that the
countenance of Lot began to change toward him, he called, and generously
expostulated with him as followeth: 'Let there be no strife, I pray
thee, between me and thee, or between my herdsmen and thy herdsmen; for
we be brethren. If it be thy desire to separate thyself from me, is not
the whole land before thee? If thou wilt take the left hand, then will I
go to the right; or if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to
the left.'

"Another capital quality of the true gentleman is, that of feeling
himself concerned and interested in others. Never was there so
benevolent, so affecting, so pathetic a piece of oratory exhibited upon
earth, as that of Abraham's pleading with God for averting the judgments
that then impended over Sodom. But the matter is already so generally
celebrated, that I am constrained to refer my reader to the passage at
full; since the smallest abridgment must deduct from its beauties, and
that nothing can be added to the excellences thereof.

"Honor, again, is said, in Scripture, peculiarly to distinguish the
character of a gentleman; where it is written of Sechem, the son of
Hamor, 'that he was more honorable than all the house of his father.'

"From hence it may be inferred, that human excellence, or human
amiableness, doth not so much consist in a freedom from frailty as in
our recovery from lapses, our detestation of our own transgressions,
and our desire of atoning, by all possible means, the injuries we have
done, and the offences we have given. Herein, therefore, may consist the
very singular distinction which the great apostle makes between his
estimation of a just and of a good man. 'For a just or righteous man,'
says he, 'one would grudge to die; but for a good man one would even
dare to die.' Here the just man is supposed to adhere strictly to the
rule of right or equity, and to exact from others the same measure that
he is satisfied to mete; but the good man, though occasionally he may
fall short of justice, has, properly speaking, no measure to his
benevolence, his general propensity is to give more than the due. The
just man condemns, and is desirous of punishing the transgressors of the
line prescribed to himself; but the good man, in the sense of his own
falls and failings, gives latitude, indulgence, and pardon to others; he
judges, he condemns no one save himself. The just man is a stream that
deviates not to the right or left from its appointed channel, neither is
swelled by the flood of passion above its banks; but the heart of the
good man, the man of honor, the gentleman, is as a lamp lighted by the
breath of GOD, and none save GOD himself can set limits to the efflux or
irradiations thereof.

"Again, the gentleman never envies any superior excellence, but grows
himself more excellent, by being the admirer, promoter, and lover
thereof. Saul said to his son Jonathan, 'Thou son of the perverse,
rebellious woman, do not I know that thou hast chosen the son of Jesse
to thine own confusion? For as long as the son of Jesse liveth upon the
ground, thou shalt not be established, nor thy kingdom; wherefore send
and fetch him unto me, for he shall surely die.' Here every interesting
motive that can possibly be conceived to have an influence on man,
united to urge Jonathan to the destruction of David; he would thereby
have obeyed his king, and pacified a father who was enraged against him.
He would thereby have removed the only luminary that then eclipsed the
brightness of his own achievements. And he saw, as his father said, that
the death of David alone could establish the kingdom in himself and his
posterity. But all those considerations were of no avail to make
Jonathan swerve from honor, to slacken the bands of his faith, or cool
the warmth of his friendship. O Jonathan! the sacrifice which thou then
madest to virtue, was incomparably more illustrious in the sight of God
and his angels than all the subsequent glories to which David attained.
What a crown was thine, 'Jonathan, when thou wast slain in thy high
places!'

"Saul of Tarsus had been a man of bigotry, blood, and violence; making
havoc, and breathing out threatenings and slaughter, against all who
were not of his own sect and persuasion. But, when the spirit of that
INFANT, who laid himself in the manger of human flesh, came upon him, he
acquired a new heart and a new nature; and he offered himself a willing
subject to all the sufferings and persecutions which he had brought upon
others.

"Saul from that time, exemplified in his own person, all those qualities
of the gentleman, which he afterwards specifies in his celebrated
description of that charity, which, as he says, alone endureth forever.
When Festus cried with a loud voice, 'Paul, thou art beside thyself,
much learning doth make thee mad;' Paul stretched the hand, and
answered, 'I am not mad, most noble Festus, but speak forth the words of
truth and soberness. For the king knoweth of these things, before whom
also I speak freely; for I am persuaded that none of these things are
hidden from him. King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets? I know that
thou believest.' Then Agrippa said unto Paul, 'Almost thou persuadest me
to be a Christian.' And Paul said, 'I would to God that not only thou,
but also all that hear me this day, were not only almost but altogether
such as I am,--except these bonds.' Here, with what an inimitable
elegance did this man, in his own person, at once sum up the orator, the
saint, and the gentleman!

"From these instances, my friend, you must have seen that the character,
or rather quality of a GENTLEMAN, does not, in any degree, depend on
fashion or mode, on station or opinion; neither changes with customs,
climate, or ages. But, as the Spirit of God can alone inspire it into
man, so it is, as God is the same, yesterday, to-day, and forever."

In concluding this chapter I would say:

"In the common actions and transactions of life, there is a wide
distinction between the well-bred and the ill-bred. If a person of the
latter sort be in a superior condition in life, his conduct towards
those below him, or dependent upon him, is marked by haughtiness, or by
unmannerly condescension. In the company of his equals in station and
circumstances, an ill-bred man is either captious and quarrelsome, or
offensively familiar. He does not consider that:

    'The man who hails you Tom or Jack,
    And proves, by thumps upon your back,
      How he esteems your merit,
    Is such a friend, that one had need
    Be very much a friend indeed,
      To pardon or to bear it.'

"And if a man void of good breeding have to transact business with a
superior in wealth or situation, it is more than likely that he will be
needlessly humble, unintentionally insolent, or, at any rate, miserably
embarrassed. On the contrary, a well-bred person will instinctively
avoid all these errors. 'To inferiors, he will speak kindly and
considerately, so as to relieve them from any feeling of being beneath
him in circumstances. To equals, he will be plain, unaffected, and
courteous. To superiors, he will know how to show becoming respect,
without descending to subserviency or meanness. In short, he will act a
manly, inoffensive, and agreeable part, in all the situations in life in
which he may be placed.'"




CHAPTER III.

TABLE ETIQUETTE.


It may seem a very simple thing to eat your meals, yet there is no
occasion upon which the gentleman, and the low-bred, vulgar man are more
strongly contrasted, than when at the table. The rules I shall give for
table etiquette when in company will apply equally well for the home
circle, with the exception of some few points, readily discernible,
which may be omitted at your own table.

A well-bred man, receiving an invitation to dine with a friend should
reply to it immediately, whether he accepts or declines it.

He should be punctual to the hour named in the invitation, five or ten
minutes earlier if convenient, but not one instant later. He must never,
unless he has previously asked permission to do so, take with him any
friend not named in his invitation. His host and hostess have the
privilege of inviting whom they will, and it is an impertinence to force
them to extend their hospitality, as they must do if you introduce a
friend at their own house.

Speak, on entering the parlor of your friend, first to the hostess, then
to the host.

When dinner is announced, the host or hostess will give the signal for
leaving the drawing-room, and you will probably be requested to escort
one of the ladies to the table. Offer to her your left arm, and at the
table wait until she is seated, indeed wait until every lady is seated,
before taking your own place.

In leaving the parlor you will pass out first, and the lady will follow
you, still holding your arm. At the door of the dining-room, the lady
will drop your arm. Pass in, then wait on one side of the entrance till
she passes you, to her place at the table.

If there are no ladies, you may go to the table with any gentleman who
stands near you, or with whom you may be conversing when dinner is
announced. If your companion is older than yourself, extend to him the
same courtesy which you would use towards a lady.

There are a thousand little points to be observed in your conduct at
table which, while they are not absolutely necessary, are yet
distinctive marks of a well-bred man.

If, when at home, you practice habitually the courtesies of the table,
they will sit upon you easily when abroad; but if you neglect them at
home, you will use them awkwardly when in company, and you will find
yourself recognized as a man who has "company manners," only when
abroad.

I have seen men who eat soup, or chewed their food, in so noisy a manner
as to be heard from one end of the table to the other; fill their mouths
so full of food, as to threaten suffocation or choking; use their own
knife for the butter, and salt; put their fingers in the sugar bowl; and
commit other faults quite as monstrous, yet seem perfectly unconscious
that they were doing anything to attract attention.

Try to sit easily and gracefully, but at the same time avoid crowding
those beside you.

Far from eating with avidity of whatever delicacies which may be upon
the table, and which are often served in small quantities, partake of
them but sparingly, and decline them when offered the second time.

Many men at their own table have little peculiar notions, which a guest
does well to respect. Some will feel hurt, even offended, if you decline
a dish which they recommend; while others expect you to eat enormously,
as if they feared you did not appreciate their hospitality unless you
tasted of every dish upon the table. Try to pay respect to such whims at
the table of others, but avoid having any such notions when presiding
over your own board.

Observe a strict sobriety; never drink of more than one kind of wine,
and partake of that sparingly.

The style of serving dinner is different at different houses; if there
are many servants they will bring you your plate filled, and you must
keep it. If you have the care of a lady, see that she has what she
desires, before you give your own order to the waiter; but if there are
but few domestics, and the dishes are upon the table, you may with
perfect propriety help those near you, from any dish within your reach.

If your host or hostess passes you a plate, keep it, especially if you
have chosen the food upon it, for others have also a choice, and by
passing it, you may give your neighbor dishes distasteful to him, and
take yourself those which he would much prefer.

If in the leaves of your salad, or in a plate of fruit you find a worm
or insect, pass your plate to the waiter, without any comment, and he
will bring you another.

Be careful to avoid the extremes of gluttony or over daintiness at
table. To eat enormously is disgusting; but if you eat too sparingly,
your host may think that you despise his fare.

Watch that the lady whom you escorted to the table is well helped. Lift
and change her plate for her, pass her bread, salt, and butter, give her
orders to the waiter, and pay her every attention in your power.

Before taking your place at table, wait until your place is pointed out
to you, unless there are cards bearing the names of the guests upon the
plates; in the latter case, take the place thus marked for you.

Put your napkin upon your lap, covering your knees. It is out of date,
and now looked upon as a vulgar habit to put your napkin up over your
breast.

Sit neither too near nor too far from the table. Never hitch up your
coat-sleeves or wristbands as if you were going to wash your hands. Some
men do this habitually, but it is a sign of very bad breeding.

Never tip your chair, or lounge back in it during dinner.

All gesticulations are out of place, and in bad taste at the table.
Avoid making them.

Converse in a low tone to your neighbor, yet not with any air of secresy
if others are engaged in _tete-a-tete_ conversation; if, however, the
conversation is general, avoid conversing _tete-a-tete_. Do not raise
your voice too much; if you cannot make those at some distance from you
hear you when speaking in a moderate tone, confine your remarks to those
near you.

If you wish for a knife, plate, or anything from the side table, never
address those in attendance as "Waiter!" as you would at a hotel or
_restaurant_, but call one of them by name; if you cannot do this, make
him a sign without speaking.

Unless you are requested to do so, never select any particular part of a
dish; but, if your host asks you what part you prefer, name some part,
as in this case the incivility would consist in making your host choose
as well as carve for you.

Never blow your soup if it is too hot, but wait until it cools. Never
raise your plate to your lips, but eat with your spoon.

Never touch either your knife or your fork until after you have finished
eating your soup. Leave your spoon in your soup plate, that the servant
may remove them both. Never take soup twice.

In changing your plate, or passing it during dinner, remove your knife
and fork, that the plate _alone_ may be taken, but after you have
finished your dinner, cross the knife and fork on the plate, that the
servant may take all away, before bringing you clean ones for dessert.

Do not bite your bread from the roll or slice, nor cut it with your
knife; break off small pieces and put these in your mouth with your
fingers.

At dinner do not put butter on your bread. Never dip a piece of bread
into the gravy or preserves upon your plate and then bite it, but if
you wish to eat them together, break the bread into small pieces, and
carry these to your mouth with your fork.

Use always the salt-spoon, sugar-tongs, and butter knife; to use your
own knife, spoon, or fingers, evinces a shocking want of good-breeding.

Never criticize any dish before you.

If a dish is distasteful to you, decline it, but make no remarks about
it. It is sickening and disgusting to explain at a table how one article
makes you sick, or why some other dish has become distasteful to you. I
have seen a well-dressed tempting dish go from a table untouched,
because one of the company told a most disgusting anecdote about finding
vermin served in a similar dish. No wit in the narration can excuse so
palpably an error of politeness.

Never put bones, or the seeds of fruit upon the tablecloth. Put them
upon the edge of your plate.

Never use your knife for any purpose but to _cut_ your food. It is not
meant to be put in your mouth. Your fork is intended to carry the food
from your plate to your mouth, and no gentleman ever eats with his
knife.

If the meat or fish upon your plate is too rare or too well-done, do not
eat it; give for an excuse that you prefer some other dish before you;
but never tell your host that his cook has made the dish uneatable.

Never speak when you have anything in your mouth. Never pile the food on
your plate as if you were starving, but take a little at a time; the
dishes will not run away.

Never use your own knife and fork to help either yourself or others.
There is always one before the dish at every well-served table, and you
should use that.

It is a good plan to accustom yourself to using your fork with the left
hand, when eating, as you thus avoid the awkwardness of constantly
passing the fork from your left hand to your right, and back again, when
cutting your food and eating it.

Never put fruit or bon-bons in your pocket to carry them from the table.

Do not cut fruit with a steel knife. Use a silver one.

Never eat so fast as to hurry the others at the table, nor so slowly as
to keep them waiting.

If you do not take wine, never keep the bottle standing before you, but
pass it on. If you do take it, pass it on as soon as you have filled
your glass.

If you wish to remove a fish bone or fruit seed from your mouth, cover
your lips with your hand or napkin, that others may not see you remove
it.

If you wish to use your handkerchief, and have not time to leave the
table, turn your head away, and as quickly as possible put the
handkerchief in your pocket again.

Always wipe your mouth before drinking, as nothing is more ill-bred than
to grease your glass with your lips.

If you are invited to drink with a friend, and do not drink wine, bow,
raise your glass of water and drink with him.

Do not propose to take wine with your host; it is his privilege to
invite you.

Do not put your glass upside down on the table to signify that you do
not wish to drink any more; it is sufficient to refuse firmly. Do not be
persuaded to touch another drop of wine after your own prudence warns
you that you have taken enough.

Avoid any air of mystery when speaking to those next you; it is ill-bred
and in excessively bad taste.

If you wish to speak of any one, or to any one at the table, call them
by name, but never point or make a signal when at table.

When taking coffee, never pour it into your saucer, but let it cool in
the cup, and drink from that.

If at a gentleman's party, never ask any one to sing or tell a story;
your host alone has the right thus to call upon his guests.

If invited yourself to sing, and you feel sufficiently sure that you
will give pleasure, comply immediately with the request.

If, however, you refuse, remain firm in your refusal, as to yield after
once refusing is a breach of etiquette.

When the finger-glasses are passed, dip your fingers into them and then
wipe them upon your napkin.

Never leave the table till the mistress of the house gives the signal.

On leaving the table put your napkin on the table, but do not fold it.

Offer your arm to the lady whom you escorted to the table.

It is excessively rude to leave the house as soon as dinner is over.
Respect to your hostess obliges you to stay in the drawing-room at least
an hour.

If the ladies withdraw, leaving the gentlemen, after dinner, rise when
they leave the table, and remain standing until they have left the room.

I give, from a recent English work, some humorously written directions
for table etiquette, and, although they are some of them repetitions of
what I have already given, they will be found to contain many useful
hints:

"We now come to habits at table, which are very important. However
agreeable a man may be in society, if he offends or disgusts by his
table traits, he will soon be scouted from it, and justly so. There are
some broad rules for behavior at table. Whenever there is a servant to
help you, never help yourself. Never put a knife into your mouth, not
even with cheese, which should be eaten with a fork. Never use a spoon
for anything but liquids. Never touch anything edible with your fingers.

"Forks were, undoubtedly, a later invention than fingers, but, as we are
not cannibals, I am inclined to think they were a good one. There are
some few things which you may take up with your fingers. Thus an epicure
will eat even macaroni with his fingers; and as sucking asparagus is
more pleasant than chewing it, you may, as an epicure, take it up _au
naturel_. But both these things are generally eaten with a fork. Bread
is, of course, eaten with the fingers, and it would be absurd to carve
it with your knife and fork. It must, on the contrary, always be broken
when not buttered, and you should never put a slice of dry bread to your
mouth to bite a piece off. Most fresh fruit, too, is eaten with the
natural prongs, but when you have peeled an orange or apple, you should
cut it with the aid of the fork, unless you can succeed in breaking it.
Apropos of which, I may hint that no epicure ever yet put a knife to an
apple, and that an orange should be peeled with a spoon. But the art of
peeling an orange so as to hold its own juice, and its own sugar too, is
one that can scarcely be taught in a book.

"However, let us go to dinner, and I will soon tell you whether you are
a well-bred man or not; and here let me premise that what is good
manners for a small dinner is good manners for a large one, and _vice
versa_. Now, the first thing you do is to sit down. Stop, sir! pray do
not cram yourself into the table in that way; no, nor sit a yard from
it, like that. How graceless, inconvenient, and in the way of
conversation! Why, dear me! you are positively putting your elbows on
the table, and now you have got your hands fumbling about with the
spoons and forks, and now you are nearly knocking my new hock glasses
over. Can't you take your hands down, sir? Didn't you learn that in the
nursery? Didn't your mamma say to you, 'Never put your hands above the
table except to carve or eat?' Oh! but come, no nonsense, sit up, if you
please. I can't have your fine head of hair forming a side dish on my
table; you must not bury your face in the plate, you came to show it,
and it ought to be alive. Well, but there is no occasion to throw your
head back like that, you look like an alderman, sir, _after_ dinner.
Pray, don't lounge in that sleepy way. You are here to eat, drink, and
be merry. You can sleep when you get home.

"Well, then, I suppose you can see your napkin. Got none, indeed! Very
likely, in _my_ house. You may be sure that I never sit down to a meal
without napkins. I don't want to make my tablecloths unfit for use, and
I don't want to make my trousers unwearable. Well, now, we are all
seated, you can unfold it on your knees; no, no; don't tuck it into your
waistcoat like an alderman; and what! what on earth do you mean by
wiping your forehead with it? Do you take it for a towel? Well, never
mind, I am consoled that you did not go farther, and use it as a
pocket-handkerchief. So talk away to the lady on your right, and wait
till soup is handed to you. By the way, that waiting is the most
important part of table manners, and, as much as possible, you should
avoid asking for anything or helping yourself from the table. Your soup
you eat with a spoon--I don't know what else you _could_ eat it
with--but then it must be one of good size. Yes, that will do, but I beg
you will not make that odious noise in drinking your soup. It is louder
than a dog lapping water, and a cat would be quite genteel to it. Then
you need not scrape up the plate in that way, nor even tilt it to get
the last drop. I shall be happy to send you some more; but I must just
remark, that it is not the custom to take two helpings of soup, and it
is liable to keep other people waiting, which, once for all, is a
selfish and intolerable habit. But don't you hear the servant offering
you sherry? I wish you would attend, for my servants have quite enough
to do, and can't wait all the evening while you finish that very mild
story to Miss Goggles. Come, leave that decanter alone. I had the wine
put on the table to fill up; the servants will hand it directly, or, as
we are a small party, I will tell you to help yourself; but, pray, do
not be so officious. (There, I have sent him some turbot to keep him
quiet. I declare he cannot make up his mind.) You are keeping my servant
again, sir. Will you, or will you not, do turbot? Don't examine it in
that way; it is quite fresh, I assure you; take or decline it. Ah, you
take it, but that is no reason why you should take up a knife too. Fish,
I repeat must never be touched with a knife. Take a fork in the right
and a small piece of bread in the left hand. Good, but--? Oh! that is
atrocious; of course you must not swallow the bones, but you should
rather do so than spit them out in that way. Put up your napkin like
this, and land the said bone on your plate. Don't rub your head in the
sauce, my good man, nor go progging about after the shrimps or oysters
therein. Oh! how horrid! I declare your mouth was wide open and full of
fish. Small pieces, I beseech you; and once for all, whatever you eat,
keep your mouth _shut_, and never attempt to talk with it full.

"So now you have got a pate. Surely you are not taking two on your
plate. There is plenty of dinner to come, and one is quite enough. Oh!
dear me, you are incorrigible. What! a knife to cut that light, brittle
pastry? No, nor fingers, never. Nor a spoon--almost as bad. Take your
fork, sir, your fork; and, now you have eaten, oblige me by wiping your
mouth and moustache with your napkin, for there is a bit of the pastry
hanging to the latter, and looking very disagreeable. Well, you can
refuse a dish if you like. There is no positive necessity for you to
take venison if you don't want it. But, at any rate, do not be in that
terrific hurry. You are not going off by the next train. Wait for the
sauce and wait for vegetables; but whether you eat them or not, do not
begin before everybody else. Surely you must take my table for that of a
railway refreshment-room, for you have finished before the person I
helped first. Fast eating is bad for the digestion, my good sir, and not
very good manners either. What! are you trying to eat meat with a fork
alone? Oh! it is sweetbread, I beg your pardon, you are quite right. Let
me give you a rule,--Everything that can be cut without a knife, should
be cut with a fork alone. Eat your vegetables, therefore, with a fork.
No, there is no necessity to take a spoon for peas; a fork in the right
hand will do. What! did I really see you put your knife into your mouth?
Then I must give you up. Once for all, and ever, the knife is to cut,
not to help with. Pray, do not munch in that noisy manner; chew your
food well, but softly. _Eat slowly._ Have you not heard that Napoleon
lost the battle of Leipsic by eating too fast? It is a fact though. His
haste caused indigestion, which made him incapable of attending to the
details of the battle. You see you are the last person eating at table.
Sir, I will not allow you to speak to my servants in that way. If they
are so remiss as to oblige you to ask for anything, do it gently, and in
a low tone, and thank a servant just as much as you would his master.
Ten to one he is as good a man; and because he is your inferior in
position, is the very reason you should treat him courteously. Oh! it is
of no use to ask me to take wine; far from pacifying me, it will only
make me more angry, for I tell you the custom is quite gone out, except
in a few country villages, and at a mess-table. Nor need you ask the
lady to do so. However, there is this consolation, if you should ask any
one to take wine with you, he or she _cannot_ refuse, so you have your
own way. Perhaps next you will be asking me to hob and nob, or
_trinquer_ in the French fashion with arms encircled. Ah! you don't
know, perhaps, that when a lady _trinques_ in that way with you, you
have a right to finish off with a kiss. Very likely, indeed! But it is
the custom in familiar circles in France, but then we are not Frenchmen.
_Will_ you attend to your lady, sir? You did not come merely to eat, but
to make yourself agreeable. Don't sit as glum as the Memnon at Thebes;
talk and be pleasant. Now, you have some pudding. No knife--no, _no_. A
spoon if you like, but better still, a fork. Yes, ice requires a spoon;
there is a small one handed you, take that.

"Say 'no.' This is the fourth time wine has been handed to you, and I am
sure you have had enough. Decline this time if you please. Decline that
dish too. Are you going to eat of everything that is handed? I pity you
if you do. No, you must not ask for more cheese, and you must eat it
with your fork. Break the rusk with your fingers. Good. You are drinking
a glass of old port. Do not quaff it down at a gulp in that way. Never
drink a whole glassful of anything at once.

"Well, here is the wine and dessert. Take whichever wine you like, but
remember you must keep to that, and not change about. Before you go up
stairs I will allow you a glass of sherry after your claret, but
otherwise drink of one wine only. You don't mean to say you are helping
yourself to wine before the ladies. At least, offer it to the one next
to you, and then pass it on, gently, not with a push like that. Do not
drink so fast; you will hurry me in passing the decanters, if I see that
your glass is empty. You need not eat dessert till the ladies are gone,
but offer them whatever is nearest to you. And now they are gone, draw
your chair near mine, and I will try and talk more pleasantly to you.
You will come out admirably at your next dinner with all my teaching.
What! you are excited, you are talking loud to the colonel. Nonsense.
Come and talk easily to me or to your nearest neighbor. There, don't
drink any more wine, for I see you are getting romantic. You oblige me
to make a move. You have had enough of those walnuts; you are keeping
me, my dear sir. So now to coffee [one cup] and tea, which I beg you
will not pour into your saucer to cool. Well, the dinner has done you
good, and me too. Let us be amiable to the ladies, but not too much so."

"_Champ, champ; Smack, smack; Smack, smack; Champ, champ;_--It is one
thing to know how to make a pudding, and another to know how to eat it
when made. Unmerciful and monstrous are the noises with which some
persons accompany the eating--no, the devouring of the food for which,
we trust, they are thankful. To sit down with a company of such
masticators is like joining 'a herd of swine feeding.' Soberly, at no
time, probably, are the rules of good breeding less regarded than at
'feeding time,' and at no place is a departure from these rules more
noticeable than at table. Some persons gnaw at a crust as dogs gnaw a
bone, rattle knives and spoons against their teeth as though anxious to
prove which is the harder, and scrape their plates with an energy and
perseverance which would be very commendable if bestowed upon any object
worth the trouble. Others, in defiance of the old nursery rhyme--

    'I must not dip, howe'er I wish,
    My spoon or finger in the dish;'

are perpetually helping themselves in this very straightforward and
unsophisticated manner. Another, with a mouth full of food contrives to
make his teeth and tongue perform the double duty of chewing and talking
at the same time. Another, quite in military style, in the intervals of
cramming, makes his knife and fork keep guard over the jealously watched
plate, being held upright on either side in the clenched fist, like the
musket of a raw recruit. And another, as often as leisure serves,
fidgets his plate from left to right, and from right to left, or round
and round, until the painful operation of feeding is over.

"There is, we know, such a thing as being 'too nice'--'more nice than
wise.' It is quite possible to be fastidious. But there are also such
inconsiderable matters as decency and good order; and it surely is
better to err on the right than on the wrong side of good breeding."




CHAPTER IV.

ETIQUETTE IN THE STREET.


A gentleman will be always polite, in the parlor, dining-room, and in
the street. This last clause will especially include courtesy towards
ladies, no matter what may be their age or position. A man who will
annoy or insult a woman in the street, lowers himself to a brute, no
matter whether he offends by look, word, or gesture. There are several
little forms of etiquette, given below, the observance of which will
mark the gentleman in the street.

When walking with a lady, or with a gentleman who is older than
yourself, give them the upper side of the pavement, that is, the side
nearest the house.

When walking alone, and you see any one coming towards you on the same
side of the street, give the upper part of the pavement, as you turn
aside, to a man who may carry a heavy bundle, to a priest or clergyman,
to a woman, or to any elderly person.

In a crowd never rudely push aside those who impede your progress, but
wait patiently until the way is clear. If you are hurried by business of
importance or an engagement, you will find that a few courteous words
will open the way before you more quickly than the most violent pushing
and loud talking.

If obliged to cross a plank, or narrow path, let any lady or old person
who may also be passing, precede you. In case the way is slippery or in
any way unsafe, you may, with perfect propriety, offer to assist either
a lady or elderly person in crossing it.

Do not smoke in the street until after dark, and then remove your cigar
from your mouth, if you meet a lady.

Be careful about your dress. You can never know whom you may meet, so it
is best to never leave the house otherwise than well-dressed. Bright
colors, and much jewelry are both unbecoming to a gentleman in the
street.

Avoid touching any one with your elbows in passing, and do not swing
your arms as you walk.

Be careful when walking with or near a lady, not to put your foot upon
her dress.

In carrying an umbrella, hold it so that you can see the way clear
before you; avoid striking your umbrella against those which pass you;
if you are walking with a lady, let the umbrella cover her perfectly,
but hold it so that you will not touch her bonnet. If you have the care
of two ladies, let them carry the umbrella between them, and walk
outside yourself. Nothing can be more absurd than for a gentleman to
walk between two ladies, holding the umbrella himself; while, in this
way, he is perfectly protected, the ladies receive upon their dresses
and cloaks the little streams of water which run from the points of the
umbrella.

In case of a sudden fall of rain, you may, with perfect propriety,
offer your umbrella to a lady who is unprovided with one. If she accepts
it, and asks your address to return it, leave it with her; if she
hesitates, and does not wish to deprive you of the use of it, you may
offer to accompany her to her destination, and then, do not open a
conversation; let your manner be respectful, and when you leave her, let
her thank you, assure her of the pleasure it has given you to be of
service, bow, and leave her.

In meeting a lady friend, wait for her to bow to you, and in returning
her salutation, remove your hat. To a gentleman you may bow, merely
touching your hat, if he is alone or with another gentleman; but if he
has a lady with him, raise your hat in bowing to him. If you stop to
speak to a lady, hold your hat in your hand, until she leaves you,
unless she requests you to replace it. With a gentleman you may replace
it immediately.

Never join a lady whom you may meet, without first asking her permission
to do so.

If you stop to converse with any one in the street, stand near the
houses, that you may not interfere with others who are passing.

You may bow to a lady who is seated at a window, if you are in the
street; but you must not bow from a window to a lady in the street.

Do not stop to join a crowd who are collected round a street show, or
street merchant, unless you wish to pass for a countryman taking a
holiday in the city.

If you stop any one to enquire your own way, or if you are called upon
to direct another, remove your hat while asking or answering the
question.

If you see a lady leaving a carriage unattended, or hesitating at a bad
crossing, you may, with propriety, offer your hand or arm to assist her,
and having seen her safely upon the pavement, bow, and pass on.

In a car or omnibus, when a lady wishes to get out, stop the car for
her, pass up her fare, and in an omnibus alight and assist her in
getting out, bowing as you leave her.

Be gentle, courteous, and kind to children. There is no surer token of a
low, vulgar mind, than unkindness to little ones whom you may meet in
the streets.

A true gentleman never stops to consider what may be the position of any
woman whom it is in his power to aid in the street. He will assist an
Irish washerwoman with her large basket or bundle over a crossing, or
carry over the little charges of a distressed <DW64> nurse, with the same
gentle courtesy which he would extend toward the lady who was stepping
from her private carriage. The true spirit of chivalry makes the
courtesy due to the sex, not to the position of the individual.

When you are escorting a lady in the street, politeness does not
absolutely require you to carry her bundle or parasol, but if you are
gallant you will do so. You must regulate your walk by hers, and not
force her to keep up with your ordinary pace.

Watch that you do not lead her into any bad places, and assist her
carefully over each crossing, or wet place on the pavement.

If you are walking in the country, and pass any streamlet, offer your
hand to assist your companion in crossing.

If you pass over a fence, and she refuses your assistance in crossing
it, walk forward, and do not look back, until she joins you again. The
best way to assist a lady over a fence, is to stand yourself upon the
upper rail, and while using one hand to keep a steady position, stoop,
offer her the other, and with a firm, steady grasp, hold her hand until
she stands beside you; then let her go down on the other side first, and
follow her when she is safe upon the ground.

In starting for a walk with a lady, unless she is a stranger in the
place towards whom you act as guide, let her select your destination.

Where there are several ladies, and you are required to escort one of
them, select the elderly, or those whose personal appearance will
probably make them least likely to be sought by others. You will
probably be repaid by finding them very intelligent, and with a fund of
conversation. If there are more ladies than gentlemen, you may offer an
arm to two, with some jest about the difficulty of choosing, or the
double honor you enjoy.

Offer your seat in any public conveyance, to a lady who is standing. It
is often quite as great a kindness and mark of courtesy to take a child
in your lap.

When with a lady you must pay her expenses as well as your own; if she
offers to share the expense, decline unless she insists upon it, in the
latter case yield gracefully. Many ladies, who have no brother or
father, and are dependent upon their gentlemen friends for escort, make
it a rule to be under no pecuniary obligations to them, and you will,
in such a case, offend more by insisting upon your right to take that
expense, than by quietly pocketing your dignity and their cash together.

I know many gentlemen will cry out at my assertion; but I have observed
this matter, and know many _ladies_ who will sincerely agree with me in
my opinion.

In a carriage always give the back seat to the lady or ladies
accompanying you. If you have but one lady with you, take the seat
opposite to her, unless she invites you to sit beside her, in which case
accept her offer.

Never put your arm across the seat, or around her, as many do in riding.
It is an impertinence, and if she is a lady of refinement, she will
resent it as such.

If you offer a seat in your carriage to a lady, or another gentleman
whom you may meet at a party or picnic, take them home, before you drive
to your own destination, no matter how much you may have to drive out of
your own way.

Be the last to enter the carriage, the first to leave it. If you have
ladies with you, offer them your hand to assist them in entering and
alighting, and you should take the arm of an old gentleman to assist
him.

If offered a seat in the carriage of a gentleman friend, stand aside for
him to get in first, but if he waits for you, bow and take your seat
before he does.

When driving a lady in a two-seated vehicle, you should assist her to
enter the carriage, see that her dress is not in danger of touching the
wheels, and that her shawl, parasol, and fan, are where she can reach
them, before you take your own seat. If she wishes to stop, and you
remain with the horses, you should alight before she does, assist her
in alighting, and again alight to help her to her seat when she returns,
even if you keep your place on the seat whilst she is gone.

When attending a lady in a horse-back ride, never mount your horse until
she is ready to start. Give her your hand to assist her in mounting,
arrange the folds of her habit, hand her her reins and her whip, and
then take your own seat on your saddle.

Let her pace be yours. Start when she does, and let her decide how fast
or slowly she will ride. Never let the head of your horse pass the
shoulders of hers, and be watchful and ready to render her any
assistance she may require.

Never, by rapid riding, force her to ride faster than she may desire.

Never touch her bridle, reins, or whip, except she particularly requests
your assistance, or an accident, or threatened danger, makes it
necessary.

If there is dust or wind, ride so as to protect her from it as far as
possible.

If the road is muddy be careful that you do not ride so as to bespatter
her habit. It is best to ride on the side away from that upon which her
habit falls. Some ladies change their side in riding, from time to time,
and you must watch and see upon which side the skirt falls, that, on a
muddy day, you may avoid favoring the habit with the mud your horse's
hoofs throw up.

If you ride with a gentleman older than yourself, or one who claims your
respect, let him mount before you do. Extend the same courtesy towards
any gentleman whom you have invited to accompany you, as he is, for the
ride, your guest.

The honorable place is on the right. Give this to a lady, an elderly
man, or your guest.

A modern writer says:--"If walking with a female relative or friend, a
well-bred man will take the outer side of the pavement, not only because
the wall-side is the most honorable side of a public walk, but also
because it is generally the farthest point from danger in the street. If
walking alone, he will be ready to offer assistance to any female whom
he may see exposed to real peril from any source. Courtesy and manly
courage will both incite him to this line of conduct. In general, this
is a point of honor which almost all men are proud to achieve. It has
frequently happened that even where the savage passions of men have been
excited, and when mobs have been in actual conflict, women have been
gallantly escorted through the sanguinary crowd unharmed, and their
presence has even been a protection to their protectors. This is as it
should be; and such incidents have shown in a striking manner, not only
the excellency of good breeding, but have also brought it out when and
where it was least to be expected.

"In streets and all public walks, a well-bred person will be easily
distinguished from another who sets at defiance the rules of good
breeding. He will not, whatever be his station, hinder and annoy his
fellow pedestrians, by loitering or standing still in the middle of the
footway. He will, if walking in company, abstain from making impertinent
remarks on those he meets; he will even be careful not to appear
indelicately to notice them. He will not take 'the crown of the
causeway' to himself, but readily fall in with the convenient custom
which necessity has provided, and walk on the right side of the path,
leaving the left side free for those who are walking in the opposite
direction. Any departure from these plain rules of good breeding is
downright rudeness and insult; or, at all events, it betrays great
ignorance or disregard for propriety. And yet, how often are they
departed from! It is, by no means, uncommon, especially in country
places, for groups of working men to obstruct the pathway upon which
they take a fancy to lounge, without any definite object, as far as
appears, but that of making rude remarks upon passers-by. But it is not
only the laboring classes of society who offend against good breeding in
this way; too many others offend in the same, and by stopping to talk in
the middle of the pavement put all who pass to great inconvenience."

In meeting a lady do not offer to shake hands with her, but accept her
hand when _she_ offers it for you to take.

"In France, where politeness is found in every class, the people do not
run against each other in the streets, nor brush rudely by each other,
as they sometimes do in our cities. It adds much to the pleasure of
walking, to be free from such annoyance; and this can only be brought
about by the well-taught few setting a good example to the many. By
having your wits about you, you can win your way through a thronged
street without touching even the extreme circumference of a balloon
sleeve; and, if each one strove to avoid all contact, it would be easily
accomplished."




CHAPTER V.

ETIQUETTE FOR CALLING.


A gentleman in society must calculate to give a certain portion of his
time to making calls upon his friends, both ladies and gentlemen. He may
extend his visiting list to as large a number as his inclination and
time will permit him to attend to, but he cannot contract it after
passing certain limits. His position as a man in society obliges him to
call,

Upon any stranger visiting his city, who brings a letter of introduction
to him;

Upon any friend from another city, to whose hospitality he has been at
any time indebted;

Upon any gentleman after receiving from his hands a favor or courtesy;

Upon his host at any dinner or supper party, (such calls should be made
very soon after the entertainment given);

Upon any friend whose joy or grief calls for an expression of sympathy,
whether it be congratulation or condolence;

Upon any friend who has lately returned from a voyage or long journey;

Upon any lady who has accepted his services as an escort, either for a
journey or the return from a ball or evening party; this call must be
made the day after he has thus escorted the lady;

Upon his hostess after any party to which he has been invited, whether
he has accepted or declined such invitation;

Upon any lady who has accepted his escort for an evening, a walk or a
drive;

Upon any friend whom long or severe illness keeps confined to the house;

Upon his lady friends on New Year's day, (if it is the custom of the
city in which he resides;)

Upon any of his friends when they receive bridal calls;

Upon lady friends in any city you are visiting; if gentlemen friends
reside in the same city, you may either call upon them or send your card
with your address and the length of time you intend staying, written
upon it; if a stranger or friend visiting your city sends such a card,
you must call at the earliest opportunity;

Upon any one of whom you wish to ask a favor; to make him, under such
circumstances call upon you, is extremely rude;

Upon any one who has asked a favor of you; you will add very much to the
pleasure you confer, in granting a favor, by calling to express the
gratification it affords you to be able to oblige your friend; you will
soften the pain of a refusal, if, by calling, and expressing your
regret, you show that you feel interested in the request, and consider
it of importance.

Upon intimate friends, relatives, and ladies, you may call without
waiting for any of the occasions given above.

Do not fall into the vulgar error of declaiming against the practice of
making calls, declaring it a "bore," tiresome, or stupid. The custom is
a good one.

An English writer says:--

"The visit or call is a much better institution than is generally
supposed. It has its drawbacks. It wastes much time; it necessitates
much small talk. It obliges one to dress on the chance of finding a
friend at home; but for all this it is almost the only means of making
an acquaintance ripen into friendship. In the visit, all the strain,
which general society somehow necessitates, is thrown off. A man
receives you in his rooms cordially, and makes you welcome, not to a
stiff dinner, but an easy chair and conversation. A lady, who in the
ball room or party has been compelled to limit her conversation, can
here speak more freely. The talk can descend from generalities to
personal inquiries, and need I say, that if you wish to know a young
lady truly, you must see her at home, and by day light.

"The main points to be observed about visits, are the proper occasions
and the proper hours. Now, between actual friends there is little need
of etiquette in these respects. A friendly visit may be made at any
time, on any occasion. True, you are more welcome when the business of
the day is over, in the afternoon rather than in the morning, and you
must, even as a friend, avoid calling at meal times. But, on the other
hand, many people receive visits in the evening, and certainly this is
the best time to make them."

Any first call which you receive must be returned promptly. If you do
not wish to continue the acquaintance any farther, you need not return a
second call, but politeness imperatively demands a return of the first
one.

A call may be made upon ladies in the morning or afternoon; but in this
country, where almost every man has some business to occupy his day, the
evening is the best time for paying calls. You will gain ground in easy
intercourse and friendly acquaintance more rapidly in one evening, than
in several morning calls.

Never make a call upon a lady before eleven o'clock in the morning, or
after nine in the evening.

Avoid meal times. If you inadvertently call at dinner or tea time, and
your host is thus forced to invite you to the table, it is best to
decline the civility. If, however, you see that you will give pleasure
by staying, accept the invitation, but be careful to avoid calling again
at the same hour.

No man in the United States, excepting His Excellency, the President,
can expect to receive calls unless he returns them.

"Visiting," says a French writer, "forms the cord which binds society
together, and it is so firmly tied, that were the knot severed, society
would perish."

A ceremonious call should never extend over more than fifteen minutes,
and it should not be less than ten minutes.

If you see the master of the house take letters or a paper from his
pocket, look at the clock, have an absent air, beat time with his
fingers or hands, or in any other way show weariness or _ennui_, you
may safely conclude that it is time for you to leave, though you may not
have been five minutes in the house. If you are host to the most
wearisome visitor in existence, if he stays hours, and converses only on
subjects which do not interest you, in the least; unless he is keeping
you from an important engagement, you must not show the least sign of
weariness. Listen to him politely, endeavor to entertain him, and
preserve a smiling composure, though you may long to show him the door.
In case he is keeping you from business of importance, or an imperative
engagement, you may, without any infringement upon the laws of
politeness, inform him of the fact, and beg him to excuse you; you must,
however, express polite regret at your enforced want of hospitality, and
invite him to call again.

It is quite an art to make a graceful exit after a call. To know how to
choose the moment when you will be regretted, and to retire leaving your
friends anxious for a repetition of the call, is an accomplishment worth
acquiring.

When you begin to tire of your visit, you may generally feel sure that
your entertainers are tired of you, and if you do not want to remain
printed upon their memory as "the man who makes such long, tiresome
calls," you will retire.

If other callers come in before you leave a friend's parlor, do not rise
immediately as if you wished to avoid them, but remain seated a few
moments, and then leave, that your hostess may not have too many
visitors to entertain at one time.

If you have been enjoying a _tete-a-tete_ interview with a lady, and
other callers come in, do not hurry away, as if detected in a crime, but
after a few courteous, graceful words, and the interchange of some
pleasant remarks, leave her to entertain her other friends.

To endeavor when making a call to "sit out" others in the room, is very
rude.

When your host or hostess urges you to stay longer, after you have risen
to go, be sure that that is the best time for departure. You will do
better to go then, when you will be regretted, than to wait until you
have worn your welcome out.

When making a visit of condolence, take your tone from your host or
hostess. If they speak of their misfortune, or, in case of death, of the
departed relative, join them. Speak of the talents or virtues of the
deceased, and your sympathy with their loss. If, on the other hand, they
avoid the subject, then it is best for you to avoid it too. They may
feel their inability to sustain a conversation upon the subject of their
recent affliction, and it would then be cruel to force it upon them. If
you see that they are making an effort, perhaps a painful one, to appear
cheerful, try to make them forget for the time their sorrows, and chat
on cheerful subjects. At the same time, avoid jesting, merriment, or
undue levity, as it will be out of place, and appear heartless.

A visit of congratulation, should, on the contrary, be cheerful, gay,
and joyous. Here, painful subjects would be out of place. Do not mar the
happiness of your friend by the description of the misery of your own
position or that of a third person, but endeavor to show by joyous
sympathy that the pleasure of your friend is also your happiness. To
laugh with those who laugh, weep with those who are afflicted, is not
hypocrisy, but kindly, friendly sympathy.

Always, when making a friendly call, send up your card, by the servant
who opens the door.

There are many times when a card may be left, even if the family upon
which you call is at home. Visits of condolence, unless amongst
relatives or very intimate friends, are best made by leaving a card with
enquiries for the health of the family, and offers of service.

If you see upon entering a friend's parlor, that your call is keeping
him from going out, or, if you find a lady friend dressed for a party or
promenade, make your visit very brief. In the latter case, if the lady
seems unattended, and urges your stay, you may offer your services as an
escort.

Never visit a literary man, an artist, any man whose profession allows
him to remain at home, at the hours when he is engaged in the pursuit of
his profession. The fact that you know he is at home is nothing; he will
not care to receive visits during the time allotted to his daily work.

Never take another gentleman to call upon one of your lady friends
without first obtaining her permission to do so.

The calls made after receiving an invitation to dinner, a party, ball,
or other entertainment should be made within a fortnight after the
civility has been accepted.

When you have saluted the host and hostess, do not take a seat until
they invite you to do so, or by a motion, and themselves sitting down,
show that they expect you to do the same.

Keep your hat in your hand when making a call. This will show your host
that you do not intend to remain to dine or sup with him. You may leave
an umbrella or cane in the hall if you wish, but your hat and gloves you
must carry into the parlor. In making an evening call for the first time
keep your hat and gloves in your hand, until the host or hostess
requests you to lay them aside and spend the evening.

When going to spend the evening with a friend whom you visit often,
leave your hat, gloves, and great coat in the hall.

If, on entering a parlor of a lady friend, in the evening, you see by
her dress, or any other token, that she was expecting to go to the
opera, concert, or an evening party, make a call of a few minutes only,
and then retire. I have known men who accepted instantly the invitation
given them to remain under these circumstances, and deprive their
friends of an anticipated pleasure, when their call could have been made
at any other time. To thus impose upon the courtesy of your friends is
excessively rude. Nothing will pardon such an acceptance but the
impossibility of repeating your call, owing to a short stay in town, or
any other cause. Even in this case it is better to accompany your
friends upon their expedition in search of pleasure. You can, of course,
easily obtain admittance if they are going to a public entertainment,
and if they invite you to join their party to a friend's house, you may
without impropriety do so, as a lady is privileged to introduce you to
her friends under such circumstances. It requires tact and discretion to
know when to accept and when to decline such an invitation. Be careful
that you do not intrude upon a party already complete in themselves, or
that you do not interfere with the plans of the gentlemen who have
already been accepted as escorts.

Never make a _third_ upon such occasions. Neither one of a couple who
propose spending the evening abroad together, will thank the intruder
who spoils their tete-a-tete.

When you find, on entering a room, that your visit is for any reason
inopportune, do not instantly retire unless you have entered unperceived
and can so leave, in which case leave immediately; if, however, you have
been seen, your instant retreat is cut off. Then endeavor by your own
graceful ease to cover any embarrassment your entrance may have caused,
make but a short call, and, if you can, leave your friends under the
impression that you saw nothing out of the way when you entered.

Always leave a card when you find the person upon whom you have called
absent from home.

A card should have nothing written upon it, but your name and address.
To leave a card with your business address, or the nature of your
profession written upon it, shows a shocking ignorance of polite
society. Business cards are never to be used excepting when you make a
business call.

Never use a card that is ornamented in any way, whether by a fancy
border, painted corners, or embossing. Let it be perfectly plain,
tinted, if you like, in color, but without ornament, and have your name
written or printed in the middle, your address, in smaller characters,
in the lower left hand corner. Many gentlemen omit the Mr. upon their
cards, writing merely their Christian and surname; this is a matter of
taste, you may follow your own inclination. Let your card be written
thus:--

                    HENRY C. PRATT

    No. 217 L. street.

A physician will put Dr. before or M.D. after the name, and an officer
in the army or navy may add his title; but for militia officers to do so
is absurd.

If you call upon a lady, who invites you to be seated, place a chair for
her, and wait until she takes it before you sit down yourself.

Never sit beside a lady upon a sofa, or on a chair very near her own,
unless she invites you to do so.

If a lady enters the room where you are making a call, rise, and remain
standing until she is seated. Even if she is a perfect stranger, offer
her a chair, if there is none near her.

You must rise if a lady leaves the room, and remain standing until she
has passed out.

If you are engaged in any profession which you follow at home, and
receive a caller, you may, during the daytime, invite him into your
library, study, or the room in which you work, and, unless you use your
pen, you may work while he is with you.

When you receive a visitor, meet him at the door, offer a chair, take
his hat and cane, and, while speaking of the pleasure the call affords
you, show, by your manner, that you are sincere, and desire a long call.

Do not let your host come with you any farther than the room door if he
has other visitors; but if you are showing out a friend, and leave no
others in the parlor, you should come to the street door.

A few hints from an English author, will not be amiss in this place. He
says:--

"Visits of condolence and congratulation must be made about a week after
the event. If you are intimate with the person on whom you call, you may
ask, in the first case, for admission; if not, it is better only to
leave a card, and make your 'kind inquiries' of the servant, who is
generally primed in what manner to answer them. In visits of
congratulation you should always go in, and be hearty in your
congratulations. Visits of condolence are terrible inflictions to both
receiver and giver, but they may be made less so by avoiding, as much as
consistent with sympathy, any allusion to the past. The receiver does
well to abstain from tears. A lady of my acquaintance, who had lost her
husband, was receiving such a visit in her best crape. She wept
profusely for some time upon the best of broad-hemmed cambric
handkerchiefs, and then turning to her visitor, said: 'I am sure you
will be glad to hear that Mr. B. has left me most comfortably provided
for.' _Hinc illae lacrymae._ Perhaps they would have been more sincere if
he had left her without a penny. At the same time, if you have not
sympathy and heart enough to pump up a little condolence, you will do
better to avoid it, but take care that your conversation is not too gay.
Whatever you may feel, you must respect the sorrows of others.

"On marriage, cards are sent round to such people as you wish to keep
among your acquaintance, and it is then their part to call first on the
young couple, when within distance.

"Having entered the house, you take up with you to the drawing-room both
hat and cane, but leave an umbrella in the hall. In France it is usual
to leave a great-coat down stairs also, but as calls are made in this
country in morning dress, it is not necessary to do so.

"It is not usual to introduce people at morning calls in large towns; in
the country it is sometimes done, not always. The law of introductions
is, in fact, to force no one into an acquaintance. You should,
therefore, ascertain beforehand whether it is agreeable to both to be
introduced; but if a lady or a superior expresses a wish to know a
gentleman or an inferior, the latter two have no right to decline the
honor. The introduction is of an inferior [which position a gentleman
always holds to a lady] to the superior. You introduce Mr. Smith to Mrs.
Jones, or Mr. A. to Lord B., not _vice versa_. In introducing two
persons, it is not necessary to lead one of them up by the hand, but it
is sufficient simply to precede them. Having thus brought the person to
be introduced up to the one to whom he is to be presented, it is the
custom, even when the consent has been previously obtained, to say, with
a slight bow, to the superior personage: 'Will you allow me to introduce
Mr. ----?' The person addressed replies by bowing to the one introduced,
who also bows at the same time, while the introducer repeats their
names, and then retires, leaving them to converse. Thus, for instance,
in presenting Mr. Jones to Mrs. Smith, you will say, 'Mrs. Smith, allow
me to introduce Mr. Jones,' and while they are engaged in bowing you
will murmur, 'Mrs. Smith--Mr. Jones,' and escape. If you have to present
three or four people to said Mrs. Smith, it will suffice to utter their
respective names without repeating that of the lady.

"A well-bred person always receives visitors at whatever time they may
call, or whoever they may be; but if you are occupied and cannot afford
to be interrupted by a mere ceremony, you should instruct the servant
_beforehand_ to say that you are 'not at home.' This form has often been
denounced as a falsehood, but a lie is no lie unless intended to
deceive; and since the words are universally understood to mean that you
are engaged, it can be no harm to give such an order to a servant. But,
on the other hand, if the servant once admits a visitor within the hall,
you should receive him at any inconvenience to yourself."

He also gives some admirable hints upon visits made to friends in
another city or the country.

He says:--

"A few words on visits to country houses before I quit this subject.
Since a man's house is his castle, no one, not even a near relation, has
a right to invite himself to stay in it. It is not only taking a liberty
to do so, but may prove to be very inconvenient. A general invitation,
too, should never be acted on. It is often given without any intention
of following it up; but, if given, should be turned into a special one
sooner or later. An invitation should specify the persons whom it
includes, and the person invited should never presume to take with him
any one not specified. If a gentleman cannot dispense with his valet, he
should write to ask leave to bring a servant; but the means of your
inviter, and the size of the house, should be taken into consideration,
and it is better taste to dispense with a servant altogether. Children
and horses are still more troublesome, and should never be taken without
special mention made of them. It is equally bad taste to arrive with a
wagonful of luggage, as that is naturally taken as a hint that you
intend to stay a long time. The length of a country visit is indeed a
difficult matter to decide, but in the present day people who receive
much generally specify the length in their invitation--a plan which
saves a great deal of trouble and doubt. But a custom not so commendable
has lately come in of limiting the visits of acquaintance to two or
three days. This may be pardonable where the guest lives at no great
distance, but it is preposterous to expect a person to travel a long
distance for a stay of three nights. If, however, the length be not
specified, and cannot easily be discovered, a week is the limit for a
country visit, except at the house of a near relation or very old
friend. It will, however, save trouble to yourself, if, soon after your
arrival, you state that you are come "for a few days," and, if your host
wishes you to make a longer visit, he will at once press you to do so.

"The main point in a country visit is to give as little trouble as
possible, to conform to the habits of your entertainers, and never to be
in the way. On this principle you will retire to your own occupations
soon after breakfast, unless some arrangement has been made for passing
the morning otherwise. If you have nothing to do, you may be sure that
your host has something to attend to in the morning. Another point of
good-breeding is to be punctual at meals, for a host and hostess never
sit down without their guest, and dinner may be getting cold. If,
however, a guest should fail in this particular, a well-bred entertainer
will not only take no notice of it, but attempt to set the late comer as
much at his ease as possible. A host should provide amusement for his
guests, and give up his time as much as possible to them; but if he
should be a professional man or student--an author, for instance--the
guest should, at the commencement of the visit, insist that he will not
allow him to interrupt his occupations, and the latter will set his
visitor more at his ease by accepting this arrangement. In fact, the
rule on which a host should act is to make his visitors as much at home
as possible; that on which a visitor should act, is to interfere as
little as possible with the domestic routine of the house.

"The worst part of a country visit is the necessity of giving gratuities
to the servants, for a poor man may often find his visit cost him far
more than if he had stayed at home. It is a custom which ought to be put
down, because a host who receives much should pay his own servants for
the extra trouble given. Some people have made by-laws against it in
their houses, but, like those about gratuities to railway-porters, they
are seldom regarded. In a great house a man-servant expects gold, but a
poor man should not be ashamed of offering him silver. It must depend on
the length of the visit. The ladies give to the female, the gentlemen to
the male servants. Would that I might see my friends without paying them
for their hospitality in this indirect manner!"




CHAPTER VI.

ETIQUETTE FOR THE BALL ROOM.


Of all the amusements open for young people, none is more delightful and
more popular than dancing. Lord Chesterfield, in his letters to his son,
says: "Dancing is, in itself, a very trifling and silly thing; but it is
one of those established follies to which people of sense are sometimes
obliged to conform; and then they should be able to do it well. And,
though I would not have you a dancer, yet, when you do dance, I would
have you dance well, as I would have you do everything you do well." In
another letter, he writes: "Do you mind your dancing while your dancing
master is with you? As you will be often under the necessity of dancing
a minuet, I would have you dance it very well. Remember that the
graceful motion of the arms, the giving of your hand, and the putting
off and putting on of your hat genteelly, are the material parts of a
gentleman's dancing. But the greatest advantage of dancing well is, that
it necessarily teaches you to present yourself, to sit, stand, and walk
genteelly; all of which are of real importance to a man of fashion."

Although the days are over when gentlemen carried their hats into ball
rooms and danced minuets, there are useful hints in the quotations
given above. Nothing will give ease of manner and a graceful carriage to
a gentleman more surely than the knowledge of dancing. He will, in its
practice, acquire easy motion, a light step, and learn to use both hands
and feet well. What can be more awkward than a man who continually finds
his hands and feet in his way, and, by his fussy movements, betrays his
trouble? A good dancer never feels this embarrassment, consequently he
never appears aware of the existence of his feet, and carries his hands
and arms gracefully. Some people being bashful and afraid of attracting
attention in a ball room or evening party, do not take lessons in
dancing, overlooking the fact that it is those who do _not_ partake of
the amusement on such occasions, not those who do, that attract
attention. To all such gentlemen I would say; Learn to dance. You will
find it one of the very best plans for correcting bashfulness. Unless
you possess the accomplishments that are common in polite society, you
can neither give nor receive all the benefits that can be derived from
social intercourse.

When you receive an invitation to a ball, answer it immediately.

If you go alone, go from the dressing-room to the ball room, find your
host and hostess, and speak first to them; if there are several ladies
in the house, take the earliest opportunity of paying your respects to
each of them, and invite one of them to dance with you the first dance.
If she is already engaged, you should endeavor to engage her for a dance
later in the evening, and are then at liberty to seek a partner amongst
the guests.

When you have engaged a partner for a dance, you should go to her a few
moments before the set for which you have engaged her will be formed,
that you may not be hurried in taking your places upon the floor.
Enquire whether she prefers the head or side place in the set, and take
the position she names.

In inviting a lady to dance with you, the words, "Will you _honor_ me
with your hand for a quadrille?" or, "Shall I have the _honor_ of
dancing this set with you?" are more used now than "Shall I have the
_pleasure_?" or, "Will you give me the _pleasure_ of dancing with you?"

Offer a lady your arm to lead her to the quadrille, and in the pauses
between the figures endeavor to make the duty of standing still less
tiresome by pleasant conversation. Let the subjects be light, as you
will be constantly interrupted by the figures in the dance. There is no
occasion upon which a pleasant flow of small talk is more _apropos_, and
agreeable than in a ball room.

When the dance is over, offer your arm to your partner, and enquire
whether she prefers to go immediately to her seat, or wishes to
promenade. If she chooses the former, conduct her to her seat, stand
near her a few moments, chatting, then bow, and give other gentlemen an
opportunity of addressing her. If she prefers to promenade, walk with
her until she expresses a wish to sit down. Enquire, before you leave
her, whether you can be of any service, and, if the supper-room is open,
invite her to go in there with you.

You will pay a delicate compliment and one that will certainly be
appreciated, if, when a lady declines your invitation to dance on the
plea of fatigue or fear of fatigue, you do not seek another partner,
but remain with the lady you have just invited, and thus imply that the
pleasure of talking with, and being near, her, is greater than that of
dancing with another.

Let your hostess understand that you are at her service for the evening,
that she may have a prospect of giving her wall flowers a partner, and,
however unattractive these may prove, endeavor to make yourself as
agreeable to them as possible.

Your conduct will differ if you escort a lady to a ball. Then your
principal attentions must be paid to her. You must call for her
punctually at the hour she has appointed, and it is your duty to provide
the carriage. You may carry her a bouquet if you will, this is optional.
A more elegant way of presenting it is to send it in the afternoon with
your card, as, if you wait until evening, she may think you do not mean
to present one, and provide one for herself.

When you arrive at your destination, leave the carriage, and assist her
in alighting; then escort her to the lady's dressing-room, leave her at
the door, and go to the gentlemen's dressing-room. As soon as you have
arranged your own dress, go again to the door of the lady's room, and
wait until your companion comes out. Give her your left arm and escort
her to the ball room; find the hostess and lead your companion to her.
When they have exchanged greetings, lead your lady to a seat, and then
engage her for the first dance. Tell her that while you will not deprive
others of the pleasure of dancing with her, you are desirous of dancing
with her whenever she is not more pleasantly engaged, and before
seeking a partner for any other set, see whether your lady is engaged or
is ready to dance again with you. You must watch during the evening,
and, while you do not force your attentions upon her, or prevent others
from paying her attention, you must never allow her to be alone, but
join her whenever others are not speaking to her. You must take her in
to supper, and be ready to leave the party, whenever she wishes to do
so.

If the ball is given in your own house, or at that of a near relative,
it becomes your duty to see that every lady, young or old, handsome or
ugly, is provided with a partner, though the oldest and ugliest may fall
to your own share.

Never stand up to dance unless you are perfect master of the step,
figure, and time of that dance. If you make a mistake you not only
render yourself ridiculous, but you annoy your partner and the others in
the set.

If you have come alone to a ball, do not devote yourself entirely to any
one lady. Divide your attentions amongst several, and never dance twice
in succession with the same partner.

To affect an air of secrecy or mystery when conversing in a ball-room is
a piece of impertinence for which no lady of delicacy will thank you.

When you conduct your partner to her seat, thank her for the pleasure
she has conferred upon you, and do not remain too long conversing with
her.

Give your partner your whole attention when dancing with her. To let
your eyes wander round the room, or to make remarks betraying your
interest in others, is not flattering, as she will not be unobservant
of your want of taste.

Be very careful not to forget an engagement. It is an unpardonable
breach of politeness to ask a lady to dance with you, and neglect to
remind her of her promise when the time to redeem it comes.

A dress coat, dress boots, full suit of black, and white or very light
kid gloves must be worn in a ball room. A white waistcoat and cravat are
sometimes worn, but this is a matter of taste.

Never wait until the music commences before inviting a lady to dance
with you.

If one lady refuses you, do not ask another who is seated near her to
dance the same set. Do not go immediately to another lady, but chat a
few moments with the one whom you first invited, and then join a group
or gentlemen friends for a few moments, before seeking another partner.

Never dance without gloves. This is an imperative rule. It is best to
carry two pair, as in the contact with dark dresses, or in handing
refreshments, you may soil the pair you wear on entering the room, and
will thus be under the necessity of offering your hand covered by a
soiled glove, to some fair partner. You can slip unperceived from the
room, change the soiled for a fresh pair, and then avoid that
mortification.

If your partner has a bouquet, handkerchief, or fan in her hand, do not
offer to carry them for her. If she finds they embarrass her, she will
request you to hold them for her, but etiquette requires you not to
notice them, unless she speaks of them first.

Do not be the last to leave the ball room. It is more elegant to leave
early, as staying too late gives others the impression that you do not
often have an invitation to a ball, and must "make the most of it."

Some gentlemen linger at a private ball until all the ladies have left,
and then congregate in the supper-room, where they remain for hours,
totally regardless of the fact that they are keeping the wearied host
and his servants from their rest. Never, as you value your reputation as
a gentleman of refinement, be among the number of these "hangers on."

The author of a recent work on etiquette, published in England, gives
the following hints for those who go to balls. He says:--

"When inviting a lady to dance, if she replies very politely, asking to
be excused, as she does not wish to dance ('with you,' being probably
her mental reservation), a man ought to be satisfied. At all events, he
should never press her to dance after one refusal. The set forms which
Turveydrop would give for the invitation are too much of the deportment
school to be used in practice. If you know a young lady slightly, it is
sufficient to say to her, 'May I have the pleasure of dancing this
waltz, &c., with you?' or if intimately, 'Will you dance, Miss A--?' The
young lady who has refused one gentleman, has no right to accept another
for that dance; and young ladies who do not wish to be annoyed, must
take care not to accept two gentlemen for the same dance. In Germany
such innocent blunders often cause fatal results. Two partners arrive at
the same moment to claim the fair one's hand; she vows she has not made
a mistake; 'was sure she was engaged to Herr A--, and not to Herr B--;'
Herr B-- is equally certain that she was engaged to him. The awkwardness
is, that if he at once gives her up, he appears to be indifferent about
it; while, if he presses his suit, he must quarrel with Herr A--, unless
the damsel is clever enough to satisfy both of them; and particularly if
there is an especial interest in Herr B--, he yields at last, but when
the dance is over, sends a friend to Herr A--. Absurd as all this is, it
is common, and I have often seen one Herr or the other walking about
with a huge gash on his cheek, or his arm in a sling, a few days after a
ball.

"Friendship, it appears, can be let out on hire. The lady who was so
very amiable to you last night, has a right to ignore your existence
to-day. In fact, a ball room acquaintance rarely goes any farther, until
you have met at more balls than one. In the same way a man cannot, after
being introduced to a young lady to dance with, ask her to do so more
than twice in the same evening. A man may dance four or even five times
with the same partner. On the other hand, a real well-bred man will wish
to be useful, and there are certain people whom it is imperative on him
to ask to dance--the daughters of the house, for instance, and any young
ladies whom he may know intimately; but most of all the well-bred and
amiable man will sacrifice himself to those plain, ill-dressed, dull
looking beings who cling to the wall, unsought and despairing. After
all, he will not regret his good nature. The spirits reviving at the
unexpected invitation, the wall-flower will pour out her best
conversation, will dance her best, and will show him her gratitude in
some way or other.

"The formal bow at the end of a quadrille has gradually dwindled away.
At the end of every dance you offer your right arm to your partner, (if
by mistake you offer the left, you may turn the blunder into a pretty
compliment, by reminding her that is _le bras du coeur_, nearest the
heart, which if not anatomically true, is, at least, no worse than
talking of a sunset and sunrise), and walk half round the room with her.
You then ask her if she will take any refreshment, and, if she accepts,
you convey your precious allotment of tarlatane to the refreshment room
to be invigorated by an ice or negus, or what you will. It is judicious
not to linger too long in this room, if you are engaged to some one else
for the next dance. You will have the pleasure of hearing the music
begin in the distant ball room, and of reflecting that an expectant fair
is sighing for you like Marianna--

    "He cometh not," she said.
    She said, "I am a-weary a-weary,
        I would I were in bed;"

which is not an unfrequent wish in some ball rooms. A well-bred girl,
too, will remember this, and always offer to return to the ball room,
however interesting the conversation.

"If you are prudent you will not dance every dance, nor in fact, much
more than half the number on the list; you will then escape that hateful
redness of face at the time, and that wearing fatigue the next day which
are among the worst features of a ball. Again, a gentleman must
remember that a ball is essentially a lady's party, and in their
presence he should be gentle and delicate almost to a fault, never
pushing his way, apologizing if he tread on a dress, still more so if he
tears it, begging pardon for any accidental annoyance he may occasion,
and addressing every body with a smile. But quite unpardonable are those
men whom one sometimes meets, who, standing in a door-way, talk and
laugh as they would in a barrack or college-rooms, always coarsely,
often indelicately. What must the state of their minds be, if the sight
of beauty, modesty, and virtue, does not awe them into silence! A man,
too, who strolls down the room with his head in the air, looking as if
there were not a creature there worth dancing with, is an ill-bred man,
so is he who looks bored; and worse than all is he who takes too much
champagne.

"If you are dancing with a young lady when the supper-room is opened,
you must ask her if she would like to go to supper, and if she says
'yes,' which, in 999 cases out of 1000, she certainly will do, you must
take her thither. If you are not dancing, the lady of the house will
probably recruit you to take in some chaperon. However little you may
relish this, you must not show your disgust. In fact, no man ought to be
disgusted at being able to do anything for a lady; it should be his
highest privilege, but it is not--in these modern unchivalrous
days--perhaps never was so. Having placed your partner then at the
supper-table, if there is room there, but if not at a side-table, or
even at none, you must be as active as Puck in attending to her wants,
and as women take as long to settle their fancies in edibles as in
love-matters, you had better at once get her something substantial,
chicken, _pate de foie gras_, _mayonnaise_, or what you will. Afterwards
come jelly and trifle in due course.

"A young lady often goes down half-a-dozen times to the supper-room--it
is to be hoped not for the purpose of eating--but she should not do so
with the same partner more than once. While the lady is supping you must
stand by and talk to her, attending to every want, and the most you may
take yourself is a glass of champagne when you help her. You then lead
her up stairs again, and if you are not wanted there any more, you may
steal down and do a little quiet refreshment on your own account. As
long, however, as there are many ladies still at the table, you have no
right to begin. Nothing marks a man here so much as gorging at supper.
Balls are meant for dancing, not eating, and unfortunately too many
young men forget this in the present day. Lastly, be careful what you
say and how you dance after supper, even more so than before it, for if
you in the slightest way displease a young lady, she may fancy that you
have been too partial to strong fluids, and ladies never forgive that.
It would be hard on the lady of the house if every body leaving a large
ball thought it necessary to wish her good night. In quitting a small
dance, however, a parting bow is expected. It is then that the pretty
daughter of the house gives you that sweet smile of which you dream
afterwards in a gooseberry nightmare of 'tum-tum-tiddy-tum,' and waltzes
_a deux temps_, and masses of tarlatane and bright eyes, flushed cheeks
and dewy glances. See them to-morrow, my dear fellow, it will cure you.

"I think flirtation comes under the head of morals more than of manners;
still I may be allowed to say that ball room flirtation being more open
is less dangerous than any other. A prudent man will never presume on a
girl's liveliness or banter. No man of taste ever made an offer after
supper, and certainly nine-tenths of those who have done so have
regretted it at breakfast the next morning.

"At public balls there are generally either three or four stewards on
duty, or a professional master of ceremonies. These gentlemen having
made all the arrangements, order the dances, and have power to change
them if desirable. They also undertake to present young men to ladies,
but it must be understood that such an introduction is only available
for _one_ dance. It is better taste to ask the steward to introduce you
simply to a partner, than to point out any lady in particular. He will
probably then ask you if you have a choice, and if not, you may be
certain he will take you to an established wall-flower. Public balls are
scarcely enjoyable unless you have your own party.

"As the great charm of a ball is its perfect accord and harmony, all
altercations, loud talking, &c., are doubly ill-mannered in a ball room.
Very little suffices to disturb the peace of the whole company."

The same author gives some hints upon dancing which are so excellent
that I need make no apology for quoting them. He says:--

"'Thank you--aw--I do not dance,' is now a very common reply from a
well-dressed, handsome man, who is leaning against the side of the door,
to the anxious, heated hostess, who feels it incumbent on her to find a
partner for poor Miss Wallflower. I say the reply is not only common,
but even regarded as rather a fine one to make. In short, men of the
present day don't, won't, or can't dance; and you can't make them do it,
except by threatening to give them no supper. I really cannot discover
the reason for this aversion to an innocent amusement, for the apparent
purpose of enjoying which they have spent an hour and a half on their
toilet. There is something, indeed, in the heat of a ball room, there is
a great deal in the ridiculous smallness of the closets into which the
ball-giver crowds two hundred people, with a cruel indifference only
equalled by that of the black-hole of Calcutta, expecting them to enjoy
themselves, when the ladies' dresses are crushed and torn, and the
gentlemen, under the despotism of theirs, are melting away almost as
rapidly as the ices with which an occasional waiter has the
heartlessness to insult them. Then, again, it is a great nuisance to be
introduced to a succession of plain, uninteresting young women, of whose
tastes, modes of life, &c., you have not the slightest conception: who
may look gay, yet have never a thought beyond the curate and the parish,
or appear to be serious, while they understand nothing but the opera and
So-and-so's ball--in fact, to be in perpetual risk of either shocking
their prejudices, or plaguing them with subjects in which they can have
no possible interest; to take your chance whether they can dance at all,
and to know that when you have lighted on a real charmer, perhaps the
beauty of the room, she is only lent to you for that dance, and, when
that is over, and you have salaamed away again, you and she must remain
to one another as if you had never met; to feel, in short, that you must
destroy either your present comfort or future happiness, is certainly
sufficiently trying to keep a man close to the side-posts of the
doorway. But these are reasons which might keep him altogether from a
ball room, and, if he has these and other objections to dancing, he
certainly cannot be justified in coming to a place set apart for that
sole purpose.

"But I suspect that there are other reasons, and that, in most cases,
the individual can dance and does dance at times, but has now a vulgar
desire to be distinguished from the rest of his sex present, and to
appear indifferent to the pleasures of the evening. If this be his
laudable desire, however he might, at least, be consistent, and continue
to cling to his door-post, like St. Sebastian to his tree, and reply
throughout the evening, 'Thank you, I don't take refreshments;' 'Thank
you, I can't eat supper;' 'Thank you, I don't talk;' 'Thank you, I don't
drink champagne,'--for if a ball room be purgatory, what a demoniacal
conflict does a supper-room present; if young ladies be bad for the
heart, champagne is worse for the head.

"No, it is the will, not the power to dance which is wanting, and to
refuse to do so, unless for a really good reason, is not the part of a
well-bred man. To mar the pleasure of others is obviously bad manners,
and, though at the door-post, you may not be in the way, you may be
certain that there are some young ladies longing to dance, and
expecting to be asked, and that the hostess is vexed and annoyed by
seeing them fixed, like pictures, to the wall. It is therefore the duty
of every man who has no scruples about dancing, and purposes to appear
at balls, to learn how to dance.

"In the present day the art is much simplified, and if you can walk
through a quadrille, and perform a polka, waltz, or galop, you may often
dance a whole evening through. Of course, if you can add to these the
Lancers, Schottische, and Polka-Mazurka, you will have more variety, and
can be more generally agreeable. But if your master or mistress [a man
learns better from the former] has stuffed into your head some of the
three hundred dances which he tells you exist, the best thing you can do
is to forget them again. Whether right or wrong, the number of usual
dances is limited, and unusual ones should be very sparingly introduced
into a ball, for as few people know them, their dancing, on the one
hand, becomes a mere display, and, on the other, interrupts the
enjoyment of the majority.

"The quadrille is pronounced to be essentially a conversational dance,
but, inasmuch as the figures are perpetually calling you away from your
partner, the first necessity for dancing a quadrille is to be supplied
with a fund of small talk, in which you can go from subject to subject
like a bee from flower to flower. The next point is to carry yourself
uprightly. Time was when--as in the days of the _minuet de la cour_--the
carriage constituted the dance. This is still the case with the
quadrille, in which, even if ignorant of the figures, you may acquit
yourself well by a calm, graceful carriage. After all, the most
important figure is the _smile_, and the feet may be left to their fate,
if we know what to do with our hands; of which I may observe that they
should never be pocketed.

"The smile is essential. A dance is supposed to amuse, and nothing is
more out of place in it than a gloomy scowl, unless it be an
ill-tempered frown. The gaiety of a dance is more essential than the
accuracy of its figures, and if you feel none yourself, you may, at
least, look pleased by that of those around you. A defiant manner is
equally obnoxious. An acquaintance of mine always gives me the
impression, when he advances in _l'ete_, that he is about to box the
lady who comes to meet him. But the most objectionable of all is the
supercilious manner. Dear me, if you really think you do your partner an
honor in dancing with her, you should, at least, remember that your
condescension is annulled by the manner in which you treat her.

"A lady--beautiful word!--is a delicate creature, one who should be
reverenced and delicately treated. It is, therefore, unpardonable to
rush about in a quadrille, to catch hold of a lady's hand as if it were
a door-handle, or to drag her furiously across the room, as if you were
Bluebeard and she Fatima, with the mysterious closet opposite to you.
This _brusque_ violent style of dancing is, unfortunately, common, but
immediately stamps a man. Though I would not have you wear a perpetual
simper, you should certainly smile when you take a lady's hand, and the
old custom of bowing in doing so, is one that we may regret; for, does
she not confer an honor on us by the action? To squeeze it, on the
other hand, is a gross familiarity, for which you would deserve to be
kicked out of the room.

"'Steps,' as the _chasser_ of the quadrille is called, belong to a past
age, and even ladies are now content to walk through a quadrille. It is,
however, necessary to keep time with the music, the great object being
the general harmony. To preserve this, it is also advisable, where the
quadrille, as is now generally the case, is danced by two long lines of
couples down the room, that in _l'ete_, and other figures, in which a
gentleman and lady advance alone to meet one another, none but gentlemen
should advance from the one side, and, therefore, none but ladies from
the other.

"Dancing masters find it convenient to introduce new figures, and the
fashion of _La Trenise_ and the _Grande Ronde_ is repeatedly changing.
It is wise to know the last mode, but not to insist on dancing it. A
quadrille cannot go on evenly if any confusion arises from the
ignorance, obstinacy, or inattention of any one of the dancers. It is
therefore useful to know every way in which a figure may be danced, and
to take your cue from the others. It is amusing, however, to find how
even such a trifle as a choice of figures in a quadrille can help to
mark caste, and give a handle for supercilious sneers. Jones, the other
day, was protesting that the Browns were 'vulgar.' 'Why so? they are
well-bred.' 'Yes, so they are.' 'They are well-informed.' 'Certainly.'
'They are polite, speak good English, dress quietly and well, are
graceful and even elegant.' 'I grant you all that.' 'Then what fault can
you find with them?' 'My dear fellow, they are people who gallop round
in the last figure of a quadrille,' he replied, triumphantly. But to a
certain extent Jones is right. Where a choice is given, the man of taste
will always select for a quadrille (as it is a conversational dance) the
quieter mode of performing a figure, and so the Browns, if perfect in
other respects, at least were wanting in taste. There is one alteration
lately introduced from France, which I sincerely trust, will be
universally accepted. The farce of that degrading little performance
called 'setting'--where you dance before your partner somewhat like Man
Friday before Robinson Crusoe, and then as if your feelings were
overcome, seize her hands and whirl her round--has been finally
abolished by a decree of Fashion, and thus more opportunity is given for
conversation, and in a crowded room you have no occasion to crush
yourself and partner between the couples on each side of you.

"I do not attempt to deny that the quadrille, as now walked, is
ridiculous; the figures, which might be graceful, if performed in a
lively manner, have entirely lost their spirit, and are become a
burlesque of dancing; but, at the same time, it is a most valuable
dance. Old and young, stout and thin, good dancers and bad, lazy and
active, stupid and clever, married and single, can all join in it, and
have not only an excuse and opportunity for _tete-a-tete_ conversation,
which is decidedly the easiest, but find encouragement in the music, and
in some cases convenient breaks in the necessity of dancing. A person of
few ideas has time to collect them while the partner is performing, and
one of many can bring them out with double effect. Lastly, if you wish
to be polite or friendly to an acquaintance who dances atrociously, you
can select a quadrille for him or her, as the case may be.

"Very different in object and principle are the so-called round dances,
and there are great limitations as to those who should join in them.
Here the intention is to enjoy a peculiar physical movement under
peculiar conditions, and the conversation during the intervals of rest
is only a secondary object. These dances demand activity and lightness,
and should therefore be, as a rule, confined to the young. An old man
sacrifices all his dignity in a polka, and an old woman is ridiculous in
a waltz. Corpulency, too, is generally a great impediment, though some
stout people prove to be the lightest dancers.

"The morality of round dances scarcely comes within my province. They
certainly can be made very indelicate; so can any dance, and the French
_cancan_ proves that the quadrille is no safer in this respect than the
waltz. But it is a gross insult to our daughters and sisters to suppose
them capable of any but the most innocent and purest enjoyment in the
dance, while of our young men I will say, that to the pure all things
are pure. Those who see harm in it, are those in whose mind evil
thoughts must have arisen. _Honi soit qui mal y pense._ Those who rail
against dancing are perhaps not aware that they do but follow in the
steps of the Romish Church. In many parts of the Continent, bishops who
have never danced in their lives, and perhaps never seen a dance, have
laid a ban of excommunication on waltzing. A story was told to me in
Normandy of the worthy Bishop of Bayeux, one of this number. A priest
of his diocese petitioned him to put down round dances. 'I know nothing
about them,' replied the prelate, 'I have never seen a waltz.' Upon this
the younger ecclesiastic attempted to explain what it was and wherein
the danger lay, but the bishop could not see it. 'Will Monseigneur
permit me to show him?' asked the priest. 'Certainly. My chaplain here
appears to understand the subject; let me see you two waltz.' How the
reverend gentlemen came to know so much about it does not appear, but
they certainly danced a polka, a gallop, and a _trois-temps_ waltz. 'All
these seem harmless enough.' 'Oh! but Monseigneur has not seen the
worst;' and thereupon the two gentlemen proceeded to flounder through a
_valse a deux-temps_. They must have murdered it terribly, for they were
not half round the room when his Lordship cried out, 'Enough, enough,
that is atrocious, and deserves excommunication.' Accordingly this waltz
was forbid, while the other dances were allowed. I was at a public ball
at Caen soon after this occurrence, and was amused to find the
_trois-temps_ danced with a peculiar shuffle, by way of compromise
between conscience and pleasure.

"There are people in this country whose logic is as good as that of the
Bishop of Bayeux, but I confess my inability to understand it. If there
is impropriety in round dances, there is the same in all. But to the
waltz, which poets have praised and preachers denounced. The French,
with all their love of danger, waltz atrociously, the English but little
better; the Germans and Russians alone understand it. I could rave
through three pages about the innocent enjoyment of a good waltz, its
grace and beauty, but I will be practical instead, and give you a few
hints on the subject.

"The position is the most important point. The lady and gentleman before
starting should stand exactly opposite to one another, quite upright,
and not, as is so common, painfully close to one another. If the man's
hand be placed where it should be, at the centre of the lady's waist,
and not all round it, he will have as firm a hold and not be obliged to
stoop, or bend to his right. The lady's head should then be turned a
little towards her left shoulder, and her partner's somewhat less
towards his right, in order to preserve the proper balance. Nothing can
be more atrocious than to see a lady lay her head on her partner's
shoulder; but, on the other hand, she will not dance well, if she turns
it in the opposite direction. The lady again should throw her head and
shoulders a little back, and the man lean a very little forward.

"The position having been gained, the step is the next question. In
Germany the rapidity of the waltz is very great, but it is rendered
elegant by slackening the pace every now and then, and thus giving a
_crescendo_ and _decrescendo_ time to the movement. The Russian men
undertake to perform in waltzing the same feat as the Austrians in
riding, and will dance round the room with a glass of champagne in the
left hand without spilling a drop. This evenness in waltzing is
certainly very graceful, but can only be attained by a long sliding
step, which is little practised where the rooms are small, and people,
not understanding the real pleasure of dancing well, insist on dancing
all at the same time. In Germany they are so alive to the necessity of
ample space, that in large balls a rope is drawn across the room; its
two ends are held by the masters of the ceremonies _pro-tem._, and as
one couple stops and retires, another is allowed to pass under the rope
and take its place. But then in Germany they dance for the dancing's
sake. However this may be, an even motion is very desirable, and all the
abominations which militate against it, such as hop-waltzes, the
Schottische, and ridiculous _Varsovienne_, are justly put down in good
society. The pace, again, should not be sufficiently rapid to endanger
other couples. It is the gentleman's duty to _steer_, and in crowded
rooms nothing is more trying. He must keep his eyes open and turn them
in every direction, if he would not risk a collision, and the chance of
a fall, or what is as bad, the infliction of a wound on his partner's
arm. I have seen a lady's arm cut open in such a collision by the
bracelet of that of another lady; and the sight is by no means a
pleasant one in a ball room, to say nothing of a new dress covered in a
moment with blood.

"The consequences of violent dancing may be really serious. Not only do
delicate girls bring on, thereby, a violent palpitation of the heart,
and their partners appear in a most disagreeable condition of solution,
but dangerous falls ensue from it. I have known instances of a lady's
head being laid open, and a gentleman's foot being broken in such a
fall, resulting, poor fellow! in lameness for life.

"It is, perhaps, useless to recommend flat-foot waltzing in this
country, where ladies allow themselves to be almost hugged by their
partners, and where men think it necessary to lift a lady almost off the
ground, but I am persuaded that if it were introduced, the outcry
against the impropriety of waltzing would soon cease. Nothing can be
more delicate than the way in which a German holds his partner. It is
impossible to dance on the flat foot unless the lady and gentleman are
quite free of one another. His hand, therefore, goes no further round
her waist than to the hooks and eyes of her dress, hers, no higher than
to his elbow. Thus danced, the waltz is smooth, graceful, and delicate,
and we could never in Germany complain of our daughter's languishing on
a young man's shoulder. On the other hand, nothing is more graceless and
absurd than to see a man waltzing on the tips of his toes, lifting his
partner off the ground, or twirling round and round with her like the
figures on a street organ. The test of waltzing in time is to be able to
stamp the time with the left foot. A good flat-foot waltzer can dance on
one foot as well as on two, but I would not advise him to try it in
public, lest, like Mr. Rarey's horse on three legs, he should come to
the ground in a luckless moment. The legs should be very little bent in
dancing, the body still less so. I do not know whether it be worse to
see a man _sit down_ in a waltz, or to find him with his head poked
forward over your young wife's shoulder, hot, red, wild, and in far too
close proximity to the partner of your bosom, whom he makes literally
the partner of his own.

"The 'Lancers' are a revival, after many long years, and, perhaps, we
may soon have a drawing-room adaptation of the Morris-dance.

"The only advice, therefore, which it is necessary to give to those who
wish to dance the polka may be summed up in one word, 'don't.' Not so
with the galop. The remarks as to the position in waltzing apply to all
round dances, and there is, therefore, little to add with regard to the
galop, except that it is a great mistake to suppose it to be a rapid
dance. It should be danced as slowly as possible. It will then be more
graceful and less fatiguing. It is danced quite slowly in Germany and on
the flat foot. The polka-mazurka is still much danced, and is certainly
very graceful. The remarks on the quadrille apply equally to the
lancers, which are great favorites, and threaten to take the place of
the former. The schottische, hop-waltz, redowa, varsovienne, cellarius,
and so forth, have had their day, and are no longer danced in good
society.

"The calm ease which marks the man of good taste, makes even the
swiftest dances graceful and agreeable. Vehemence may be excused at an
election, but not in a ball room. I once asked a beautiful and very
clever young lady how she, who seemed to pass her life with books,
managed to dance so well. 'I enjoy it,' she replied; 'and when I dance I
give my _whole mind_ to it.' And she was quite right. Whatever is worth
doing at all, is worth doing well; and if it is not beneath your dignity
to dance, it is not unworthy of your mind to give itself, for the time,
wholly up to it. You will never enjoy dancing till you do it well; and,
if you do not enjoy it, it is folly to dance. But, in reality, dancing,
if it be a mere trifle, is one to which great minds have not been
ashamed to stoop. Locke, for instance, has written on its utility, and
speaks of it as manly, which was certainly not Michal's opinion, when
she looked out of the window and saw her lord and master dancing and
playing. Plato recommended it, and Socrates learned the Athenian polka
of the day when quite an old gentleman, and liked it very much. Some one
has even gone the length of calling it 'the logic of the body;' and
Addison defends himself for making it the subject of a disquisition."




CHAPTER VII.

DRESS.


Between the sloven and the coxcomb there is generally a competition
which shall be the more contemptible: the one in the total neglect of
every thing which might make his appearance in public supportable, and
the other in the cultivation of every superfluous ornament. The former
offends by his negligence and dirt, and the latter by his finery and
perfumery. Each entertains a supreme contempt for the other, and while
both are right in their opinion, both are wrong in their practice. It is
not in either extreme that the man of real elegance and refinement will
be shown, but in the happy medium which allows taste and judgment to
preside over the wardrobe and toilet-table, while it prevents too great
an attention to either, and never allows personal appearance to become
the leading object of life.

The French have a proverb, "It is not the cowl which makes the monk,"
and it might be said with equal truth, "It is not the dress which makes
the gentleman," yet, as the monk is known abroad by his cowl, so the
true gentleman will let the refinement of his mind and education be seen
in his dress.

The first rule for the guidance of a man, in matters of dress, should
be, "Let the dress suit the occasion." It is as absurd for a man to go
into the street in the morning with his dress-coat, white kid gloves,
and dancing-boots, as it would be for a lady to promenade the
fashionable streets, in full evening dress, or for the same man to
present himself in the ball-room with heavy walking-boots, a great coat,
and riding-cap.

It is true that there is little opportunity for a gentleman to exercise
his taste for coloring, in the black and white dress which fashion so
imperatively declares to be the proper dress for a _dress_ occasion. He
may indulge in light clothes in the street during the warm months of the
year, but for the ball or evening party, black and white are the only
colors (or no colors) admissible, and in the midst of the gay dresses of
the ladies, the unfortunate man in his sombre dress appears like a demon
who has found his way into Paradise among the angels. _N'importe!_ Men
should be useful to the women, and how can they be better employed than
acting as a foil for their loveliness of face and dress!

Notwithstanding the dress, however, a man may make himself agreeable,
even in the earthly Paradise, a ball-room. He can rise above the
mourning of his coat, to the joyousness of the occasion, and make
himself valued for himself, not his dress. He can make himself admired
for his wit, not his toilette; his elegance and refinement, not the
price of his clothes.

There is another good rule for the dressing-room: While you are engaged
in dressing give your whole attention to it. See that every detail is
perfect, and that each article is neatly arranged. From the curl of
your hair to the tip of your boot, let all be perfect in its make and
arrangement, but, as soon as you have left your mirror, forget your
dress. Nothing betokens the coxcomb more decidedly than to see a man
always fussing about his dress, pulling down his wristbands, playing
with his moustache, pulling up his shirt collar, or arranging the bow of
his cravat. Once dressed, do not attempt to alter any part of your
costume until you are again in the dressing-room.

In a gentleman's dress any attempt to be conspicuous is in excessively
bad taste. If you are wealthy, let the luxury of your dress consist in
the fine quality of each article, and in the spotless purity of gloves
and linen, but never wear much jewelry or any article conspicuous on
account of its money value. Simplicity should always preside over the
gentleman's wardrobe.

Follow fashion as far as is necessary to avoid eccentricity or oddity in
your costume, but avoid the extreme of the prevailing _mode_. If coats
are worn long, yours need not sweep the ground, if they are loose, yours
may still have some fitness for your figure; if pantaloons are cut large
over the boot, yours need not cover the whole foot, if they are tight,
you may still take room to walk. Above all, let your figure and style of
face have some weight in deciding how far you are to follow fashion. For
a very tall man to wear a high, narrow-brimmed hat, long-tailed coat,
and tight pantaloons, with a pointed beard and hair brushed up from the
forehead, is not more absurd than for a short, fat man, to promenade the
street in a low, broad-brimmed hat, loose coat and pants, and the
latter made of large plaid material, and yet burlesques quite as broad
may be met with every day.

An English writer, ridiculing the whims of Fashion, says:--

"To be in the fashion, an Englishman must wear six pairs of gloves in a
day:

"In the morning, he must drive his hunting wagon in reindeer gloves.

"In hunting, he must wear gloves of chamois skin.

"To enter London in his tilbury, beaver skin gloves.

"Later in the day, to promenade in Hyde Park,  kid gloves, dark.

"When he dines out,  kid gloves, light.

"For the ball-room, white kid gloves."

Thus his yearly bill for gloves alone will amount to a most extravagant
sum.

In order to merit the appellation of a well-dressed man, you must pay
attention, not only to the more prominent articles of your wardrobe,
coat, pants, and vest, but to the more minute details. A shirtfront
which fits badly, a pair of wristbands too wide or too narrow, a badly
brushed hat, a shabby pair of gloves, or an ill-fitting boot, will spoil
the most elaborate costume. Purity of skin, teeth, nails; well brushed
hair; linen fresh and snowy white, will make clothes of the coarsest
material, if well made, look more elegant, than the finest material of
cloth, if these details are neglected.

Frequent bathing, careful attention to the teeth, nails, ears, and hair,
are indispensable to a finished toilette.

Use but very little perfume, much of it is in bad taste.

Let your hair, beard, and moustache, be always perfectly smooth, well
arranged, and scrupulously clean.

It is better to clean the teeth with a piece of sponge, or very soft
brush, than with a stiff brush, and there is no dentifrice so good as
White Castile Soap.

Wear always gloves and boots, which fit well and are fresh and whole.
Soiled or torn gloves and boots ruin a costume otherwise faultless.

Extreme propriety should be observed in dress. Be careful to dress
according to your means. Too great saving is meanness, too great expense
is extravagance.

A young man may follow the fashion farther than a middle-aged or elderly
man, but let him avoid going to the extreme of the mode, if he would not
be taken for an empty headed <DW2>.

It is best to employ a good tailor, as a suit of coarse broadcloth which
fits you perfectly, and is stylish in cut, will make a more elegant
dress than the finest material badly made.

Avoid eccentricity; it marks, not the man of genius, but the fool.

A well brushed hat, and glossy boots must be always worn in the street.

White gloves are the only ones to be worn with full dress.

A snuff box, watch, studs, sleeve-buttons, watch-chain, and one ring are
all the jewelry a well-dressed man can wear.

An English author, in a recent work, gives the following rules for a
gentleman's dress:

"The best bath for general purposes, and one which can do little harm,
and almost always some good, is a sponge bath. It should consist of a
large, flat metal basin, some four feet in diameter, filled with cold
water. Such a vessel may be bought for about fifteen shillings. A large,
coarse sponge--the coarser the better--will cost another five or seven
shillings, and a few Turkish towels complete the 'properties.' The water
should be plentiful and fresh, that is, brought up a little while before
the bath is to be used; not placed over night in the bed-room. Let us
wash and be merry, for we know not how soon the supply of that precious
article which here costs nothing may be cut off. In many continental
towns they buy their water, and on a protracted sea voyage the ration is
often reduced to half a pint a day _for all purposes_, so that a pint
per diem is considered luxurious. Sea-water, we may here observe, does
not cleanse, and a sensible man who bathes in the sea will take a bath
of pure water immediately after it. This practice is shamefully
neglected, and I am inclined to think that in many cases a sea-bath will
do more harm than good without it, but, if followed by a fresh bath,
cannot but be advantageous.

"Taking the sponge bath as the best for ordinary purposes, we must point
out some rules in its use. The sponge being nearly a foot in length, and
six inches broad, must be allowed to fill completely with water, and the
part of the body which should be first attacked is the stomach. It is
there that the most heat has collected during the night, and the
application of cold water quickens the circulation at once, and sends
the blood which has been employed in digestion round the whole body. The
head should next be soused, unless the person be of full habit, when the
head should be attacked before the feet touch the cold water at all.
Some persons use a small hand shower bath, which is less powerful than
the common shower bath, and does almost as much good. The use of soap in
the morning bath is an open question. I confess a preference for a rough
towel, or a hair glove. Brummell patronized the latter, and applied it
for nearly a quarter of an hour every morning.

"The ancients followed up the bath by anointing the body, and athletic
exercises. The former is a mistake; the latter, an excellent practice,
shamefully neglected in the present day. It would conduce much to health
and strength if every morning toilet comprised the vigorous use of the
dumb-bells, or, still better, the exercise of the arms without them. The
best plan of all is, to choose some object in your bed-room on which to
vent your hatred, and box at it violently for some ten minutes, till the
perspiration covers you. The sponge must then be again applied to the
whole body. It is very desirable to remain without clothing as long as
possible, and I should therefore recommend that every part of the toilet
which can conveniently be performed without dressing, should be so.

"The next duty, then, must be to clean the TEETH. Dentists are modern
inquisitors, but their torture-rooms are meant only for the foolish.
Everybody is born with good teeth, and everybody might keep them good by
a proper diet, and the avoidance of sweets and smoking. Of the two the
former are, perhaps, the more dangerous. Nothing ruins the teeth so soon
as sugar in one's tea, and highly sweetened tarts and puddings, and as
it is _le premier pas qui coute_, these should be particularly avoided
in childhood. When the teeth attain their full growth and strength it
takes much more to destroy either their enamel or their substance.

"It is upon the teeth that the effects of excess are first seen, and it
is upon the teeth that the odor of the breath depends. If I may not say
that it is a Christian duty to keep your teeth clean, I may, at least,
remind you that you cannot be thoroughly agreeable without doing so. Let
words be what they may, if they come with an impure odor, they cannot
please. The butterfly loves the scent of the rose more than its honey.

"The teeth should be well rubbed inside as well as outside, and the back
teeth even more than the front. The mouth should then be rinsed, if not
seven times, according to the Hindu legislator, at least several times,
with fresh, cold water. This same process should be repeated several
times a day, since eating, smoking, and so forth, naturally render the
teeth and mouth dirty more or less, and nothing can be so offensive,
particularly to ladies, whose sense of smell seems to be keener than
that of the other sex, and who can detect at your first approach whether
you have been drinking or smoking. But, if only for your own comfort,
you should brush your teeth both morning and evening, which is quite
requisite for the preservation of their soundness and color; while, if
you are to mingle with others, they should be brushed, or, at least,
the mouth well rinsed after every meal, still more after smoking, or
drinking wine, beer, or spirits. No amount of general attractiveness can
compensate for an offensive odor in the breath; and none of the senses
is so fine a gentleman, none so unforgiving, if offended, as that of
smell.

"Strict attention must be paid to the condition of the nails, and that
both as regards cleaning and cutting. The former is best done with a
liberal supply of soap on a small nail-brush, which should be used
before every meal, if you would not injure your neighbor's appetite.
While the hand is still moist, the point of a small pen-knife or pair of
stumpy nail-scissors should be passed under the nails so as to remove
every vestige of dirt; the skin should be pushed down with a towel, that
the white half-moon may be seen, and the finer skin removed with the
knife or scissors. Occasionally the edges of the nails should be filed,
and the hard skin which forms round the corners of them cut away. The
important point in cutting the nails is to preserve the beauty of their
shape. That beauty, even in details, is worth preserving, I have already
remarked, and we may study it as much in paring our nails, as in the
grace of our attitudes, or any other point. The shape, then, of the nail
should approach, as nearly as possible, to the oblong. The length of the
nail is an open question. Let it be often cut, but always long, in my
opinion. Above all, let it be well cut, and _never_ bitten.

"Perhaps you tell me these are childish details. Details, yes, but not
childish. The attention to details is the true sign of a great mind, and
he who can in necessity consider the smallest, is the same man who can
compass the largest subjects. Is not life made up of details? Must not
the artist who has conceived a picture, descend from the dream of his
mind to mix colors on a palette? Must not the great commander who is
bowling down nations and setting up monarchies care for the health and
comfort, the bread and beef of each individual soldier? I have often
seen a great poet, whom I knew personally, counting on his fingers the
feet of his verses, and fretting with anything but poetic language,
because he could not get his sense into as many syllables. What if his
nails were dirty? Let genius talk of abstract beauty, and philosophers
dogmatize on order. If they do not keep their nails clean, I shall call
them both charlatans. The man who really loves beauty will cultivate it
in everything around him. The man who upholds order is not conscientious
if he cannot observe it in his nails. The great mind can afford to
descend to details; it is only the weak mind that fears to be narrowed
by them. When Napoleon was at Munich he declined the grand four-poster
of the Witelsbach family, and slept, as usual, in his little camp-bed.
The power to be little is a proof of greatness.

"For the hands, ears, and neck we want something more than the bath,
and, as these parts are exposed and really lodge fugitive pollutions, we
cannot use too much soap, or give too much trouble to their complete
purification. Nothing is lovelier than a woman's small, white,
shell-like ear; few things reconcile us better to earth than the cold
hand and warm heart of a friend; but, to complete the charm, the hand
should be both clean and soft. Warm water, a liberal use of the
nail-brush, and no stint of soap, produce this amenity far more
effectually than honey, cold cream, and almond paste. Of wearing gloves
I shall speak elsewhere, but for weak people who are troubled with
chilblains, they are indispensable all the year round. I will add a good
prescription for the cure of chilblains, which are both a disfigurement,
and one of the _petites miseres_ of human life.

"'Roll the fingers in linen bandages, sew them up well, and dip them
twice or thrice a day in a mixture, consisting of half a fluid ounce of
tincture of capsicum, and a fluid ounce of tincture of opium.'

"The person who invented razors libelled Nature, and added a fresh
misery to the days of man.

"Whatever _Punch_ may say, the moustache and beard movement is one in
the right direction, proving that men are beginning to appreciate beauty
and to acknowledge that Nature is the best valet. But it is very amusing
to hear men excusing their vanity on the plea of health, and find them
indulging in the hideous 'Newgate frill' as a kind of compromise between
the beard and the razor. There was a time when it was thought a
presumption and vanity to wear one's own hair instead of the frightful
elaborations of the wig-makers, and the false curls which Sir Godfrey
Kneller did his best to make graceful on canvas. Who knows that at some
future age some _Punch_ of the twenty-first century may not ridicule the
wearing of one's own teeth instead of the dentist's? At any rate Nature
knows best, and no man need be ashamed of showing his manhood in the
hair of his face. Of razors and shaving, therefore, I shall only speak
from necessity, because, until everybody is sensible on this point, they
will still be used.

"Napoleon shaved himself. 'A born king,' said he, 'has another to shave
him. A made king can use his own razor.' But the war he made on his chin
was very different to that he made on foreign potentates. He took a very
long time to effect it, talking between whiles to his hangers-on. The
great man, however, was right, and every sensible man will shave
himself, if only as an exercise of character, for a man should learn to
live, in every detail without assistance. Moreover, in most cases, we
shave ourselves better than barbers can do. If we shave at all, we
should do it thoroughly, and every morning. Nothing, except a frown and
a hay-fever, makes the face look so unlovely as a chin covered with
short stubble. The chief requirements are hot water, a large, soft brush
of badger hair, a good razor, soft soap that will not dry rapidly, and a
steady hand. Cheap razors are a fallacy. They soon lose their edge, and
no amount of stropping will restore it. A good razor needs no strop. If
you can afford it, you should have a case of seven razors, one for each
day of the week, so that no one shall be too much used. There are now
much used packets of papers of a certain kind on which to wipe the
razor, and which keep its edge keen, and are a substitute for the strop.

"Beards, moustaches, and whiskers, have always been most important
additions to the face. In the present day literary men are much given to
their growth, and in that respect show at once their taste and their
vanity. Let no man be ashamed of his beard, if it be well kept and not
fantastically cut. The moustache should be kept within limits. The
Hungarians wear it so long that they can tie the ends round their heads.
The style of the beard should be adopted to suit the face. A broad face
should wear a large, full one; a long face is improved by a
sharp-pointed one. Taylor, the water poet, wrote verses on the various
styles, and they are almost numberless. The chief point is to keep the
beard well-combed and in neat trim.

"As to whiskers, it is not every man who can achieve a pair of full
length. There is certainly a great vanity about them, but it may be
generally said that foppishness should be avoided in this as in most
other points. Above all, the whiskers should never be curled, nor pulled
out to an absurd length. Still worse is it to cut them close with the
scissors. The moustache should be neat and not too large, and such
fopperies as cutting the points thereof, or twisting them up to the
fineness of needles--though patronized by the Emperor of the French--are
decidedly a proof of vanity. If a man wear the hair on his face which
nature has given him, in the manner that nature distributes it, keeps it
clean, and prevents its overgrowth, he cannot do wrong. All
extravagances are vulgar, because they are evidence of a pretence to
being better than you are; but a single extravagance unsupported is
perhaps worse than a number together, which have at least the merit of
consistency. If you copy puppies in the half-yard of whisker, you should
have their dress and their manner too, if you would not appear doubly
absurd.

"The same remarks apply to the arrangement of the hair in men, which
should be as simple and as natural as possible, but at the same time a
little may be granted to beauty and the requirements of the face. For my
part I can see nothing unmanly in wearing long hair, though undoubtedly
it is inconvenient and a temptation to vanity, while its arrangement
would demand an amount of time and attention which is unworthy of a man.
But every nation and every age has had a different custom in this
respect, and to this day even in Europe the hair is sometimes worn long.
The German student is particularly partial to hyacinthine locks curling
over a black velvet coat; and the peasant of Brittany looks very
handsome, if not always clean, with his love-locks hanging straight down
under a broad cavalier hat. Religion has generally taken up the matter
severely. The old fathers preached and railed against wigs, the
Calvinists raised an insurrection in Bordeaux on the same account, and
English Roundheads consigned to an unmentionable place every man who
allowed his hair to grow according to nature. The Romans condemned
tresses as unmanly, and in France in the middle ages the privilege to
wear them was confined to royalty. Our modern custom was a revival of
the French revolution, so that in this respect we are now republican as
well as puritanical.

"If we conform to fashion we should at least make the best of it, and
since the main advantage of short hair is its neatness, we should take
care to keep ours neat. This should be done first by frequent visits to
the barber, for if the hair is to be short at all it should be very
short, and nothing looks more untidy than long, stiff, uncurled masses
sticking out over the ears. If it curls naturally so much the better,
but if not it will be easier to keep in order. The next point is to wash
the head every morning, which, when once habitual, is a great
preservative against cold. A pair of large brushes, hard or soft, as
your case requires, should be used, not to hammer the head with, but to
pass up under the hair so as to reach the roots. As to pomatum,
Macassar, and other inventions of the hair-dresser, I have only to say
that, if used at all, it should be in moderation, and never sufficiently
to make their scent perceptible in company. Of course the arrangement
will be a matter of individual taste, but as the middle of the hair is
the natural place for a parting, it is rather a silly prejudice to think
a man vain who parts his hair in the centre. He is less blamable than
one who is too lazy to part it at all, and has always the appearance of
having just got up.

"Of wigs and false hair, the subject of satires and sermons since the
days of the Roman Emperors, I shall say nothing here except that they
are a practical falsehood which may sometimes be necessary, but is
rarely successful. For my part I prefer the snows of life's winter to
the best made peruke, and even a bald head to an inferior wig.

"When gentlemen wore armor, and disdained the use of their legs, an
esquire was a necessity; and we can understand that, in the days of the
Beaux, the word "gentleman" meant a man and his valet. I am glad to say
that in the present day it only takes one man to make a gentleman, or,
at most, a man and a ninth--that is, including the tailor. It is an
excellent thing for the character to be neat and orderly, and, if a man
neglects to be so in his room, he is open to the same temptation sooner
or later in his person. A dressing-case is, therefore, a desideratum. A
closet to hang up cloth clothes, which should never be folded, and a
small dressing-room next to the bed-room, are not so easily attainable.
But the man who throws his clothes about the room, a boot in one corner,
a cravat in another, and his brushes anywhere, is not a man of good
habits. The spirit of order should extend to everything about him.

"This brings me to speak of certain necessities of dress; the first of
which I shall take is appropriateness. The age of the individual is an
important consideration in this respect; and a man of sixty is as absurd
in the style of nineteen as a young man in the high cravat of Brummell's
day. I know a gallant colonel who is master of the ceremonies in a gay
watering-place, and who, afraid of the prim old-fashioned _tournure_ of
his _confreres_ in similar localities, is to be seen, though his hair is
gray and his age not under five-and-sixty, in a light cut-away, the
'peg-top' continuations, and a turned-down collar. It may be what
younger blades will wear when they reach his age, but in the present day
the effect is ridiculous. We may, therefore, give as a general rule,
that after the turning-point of life a man should eschew the changes of
fashion in his own attire, while he avoids complaining of it in the
young. In the latter, on the other hand, the observance of these changes
must depend partly on his taste and partly on his position. If wise, he
will adopt with alacrity any new fashions which improve the grace, the
ease, the healthfulness, and the convenience of his garments. He will
be glad of greater freedom in the cut of his cloth clothes, of boots
with elastic sides instead of troublesome buttons or laces, of the
privilege to turn down his collar, and so forth, while he will avoid as
extravagant, elaborate shirt-fronts, gold bindings on the waistcoat, and
expensive buttons. On the other hand, whatever his age, he will have
some respect to his profession and position in society. He will remember
how much the appearance of the man aids a judgment of his character, and
this test, which has often been cried down, is in reality no bad one;
for a man who does not dress appropriately evinces a want of what is
most necessary to professional men--tact and discretion.

"Position in society demands appropriateness. Well knowing the worldly
value of a good coat, I would yet never recommend a man of limited means
to aspire to a fashionable appearance. In the first place, he becomes
thereby a walking falsehood; in the second, he cannot, without running
into debt, which is another term for dishonesty, maintain the style he
has adopted. As he cannot afford to change his suits as rapidly as
fashion alters, he must avoid following it in varying details. He will
rush into wide sleeves one month, in the hope of being fashionable, and
before his coat is worn out, the next month will bring in a narrow
sleeve. We cannot, unfortunately, like Samuel Pepys, take a long cloak
now-a-days to the tailor's, to be cut into a short one, 'long cloaks
being now quite out,' as he tells us. Even when there is no poverty in
the case, our position must not be forgotten. The tradesman will win
neither customers nor friends by adorning himself in the mode of the
club-lounger, and the clerk, or commercial traveler, who dresses
fashionably, lays himself open to inquiries as to his antecedents, which
he may not care to have investigated. In general, it may be said that
there is vulgarity in dressing like those of a class above us, since it
must be taken as a proof of pretension.

"As it is bad taste to flaunt the airs of the town among the
provincials, who know nothing of them, it is worse taste to display the
dress of a city in the quiet haunts of the rustics. The law, that all
attempts at distinction by means of dress is vulgar and pretentious,
would be sufficient argument against wearing city fashions in the
country.

"While in most cases a rougher and easier mode of dress is both
admissible and desirable in the country, there are many occasions of
country visiting where a town man finds it difficult to decide. It is
almost peculiar to the country to unite the amusements of the daytime
with those of the evening; of the open air with those of the
drawing-room. Thus, in the summer, when the days are long, you will be
asked to a pic-nic or an archery party, which will wind up with dancing
in-doors, and may even assume the character of a ball. If you are aware
of this beforehand, it will always be safe to send your evening dress to
your host's house, and you will learn from the servants whether others
have done the same, and whether, therefore, you will not be singular in
asking leave to change your costume. But if you are ignorant how the day
is to end, you must be guided partly by the hour of invitation, and
partly by the extent of your intimacy with the family. I have actually
known gentlemen arrive at a large pic-nic at mid-day in complete evening
dress, and pitied them with all my heart, compelled as they were to
suffer, in tight black clothes, under a hot sun for eight hours, and
dance after all in the same dress. On the other hand, if you are asked
to come an hour or two before sunset, after six in summer, in the autumn
after five, you cannot err by appearing in evening dress. It is always
taken as a compliment to do so, and if your acquaintance with your
hostess is slight, it would be almost a familiarity to do otherwise. In
any case you desire to avoid singularity, so that if you can discover
what others who are invited intend to wear, you can always decide on
your own attire. In Europe there is a convenient rule for these matters;
never appear after four in the afternoon in morning dress; but then gray
trousers are there allowed instead of black, and white waistcoats are
still worn in the evening. At any rate, it is possible to effect a
compromise between the two styles of costume, and if you are likely to
be called upon to dance in the evening, it will be well to wear thin
boots, a black frock-coat, and a small black neck-tie, and to put a pair
of clean white gloves in your pocket. You will thus be at least less
conspicuous in the dancing-room than in a light tweed suit.

"Not so the distinction to be made according to size. As a rule, tall
men require long clothes--some few perhaps even in the nurse's sense of
those words--and short men short clothes. On the other hand, Falstaff
should beware of Jenny Wren coats and affect ample wrappers, while Peter
Schlemihl, and the whole race of thin men, must eschew looseness as
much in their garments as their morals.

"Lastly we come to what is appropriate to different occasions, and as
this is an important subject, I shall treat of it separately. For the
present it is sufficient to point out that, while every man should avoid
not only extravagance, but even brilliance of dress on ordinary
occasions, there are some on which he may and ought to pay more
attention to his toilet, and attempt to look gay. Of course, the
evenings are not here meant. For evening dress there is a fixed rule,
from which we can depart only to be foppish or vulgar; but in morning
dress there is greater liberty, and when we undertake to mingle with
those who are assembled avowedly for gayety, we should not make
ourselves remarkable by the dinginess of our dress. Such occasions are
open air entertainments, _fetes_, flower-shows, archery-meetings,
_matinees_, and _id genus omne_, where much of the pleasure to be
derived depends on the general effect on the enjoyers, and where, if we
cannot pump up a look of mirth, we should, at least, if we go at all,
wear the semblance of it in our dress. I have a worthy little friend,
who, I believe, is as well disposed to his kind as Lord Shaftesbury
himself, but who, for some reason, perhaps a twinge of philosophy about
him, frequents the gay meetings to which he is asked in an old coat and
a wide-awake. Some people take him for a wit, but he soon shows that he
does not aspire to that character; others for a philosopher, but he is
too good-mannered for that; others, poor man! pronounce him a cynic, and
all are agreed that whatever he may be, he looks out of place, and
spoils the general effect. I believe, in my heart, that he is the
mildest of men, but will not take the trouble to dress more than once a
day. At any rate, he has a character for eccentricity, which, I am sure,
is precisely what he would wish to avoid. That character is a most
delightful one for a bachelor, and it is generally Coelebs who holds it,
for it has been proved by statistics that there are four single to one
married man among the inhabitants of our madhouses; but eccentricity
yields a reputation which requires something to uphold it, and even in
Diogenes of the Tub it was extremely bad taste to force himself into
Plato's evening party without sandals, and nothing but a dirty tunic on
him.

"Another requisite in dress is its simplicity, with which I may couple
harmony of color. This simplicity is the only distinction which a man of
taste should aspire to in the matter of dress, but a simplicity in
appearance must proceed from a nicety in reality. One should not be
simply ill-dressed, but simply well-dressed. Lord Castlereagh would
never have been pronounced the most distinguished man in the gay court
of Vienna, because he wore no orders or ribbons among hundreds decorated
with a profusion of those vanities, but because besides this he was
dressed with taste. The charm of Brummell's dress was its simplicity;
yet it cost him as much thought, time, and care as the portfolio of a
minister. The rules of simplicity, therefore, are the rules of taste.
All extravagance, all splendor, and all profusion must be avoided. The
colors, in the first place, must harmonize both with our complexion and
with one another; perhaps most of all with the color of our hair. All
bright colors should be avoided, such as red, yellow, sky-blue, and
bright green. Perhaps only a successful Australian gold digger would
think of choosing such colors for his coat, waistcoat, or trousers; but
there are hundreds of young men who might select them for their gloves
and neck-ties. The deeper colors are, some how or other, more manly, and
are certainly less striking. The same simplicity should be studied in
the avoidance of ornamentation. A few years ago it was the fashion to
trim the evening waistcoat with a border of gold lace. This is an
example of fashions always to be rebelled against. Then, too,
extravagance in the form of our dress is a sin against taste. I remember
that long ribbons took the place of neck-ties some years ago. At a
commemoration, two friends of mine determined to cut a figure in this
matter, having little else to distinguish them. The one wore two yards
of bright pink; the other the same quantity of bright blue ribbon, round
their necks. I have reason to believe they think now that they both
looked superbly ridiculous. In the same way, if the trousers are worn
wide, we should not wear them as loose as a Turk's; or, if the sleeves
are to be open, we should not rival the ladies in this matter. And so on
through a hundred details, generally remembering that to exaggerate a
fashion is to assume a character, and therefore vulgar. The wearing of
jewelry comes under this head. Jewels are an ornament to women, but a
blemish to men. They bespeak either effeminacy or a love of display. The
hand of a man is honored in working, for labor is his mission; and the
hand that wears its riches on its fingers, has rarely worked honestly
to win them. The best jewel a man can wear is his honor. Let that be
bright and shining, well set in prudence, and all others must darken
before it. But as we are savages, and must have some silly trickery to
hang about us, a little, but very little concession may be made to our
taste in this respect. I am quite serious when I disadvise you from the
use of nose-rings, gold anklets, and hat-bands studded with jewels; for
when I see an incredulous young man of the nineteenth century, dangling
from his watch-chain a dozen silly 'charms' (often the only ones he
possesses), which have no other use than to give a fair coquette a
legitimate subject on which to approach to closer intimacy, and which
are revived from the lowest superstitions of dark ages, and sometimes
darker races, I am quite justified in believing that some South African
chieftain, sufficiently rich to cut a dash, might introduce with success
the most peculiar fashions of his own country. However this may be,
there are already sufficient extravagances prevalent among our young men
to attack.

"The man of good taste will wear as little jewelry as possible. One
handsome signet-ring on the little finger of the left hand, a scarf-pin
which is neither large, nor showy, nor too intricate in its design, and
a light, rather thin watch-guard with a cross-bar, are all that he ought
to wear. But, if he aspires to more than this, he should observe the
following rules:--

"1. Let everything be real and good. False jewelry is not only a
practical lie, but an absolute vulgarity, since its use arises from an
attempt to appear richer or grander than its wearer is.

"2. Let it be simple. Elaborate studs, waistcoat-buttons, and
wrist-links, are all abominable. The last, particularly, should be as
plain as possible, consisting of plain gold ovals, with, at most, the
crest engraved upon them. Diamonds and brilliants are quite unsuitable
to men, whose jewelry should never be conspicuous. If you happen to
possess a single diamond of great value you may wear it on great
occasions as a ring, but no more than one ring should ever be worn by a
gentleman.

"3. Let it be distinguished rather by its curiosity than its brilliance.
An antique or bit of old jewelry possesses more interest, particularly
if you are able to tell its history, than the most splendid production
of the goldsmith's shop.

"4. Let it harmonize with the colors of your dress.

"5. Let it have some use. Men should never, like women, wear jewels for
mere ornament, whatever may be the fashion of Hungarian noblemen, and
deposed Indian rajahs with jackets covered with rubies.

"The precious stones are reserved for ladies, and even our scarf-pins
are more suitable without them.

"The dress that is both appropriate and simple can never offend, nor
render its wearer conspicuous, though it may distinguish him for his
good taste. But it will not be pleasing unless clean and fresh. We
cannot quarrel with a poor gentleman's thread-bare coat, if his linen be
pure, and we see that he has never attempted to dress beyond his means
or unsuitably to his station. But the sight of decayed gentility and
dilapidated fashion may call forth our pity, and, at the same time
prompt a moral: 'You have evidently sunken;' we say to ourselves; 'But
whose fault was it? Am I not led to suppose that the extravagance which
you evidently once revelled in has brought you to what I now see you?'
While freshness is essential to being well-dressed, it will be a
consolation to those who cannot afford a heavy tailor's bill, to reflect
that a visible newness in one's clothes is as bad as patches and darns,
and to remember that there have been celebrated dressers who would never
put on a new coat till it had been worn two or three times by their
valets. On the other hand, there is no excuse for untidiness, holes in
the boots, a broken hat, torn gloves, and so on. Indeed, it is better to
wear no gloves at all than a pair full of holes. There is nothing to be
ashamed of in bare hands, if they are clean, and the poor can still
afford to have their shirts and shoes mended, and their hats ironed. It
is certainly better to show signs of neatness than the reverse, and you
need sooner be ashamed of a hole than a darn.

"Of personal cleanliness I have spoken at such length that little need
be said on that of the clothes. If you are economical with your tailor,
you can be extravagant with your laundress. The beaux of forty years
back put on three shirts a day, but except in hot weather one is
sufficient. Of course, if you change your dress in the evening you must
change your shirt too. There has been a great outcry against 
flannel shirts in the place of linen, and the man who can wear one for
three days is looked on as little better than St. Simeon Stylites. I
should like to know how often the advocates of linen change their own
under-flannel, and whether the same rule does not apply to what is seen
as to what is concealed. But while the flannel is perhaps healthier as
absorbing the moisture more rapidly, the linen has the advantage of
_looking_ cleaner, and may therefore be preferred. As to economy, if the
flannel costs less to wash, it also wears out sooner; but, be this as it
may, a man's wardrobe is not complete without half a dozen or so of
these shirts, which he will find most useful, and ten times more
comfortable than linen in long excursions, or when exertion will be
required. Flannel, too, has the advantage of being warm in winter and
cool in summer, for, being a non-conductor, but a retainer of heat, it
protects the body from the sun, and, on the other hand, shields it from
the cold. But the best shirt of all, particularly in winter, is that
which wily monks and hermits pretended to wear for a penance, well
knowing that they could have no garment cooler, more comfortable, or
more healthy. I mean, of course, the rough hair-shirt. Like flannel, it
is a non-conductor of heat; but then, too, it acts the part of a
shampooer, and with its perpetual friction soothes the surface of the
skin, and prevents the circulation from being arrested at any one point
of the body. Though I doubt if any of my readers will take a hint from
the wisdom of the merry anchorites, they will perhaps allow me to
suggest that the next best thing to wear next the skin is flannel, and
that too of the coarsest description.

"Quantity is better than quality in linen. Nevertheless it should be
fine and well spun. The loose cuff, which we borrowed from the French
some four years ago, is a great improvement on the old tight wrist-band,
and, indeed, it must be borne in mind that anything which binds any
part of the body tightly impedes the circulation, and is therefore
unhealthy as well as ungraceful.

"The necessity for a large stock of linen depends on a rule far better
than Brummell's, of three shirts a day, viz:--

"Change your linen whenever it is at all dirty.

"This is the best guide with regard to collars, socks,
pocket-handkerchiefs, and our under garments. No rule can be laid down
for the number we should wear per week, for everything depends on
circumstances. Thus in the country all our linen remains longer clean
than in town; in dirty, wet, or dusty weather, our socks get soon dirty
and must be changed; or, if we have a cold, to say nothing of the
possible but not probable case of tear-shedding on the departure of
friends, we shall want more than one pocket-handkerchief per diem. In
fact, the last article of modern civilization is put to so many uses, is
so much displayed, and liable to be called into action on so many
various engagements, that we should always have a clean one in our
pockets. Who knows when it may not serve us is in good stead? Who can
tell how often the corner of the delicate cambric will have to represent
a tear which, like difficult passages in novels is 'left to the
imagination.' Can a man of any feeling call on a disconsolate widow, for
instance, and listen to her woes, without at least pulling out that
expressive appendage? Can any one believe in our sympathy if the article
in question is a dirty one? There are some people who, like the clouds,
only exist to weep; and King Solomon, though not one of them, has given
them great encouragement in speaking of the house of mourning. We are
bound to weep with them, and we are bound to weep elegantly.

"A man whose dress is neat, clean, simple, and appropriate, will pass
muster anywhere.

"A well-dressed man does not require so much an extensive as a varied
wardrobe. He wants a different costume for every season and every
occasion; but if what he selects is simple rather than striking, he may
appear in the same clothes as often as he likes, as long as they are
fresh and appropriate to the season and the object. There are four kinds
of coats which he must have: a morning-coat, a frock-coat, a dress-coat,
and an over-coat. An economical man may do well with four of the first,
and one of each of the others per annum. The dress of a gentleman in the
present day should not cost him more than the tenth part of his income
on an average. But as fortunes vary more than position, if his income is
large it will take a much smaller proportion, if small a larger one. If
a man, however, mixes in society, and I write for those who do so, there
are some things which are indispensable to even the proper dressing, and
every occasion will have its proper attire.

"In his own house then, and in the morning, there is no reason why he
should not wear out his old clothes. Some men take to the delightful
ease of a dressing-gown and slippers; and if bachelors, they do well. If
family men, it will probably depend on whether the lady or the gentleman
wears the pantaloons. The best walking-dress for a non-professional man
is a suit of tweed of the same color, ordinary boots, gloves not too
dark for the coat, a scarf with a pin in winter, or a small tie of one
color in summer, a respectable black hat and a cane. The last item is
perhaps the most important, and though its use varies with fashion, I
confess I am sorry when I see it go out. The best substitute for a
walking-stick is an umbrella, _not_ a parasol unless it be given you by
a lady to carry. The main point of the walking-dress is the harmony of
colors, but this should not be carried to the extent of M. de Maltzan,
who some years ago made a bet to wear nothing but pink at Baden-Baden
for a whole year, and had boots and gloves of the same lively hue. He
won his wager, but also the soubriquet of 'Le Diable enflamme.' The
walking-dress should vary according to the place and hour. In the
country or at the sea-side a straw hat or wide-awake may take the place
of the beaver, and the nuisance of gloves be even dispensed with in the
former. But in the city where a man is supposed to make visits as well
as lounge in the street, the frock coat of very dark blue or black, or a
black cloth cut-away, the white waistcoat, and lavender gloves, are
almost indispensable. Very thin boots should be avoided at all times,
and whatever clothes one wears they should be well brushed. The shirt,
whether seen or not, should be quite plain. The shirt collar should
never have a color on it, but it may be stiff or turned down according
as the wearer is Byronically or Brummellically disposed. The scarf, if
simple and of modest colors, is perhaps the best thing we can wear round
the neck; but if a neck-tie is preferred it should not be too long, nor
tied in too stiff and studied a manner. The cane should be extremely
simple, a mere stick in fact, with no gold head, and yet for the town
not rough, thick, or clumsy. The frock-coat should be ample and loose,
and a tall well-built man may throw it back. At any rate, it should
never be buttoned up. Great-coats should be buttoned up, of a dark
color, not quite black, longer than the frock-coat, but never long
enough to reach the ankles. If you have visits to make you should do
away with the great-coat, if the weather allows you to do so. The
frock-coat, or black cut-away, with a white waistcoat in summer, is the
best dress for making calls in.

"It is simple nonsense to talk of modern civilization, and rejoice that
the cruelties of the dark ages can never be perpetrated in these days
and this country. I maintain that they are perpetrated freely,
generally, daily, with the consent of the wretched victim himself, in
the compulsion to wear evening clothes. Is there anything at once more
comfortless or more hideous? Let us begin with what the delicate call
limb-covers, which we are told were the invention of the Gauls, but I am
inclined to think, of a much worse race, for it is clearly an
anachronism to ascribe the discovery to a Venetian called Piantaleone,
and it can only have been Inquisitors or demons who inflicted this
scourge on the race of man, and his ninth-parts, the tailors, for I take
it that both are equally bothered by the tight pantaloon. Let us pause
awhile over this unsightly garment, and console ourselves with the
reflection that as every country, and almost every year, has a different
fashion in its make of it, we may at last be emancipated from it
altogether, or at least be able to wear it _a la Turque_.

"But it is not all trousers that I rebel against. If I might wear linen
appendices in summer, and fur continuations in winter, I would not
groan, but it is the evening-dress that inflicts on the man who likes
society the necessity of wearing the same trying cloth all the year
round, so that under Boreas he catches colds, and under the dog-star he
melts. This unmentionable, but most necessary disguise of the 'human
form divine,' is one that never varies in this country, and therefore I
must lay down the rule:--

"For all evening wear--black cloth trousers.

"But the tortures of evening dress do not end with our lower limbs. Of
all the iniquities perpetrated under the Reign of Terror, none has
lasted so long as that of the strait-jacket, which was palmed off on the
people as a 'habit de compagnie.' If it were necessary to sing a hymn of
praise to Robespierre, Marat, and Co., I would rather take the
guillotine as my subject to extol than the swallow tail. And yet we
endure the stiffness, unsightliness, uncomfortableness, and want of
grace of the latter, with more resignation than that with which
Charlotte Corday put her beautiful neck into the 'trou d'enfer' of the
former. Fortunately modern republicanism has triumphed over ancient
etiquette, and the tail-coat of to-day is looser and more easy than it
was twenty years ago. I can only say, let us never strive to make it
bearable, till we have abolished it. Let us abjure such vulgarities as
silk collars, white silk linings, and so forth, which attempt to
beautify this monstrosity, as a hangman might wreathe his gallows with
roses. The plainer the manner in which you wear your misery, the
better.

"Then, again, the black waistcoat, stiff, tight, and comfortless. Fancy
Falstaff in a ball-dress such as we now wear. No amount of embroidery,
gold-trimmings, or jewel-buttons will render such an infliction grateful
to the mass. The best plan is to wear thorough mourning for your
wretchedness. In France and America, the cooler white waistcoat is
admitted. However, as we have it, let us make the best of it, and not
parade our misery by hideous ornamentation. The only evening waistcoat
for all purposes for a man of taste is one of simple black, with the
simplest possible buttons.

"These three items never vary for dinner-party, muffin-worry, or ball.
The only distinction allowed is in the neck-tie. For dinner, the opera,
and balls, this must be white, and the smaller the better. It should be
too, of a washable texture, not silk, nor netted, nor hanging down, nor
of any foppish production, but a simple, white tie, without embroidery.
The black tie is admitted for evening parties, and should be equally
simple. The shirt-front, which figures under the tie should be plain,
with unpretending small plaits. The glove must be white, not yellow.
Recently, indeed, a fashion has sprung up of wearing lavender gloves in
the evening. They are economical, and as all economy is an abomination,
must be avoided. Gloves should always be worn at a ball. At a
dinner-party in town they should be worn on entering the room, and drawn
off for dinner. While, on the one hand, we must avoid the awkwardness of
a gallant sea-captain who, wearing no gloves at a dance, excused himself
to his partner by saying, 'Never mind, miss, I can wash my hands when
I've done dancing,' we have no need, in the present day, to copy the
Roman gentleman mentioned by Athenaeus, who wore gloves at dinner that he
might pick his meat from the hot dishes more rapidly than the
bare-handed guests. As to gloves at tea-parties and so forth, we are
generally safer with than without them. If it is quite a small party, we
may leave them in our pocket, and in the country they are scarcely
expected to be worn; but 'touch not a cat but with a glove;' you are
always safer with them.

"I must not quit this subject without assuring myself that my reader
knows more about it now than he did before. In fact I have taken one
thing for granted, viz., that he knows what it is to be dressed, and
what undressed. Of course I do not suppose him to be in the blissful
state of ignorance on the subject once enjoyed by our first parents. I
use the words 'dressed' and 'undressed' rather in the sense meant by a
military tailor, or a cook with reference to a salad. You need not be
shocked. I am one of those people who wear spectacles for fear of seeing
anything with the naked eye. I am the soul of scrupulosity. But I am
wondering whether everybody arranges his wardrobe as our ungrammatical
nurses used to do ours, under the heads of 'best, second-best,
third-best,' and so on, and knows what things ought to be placed under
each. To be 'undressed' is to be dressed for work and ordinary
occupations, to wear a coat which you do not fear to spoil, and a
neck-tie which your ink-stand will not object to, but your acquaintance
might. To be 'dressed,' on the other hand, since by dress we show our
respect for society at large, or the persons with whom we are to
mingle, is to be clothed in the garments which the said society
pronounces as suitable to particular occasions; so that evening dress in
the morning, morning dress in the evening, and top boots and a red coat
for walking, may all be called 'undress,' if not positively 'bad dress.'
But there are shades of being 'dressed;' and a man is called 'little
dressed,' 'well dressed,' and 'much dressed,' not according to the
quantity but the quality of his coverings.

"To be 'little dressed,' is to wear old things, of a make that is no
longer the fashion, having no pretension to elegance, artistic beauty,
or ornament. It is also to wear lounging clothes on occasions which
demand some amount of precision. To be 'much dressed' is to be in the
extreme of the fashion, with bran new clothes, jewelry, and ornaments,
with a touch of extravagance and gaiety in your colors. Thus to wear
patent leather boots and yellow gloves in a quiet morning stroll is to
be much dressed, and certainly does not differ immensely from being
badly dressed. To be 'well dressed' is the happy medium between these
two, which is not given to every one to hold, inasmuch as good taste is
rare, and is a _sine qua non_ thereof. Thus while you avoid ornament and
all fastness, you must cultivate fashion, that is _good_ fashion, in the
make of your clothes. A man must not be made by his tailor, but should
make him, educate him, give him his own good taste. To be well dressed
is to be dressed precisely as the occasion, place, weather, your height,
figure, position, age, and, remember it, your _means_ require. It is to
be clothed without peculiarity, pretension, or eccentricity; without
violent colors, elaborate ornament, or senseless fashions, introduced,
often, by tailors for their own profit. Good dressing is to wear as
little jewelry as possible, to be scrupulously neat, clean, and fresh,
and to carry your clothes as if you did not give them a thought.

"Then, too, there is a scale of honor among clothes, which must not be
forgotten. Thus, a new coat is more honorable than an old one, a
cut-away or shooting-coat than a dressing-gown, a frock-coat than a
cut-away, a dark blue frock-coat than a black frock-coat, a tail-coat
than a frock-coat. There is no honor at all in a blue tail-coat,
however, except on a gentleman of eighty, accompanied with brass buttons
and a buff waistcoat. There is more honor in an old hunting-coat than in
a new one, in a uniform with a bullet hole in it than one without, in a
fustian jacket and smock-frock than in a frock-coat, because they are
types of labor, which is far more honorable than lounging. Again, light
clothes are generally placed above dark ones, because they cannot be so
long worn, and are, therefore, proofs of expenditure, _alias_ money,
which in this world is a commodity more honored than every other; but,
on the other hand, tasteful dress is always more honorable than that
which has only cost much. Light gloves are more esteemed than dark ones,
and the prince of glove-colors is, undeniably, lavender.

"'I should say Jones was a fast man,' said a friend to me one day, 'for
he wears a white hat.' If this idea of my companion's be right, fastness
may be said to consist mainly in peculiarity. There is certainly only
one step from the sublimity of fastness to the ridiculousness of
snobbery, and it is not always easy to say where the one ends and the
other begins. A dandy, on the other hand, is the clothes on a man, not a
man in clothes, a living lay figure who displays much dress, and is
quite satisfied if you praise it without taking heed of him. A bear is
in the opposite extreme; never dressed enough, and always very roughly;
but he is almost as bad as the other, for he sacrifices everything to
his ease and comfort. The off-hand style of dress only suits an off-hand
character. It was, at one time, the fashion to affect a certain
negligence, which was called poetic, and supposed to be the result of
genius. An ill-tied, if not positively untied cravat was a sure sign of
an unbridled imagination; and a waistcoat was held together by one
button only, as if the swelling soul in the wearer's bosom had burst all
the rest. If, in addition to this, the hair was unbrushed and curly, you
were certain of passing for a 'man of soul.' I should not recommend any
young gentleman to adopt this style, unless, indeed, he can mouth a
great deal, and has a good stock of quotations from the poets. It is of
no use to show me the clouds, unless I can positively see you in them,
and no amount of negligence in your dress and person will convince me
you are a genius, unless you produce an octavo volume of poems published
by yourself. I confess I am glad that the _neglige_ style, so common in
novels of ten years back, has been succeeded by neatness. What we want
is real ease in the clothes, and, for my part, I should rejoice to see
the Knickerbocker style generally adopted.

"Besides the ordinary occasions treated of before, there are several
special occasions requiring a change of dress. Most of our sports,
together with marriage (which some people include in sports), come under
this head. Now, the less change we make the better in the present day,
particularly in the sports, where, if we are dressed with scrupulous
accuracy, we are liable to be subjected to a comparison between our
clothes and our skill. A man who wears a red coat to hunt in, should be
able to hunt, and not sneak through gates or dodge over gaps. A few
remarks on dresses worn in different sports may be useful. Having laid
down the rule that a strict accuracy of sporting costume is no longer in
good taste, we can dismiss shooting and fishing at once, with the
warning that we must not dress _well_ for either. An old coat with large
pockets, gaiters in one case, and, if necessary, large boots in the
other, thick shoes at any rate, a wide-awake, and a well-filled bag or
basket at the end of the day, make up a most respectable sportsman of
the lesser kind. Then for cricket you want nothing more unusual than
flannel trousers, which should be quite plain, unless your club has
adopted some  stripe thereon, a  flannel shirt of no very
violent hue, the same  cap, shoes with spikes in them, and a
great coat.

"For hunting, lastly, you have to make more change, if only to insure
your own comfort and safety. Thus cord-breeches and some kind of boots
are indispensable. So are spurs, so a hunting-whip or crop; so too, if
you do not wear a hat, is the strong round cap that is to save your
valuable skull from cracking if you are thrown on your head. Again, I
should pity the man who would attempt to hunt in a frock-coat or a
dress-coat; and a scarf with a pin in it is much more convenient than a
tie. But beyond these you need nothing out of the common way, but a
pocketful of money. The red coat, for instance, is only worn by regular
members of a hunt, and boys who ride over the hounds and like to display
their 'pinks.' In any case you are better with an ordinary riding-coat
of dark color, though undoubtedly the red is prettier in the field. If
you _will_ wear the latter, see that it is cut square, for the
swallow-tail is obsolete, and worn only by the fine old boys who
'hunted, sir, fifty years ago, sir, when I was a boy of fifteen, sir.
Those _were_ hunting days, sir; such runs and such leaps.' Again, your
'cords' should be light in color and fine in quality; your waistcoat, if
with a red coat, quite light too; your scarf of cashmere, of a buff
color, and fastened with a small simple gold pin; your hat should be
old, and your cap of dark green or black velvet, plated inside, and with
a small stiff peak, should be made to look old. Lastly, for a choice of
boots. The Hessians are more easily cleaned, and therefore less
expensive to keep; the 'tops' are more natty. Brummell, who cared more
for the hunting-dress than the hunting itself, introduced the fashion of
pipe-claying the tops of the latter, but the old original 'mahoganies,'
of which the upper leathers are simply polished, seem to be coming into
fashion again."




CHAPTER VIII.

MANLY EXERCISES.


Bodily exercise is one of the most important means provided by nature
for the maintenance of health, and in order to prove the advantages of
exercise, we must show what is to be exercised, why exercise is
necessary, and the various modes in which it may be taken.

The human body may be regarded as a wonderful machine, the various parts
of which are so wonderfully adapted to each other, that if one be
disturbed all must suffer. The bones and muscles are the parts of the
human frame on which motion depends. There are four hundred muscles in
the body; each one has certain functions to perform, which cannot be
disturbed without danger to the whole. They assist the tendons in
keeping the bones in their places, and put them in motion. Whether we
walk or run, sit or stoop, bend the arm or head, or chew our food, we
may be said to open and shut a number of hinges, or ball and socket
joints. And it is a wise provision of nature, that, to a certain extent,
the more the muscles are exercised, the stronger do they become; hence
it is that laborers and artisans are stronger and more muscular than
those persons whose lives are passed in easy occupations or
professional duties.

Besides strengthening the limbs, muscular exercise has a most beneficial
influence on respiration and the circulation of the blood. The larger
blood-vessels are generally placed deep among the muscles, consequently
when the latter are put into motion, the blood is driven through the
arteries and veins with much greater rapidity than when there is no
exercise; it is more completely purified, as the action of the
insensible perspiration is promoted, which relieves the blood of many
irritating matters, chiefly carbonic acid and certain salts, taken up in
its passage through the system, and a feeling of lightness and
cheerfulness is diffused over body and mind.

We have said that a good state of health depends in a great measure on
the proper exercise of _all the muscles_. But on looking at the greater
portion of our industrial population,--artisans and workers in factories
generally--we find them, in numerous instances, standing or sitting in
forced or unnatural positions, using only a few of their muscles, while
the others remain, comparatively speaking, unused or inactive. Sawyers,
filers, tailors, and many others may be easily recognized as they walk
the streets, by the awkward movement and bearing impressed upon them by
long habit. The stooping position especially tells most fatally upon the
health; weavers, shoemakers, and cotton-spinners have generally a sallow
and sickly appearance, very different from that of those whose
occupation does not require them to stoop, or to remain long in a
hurtful posture. Their common affections are indigestion and dull
headache, with giddiness especially during summer. They attribute their
complaints to two causes, one of which is the posture of the body, bent
for twelve or thirteen hours a day, the other the heat of the
working-room.

Besides the trades above enumerated, there are many others productive of
similar evils by the position into which they compel workmen, or by the
close and confined places in which they are carried on; and others,
again, in their very natures injurious. Plumbers and painters suffer
from the noxious materials which they are constantly using, grinders and
filers from dust, and bakers from extremes of temperature and irregular
hours. Wherever there is physical depression, there is a disposition to
resort to injurious stimulants; and "the time of relief from work is
generally spent, not in invigorating the animal frame, but in
aggravating complaints, and converting functional into organic disease."

But there are others who suffer from artificial poisons and defective
exercise as well as artisans and operatives--the numerous class of
shopkeepers; the author above quoted says, "Week after week passes
without affording them one pure inspiration. Often, also, they have not
exercise even in the open air of the town; a furlong's walk to church on
Sunday being the extent of their rambles. When they have the opportunity
they want the inclination for exercise. The father is anxious about his
trade or his family, the mother is solicitous about her children. Each
has little taste for recreation or amusement." The various disorders,
generally known under the name of indigestion, disorders dependant on a
want of circulation of blood through the bowels, biliary derangements,
and headache, are well known to be the general attendants on trade,
closely pursued. Indeed, in almost every individual, this absorbing
principle produces one or other of the various maladies to which I have
alluded.

The great remedy for the evils here pointed out is bodily exercise, of
some kind, every day, and as much as possible in the open air. An
opinion prevails that an occasional walk is sufficient to maintain the
balance of health; but if the intervals of inaction be too long, the
good effect of one walk is lost before another is taken. Regularity and
sufficiency are to be as much regarded in exercise as in eating or
sleeping. Sir James Clark says, that "the exercise which is to benefit
the system generally, must be in the open air, and extend to the whole
muscular system. Without regular exercise out of doors, no young person
can continue long healthy; and it is the duty of parents in fixing their
children at boarding schools to ascertain that sufficient time is
occupied daily in this way. They may be assured that attention to this
circumstance is quite as essential to the moral and physical health of
their children, as any branch of education which they may be taught."

Exercise, however, must be regulated by certain rules, the principal of
which is, to avoid carrying it to excess--to proportion it always to the
state of health and habit of the individual. Persons of short breath
predisposed to determination of blood to the head, subject to
palpitation of the heart, or general weakness, are not to believe that a
course of severe exercise will do them good; on the contrary, many
serious results often follow over-fatigue. For the same reason it is
desirable to avoid active exertion immediately after a full meal, as the
foundation of heart diseases is sometimes laid by leaping or running
after eating. The great object should be so to blend exercise and
repose, as to ensure the highest possible amount of bodily vigor. It
must be recollected that exhausted muscles can be restored only by the
most perfect rest.

In the next place, it is a mistake to consider the labor of the day as
equivalent to exercise. Work, generally speaking, is a mere routine
process, carried on with but little variety of circumstances, in a
confined atmosphere, and in a temperature frequently more exhaustive
than restorative. The workman requires something more than this to keep
him in health; he must have exercise as often as possible in the open
air,--in fields, parks, or pleasure grounds; but if these are not at his
command, the streets of the town are always open to him, and a walk in
these is better than no walk at all. The mere change of scene is
beneficial, and in walking he generally sets in motion a different set
of muscles from those he has used while at work.

To derive the greatest amount of good from exercise, it must be combined
with amusement, and be made pleasureable and recreative. This important
fact ought never to be lost sight of, since to ignorance of it alone we
owe many of the evils which afflict society. And it would be well if
those who have been accustomed to look on social amusements as
destructive of the morals of the people, would consider how much good
may be done by giving the mind a direction which, while promotive of
health, would fill it with cheerfulness and wean it from debasing
habits. The character of our sports at the present time, partake but
little of the robust and boisterous spirit of our forefathers; but with
the refinement of amusements, the opportunity for enjoying them has been
grievously diminished. Cheering signs of a better state of things are,
however, visible in many quarters, and we trust that the good work will
be carried on until the whole of our population shall be in possession
of the means and leisure for pleasurable recreation.

While indulging in the recreative sports which are to restore and
invigorate us, we must be mindful of the many points of etiquette and
kindness which will do much, if properly attended to, to promote the
enjoyment of our exercise, and we propose to review the principal
exercises used among us, and to point out in what places the delicate
and gentlemanly attention to our companions will do the most to
establish, for the person who practices them, the reputation of a
polished gentleman.


RIDING.

There are no amusements, probably, which give us so wide a scope for the
rendering of attention to a friend as riding and driving. Accompanied,
as we may be at any time, by timid companions, the power to convince
them, by the management of the horse we ride, and the watch kept at the
same time on theirs, that we are competent to act the part of companion
and guardian, will enable us to impart to them a great degree of
reliance on us, and will, by lessening their fear do much to enhance
the enjoyment of the excursion.

With ladies, in particular, a horseman cannot be too careful to display
a regard for the fears of their companions, and by a constant watch on
all the horses in the cavalcade, to show at once his ability and
willingness to assist his companions.

There are few persons, comparatively speaking, even among those who ride
often, who can properly assist a lady in mounting her horse. An
over-anxiety to help a lady as gracefully as possible, generally results
in a nervous trembling effort which is exceedingly disagreeable to the
lady, and, at the same time, dangerous; for were the horse to shy or
start, he could not be so easily quieted by a nervous man as by one who
was perfectly cool. In the mount the lady must gather her skirt into her
left hand, and stand close to the horse, her face toward his head, and
her right hand resting on the pommel. The gentleman, having asked
permission to assist her, stands at the horse's shoulder, facing the
lady, and stooping low, he places his right hand at a proper elevation
from the ground. The lady then places her left foot on the gentleman's
palm, and as he raises his hand she springs slightly on her right foot,
and thus reaches the saddle. The gentleman must not jerk his hand
upward, but lift it with a gentle motion. This method of mounting is
preferable to a step or horse-block. Keep a _firm_ hand, for a sinking
foot-hold will diminish the confidence of a lady in her escort, and, in
many cases cause her unnecessary alarm while mounting. To any one who is
likely to be called on to act as cavalier to ladies in horse-back
excursions, we would recommend the following practice: Saddle a horse
with a side saddle, and ask a gentleman friend to put on the skirt of a
lady's habit, and with him, practice the mounting and dismounting until
you have thoroughly conquered any difficulties you may have experienced
at first.

After the seat is first taken by the lady, the gentleman should always
stand at the side of the lady's horse until she is firmly fixed in the
saddle, has a good foot-hold on the stirrup, and has the reins and whip
well in hand. Having ascertained that his companion is firmly and
comfortably fixed in the saddle, the gentleman should mount his horse
and take his riding position on the right or "off" side of the lady's
horse, so that, in case of the horse's shying in such a way as to bring
him against the other horse, the lady will suffer no inconvenience. In
riding with two ladies there are two rules in regard to the gentleman's
position.

If both ladies are good riders, they should ride side by side, the
ladies to the left; but, if the contrary should be the case, the
gentleman should ride _between_ the ladies in order to be ready in a
moment to assist either in case of one of the horses becoming difficult
to manage. Before allowing a lady to mount, the entire furniture of her
horse should be carefully examined by her escort. The saddle and girths
should be tested to see if they are firm, the stirrup leather examined,
in case of the tongue of the buckle being in danger of slipping out by
not being well buckled at first, and most particularly the bridle, curb,
headstall, and reins should be carefully and thoroughly examined, for on
them depends the entire control of the horse. These examinations should
_never_ be left to the stablehelps, as the continual harnessing of
horses by them often leads to a loose and careless way of attending to
such matters, which, though seemingly trivial, may lead to serious
consequences.

On the road, the constant care of the gentleman should be to render the
ride agreeable to his companion, by the pointing out of objects of
interest with which she may not be acquainted, the reference to any
peculiar beauty of landscape which may have escaped her notice, and a
general lively tone of conversation, which will, if she be timid, draw
her mind from the fancied dangers of horseback riding, and render her
excursion much more agreeable than if she be left to imagine horrors
whenever her horse may prick up his ears or whisk his tail. And, while
thus conversing, keep an eye always on the lady's horse, so that in case
he should really get frightened, you may be ready by your instruction
and assistance to aid the lady in quieting his fears.

In dismounting you should offer your right hand to the lady's left, and
allow her to use _your_ left as a step to dismount on, gently declining
it as soon as the lady has left her seat on the saddle, and just before
she springs. Many ladies spring from the saddle, but this generally
confuses the gentleman and is dangerous to the lady, for the horse _may_
move at the instant she springs, which would inevitably throw her
backward and might result in a serious injury.


DRIVING.

In the indulgence of this beautiful pastime there are many points of
care and attention to be observed; they will render to the driver
himself much gratification by the confidence they will inspire in his
companion, by having the knowledge that he or she is being driven by a
careful horseman, and thus knowing that half of what danger may attend
the pleasure, is removed.

On reaching the door of your companion's residence, whom we will suppose
to be in this case a lady,--though the same attention may well be
extended to a gentleman,--drive close to the mounting-block or curb, and
by heading your horse toward the middle of the road, and slightly
backing the wagon, separate the fore and hind wheels on the side next
the block as much as possible. This gives room for the lady to ascend
into the wagon without soiling her dress by rubbing against either tire,
and also gives the driver room to lean over and tuck into the wagon any
part of a lady's dress that may hang out after she is seated.

In assisting the lady to ascend into the wagon, the best and safest way
is to tie the horse firmly to a hitching-post or tree, and then to give
to your companion the aid of both your hands; but, in case of there
being no post to which you can make the rein fast, the following rule
may be adopted:

Grasp the reins firmly with one hand, and draw them just tight enough to
let the horse feel that they are held, and with the other hand assist
the lady; under _no_ circumstances, even with the most quiet horse,
should you place a lady in your vehicle without _any_ hold on the horse,
for, although many horses would stand perfectly quiet, the whole race of
them are timid, and any sudden noise or motion may start them, in which
case the life of your companion may be endangered. In the light _no-top_
or _York_ wagon, which is now used almost entirely for pleasure drives,
the right hand cushion should always be higher by three or four inches
than the left, for it raises the person driving, thus giving him more
control, and renders the lady's seat more comfortable and more safe. It
is a mistaken idea, in driving, that it shows a perfect horseman, to
drive fast. On the contrary, a _good_ horseman is more careful of his
horse than a poor one, and in starting, the horse is always allowed to
go slowly for time; as he gradually takes up a quicker pace, and becomes
warmed up; the driver may push him even to the top of his speed for some
distance, always, however, allowing him to slacken his pace toward the
end of his drive, and to come to the stopping-place at a moderate gait.

Endeavor, by your conversation on the road, to make the ride agreeable
to your companion. Never try to _show off_ your driving, but remember,
that there is no one who drives with so much apparent ease and so little
display as the professional jockey, who, as he devotes his life to the
management of the reins, may well be supposed to be the most thoroughly
good "whip."

In helping the lady out of the wagon, the same rule must be observed as
in the start; namely, to have your horse well in hand or firmly tied.
Should your companion be a gentleman and a horseman, the courtesy is
always to offer him the reins, though the offer, if made to yourself by
another with whom you are riding, should always be declined; unless,
indeed, the horse should be particularly "hard-mouthed" and your
friend's arms should be tired, in which case you should relieve him.

Be especially careful in the use of the whip, that it may not spring
back outside of the vehicle and strike your companion. This rule should
be particularly attended to in driving "tandem" or "four-in-hand," as a
cut with a heavy tandem-whip is by no means a pleasant accompaniment to
your drive.


BOXING.

In this much-abused accomplishment, there would, from the rough nature
of the sport, seem to be small room for civility; yet, in none of the
many manly sports is there so great a scope for the exercise of
politeness as in this. Should your adversary be your inferior in boxing,
there are many ways to teach him and encourage him in his pursuit of
proficiency, without knocking him about as if your desire was to injure
him as much as possible. And you will find that his gratitude for your
forbearance will prompt him to exercise the same indulgence to others
who are inferior to himself, and thus by the exchange of gentlemanly
civility the science of boxing is divested of one of its most
objectionable points, viz: the danger of the combatants becoming angry
and changing the sport to a brutal fight.

Always allow your antagonist to choose his gloves from the set, though,
if you recommend _any_ to him, let him take the hardest ones and you the
softest; thus he will receive the easier blows. Allow him the choice of
ground and position, and endeavor in every way to give him the utmost
chance. In this way, even if you should be worsted in the game, your
kindness and courtesy to him will be acknowledged by any one who may be
with you, and by no one more readily than your antagonist himself. These
same rules apply to the art of fencing, the most graceful and beautiful
of exercises. Let your opponent have his choice of the foils and
sword-gloves, give him the best position for light, and in your thrusts
remember that to make a "hit" does not require you to force your foil as
violently as you can against your antagonist's breast; but, that every
touch will show if your foils be chalked and the one who has the most
"spots" at the end of the encounter is the beaten man.


SAILING.

Within a few years there has been a most decided movement in favor of
aquatic pursuits. Scarcely a town can be found, near the sea or on the
bank of a river but what can either furnish a yacht or a barge. In all
our principal cities the "navies" of yachts and barges number many
boats. The barge clubs particularly are well-fitted with active, healthy
men, who can appreciate the physical benefit of a few hours' work at the
end of a sixteen-foot sweep, and who prefer health and blistered hands
to a life of fashionable and unhealthy amusement. Under the head of
sailing we will give some hints of etiquette as to sailing and rowing
together. A gentleman will never parade his superiority in these
accomplishments, still less boast of it, but rather, that the others may
not feel their inferiority, he will keep considerably within his powers.
If a guest or a stranger be of the party, the best place must be offered
to him, though he may be a bad oar; but, at the same time, if a guest
knows his inferiority in this respect, he will, for more reasons than
one, prefer an inferior position. So, too, when a certain amount of
exertion is required, as in boating, a well-bred man will offer to take
the greater share, pull the heaviest oar, and will never shirk his work.
In short, the whole rule of good manners on such occasions is not to be
selfish, and the most amiable man will therefore be the best bred. It is
certainly desirable that a gentleman should be able to handle an oar, or
to steer and work a yacht, both that when he has an opportunity he may
acquire health, and that he may be able to take part in the charming
excursions which are made by water. One rule should apply to all these
aquatic excursions, and that is, that the gentleman who invites the
ladies, should there be any, and who is, therefore, at the trouble of
getting up the party, should always be allowed to steer the boat, unless
he decline the post, for he has the advantage of more intimate
acquaintance with the ladies, whom he will have to entertain on the
trip, and the post of honor should be given him as a compliment to his
kindness in undertaking the preliminaries.


HUNTING.

Gentlemen residing in the country, and keeping a stable, are generally
ready to join the hunt club. We are gradually falling into the English
sports and pastimes. Cricket, boxing, and hunting, are being more and
more practiced every year, and our horsemen and pugilists aspire to
conquer those of Britain, when a few years back, to attempt such a thing
would have been considered folly. In this country the organization of
hunt-clubs is made as much to rid the country of the foxes as to enjoy
the sport. We differ much from the Britons in our hunting; we have often
a hilly dangerous country, with high worm and post-and-rail fences
crossing it, deep streams with precipitous sides and stony ground to
ride over. We hunt in cold weather when the ground is frozen hard, and
we take everything as it is, hills, fences, streams, and hedges, risking
our necks innumerable times in a hunt. In England the hunters have a
flat country, fences which do not compare to ours in height, and they
hunt _after_ a frost when the ground is soft.

Our hunting field at the "meet" does not show the gaudy equipment and
top-boots of England, but the plain dress of the gentleman farmer,
sometimes a blue coat and jockey-cap, but oftener the every-day coat and
felt hat, but the etiquette of our hunting field is more observed than
in England. There any one joins the meet, if it is a large one, but here
no one enters the field unless acquainted with one or more of the
gentlemen on the ground. The rules in the hunt are few and simple. Never
attempt to hunt unless you have a fine seat in the saddle and a good
horse, and never accept the loan of a friend's horse, still less an
enemy's, unless you ride very well. A man may forgive you for breaking
his daughter's heart but never for breaking his hunter's neck. Another
point is, always to be quiet at a meet, and never join one unless
acquainted with some one in the field. Pluck, skill, and a good horse
are essentials in hunting. Never talk of your achievements, avoid
enthusiastic shouting when you break cover, and do not ride over the
hounds. Keep a firm hand, a quick eye, an easy, calm frame of mind, and
a good, firm seat on the saddle. Watch the country you are going over,
be always ready to help a friend who may "come to grief," and with the
rules and the quiet demeanor you will soon be a favorite in the field.


SKATING.

Though we may, in the cold winter, sigh for the return of spring
breezes, and look back with regret on the autumn sports, or even the
heat of summer, there is yet a balm for our frozen spirits in the
glorious and exhilarating sports of winter. The sleigh filled with
laughing female beauties and "beauties," too, of the sterner sex, and
the merry jingle of the bells as we fly along the road or through the
streets, are delights of which Old Winter alone is the giver. But,
pleasant as the sleigh-ride is, the man who looks for health and
exercise at all seasons, turns from the seductive pleasures of the
sleigh to the more simple enjoyment derived from the skates. Flying
along over the glistening ice to the accompaniment of shouts of merry
laughter at some novice's mishap, and feeling that we have within us the
speed of the race-horse, the icy pleasure is, indeed, a good substitute
for the pleasures of the other seasons.

So universal has skating become, that instruction in this graceful
accomplishment seems almost unnecessary; but, for the benefit of the
rising generation who may peruse our work, we will give, from a
well-known authority, a few hints as to the manner of using the skates
before we add our own instruction as to the etiquette of the skating
ground.

"Before going on the ice, the young skater must learn to put on the
skates, and may also learn to walk with them easily in a room,
balancing, alternately, on each foot. A skater's dress should be as
loose and unincumbered as possible. All fullness of dress is exposed to
the wind. As the exercise of skating produces perspiration, flannel next
the chest, shoulders, and loins, is necessary to avoid the evils of
sudden chills in cold weather.

"Either very rough or very smooth ice should be avoided. The person who,
for the first time, attempts to skate, must not trust to a stick. He may
take a friend's hand for support, if he requires one; but that should be
soon relinquished, in order to balance himself. He will, probably,
scramble about for half an hour or so, till he begins to find out where
the edge of his skate is. The beginner must be fearless, but not
violent; nor even in a hurry. He should not let his feet get apart, and
keep his heels still nearer together. He must keep the ankle of the foot
on the ice quite firm; not attempting to gain the edge of the skate by
bending it, because the right mode of getting to either edge is by the
inclination of the whole body in the direction required; and this
inclination should be made fearlessly and decisively. The leg which is
on the ice should be kept perfectly straight; for, though the knee must
be somewhat bent at the time of striking, it must be straightened as
quickly as possible without any jerk. The leg which is off the ice
should also be kept straight, though not stiff, having an easy but
straight play, the toe pointing downwards, and the heel from six to
twelve inches of the other.

"The learner must not look down at the ice, nor at his feet, to see how
they perform. He may, at first, incline his body a little forward, for
safety, but hold his head up, and see where he goes, his person erect
and his face rather elevated than otherwise.

"When once off, he must bring both feet up together, and strike again,
as soon as he finds himself steady enough, rarely allowing both feet to
be on the ice together. The position of the arms should be easy and
varied; one being always more raised than the other, this elevation
being alternate, and the change corresponding to that of the legs; that
is, the right arm being raised as the right leg is put down, and _vice
versa_, so that the arm and leg of the same side may not be raised
together. The face must be always turned in the direction of the line
intended to be described. Hence in backward skating, the head will be
inclined much over the shoulder; in forward skating, but slightly. All
sudden and violent action must be avoided. Stopping may be caused by
slightly bending the knees, drawing the feet together, inclining the
body forward, and pressing on the heels. It may be also caused by
turning short to the right or left, the foot on the side to which we
turn being rather more advanced, and supporting part of the weight."[A]

[A] Walker's Manly Exercises.

When on the ice, if you should get your skates on before your companion,
always wait for him; for, nothing is more disagreeable than being left
behind on an occasion of this kind. Be ready at all times when skating
to render assistance to any one, either lady or gentleman, who may
require it. A _gentleman_ may be distinguished at all times by the
willingness with which he will give up his sport to render himself
agreeable and kind to any one in difficulty. Should you have one of the
skating-sleds so much used for taking ladies on the ice, and should your
own ladies, if you are accompanied by any, not desire to use it, the
most becoming thing you can do is to place it at the disposal of any
other gentleman who has ladies with him, and who is not provided with
such a conveyance.

Always keep to the right in meeting a person on the ice, and always
skate perfectly clear of the line in which a lady is advancing, whether
she be on skates or on foot. Attention to the other sex is no where more
appreciated than on the ice, where they are, unless good skaters,
comparatively helpless. Be always prompt to assist in the extrication of
any one who may break through the ice, but let your zeal be tempered by
discretion, and always get a rope or ladder if possible, in preference
to going near the hole; for there is great risk of your breaking through
yourself, and endangering your own life without being able to assist the
person already submerged. But should the rope or ladder not be
convenient, the best method is to lay flat on your breast on the ice,
and push yourself cautiously along until you can touch the person's
hand, and then let him climb by it out of the hole.


SWIMMING.

So few persons are unable to swim, that it would be useless for us to
furnish any instruction in the actual art of swimming; but a few words
on the subject of assisting others while in the water may not come
amiss.

It is a desirable accomplishment to be able to swim in a suit of
clothes. This may be practiced by good swimmers, cautiously at first, in
comparatively shallow water, and afterwards in deeper places. Occasions
may frequently occur where it may be necessary to plunge into the water
to save a drowning person, where the lack of time, or the presence of
ladies, would preclude all possibility of removing the clothes. There
are few points of etiquette in swimming, except those of giving all the
assistance in our power to beginners, and to remember the fact of our
being gentlemen, though the sport may be rough when we are off _terra
firma_. We shall therefore devote this section of our exercise
department to giving a few general directions as to supporting drowning
persons, which support is, after all, the most valued attention we can
render to any one.

If possible, always go to save a life in company with one or two others.
One companion is generally sufficient, but two will do no harm, for, if
the service of the second be not required, he can easily swim back to
shore. On reaching the object of your pursuit, if he be clinging to
anything, caution him, as you approach, to hold it until you tell him to
let go, and then to let his arms fall to his side. Then let one of your
companions place his hand under the armpit of the person to be assisted,
and you doing the like, call to him to let go his support, then tread
water until you get his arms on the shoulders of your companion and
yourself, and then swim gently to shore. Should you be alone, the utmost
you can do is to let him hold his support while you tread water near him
until further assistance can be obtained. If you are alone and he has no
support, let him rest one arm across your shoulder, put one of your arms
behind his back, and the hand under his armpit, and tread water until
help arrives. Never let a man in these circumstances _grasp_ you in any
way, particularly if he be frightened, for you may both be drowned; but,
try to cool and reassure him by the intrepidity of your own movements,
and he will be safely and easily preserved.


CRICKET.

When in the cricket-field, we must allow ourselves to enter into the
full spirit of the game; but we must not allow the excitement of the
play to make us forget what is due to others and to ourselves. A gentle,
easy, and, at the same time, gentlemanly manner, may be assumed. Always
offer to your companions the use of your private bat, if they are not
similarly provided; for the bats belonging to the club often lose the
spring in the handle from constant use, and a firm bat with a good
spring will prove very acceptable. In this way you gratify the player,
and, as a reward for your kindness, he may, from being well provided,
score more for the side than he would with inferior or worn-out tools.

This game is more purely democratic than any one we know of, and the
most aristocratic of gentlemen takes second rank, for the time, to the
most humble cricketer, if the latter be the more skillful. But a good
player is not always a gentleman, and the difference in cultivation may
always be distinguished. A _gentleman_ will never deride any one for his
bad play, nor give vent to oaths, or strong epithets, if disappointed in
the playing of one of his side. If he has to ask another player for
anything, he does so in a way to establish his claim to gentility. "May
I trouble you for that ball?" or, "Will you please to hand me that bat?"
are much preferable to "Here, you! ball there!" or, "Clumsy, don't carry
off that bat!" Again, if a gentleman makes a mistake himself, he should
always acknowledge it quietly, and never start a stormy discussion as to
the merits of his batting or fielding. In fine, preserve the same calm
demeanor in the field that you would in the parlor, however deeply you
enter into the excitement of the game.




CHAPTER IX.

TRAVELING.


In this country where ladies travel so much alone, a gentleman has many
opportunities of making this unprotected state a pleasant one. There are
many little courtesies which you may offer to a lady when traveling,
even if she is an entire stranger to you, and by an air of respectful
deference, you may place her entirely at her ease with you, even if you
are both young.

When traveling with a lady, your duties commence when you are presented
to her as an escort. If she is personally a stranger, she will probably
meet you at the wharf or car depot; but if an old acquaintance, you
should offer to call for her at her residence. Take a hack, and call,
leaving ample time for last speeches and farewell tears. If she hands
you her purse to defray her expenses, return it to her if you stop for
any length of time at a place where she may wish to make purchases. If
you make no stop upon your journey, keep the purse until you arrive at
your destination, and then return it. If she does not give you the money
for her expenses when you start, you had best pay them yourself, keeping
an account, and she will repay you at the journey's end.

When you start, select for your companion the pleasantest seat, see that
her shawl and bag are within her reach, the window lowered or raised as
she may prefer, and then leave her to attend to the baggage, or, if you
prefer, let her remain in the hack while you get checks for the trunks.
Never keep a lady standing upon the wharf or in the depot, whilst you
arrange the baggage.

When you arrive at a station, place your lady in a hack while you get
the trunks.

When arriving at a hotel, escort your companion to the parlor, and leave
her there whilst you engage rooms. As soon as her room is ready, escort
her to the door, and leave her, as she will probably wish to change her
dress or lie down, after the fatigue of traveling. If you remain
chatting in the parlor, although she may be too polite to give any sign
of weariness, you may feel sure she is longing to go to a room where she
can bathe her face and smooth her hair.

If you remain in the hotel to any meal, ask before you leave her, at
what hour she wishes to dine, sup, or breakfast, and at that hour, knock
at her door, and escort her to the table.

If you remain in the city at which her journey terminates, you should
call the day after your arrival upon the companion of your journey. If,
previous to that journey, you have never met her, she has the privilege
of continuing the acquaintance or not as she pleases, so if all your
gallantry is repaid by a cut the next time you meet her, you must
submit, and hope for better luck next time. In such a case, you are at
liberty to decline escorting her again should the request be made.

When traveling alone, your opportunities to display your gallantry will
be still more numerous. To offer to carry a bag for a lady who is
unattended, to raise or lower a window for her, offer to check her
baggage, procure her a hack, give her your arm from car to boat or boat
to car, assist her children over the bad crossings, or in fact extend
any such kindness, will mark you as a gentleman, and win you the thanks
due to your courtesy. Be careful however not to be too attentive, as you
then become officious, and embarrass when you mean to please.

If you are going to travel in other countries, in Europe, especially, I
would advise you to study the languages, before you attempt to go
abroad. French is the tongue you will find most useful in Europe, as it
is spoken in the courts, and amongst diplomatists; but, in order fully
to enjoy a visit to any country, you must speak the language of that
country. You can then visit in the private houses, see life among the
peasantry, go with confidence from village to town, from city to city,
learning more of the country in one day from familiar intercourse with
the natives, than you would learn in a year from guide books or the
explanations of your courier. The way to really enjoy a journey through
a strange land, is not to roll over the high ways in your carriage, stop
at the hotels, and be led to the points of interest by your guide, but
to shoulder your knapsack, or take up your valise, and make a pedestrian
tour through the hamlets and villages. Take a room at a hotel in the
principal cities if you will, and see all that your guide book commands
you to seek, and then start on your own tour of investigation, and
believe me you will enjoy your independent walks and chats with the
villagers and peasants, infinitely more than your visits dictated by
others. Of course, to enjoy this mode of traveling, you must have some
knowledge of the language, and if you start with only a very slight
acquaintance with it, you will be surprised to find how rapidly you will
acquire the power to converse, when you are thus forced to speak in that
language, or be entirely silent.

Your pocket, too, will be the gainer by the power to arrange your own
affairs. If you travel with a courier and depend upon him to arrange
your hotel bills and other matters, you will be cheated by every one,
from the boy who blacks your boots, to the magnificent artist, who
undertakes to fill your picture gallery with the works of the "old
masters." If Murillo, Raphael, and Guido could see the pictures brought
annually to this country as genuine works of their pencils, we are
certain that they would tear their ghostly hair, wring their shadowy
hands, and return to the tomb again in disgust. Ignorant of the language
of the country you are visiting, you will be swindled in the little
villages and the large cities by the inn-keepers and the hack-drivers,
in the country and in the town, morning, noon, and evening, daily,
hourly, and weekly; so, again I say, study the languages if you propose
going abroad.

In a foreign country nothing stamps the difference between the gentleman
and the clown more strongly than the regard they pay to foreign
customs. While the latter will exclaim against every strange dress or
dish, and even show signs of disgust if the latter does not please him,
the former will endeavor, as far as is in his power, to "do in Rome as
Romans do."

Accustom yourself, as soon as possible, to the customs of the nation
which you are visiting, and, as far as you can without any violation of
principle, follow them. You will add much to your own comfort by so
doing, for, as you cannot expect the whole nation to conform to your
habits, the sooner you fall in with theirs the sooner you will feel at
home in the strange land.

Never ridicule or blame any usage which seems to you ludicrous or wrong.
You may wound those around you, or you may anger them, and it cannot add
to the pleasure of your visit to make yourself unpopular. If in Germany
they serve your meat upon marmalade, or your beef raw, or in Italy give
you peas in their pods, or in France offer you frog's legs and
horsesteaks, if you cannot eat the strange viands, make no remarks and
repress every look or gesture of disgust. Try to adapt your taste to the
dishes, and if you find that impossible, remove those articles you
cannot eat from your plate, and make your meal upon the others, but do
this silently and quietly, endeavoring not to attract attention.

The best travelers are those who can eat cats in China, oil in
Greenland, frogs in France, and maccaroni in Italy; who can smoke a
meershaum in Germany, ride an elephant in India, shoot partridges in
England, and wear a turban in Turkey; in short, in every nation adapt
their habits, costume, and taste to the national manners, dress and
dishes.

Do not, when abroad, speak continually in praise of your own country, or
disparagingly of others. If you find others are interested in gaining
information about America, speak candidly and freely of its customs,
scenery, or products, but not in a way that will imply a contempt of
other countries. To turn up your nose at the Thames because the
Mississippi is longer and wider, or to sneer at _any_ object because you
have seen its superior at home, is rude, ill-bred, and in excessively
bad taste. You will find abroad numerous objects of interest which
America cannot parallel, and while abroad, you will do well to avoid
mention of "our rivers," "our mountains," or, "our manufactories." You
will find ruins in Rome, pictures in Florence, cemeteries in France, and
factories in England, which will take the lead and challenge the world
to compete; and you will exhibit a far better spirit if you candidly
acknowledge that superiority, than if you make absurd and untrue
assertions of "our" power to excel them.

You will, of course, meet with much to disapprove, much that will excite
your laughter; but control the one and keep silence about the other. If
you find fault, do so gently and quietly; if you praise, do so without
qualification, sincerely and warmly.

Study well the geography of any country which you may visit, and, as far
as possible, its history also. You cannot feel much interest in
localities or monuments connected with history, if you are unacquainted
with the events which make them worthy of note.

Converse with any who seem disposed to form an acquaintance. You may
thus pass an hour or two pleasantly, obtain useful information, and you
need not carry on the acquaintance unless you choose to do so. Amongst
the higher circles in Europe you will find many of the customs of each
nation in other nations, but it is among the peasants and the people
that you find the true nationality.

You may carry with you one rule into every country, which is, that,
however much the inhabitants may object to your dress, language, or
habits, they will cheerfully acknowledge that the American stranger is
perfectly amiable and polite.




CHAPTER X.

ETIQUETTE IN CHURCH.


It is not, in this book, a question, what you must believe, but how you
must act. If your conscience permits you to visit other churches than
your own, your first duty, whilst in them, is not to sneer or scoff at
any of its forms, and to follow the service as closely as you can.

To remove your hat upon entering the edifice devoted to the worship of a
Higher Power, is a sign of respect never to be omitted. Many men will
omit in foreign churches this custom so expressive and touching, and by
the omission make others believe them irreverent and foolish, even
though they may act from mere thoughtlessness. If, however, you are in a
country where the head is kept covered, and another form of humility
adopted, you need not fear to follow the custom of those around you. You
will be more respected if you pay deference to their religious views,
than if you undertook to prove your superiority by affecting a contempt
for any form of worship. Enter with your thoughts fixed upon high and
holy subjects, and your face will show your devotion, even if you are
ignorant of the forms of that particular church.

If you are with a lady, in a catholic church, offer her the holy water
with your hand ungloved, for, as it is in the intercourse with princes,
that church requires all the ceremonies to be performed with the bare
hand.

Pass up the aisle with your companion until you reach the pew you are to
occupy, then step before her, open the door, and hold it open while she
enters the pew. Then follow her, closing the door after you.

If you are visiting a strange church, request the sexton to give you a
seat. Never enter a pew uninvited. If you are in your own pew in church,
and see strangers looking for a place, open your pew door, invite them
by a motion to enter, and hold the door open for them, re-entering
yourself after they are seated.

If others around you do not pay what you think a proper attention to the
services, do not, by scornful glances or whispered remarks, notice their
omissions. Strive, by your own devotion, to forget those near you.

You may offer a book or fan to a stranger near you, if unprovided
themselves, whether they be young or old, lady or gentleman.

Remain kneeling as long as those around you do so. Do not, if your own
devotion is not satisfied by your attitude, throw scornful glances upon
those who remain seated, or merely bow their heads. Above all never sign
to them, or speak, reminding them of the position most suitable for the
service. Keep your own position, but do not think you have the right to
dictate to others. I have heard young persons addressing, with words of
reproach, old men, and lame ones, whose infirmities forbade them to
kneel or stand in church, but who were, doubtless, as good Christians as
their presumptuous advisers. I know that it often is an effort to
remain silent when those in another pew talk incessantly in a low tone
or whisper, or sing in a loud tone, out of all time or tune, or read the
wrong responses in a voice of thunder; but, while you carefully avoid
such faults yourself, you must pass them over in others, without remark.

If, when abroad, you visit a church to see the pictures or monuments
within its walls, and not for worship, choose the hours when there is no
service being read. Even if you are alone, or merely with a guide, speak
low, walk slowly, and keep an air of quiet respect in the edifice
devoted to the service of God.

Let me here protest against an Americanism of which modest ladies justly
complain; it is that of gentlemen standing in groups round the doors of
churches both before and after service. A well-bred man will not indulge
in this practice; and, if detained upon the step by a friend, or, whilst
waiting for another person, he will stand aside and allow plenty of room
for others to pass in, and will never bring the blood into a woman's
face by a long, curious stare.

In church, as in every other position in life, the most unselfish man is
the most perfect gentleman; so, if you wish to retain your position as a
well-bred man, you will, in a crowded church, offer your seat to any
lady, or old man, who may be standing.




CHAPTER XI.

ONE HUNDRED HINTS FOR GENTLEMANLY DEPORTMENT.


1. Always avoid any rude or boisterous action, especially when in the
presence of ladies. It is not necessary to be stiff, indolent, or
sullenly silent, neither is perfect gravity always required, but if you
jest let it be with quiet, gentlemanly wit, never depending upon
clownish gestures for the effect of a story. Nothing marks the gentleman
so soon and so decidedly as quiet, refined ease of manner.

2. Never allow a lady to get a chair for herself, ring a bell, pick up a
handkerchief or glove she may have dropped, or, in short, perform any
service for herself which you can perform for her, when you are in the
room. By extending such courtesies to your mother, sisters, or other
members of your family, they become habitual, and are thus more
gracefully performed when abroad.

3. Never perform any little service for another with a formal bow or
manner as if conferring a favor, but with a quiet gentlemanly ease as if
it were, not a ceremonious, unaccustomed performance, but a matter of
course, for you to be courteous.

4. It is not necessary to tell _all_ that you know; that were mere
folly; but what a man says must be what he believes himself, else he
violates the first rule for a gentleman's speech--Truth.

5. Avoid gambling as you would poison. Every bet made, even in the most
finished circles of society, is a species of gambling, and this ruinous
crime comes on by slow degrees. Whilst a man is minding his business, he
is playing the best game, and he is sure to win. You will be tempted to
the vice by those whom the world calls gentlemen, but you will find that
loss makes you angry, and an angry man is never a courteous one; gain
excites you to continue the pursuit of the vice; and, in the end you
will lose money, good name, health, good conscience, light heart, and
honesty; while you gain evil associates, irregular hours and habits, a
suspicious, fretful temper, and a remorseful, tormenting conscience.
Some one _must_ lose in the game; and, if you win it, it is at the risk
of driving a fellow creature to despair.

6. Cultivate tact! In society it will be an invaluable aid. Talent is
something, but tact is everything. Talent is serious, sober, grave, and
respectable; tact is all that and more too. It is not a sixth sense, but
it is the life of all the five. It is the _open_ eye, the _quick_ ear,
the _judging_ taste, the _keen_ smell, and the _lively_ touch; it is the
interpreter of all riddles--the surmounter of all difficulties--the
remover of all obstacles. It is useful in all places, and at all times;
it is useful in solitude, for it shows a man his way _into_ the world;
it is useful in society, for it shows him his way _through_ the world.
Talent is power--tact is skill; talent is weight--tact is momentum;
talent knows what to do--tact knows how to do it; talent makes a man
respectable--tact will make him respected; talent is wealth--tact is
ready money. For all the practical purposes of society tact carries
against talent ten to one.

7. Nature has left every man a capacity of being agreeable, though all
cannot _shine_ in company; but there are many men sufficiently qualified
for both, who, by a very few faults, that a little attention would soon
correct, are not so much as tolerable. Watch, avoid such faults.

8. Habits of self-possession and self-control acquired early in life,
are the best foundation for the formation of gentlemanly manners. If you
unite with this the constant intercourse with ladies and gentlemen of
refinement and education, you will add to the dignity of perfect self
command, the polished ease of polite society.

9. Avoid a conceited manner. It is exceedingly ill-bred to assume a
manner as if you were superior to those around you, and it is, too, a
proof, not of superiority but of vulgarity. And to avoid this manner,
avoid the foundation of it, and cultivate humility. The praises of
others should be of use to you, in teaching, not what you are, perhaps,
but in pointing out what you ought to be.

10. Avoid pride, too; it often miscalculates, and more often
misconceives. The proud man places himself at a distance from other men;
seen through that distance, others, perhaps, appear little to him; but
he forgets that this very distance causes him also to appear little to
others.

11. A gentleman's title suggests to him humility and affability; to be
easy of access, to pass by neglects and offences, especially from
inferiors; neither to despise any for their bad fortune or misery, nor
to be afraid to own those who are unjustly oppressed; not to domineer
over inferiors, nor to be either disrespectful or cringing to superiors;
not standing upon his family name, or wealth, but making these secondary
to his attainments in civility, industry, gentleness, and discretion.

12. Chesterfield says, "All ceremonies are, in themselves, very silly
things; but yet a man of the world should know them. They are the
outworks of manners, which would be too often broken in upon if it were
not for that defence which keeps the enemy at a proper distance. It is
for that reason I always treat fools and coxcombs with great ceremony,
true good breeding not being a sufficient barrier against them."

13. When you meet a lady at the foot of a flight of stairs, do not wait
for her to ascend, but bow, and go up before her.

14. In meeting a lady at the head of a flight of stairs, wait for her to
precede you in the descent.

15. Avoid slang. It does not beautify, but it sullies conversation.
"Just listen, for a moment, to our fast young man, or the ape of a fast
young man, who thinks that to be a man he must speak in the dark
phraseology of slang. If he does anything on his own responsibility, he
does it on his own 'hook.' If he sees anything remarkably good, he calls
it a 'stunner,' the superlative of which is a 'regular stunner.' If a
man is requested to pay a tavern bill, he is asked if he will 'stand
Sam.' If he meets a savage-looking dog, he calls him an 'ugly customer.'
If he meets an eccentric man, he calls him a 'rummy old cove.' A
sensible man is a 'chap that is up to snuff.' Our young friend never
scolds, but 'blows up;' never pays, but 'stumps up;' never finds it too
difficult to pay, but is 'hard up.' He has no hat, but shelters his head
beneath a 'tile.' He wears no neckcloth, but surrounds his throat with a
'choker.' He lives nowhere, but there is some place where he 'hangs
out.' He never goes away or withdraws, but he 'bolts'--he '<DW72>s'--he
'mizzles'--he 'makes himself scarce'--he 'walks his chalks'--he 'makes
tracks'--he 'cuts stick'--or, what is the same thing, he 'cuts his
lucky!' The highest compliment that you can pay him is to tell him that
he is a 'regular brick.' He does not profess to be brave, but he prides
himself on being 'plucky.' Money is a word which he has forgotten, but
he talks a good deal about 'tin,' and the 'needful,' 'the rhino,' and
'the ready.' When a man speaks, he 'spouts;' when he holds his peace, he
'shuts up;' when he is humiliated, he is 'taken down a peg or two,' and
made to 'sing small.' Now, besides the vulgarity of such expressions,
there is much in slang that is objectionable in a moral point of view.
For example, the word 'governor,' as applied to a father, is to be
reprehended. Does it not betray, on the part of young men, great
ignorance of the paternal and filial relationship, or great contempt for
them? Their father is to such young men merely a governor,--merely a
representative of authority. Innocently enough the expression is used by
thousands of young men who venerate and love their parents; but only
think of it, and I am sure that you will admit that it is a cold,
heartless word when thus applied, and one that ought forthwith to be
abandoned."

16. There are few traits of social life more repulsive than tyranny. I
refer not to the wrongs, real or imaginary, that engage our attention in
ancient and modern history; my tyrants are not those who have waded
through blood to thrones, and grievously oppress their brother men. I
speak of the _petty_ tyrants of the fireside and the social circle, who
trample like very despots on the opinions of their fellows. You meet
people of this class everywhere; they stalk by your side in the streets;
they seat themselves in the pleasant circle on the hearth, casting a
gloom on gayety; and they start up dark and scowling in the midst of
scenes of innocent mirth, to chill and frown down every participator.
They "pooh! pooh!" at every opinion advanced; they make the lives of
their mothers, sisters, wives, children, unbearable. Beware then of
tyranny. A gentleman is ever humble, and the tyrant is never courteous.

17. Cultivate the virtues of the soul, strong principle, incorruptible
integrity, usefulness, refined intellect, and fidelity in seeking for
truth. A man in proportion as he has these virtues will be honored and
welcomed everywhere.

18. Gentility is neither in birth, wealth, or fashion, but in the mind.
A high sense of honor, a determination never to take a mean advantage of
another, adherence to truth, delicacy and politeness towards those with
whom we hold intercourse, are the essential characteristics of a
gentleman.

19. Little attentions to your mother, your wife, and your sister, will
beget much love. The man who is a rude husband, son, and brother, cannot
be a gentleman; he may ape the manners of one, but, wanting the
refinement of heart that would make him courteous at home, his
politeness is but a thin cloak to cover a rude, unpolished mind.

20. At table, always eat slowly, but do not delay those around you by
toying with your food, or neglecting the business before you to chat,
till all the others are ready to leave the table, but must wait until
you repair your negligence, by hastily swallowing your food.

21. Are you a husband? Custom entitles you to be the "lord and master"
over your household. But don't assume the _master_ and sink the _lord_.
Remember that noble generosity, forbearance, amiability, and integrity
are the _lordly_ attributes of man. As a husband, therefore, exhibit the
true nobility of man, and seek to govern your household by the display
of high moral excellence.

A domineering spirit--a fault-finding petulance--impatience of trifling
delays--and the exhibition of unworthy passion at the slightest
provocation can add no laurel to your own "lordly" brow, impart no
sweetness to home, and call forth no respect from those by whom you may
be surrounded. It is one thing to be a _master_, another to be a _man_.
The latter should be the husband's aspiration; for he who cannot govern
himself, is ill-qualified to rule others. You can hardly imagine how
refreshing it is to occasionally call up the recollection of your
courting days. How tediously the hours rolled away prior to the
appointed time of meeting; how swift they seemed to fly, when met; how
fond was the first greeting; how tender the last embrace; how fervent
were your vows; how vivid your dreams of future happiness, when,
returning to your home, you felt yourself secure in the confessed love
of the object of your warm affections! Is your dream realized?--are you
so happy as you expected?--why not? Consider whether as a husband you
are as fervent and constant as you were when a lover. Remember that the
wife's claims to your unremitting regard--great before marriage, are now
exalted to a much higher degree. She has left the world for you--the
home of her childhood, the fireside of her parents, their watchful care
and sweet intercourse have all been yielded up for you. Look then most
jealously upon all that may tend to attract you from home, and to weaken
that union upon which your temporal happiness mainly depends; and
believe that in the solemn relationship of HUSBAND is to be found one of
the best guarantees for man's honor and happiness.

22. Perhaps the true definition of a gentleman is this: "Whoever is
open, loyal, and true; whoever is of humane and affable demeanor;
whoever is honorable in himself, and in his judgment of others, and
requires no law but his word to make him fulfil an engagement; such a
man is a gentleman, be he in the highest or lowest rank of life, a man
of elegant refinement and intellect, or the most unpolished tiller of
the ground."

23. In the street, etiquette does not require a gentleman to take off
his glove to shake hands with a lady, unless her hand is uncovered. In
the house, however, the rule is imperative, he must not offer a lady a
gloved hand. In the street, if his hand be very warm or very cold, or
the glove cannot be readily removed, it is much better to offer the
covered hand than to offend the lady's touch, or delay the salutation
during an awkward fumble to remove the glove.

24. Sterne says, "True courtship consists in a number of quiet,
gentlemanly attentions, not so pointed as to alarm, not so vague as to
be misunderstood." A clown will terrify by his boldness, a proud man
chill by his reserve, but a gentleman will win by the happy mixture of
the two.

25. Use no profane language, utter no word that will cause the most
virtuous to blush. Profanity is a mark of low breeding; and the tendency
of using indecent and profane language is degrading to your minds. Its
injurious effects may not be felt at the moment, but they will continue
to manifest themselves to you through life. They may never be
obliterated; and, if you allow the fault to become habitual, you will
often find at your tongue's end some expressions which you would not use
for any money. By being careful on this point you may save yourself much
mortification and sorrow.

"Good men have been taken sick and become delirious. In these moments
they have used the most vile and indecent language. When informed of it,
after a restoration to health, they had no idea of the pain they had
given to their friends, and stated that they had learned and repeated
the expressions in childhood, and though years had passed since they had
spoken a bad word, the early impressions had been indelibly stamped upon
the mind."

Think of this, ye who are tempted to use improper language, and never
let a vile word disgrace you. An oath never falls from the tongue of the
man who commands respect.

Honesty, frankness, generosity, and virtue are noble traits. Let these
be yours, and do not fear. You will then claim the esteem and love of
all.

26. Courteous and friendly conduct may, probably will, sometimes meet
with an unworthy and ungrateful return; but the absence of gratitude and
similar courtesy on the part of the receiver cannot destroy the
self-approbation which recompenses the giver. We may scatter the seeds
of courtesy and kindness around us at little expense. Some of them will
inevitably fall on good ground, and grow up into benevolence in the
minds of others, and all of them will bear the fruit of happiness in the
bosom whence they spring. A kindly action always fixes itself on the
heart of the truly thoughtful and polite man.

27. Learn to restrain anger. A man in a passion ceases to be a
gentleman, and if you do not control your passions, rely upon it, they
will one day control you. The intoxication of anger, like that of the
grape, shows us to others, but hides us from ourselves, and we injure
our own cause in the opinion of the world when we _too_ passionately and
eagerly defend it. Neither will all men be disposed to view our quarrels
in the same light that we do; and a man's blindness to his own defects
will ever increase in proportion as he is angry with others, or pleased
with himself. An old English writer says:--

"As a preventative of anger, banish all tale-bearers and slanderers from
your conversation, for it is these blow the devil's bellows to rouse up
the flames of rage and fury, by first abusing your ears, and then your
credulity, and after that steal away your patience, and all this,
perhaps, for a lie. To prevent anger, be not too inquisitive into the
affairs of others, or what people say of yourself, or into the mistakes
of your friends, for this is going out to gather sticks to kindle a fire
to burn your own house."

28. Keep good company or none. You will lose your own self-respect, and
habits of courtesy sooner and more effectually by intercourse with low
company, than in any other manner; while, in good company, these virtues
will be cultivated and become habitual.

29. Keep your engagements. Nothing is ruder than to make an engagement,
be it of business or pleasure, and break it. If your memory is not
sufficiently retentive to keep all the engagements you make stored
within it, carry a little memorandum book and enter them there.
Especially, keep any appointment made with a lady, for, depend upon it,
the fair sex forgive any other fault in good breeding, sooner than a
broken engagement.

30. Avoid personality; nothing is more ungentlemanly. The tone of good
company is marked by its entire absence. Among well-informed persons
there are plenty of topics to discuss, without giving pain to any one
present.

31. Make it a rule to be always punctual in keeping an appointment, and,
when it is convenient, be a little beforehand. Such a habit ensures that
composure and ease which is the very essence of gentlemanly deportment;
want of it keeps you always in a fever and bustle and no man who is
hurried and feverish appears so well as he whose punctuality keeps him
cool and composed.

32. It is right to cultivate a laudable ambition, but do not exaggerate
your capacity. The world will not give you credit for half what you
esteem yourself. Some men think it so much gained to pass for more than
they are worth; but in most cases the deception will be discovered,
sooner or later, and the rebound will be greater than the gain. We may,
therefore, set it down as a truth, that it is a damage to a man to have
credit for greater powers than he possesses.

33. Be ready to apologize when you have committed a fault which gives
offence. Better, far better, to retain a friend by a frank, courteous
apology for offence given, than to make an enemy by obstinately denying
or persisting in the fault.

34. An apology made to yourself must be accepted. No matter how great
the offence, a gentleman cannot keep his anger after an apology has been
made, and thus, amongst truly well-bred men, an apology is always
accepted.

35. Unless you have something of real importance to ask or communicate,
do not stop a gentleman in the street during business hours. You may
detain him from important engagements, and, though he may be too
well-bred to show annoyance, he will not thank you for such detention.

36. If, when on your way to fulfil an engagement, a friend stops you in
the street, you may, without committing any breach of etiquette, tell
him of your appointment, and release yourself from a long talk, but do
so in a courteous manner, expressing regret for the necessity.

37. If, when meeting two gentlemen, you are obliged to detain one of
them, apologize to the other for so doing, whether he is an acquaintance
or a stranger, and do not keep him waiting a moment longer than is
necessary.

38. Have you a sister? Then love and cherish her with all that pure and
holy friendship which renders a brother so worthy and noble. Learn to
appreciate her sweet influence as portrayed in the following words:

"He who has never known a sister's kind administration, nor felt his
heart warming beneath her endearing smile and love-beaming eye, has been
unfortunate indeed. It is not to be wondered at if the fountains of pure
feeling flow in his bosom but sluggishly, or if the gentle emotions of
his nature be lost in the sterner attributes of mankind.

"'That man has grown up among affectionate sisters,' I once heard a lady
of much observation and experience remark.

"'And why do you think so?' said I.

"'Because of the rich development of all the tender feelings of the
heart.'

"A sister's influence is felt even in manhood's riper years; and the
heart of him who has grown cold in chilly contact with the world will
warm and thrill with pure enjoyment as some accident awakens within him
the soft tones, the glad melodies of his sister's voice; and he will
turn from purposes which a warped and false philosophy had reasoned into
expediency, and even weep for the gentle influences which moved him in
his earlier years."

The man who would treat a sister with harshness, rudeness, or
disrespect, is unworthy of the name of gentleman, for he thus proves
that the courtesies he extends to other ladies, are not the promptings
of the heart, but the mere external signs of etiquette; the husk without
the sweet fruit within.

39. When walking with a friend in the street, never leave him to speak
to another friend without apologizing for so doing.

40. If walking with a lady, never leave her alone in the street, under
any circumstances. It is a gross violation of etiquette to do so.

41. The most truly gentlemanly man is he who is the most unselfish, so I
would say in the words of the Rev. J. A. James:

"Live for some purpose in the world. Act your part well. Fill up the
measure of duty to others. Conduct yourselves so that you shall be
missed with sorrow when you are gone. Multitudes of our species are
living in such a selfish manner that they are not likely to be
remembered after their disappearance. They leave behind them scarcely
any traces of their existence, but are forgotten almost as though they
had never been. They are while they live, like one pebble lying
unobserved amongst a million on the shore; and when they die, they are
like that same pebble thrown into the sea, which just ruffles the
surface, sinks, and is forgotten, without being missed from the beach.
They are neither regretted by the rich, wanted by the poor, nor
celebrated by the learned. Who has been the better for their life? Who
has been the worse for their death? Whose tears have they dried up?
whose wants supplied? whose miseries have they healed? Who would unbar
the gate of life, to re-admit them to existence? or what face would
greet them back again to our world with a smile? Wretched, unproductive
mode of existence! Selfishness is its own curse; it is a starving vice.
The man who does no good, gets none. He is like the heath in the desert,
neither yielding fruit, nor seeing when good cometh--a stunted,
dwarfish, miserable shrub."

42. Separate the syllables of the word gentleman, and you will see that
the first requisite must be gentleness--_gentle_-man. Mackenzie says,
"Few persons are sufficiently aware of the power of gentleness. It is
slow in working, but it is infallible in its results. It makes no noise;
it neither invites attention, nor provokes resistance; but it is God's
great law, in the moral as in the natural world, for accomplishing great
results. The progressive dawn of day, the flow of the tide, the lapse of
time, the changes of the seasons--these are carried on by slow and
imperceptible degrees, yet their progress and issue none can mistake or
resist. Equally certain and surprising are the triumphs of gentleness.
It assumes nothing, yet it can disarm the stoutest opposition; it
yields, but yielding is the element of its strength; it endures, but in
the warfare victory is not gained by doing, but by suffering."

43. Perfect composure of manner requires perfect peace of mind, so you
should, as far as lies in human power, avoid the evils which make an
unquiet mind, and, first of all, avoid that cheating, swindling process
called "running in debt." Owe no man anything; avoid it as you would
avoid war, pestilence, and famine. Hate it with a perfect hatred. As you
value comfort, quiet, and independence, keep out of debt. As you value a
healthy appetite, placid temper, pleasant dreams, and happy wakings,
keep out of debt. It is the hardest of all task-masters; the most cruel
of all oppressors. It is a mill-stone about the neck. It is an incubus
on the heart. It furrows the forehead with premature wrinkles. It drags
the nobleness and kindness out of the port and bearing of a man; it
takes the soul out of his laugh, and all stateliness and freedom from
his walk. Come not, then, under its crushing dominion.

44. Speak gently; a kind refusal will often wound less than a rough,
ungracious assent.

45. "In private, watch your thoughts; in your family, watch your temper;
in society, watch your tongue."

46. The true secret of pleasing all the world, is to have an humble
opinion of yourself. True goodness is invariably accompanied by
gentleness, courtesy, and humility. Those people who are always
"sticking on their dignity," are continually losing friends, making
enemies, and fostering a spirit of unhappiness in themselves.

47. Are you a merchant? Remember that the counting-house is no less a
school of manners and temper than a school of morals. Vulgarity,
imperiousness, peevishness, caprice on the part of the heads, will
produce their corresponding effects upon the household. Some merchants
are petty tyrants. Some are too surly to be fit for any charge, unless
it be that of taming a shrew. The coarseness of others, in manner and
language, must either disgust or contaminate all their subordinates. In
one establishment you will encounter an unmanly levity, which precludes
all discipline. In another, a mock dignity, which supplies the juveniles
with a standing theme of ridicule. In a third, a capriciousness of mood
and temper, which reminds one of the prophetic hints of the weather in
the old almanacks--"windy"--"cool"--"very pleasant"--"blustering"--"look
out for storms"--and the like. And, in a fourth, a selfish acerbity,
which exacts the most unreasonable services, and never cheers a clerk
with a word of encouragement.--These are sad infirmities. Men ought not
to have clerks until they know how to treat them. Their own comfort,
too, would be greatly enhanced by a different deportment.

48. If you are about to enter, or leave, a store or any door, and
unexpectedly meet a lady going the other way, stand aside and raise your
hat whilst she passes. If she is going the same way, and the door is
closed, pass before her, saying, "allow me," or, "permit me,"--open the
door, and hold it open whilst she passes.

49. In entering a room where you will meet ladies, take your hat, cane,
and gloves in your left hand, that your right may be free to offer to
them.

50. Never offer to shake hands with a lady; she will, if she wishes you
to do so, offer her hand to you, and it is an impertinence for you to do
so first.

51. If you are seated in the most comfortable chair in a public room,
and a lady, an invalid, or an old man enters, rise, and offer your seat,
even if they are strangers to you. Many men will attend to these
civilities when with friends or acquaintances, and neglect them amongst
strangers, but the true gentleman will not wait for an introduction
before performing an act of courtesy.

52. As both flattery and slander are in the highest degree blameable and
ungentlemanly, I would quote the rule of Bishop Beveridge, which
effectually prevents both. He says, "Never speak of a man's virtue
before his face, nor of his faults behind his back."

53. Never enter a room, in which there are ladies, after smoking, until
you have purified both your mouth, teeth, hair, and clothes. If you wish
to smoke just before entering a saloon, wear an old coat and carefully
brush your hair and teeth before resuming your own.

54. Never endeavor to attract the attention of a friend by nudging him,
touching his foot or hand secretly, or making him a gesture. If you
cannot speak to him frankly, you had best let him alone; for these
signals are generally made with the intention of ridiculing a third
person, and that is the height of rudeness.

55. Button-holding is a common but most blameable breach of good
manners. If a man requires to be forcibly detained to listen to you, you
are as rude in thus detaining him, as if you had put a pistol to his
head and threatened to blow his brains out if he stirred.

56. It is a great piece of rudeness to make a remark in general company,
which is intelligible to one person only. To call out, "George, I met D.
L. yesterday, and he says he will attend to that matter," is as bad as
if you went to George and whispered in his ear.

57. In your intercourse with servants, nothing will mark you as a
well-bred man, so much as a gentle, courteous manner. A request will
make your wishes attended to as quickly as a command, and thanks for a
service, oil the springs of the servant's labor immensely. Rough, harsh
commands may make your orders obeyed well and promptly, but they will be
executed unwillingly, in fear, and, probably, dislike, while courtesy
and kindness will win a willing spirit as well as prompt service.

58. Avoid eccentric conduct. It does not, as many suppose, mark a man of
genius. Most men of true genius are gentlemanly and reserved in their
intercourse with other men, and there are many fools whose folly is
called eccentricity.

59. Avoid familiarity. Neither treat others with too great cordiality
nor suffer them to take liberties with you. To check the familiarity of
others, you need not become stiff, sullen, nor cold, but you will find
that excessive politeness on your own part, sometimes with a little
formality, will soon abash the intruder.

60. Lazy, lounging attitudes in the presence of ladies are very rude.

61. It is only the most arrant coxcomb who will boast of the favor shown
him by a lady, speak of her by her first name, or allow others to jest
with him upon his friendship or admiration for her. If he really admires
her, and has reason to hope for a future engagement with her, her name
should be as sacred to him as if she were already his wife; if, on the
contrary, he is not on intimate terms with her, then he adds a lie to
his excessively bad breeding, when using her name familiarly.

62. "He that can please nobody is not so much to be pitied as he that
nobody can please."

63. Speak without obscurity or affectation. The first is a mark of
pedantry, the second a sign of folly. A wise man will speak always
clearly and intelligibly.

64. To betray a confidence is to make yourself despicable. Many things
are said among friends which are not said under a seal of secrecy, but
are understood to be confidential, and a truly honorable man will never
violate this tacit confidence. It is really as sacred as if the most
solemn promises of silence bound your tongue; more so, indeed, to the
true gentleman, as his sense of honor, not his word, binds him.

65. Chesterfield says, "As learning, honor, and virtue are absolutely
necessary to gain you the esteem and admiration of mankind, politeness
and good breeding are equally necessary to make you welcome and
agreeable in conversation and common life. Great talents, such as honor,
virtue, learning, and parts are above the generality of the world, who
neither possess them themselves nor judge of them rightly in others; but
all people are judges of the lesser talents, such as civility,
affability, and an obliging, agreeable address and manner; because they
feel the good effects of them, as making society easy and pleasing."

66. "Good sense must, in many cases, determine good breeding; because
the same thing that would be civil at one time and to one person, may be
quite otherwise at another time and to another person."

67. Nothing can be more ill-bred than to meet a polite remark addressed
to you, either with inattention or a rude answer.

68. Spirit is now a very fashionable word, but it is terribly
misapplied. In the present day to act with spirit and speak with spirit
means to act rashly and speak indiscretely. A gentleman shows his spirit
by firm, but gentle words and resolute actions. He is spirited but
neither rash nor timid.

69. "Use kind words. They do not cost much. It does not take long to
utter them. They never blister the tongue or lips in their passage into
the world, or occasion any other kind of bodily suffering. And we have
never heard of any mental trouble arising from this quarter.

"Though they do not COST much, yet they ACCOMPLISH much. They help one's
own good nature and good will. One cannot be in a habit of this kind,
without thereby picking away something of the granite roughness of his
own nature. Soft words will soften his own soul. Philosophers tell us
that the angry words a man uses, in his passion, are fuel to the flame
of his wrath, and make it blaze the more fiercely. Why, then, should not
words of the opposite character produce opposite results, and that most
blessed of all passions of the soul, kindness, be augmented by kind
words? People that are forever speaking kindly, are forever disinclining
themselves to ill-temper.

"Kind words make other people good natured. Cold words freeze people,
and hot words scorch them, and sarcastic words irritate them, and bitter
words make them bitter, and wrathful words make them wrathful. And kind
words also produce their own image on men's souls. And a beautiful image
it is. They soothe, and quiet, and comfort the hearer. They shame him
out of his sour, morose, unkind feelings, and he has to become kind
himself.

"There is such a rush of all other kind of words, in our days, that it
seems desirable to give kind words a chance among them. There are vain
words, and idle words, and hasty words, and spiteful words, and silly
words, and empty words. Now, kind words are better than the whole of
them, and it is a pity that, among the improvements of the present age,
birds of this feather might not have more chance than they have had to
spread their wings.

"Kind words are in danger of being driven from the field, like
frightened pigeons, in these days of boisterous words, and warlike
words, and passionate words. They have not the brass to stand up, like
so many grenadiers, and fight their own way among the throng. Besides,
they have been out of use so long, that they hardly know whether they
have any right to make their appearance any more in our bustling world;
not knowing but that, perhaps, the world was done with them, and would
not like their company any more.

"Let us welcome them back. We have not done with them. We have not yet
begun to use them in such abundance as they ought to be used. We cannot
spare them."

70. The first step towards pleasing every one is to endeavor to offend
no one. To give pain by a light or jesting remark is as much a breach of
etiquette, as to give pain by a wound made with a steel weapon, is a
breach of humanity.

71. "A gentleman will never use his tongue to rail and brawl against any
one; to speak evil of others in their absence; to exaggerate any of his
statements; to speak harshly to children or to the poor; to swear, lie,
or use improper language; to hazard random and improbable statements; to
speak rashly or violently upon any subject; to deceive people by
circulating false reports, or to offer up _lip_-service in religion. But
he will use it to convey to mankind useful information; to instruct his
family and others who need it; to warn and reprove the wicked; to
comfort and console the afflicted; to cheer the timid and fearful; to
defend the innocent and oppressed; to plead for the widow and orphan; to
congratulate the success of the virtuous, and to confess, tearfully and
prayerfully, his faults."

72. Chesterfield says, "Civility is particularly due to all women; and,
remember, that no provocation whatsoever can justify any man in not
being civil to every woman; and the greatest man would justly be
reckoned a brute if he were not civil to the meanest woman. It is due to
their sex, and is the only protection they have against the superior
strength of ours; nay, even a little is allowable with women: and a man
may, without weakness, tell a women she is either handsomer or wiser
than she is." (Chesterfield would not have said this in the present age
of strong minded, sensible women.)

73. There is much tact and good breeding to be displayed in the
correction of any little error that may occur in conversation. To say,
shortly,--"You are wrong! I know better!" is rude, and your friends
will much more readily admit an error if you say courteously and gently,
"Pardon me, but I must take the liberty of correcting you," or, "You
will allow me, I am sure, to tell you that your informant made an
error." If such an error is of no real importance, it is better to let
it pass unnoticed.

74. Intimate friends and relations should be careful when they go out
into the world together, or admit others to their own circle, that they
do not make a bad use of the knowledge which they have gained of each
other by their intimacy. Nothing is more common than this; and, did it
not mostly proceed from mere carelessness, it would be superlatively
ungenerous. You seldom need wait for the written life of a man to hear
about his weaknesses, or what are supposed to be such, if you know his
intimate friends, or meet him in company with them.

75. In making your first visit anywhere, you will be less apt to offend
by being too ceremonious, than by being too familiar.

76. With your friends remember the old proverb, that, "Familiarity
breeds contempt."

77. If you meet, in society, with any one, be it a gentleman or a lady,
whose timidity or bashfulness, shows them unaccustomed to meeting
others, endeavor, by your own gentleness and courtesy, to place them
more at ease, and introduce to them those who will aid you in this
endeavor.

78. If, when walking with a gentleman friend, you meet a lady to whom
your friend bows, you, too, must touch or raise your hat, though you
are not acquainted with the lady.

79. "Although it is now very much the custom, in many wealthy families,
for the butler to remove the dishes from the table and carve them on the
sideboard, thus saving trouble to the master or mistress of the house,
and time to the guests, the practice is not so general even amongst what
are called the higher classes of society that general instructions for
carving will be uninteresting to them, to say nothing of the more
numerous class, who, although enabled to place good dishes before their
friends, are not wealthy enough to keep a butler if they were so
inclined. Good carving is, to a certain extent, indicative of good
society, for it proves to company that the host does not give a dinner
party for the first time, but is accustomed to receive friends, and
frequently to dispense the cheer of a hospitable board. The master or
mistress of a house, who does not know how to carve, is not unfrequently
looked upon as an ignorant _parvenu_, as a person who cannot take a hand
at whist, in good society, is regarded as one who has passed his time in
the parlor of a public house, playing at cribbage or all fours.
Independently, however, of the importance of knowing how to carve well,
for the purpose of regaling one's friends and acquaintances, the
science, and it is a science, is a valuable acquirement for any man, as
it enables him, at a public or private dinner, to render valuable aid.
There are many diners-out who are welcome merely because they know how
to carve. Some men amuse by their conversation; others are favorites
because they can sing a good song; but the man who makes himself useful
and agreeable to all, is he who carves with elegance and speed. We
recommend the novice in this art, to keep a watchful eye upon every
superior carver whom he may meet at dinner. In this way he will soon
become well versed in the art and mystery of cutting up."

80. Years may pass over our heads without affording an opportunity for
acts of high beneficence or extensive utility; whereas, not a day
passes, but in common transactions of life, and, especially in the
intercourse of society, courtesy finds place for promoting the happiness
of others, and for strengthening in ourselves the habits of unselfish
politeness. There are situations, not a few, in human life, when an
encouraging reception, a condescending behaviour, and a look of
sympathy, bring greater relief to the heart than the most bountiful
gift.

81. Cecil says, "You may easily make a sensation--but a sensation is a
vulgar triumph. To keep up the sensation of an excitement, you must be
always standing on your head (morally speaking), and the attitude, like
everything overstrained, would become fatiguing to yourself and tedious
to others. Whereas, to obtain permanent favor, as an agreeable,
well-bred man, requires simply an exercise of the understanding."

82. There is no vice more truly ungentlemanly than that of using profane
language. Lamont says:

"Whatever fortune may be made by perjury, I believe there never was a
man who made a fortune by common swearing. It often appears that men pay
for swearing, but it seldom happens that they are paid for it. It is not
easy to perceive what honor or credit is connected with it. Does any
man receive promotion because he is a notable blusterer? Or is any man
advanced to dignity because he is expert at profane swearing? Never. Low
must be the character which such impertinence will exalt: high must be
the character which such impertinence will not degrade. Inexcusable,
therefore, must be the practice which has neither reason nor passion to
support it. The drunkard has his cups; the satirist, his revenge; the
ambitious man, his preferments; the miser, his gold; but the common
swearer has nothing; he is a fool at large, sells his soul for nought,
and drudges in the service of the devil gratis. Swearing is void of all
plea; it is not the native offspring of the soul, nor interwoven with
the texture of the body, nor, anyhow, allied to our frame. For, as
Tillotson expresses it, 'Though some men pour out oaths as if they were
natural, yet no man was ever born of a swearing constitution.' But it is
a custom, a low and a paltry custom, picked up by low and paltry spirits
who have no sense of honor, no regard to decency, but are forced to
substitute some rhapsody of nonsense to supply the vacancy of good
sense. Hence, the silliness of the practice can only be equalled by the
silliness of those who adopt it."

83. Dr. Johnson says that to converse well "there must, in the first
place, be knowledge--there must be materials; in the second place, there
must be a command of words; in the third place, there must be
imagination to place things in such views as they are not commonly seen
in; and, in the fourth place, there must be a presence of mind, and a
resolution that is not to be overcome by failure--this last is an
essential requisite; for want of it, many people do not excel in
conversation."

84. "Do not constantly endeavor to draw the attention of all upon
yourself when in company. Leave room for your hearers to imagine
something within you beyond what you speak; and, remember, the more you
are praised the more you will be envied."

85. Be very careful to treat with attention and respect those who have
lately met with misfortunes, or have suffered from loss of fortune. Such
persons are apt to think themselves slighted, when no such thing is
intended. Their minds, being already sore, feel the least rub very
severely, and who would thus cruelly add affliction to the afflicted?
Not the _gentleman_ certainly.

86. There is hardly any bodily blemish which a winning behavior will not
conceal or make tolerable; and there is no external grace which
ill-nature or affectation will not deform.

87. Good humor is the only shield to keep off the darts of the satirist;
but if you are the first to laugh at a jest made upon yourself, others
will laugh _with_ you instead of _at_ you.

88. Whenever you see a person insult his inferiors, you may feel assured
that he is the man who will be servile and cringing to his superiors;
and he who acts the bully to the weak, will play the coward when with
the strong.

89. Maintain, in every word, a strict regard for perfect truth. Do not
think of one falsity as harmless, another as slight, a third as
unintended. Cast them all aside. They may be light and accidental, but
they are an ugly soot from the smoke of the pit for all that, and it is
better to have your heart swept clean of them, without stopping to
consider whether they are large and black.

90. The advantage and necessity of cheerfulness and intelligent
intercourse with the world is strongly to be recommended. A man who
keeps aloof from society and lives only for himself, does not fulfil the
wise intentions of Providence, who designed that we should be a mutual
help and comfort to each other in life.

91. Chesterfield says, "Merit and good breeding will make their way
everywhere. Knowledge will introduce man, and good breeding will endear
him to the best companies; for, politeness and good breeding are
absolutely necessary to adorn any, or all, other good qualities or
talents. Without them, no knowledge, no perfection whatever, is seen in
its best light. The scholar, without good breeding, is a pedant; the
philosopher, a cynic; the soldier, a brute; and every man disagreeable."

92. It is very seldom that a man may permit himself to tell stories in
society; they are, generally, tedious, and, to many present, will
probably have all the weariness of a "twice-told tale." A short,
brilliant anecdote, which is especially applicable to the conversation
going on, is all that a well-bred man will ever permit himself to
inflict.

93. It is better to take the tone of the society into which you are
thrown, than to endeavor to lead others after you. The way to become
truly popular is to be grave with the grave, jest with the gay, and
converse sensibly with those who seek to display their sense.

94. Watch each of your actions, when in society, that all the habits
which you contract there may be useful and good ones. Like flakes of
snow that fall unperceived upon the earth, the seemingly unimportant
events of life succeed one another. As the snow gathers together, so are
our habits formed. No single flake that is added to the pile produces a
sensible change--no single action creates, however it may exhibit, a
man's character; but, as the tempest hurls the avalanche down the
mountain, and overwhelms the inhabitant and his habitation, so passion,
acting upon the elements of mischief, which pernicious habits have
brought together by imperceptible accumulation, may overthrow the
edifice of truth and virtue.

95. There is no greater fault in good breeding than too great
diffidence. Shyness cramps every motion, clogs every word. The only way
to overcome the fault is to mix constantly in society, and the habitual
intercourse with others will give you the graceful ease of manner which
shyness utterly destroys.

96. If you are obliged to leave a large company at an early hour, take
French leave. Slip away unperceived, if you can, but, at any rate,
without any formal leave-taking.

97. Avoid quarrels. If you are convinced, even, that you have the right
side in an argument, yield your opinion gracefully, if this is the only
way to avoid a quarrel, saying, "We cannot agree, I see, but this
inability must not deprive me of a friend, so we will discuss the
subject no further." Few men will be able to resist your courtesy and
good nature, but many would try to combat an obstinate adherence to
your own side of the question.

98. Avoid the filthy habit of which foreigners in this country so justly
complain--I mean spitting.

99. If any one bows to you in the street, return the bow. It may be an
acquaintance whose face you do not immediately recognize, and if it is a
stranger who mistakes you for another, your courteous bow will relieve
him from the embarrassment arising from his mistake.

100. The following hints on conversation conclude the chapter:--

"Conversation may be carried on successfully by persons who have no idea
that it is or may be an art, as clever things are sometimes done without
study. But there can be no certainty of good conversation in ordinary
circumstances, and amongst ordinary minds, unless certain rules be
observed, and certain errors be avoided.

"The first and greatest rule unquestionably is, that all must be
favorably disposed towards each other, and willing to be pleased. There
must be no sullen or uneasy-looking person--no one who evidently thinks
he has fallen into unsuitable company, and whose sole aim it is to take
care lest his dignity be injured--no one whose feelings are of so morose
or ascetic a kind that he cannot join without observable pain and
hesitation in the playfulness of the scene--no matter-of-fact person,
who takes all things literally, and means all things literally, and
thinks it as great a crime to say something in jest as to do it in
earnest. One of any of these classes of persons is sufficient to mar the
enjoyments of a hundred. The matter-of-factish may do very well with
the matter-of-factish, the morose with the morose, the stilted with the
stilted; and they should accordingly keep amongst themselves
respectively. But, for what is generally recognized as agreeable
conversation, minds exempted from these peculiarities are required.

"The ordinary rules of politeness are, of course, necessary--no
rudeness, no offence to each other's self-esteem; on the contrary, much
mutual deference is required, in order to keep all the elements of a
company sweet. Sometimes, however, there is a very turbid kind of
conversation, where there is no want of common good breeding. This, most
frequently, arises from there being too great a disposition to speak,
and too small a disposition to listen. Too many are eager to get their
ideas expressed, or to attract attention; and the consequence is, that
nothing is heard but broken snatches and fragments of discourse, in
which there is neither profit nor entertainment. No man listens to what
another has to say, and then makes a relative or additionally
illustrative remark. One may be heard for a minute, or half a minute,
but it is with manifest impatience; and the moment he is done, or stops
to draw breath, the other plunges in with what _he_ had to say, being
something quite of another strain, and referring to another subject. He
in his turn is interrupted by a third, with the enunciation of some
favorite ideas of his, equally irrelative; and thus conversation becomes
no conversation, but a contention for permission to speak a few hurried
words, which nobody cares to hear, or takes the trouble to answer.
Meanwhile, the modest and weak sit silent and ungratified. The want of
regulation is here very manifest. It would be better to have a president
who should allow everybody a minute in succession to speak without
interruption, than thus to have freedom, and so monstrously to abuse it.
The only remedy, as far as meetings by invitation are concerned, is to
take care that no more eager talkers are introduced than are absolutely
necessary to prevent conversation from flagging. One to every six or
eight persons is the utmost that can be safely allowed.

"The danger of introducing politics, or any other notoriously
controversial subject, in mixed companies, is so generally acknowledged,
that conversation is in little danger--at least in polite circles--from
that source. But wranglements, nevertheless, are apt to arise. Very
frequently the company falls together by the ears in consequence of the
starting of some topic in which facts are concerned--with which facts no
one chances to be acquainted.

"Conversation is often much spoilt through slight inattentions or
misapprehensions on the part of a particular member of the company. In
the midst of some interesting narrative or discussion, he suddenly puts
all to a stop, in order that some little perplexity may be explained,
which he could never have fallen into, if he had been paying a fair
degree of attention to what was going on. Or he has some precious
prejudice jarred upon by something said, or supposed to be said, and all
is at a stand, till he has been, through the united exertions of a vexed
company, re-assured and put at his ease. Often the most frivolous
interruption from such causes will disconcert the whole strain of the
conversation, and spoil the enjoyment of a score of people.

"The eager speakers, already alluded to, are a different class from
those who may be called the determinedly loquacious. A thoroughly
loquacious man has no idea of anything but a constant outpouring of talk
from his own mouth. If he stops for a moment, he thinks he is not doing
his duty to the company; and, anxious that there should be no cause of
complaint against him on that score, he rather repeats a sentence, or
gives the same idea in different words, or hums and haws a little, than
allow the least pause to take place. The notion that any other body can
be desirous of saying a word, never enters his head. He would as soon
suppose that a beggar was anxious to bestow alms upon him, as that any
one could wish to speak, as long as he himself was willing to save them
the trouble. Any attempt to interrupt him is quite hopeless. The only
effect of the sound of another voice is to raise the sound of his own,
so as to drown it. Even to give a slight twist or turn to the flow of
his ideas, is scarce possible. When a decided attempt is made to get in
a few words, he only says, with an air of offended feeling, set off with
a tart courtesy, 'Allow me, sir,' or, 'When you are done, sir;' as if he
were a man whom nobody would allow, on any occasion, to say all he had
to say. If, however, he has been permitted to talk on and on incessantly
a whole evening, to the complete closing of the mouths of the rest, he
goes away with all the benevolent glow of feeling which arises from a
gratified faculty, remarking to the gentleman who takes his arm, 'What a
great deal of pleasant conversation we have had!' and chatters forth
all the way home such sentences as, 'Excellent fellow, our host,'
'charming wife,' 'delightful family altogether,' 'always make everybody
so happy.'

"Another class of spoilers of conversation are the loud talkers or
blusterers. They are not numerous, but one is enough to destroy the
comfort of thirty people for a whole evening. The least opposition to
any of his ideas makes the blusterer rise in his might, and bellow, and
roar, and bellow again, till the whole company is in something like the
condition of AEneas's fleet after Eolus has done his worst. The society
enjoyed by this kind of man is a series of _first invitations_.

"While blusterers and determinedly loquacious persons are best left to
themselves, and while endless worryings on unknown things are to be
avoided, it is necessary both that one or two good conversationists
should be at every party, and that the strain of the conversation should
not be allowed to become too tame. In all invited parties, eight of
every ten persons are disposed to hold their peace, or to confine
themselves to monosyllabic answers to commonplace inquiries. It is
necessary, therefore, that there should be _some_ who can speak, and
that fluently, if not entertainingly--only not too many. But all
engrossing of conversation, and all turbulence, and over-eagerness, and
egotism, are to be condemned. A very soft and quiet manner has, at last,
been settled upon, in the more elevated circles, as the best for
conversation. Perhaps they carry it to a pitch of affectation; but, yet,
when we observe the injurious consequences of the opposite style in less
polite companies, it is not easy to avoid the conclusion that the great
folks are, upon the whole, right. In the courtly scene, no one has his
ears offended with loud and discordant tones, no one is condemned to
absolute silence. All display in conversation will not depend on the
accidental and external quality of strength of voice, as it must do
where a loud and contentious style of talking is allowed; the soft-toned
and the weak-lunged will have as good a chance as their more robust
neighbors; and it will be possible for all both to speak and to hear.
There may be another advantage in its being likely to produce less
mental excitement than the more turbulent kind of society. But
_regulation_ is, we are persuaded, the thing most of all wanted in the
conversational meetings of the middle classes. People interrupt each
other too much--are too apt to run away into their own favorite themes,
without caring for the topic of their neighbors--too frequently wrangle
about trifles. The regularity of a debating society would be
intolerable; but some certain degree of method might certainly be
introduced with great advantage. There should, at least, be a vigorous
enforcement of the rule against more than one speaking at a time, even
though none of those waiting for their turn should listen to a word he
says. Without this there may be much talk, and even some merriment, but
no conversation."




CHAPTER XII.

PARTIES.


Now, there are many different kinds of parties. There are the evening
party, the matinee, the reading, dancing, and singing parties, the
picnic, the boating, and the riding parties; and the duties for each one
are distinct, yet, in many points, similar. Our present subject is:--


THE EVENING PARTY.

These are of two kinds, large and small. For the first, you will receive
a formal card, containing the compliments of your hostess for a certain
evening, and this calls for full dress, a dress coat, and white or very
light gloves. To the small party you will probably be invited verbally,
or by a more familiar style of note than the compliment card. Here you
may wear gloves if you will, but you need not do so unless perfectly
agreeable to yourself.

If you are to act as escort to a lady, you must call at the hour she
chooses to name, and the most elegant way is to take a carriage for her.
If you wish to present a bouquet, you may do so with perfect propriety,
even if you have but a slight acquaintance with her.

When you reach the house of your hostess for the evening, escort your
companion to the dressing-room, and leave her at the door. After you
have deposited your own hat and great-coat in the gentlemen's
dressing-room, return to the ladies' door and wait for your companion.
Offer her your right arm, and lead her to the drawing-room, and, at
once, to the hostess, then take her to a seat, and remain with her until
she has other companions, before you seek any of your own friends in the
room.

There is much more real enjoyment and sociability in a _well-arranged_
party, than in a ball, though many of the points of etiquette to be
observed in the latter are equally applicable to the former. There is
more time allowed for conversation, and, as there are not so many people
collected, there is also more opportunity for forming acquaintances. At
a _soiree_, _par excellence_, music, dancing, and conversation are all
admissible, and if the hostess has tact and discretion this variety is
very pleasing. As there are many times when there is no pianist or music
engaged for dancing, you will do well, if you are a performer on the
piano-forte, to learn some quadrilles, and round dances, that you may
volunteer your services as _orchestra_. Do not, in this case, wait to be
solicited to play, but offer your services to the hostess, or, if there
is a lady at the piano, ask permission to relieve her. To turn the
leaves for another, and sometimes call figures, are also good natured
and well-bred actions.

There is one piece of rudeness very common at parties, against which I
would caution you. Young people very often form a group, and indulge in
the most boisterous merriment and loud laughter, for jests known only to
themselves. Do not join such a group. A well-bred man, while he is
cheerful and gay, will avoid any appearance of romping in society.

If dancing is to be the amusement for the evening, your first dance
should be with the lady whom you accompanied, then, invite your hostess,
and, if there are several ladies in the family you must invite each of
them once, in the course of the evening. If you go alone, invite the
ladies of the house before dancing with any of your other lady friends.

Never attempt any dance with which you are not perfectly familiar.
Nothing is more awkward and annoying than to have one dancer, by his
ignorance of the figures, confuse all the others in the set, and
certainly no man wants to show off his ignorance of the steps of a round
dance before a room full of company.

Do not devote yourself too much to one lady. A party is meant to promote
sociability, and a man who persists in a tete-a-tete for the evening,
destroys this intention. Besides you prevent others from enjoying the
pleasure of intercourse with the lady you thus monopolize.

Avoid any affectation of great intimacy with any lady present; and even
if you really enjoy such intimacy, or she is a relative, do not appear
to have confidential conversation, or, in any other way, affect airs of
secrecy or great familiarity.

Dance easily and gracefully, keeping perfect time, but not taking too
great pains with your steps. If your whole attention is given to your
feet or carriage, you will probably be mistaken for a dancing master.

When you conduct your partner to a seat after a dance, you may sit or
stand beside her to converse, unless you see that another gentleman is
waiting to invite her to dance.

Do not take the vacant seat next a lady unless you are acquainted with
her.

After dancing, do not offer your hand, but your arm, to conduct your
partner to her seat.

If music is called for and you are able to play or sing, do so when
first invited, or, if you refuse then, do not afterwards comply. If you
refuse, and then alter your mind you will either be considered a vain
coxcomb, who likes to be urged; or some will conclude that you refused
at first from mere caprice, for, if you had a good reason for declining,
why change your mind?

Never offer to turn the leaves of music for any one playing, unless you
can read the notes, for you run the risk of confusing them, by turning
too soon or too late.

If you sing a good second, never sing with a lady unless she herself
invites you. Her friends may wish to hear you sing together, when she
herself may not wish to sing with one to whose voice and time she is
unaccustomed.

Do not start a conversation whilst any one is either playing or singing,
and if another person commences one, speak in a tone that will not
prevent others from listening to the music.

If you play yourself, do not wait for silence in the room before you
begin. If you play well, those really fond of music will cease to
converse, and listen to you; and those who do not care for it, will not
stop talking if you wait upon the piano stool until day dawn.

Relatives should avoid each other at a party, as they can enjoy one
another's society at home, and it is the constantly changing
intercourse, and complete sociability that make a party pleasant.

Private concerts and amateur theatricals are very often the occasions
for evening parties, and make a very pleasant variety on the usual
dancing and small talk. An English writer, speaking of them, says:

"Private concerts and amateur theatricals ought to be very good to be
successful. Professionals alone should be engaged for the former, none
but real amateurs for the latter. Both ought to be, but rarely are,
followed by a supper, since they are generally very fatiguing, if not
positively trying. In any case, refreshments and ices should be handed
between the songs and the acts. Private concerts are often given in the
'morning,' that is, from two to six P. M.; in the evening their hours
are from eight to eleven. The rooms should be arranged in the same
manner as for a reception, the guests should be seated, and as music is
the avowed object, a general silence preserved while it lasts. Between
the songs the conversation ebbs back again, and the party takes the
general form of a reception. For private theatricals, however, where
there is no special theatre, and where the curtain is hung, as is most
common, between the folding-doors, the audience-room must be filled with
chairs and benches in rows, and, if possible, the back rows raised
higher than the others. These are often removed when the performance is
over, and the guests then converse, or, sometimes, even dance. During
the acting it is rude to talk, except in a very low tone, and, be it
good or bad, you would never think of hissing."

If you are alone, and obliged to retire early from an evening party, do
not take leave of your hostess, but slip away unperceived.

If you have escorted a lady, her time must be yours, and she will tell
you when she is ready to go. See whether the carriage has arrived before
she goes to the dressing-room, and return to the parlor to tell her. If
the weather was pleasant when you left home, and you walked, ascertain
whether it is still pleasant; if not, procure a carriage for your
companion. When it is at the door, join her in the drawing-room, and
offer your arm to lead her to the hostess for leave-taking, making your
own parting bow at the same time, then take your companion to the door
of the ladies' dressing-room, get your own hat and wait in the entry
until she comes out.

When you reach your companion's house, do not accept her invitation to
enter, but ask permission to call in the morning, or the following
evening, and make that call.




CHAPTER XIII.

COURTESY AT HOME.


There are many men in this world, who would be horror struck if accused
of the least breach of etiquette towards their friends and acquaintances
abroad, and yet, who will at home utterly disregard the simplest rules
of politeness, if such rules interfere in the least with their own
selfish gratification. They disregard the pure and holy ties which
should make courtesy at home a pleasure as well as a duty. They forget
that home has a sweet poetry of its own, created out of the simplest
materials, yet, haunting, more or less, the secret recesses of every
human heart; it is divided into a thousand separate poems, which should
be full of individual interest, little quiet touches of feeling and
golden recollections, which, in the heart of a truly noble man, are
interwoven with his very being. Common things are, to him, hallowed and
made beautiful by the spell of memory and association, owing all their
glory to the halo of his own pure, fond affection. The eye of a stranger
rests coldly on such revelations; their simple pathos is hard to be
understood; and they smile oftentimes at the quaintness of those
passages which make others weep. With the beautiful instinct of true
affection, home love retains only the good. There were clouds then,
even as now, darkening the horizon of daily life, and breaking tears or
wild storms above our heads; but he remembers nothing save the sunshine,
and fancies somehow that it has never shone so bright since! How little
it took to make him happy in those days, aye, and sad also; but it was a
pleasant sadness, for he wept only over a flower or a book. But let us
turn to our first poem; and in using this term we allude, of course, to
the poetry of idea, rather than that of the measure; beauty of which is
so often lost to us from a vague feeling that it cannot exist without
rhythm. But pause and listen, first of all, gentle reader, to the living
testimony of a poet heart, brimful, and gushing over with home
love:--"There are not, in the unseen world, voices more gentle and more
true, that may be more implicitly relied on, or that are so certain to
give none but the tenderest counsel, as the voices in which the spirits
of the fireside and the hearth address themselves to human kind!"

The man who shows his contempt for these holy ties and associations by
pulling off his mask of courtesy as soon as his foot passes his own
threshold, is not really a gentleman, but a selfish tyrant, whose true
qualities are not courtesy and politeness, but a hypocritical
affectation of them, assumed to obtain a footing in society. Avoid such
men. Even though you are one of the favored ones abroad who receive
their gentle courtesy, you may rest assured that the heartless egotism
which makes them rude and selfish at home, will make their friendship
but a name, if circumstances ever put it to the test. Above all, avoid
their example.

In what does the home circle consist? First, there are the parents who
have watched over your infancy and childhood, and whom you are commanded
by the Highest Power to "honor." Then the brothers and sisters, the wife
who has left her own home and all its tender ties for your sake, and the
children who look to you for example, guidance, and instruction.

Who else on the broad earth can lay the same claim to your gentleness
and courtesy that they can? If you are rude at home, then is your
politeness abroad a mere cloak to conceal a bad, selfish heart.

The parents who have anxiously watched over your education, have the
first right to the fruits of it, and all the _gentleman_ should be
exerted to repay them for the care they have taken of you since your
birth. All the rules of politeness, of generosity, of good nature,
patience, and respectful affection should be exerted for your parents.
You owe to them a pure, filial love, void of personal interest, which
should prompt you to study all their tastes, their likes, and aversions,
in order to indulge the one and avoid the other; you owe to them polite
attention, deference to all their wishes, and compliance with their
requests. Every joy will be doubled to them, if you show a frank
pleasure in its course, and no comfort can soothe the grief of a parent
so much as the sympathizing love of a dutiful son. If they are old,
dependent upon you for support, then can you still better prove to them
that the tender care they lavished upon you, when you depended upon
their love for everything, was not lost, but was good seed sown upon
fruitful ground. Nay, if with the infirmities of age come the crosses
of bad temper, or exacting selfishness, your duty still lies as plainly
before you. It is but the promptings of natural affection that will lead
you to love and cherish an indulgent parent; but it is a pure, high
virtue which makes a son love and cherish with an equal affection a
selfish, negligent mother, or a tyrannical, harsh father. No failure in
their duty can excuse you if you fail in yours; and, even if they are
wicked, you are not to be their judge, but, while you detest and avoid
their sin, you must still love the sinner. Nothing but the grossest and
most revolting brutality could make a man reproach his parents with the
feebleness of age or illness, or the incapacity to exert their talents
for support.

An eminent writer, in speaking of a man's duties, says: "Do all in your
power to render your parents comfortable and happy; if they are aged and
infirm, be with them as often as you can, carry them tokens of your
love, and show them that you feel a tender interest in their happiness.
Be all to your parents, which you would wish your children to be to
you."

Next, in the home circle, come your brothers and sisters, and here you
will find the little courtesies, which, as a gentleman, should be
habitual to you, will ensure the love a man should most highly prize,
the love of his brother and sister. Next to his filial love, this is the
first tie of his life, and should be valued as it deserves.

If you are the eldest of the family, you may, by your example, influence
your brothers to good or evil, and win or alienate the affections of
your little sisters. There is scarcely a more enthusiastic affection in
the world than that a sister feels for an elder brother. Even though he
may not repay the devotion as it deserves, she will generally cherish
it, and invest him with the most heroic qualities, while her tender
little heart, though it may quiver with the pain of a harsh word or rude
action, will still try to find an excuse for "brother's" want of
affection. If you show an interest in the pursuits of the little circle
at whose head your age entitles you to stand, you will soon find they
all look up to you, seek your advice, crave your sympathy, and follow
your example. The eldest son holds a most responsible position. Should
death or infirmity deprive him of a father's counsel, he should be
prepared to stand forth as the head of the family, and take his father's
place towards his mother and the younger children.

Every man should feel, that in the character and dignity of his sisters
his own honor is involved. An insult or affront offered to them, becomes
one to him, and he is the person they will look to for protection, and
to prevent its repetition. By his own manner to them he can ensure to
them the respect or contempt of other men whom they meet when in his
society. How can he expect that his friends will treat his sisters with
gentleness, respect, and courtesy, if they see him constantly rude,
disrespectful, and contemptuous towards them? But, if his own manner is
that of affectionate respect, he need not fear for them rudeness from
others, while they are under his protection. An American writer says:--

"Nothing in a family strikes the eye of a visitor with more delight than
to see brothers treat their sisters with kindness, civility, attention,
and love. On the contrary, nothing is more offensive or speaks worse
for the honor of a family, than that coarse, rude, unkind manner which
brothers sometimes exhibit."

The same author says:--

"Beware how you speak of your sisters. Even gold is tarnished by much
handling. If you speak in their praise--of their beauty, learning,
manners, wit, or attentions--you will subject them to taunt and
ridicule; if you say anything against them, you will bring reproach upon
yourself and them too. If you have occasion to speak of them, do it with
modesty and few words. Let others do all the praising and yourself enjoy
it. If you are separated from them, maintain with them a correspondence.
This will do yourself good as well as them. Do not neglect this duty,
nor grow remiss in it. Give your friendly advice and seek theirs in
return. As they mingle intimately with their sex, they can enlighten
your mind respecting many particulars relating to female character,
important for you to know; and, on the other hand, you have the same
opportunity to do them a similar service. However long or widely
separated from them, keep up your fraternal affection and intercourse.
It is ominous of evil when a young man forgets his sister.

"If you are living at home with them, you may do them a thousand little
services, which will cost you nothing but pleasure, and which will
greatly add to theirs. If they wish to go out in the evening--to a
lecture, concert, a visit, or any other object,--always be happy, if
possible, to wait upon them. Consider their situation, and think how
you would wish them to treat you if the case were reversed."

A young man once said to an elderly lady, who expressed her regret at
his having taken some trouble and denied himself a pleasure to gratify
her:--

"Madam, I am far away from my mother and sisters now, but when I was at
home, my greatest pleasure was to protect them and gratify all their
wishes; let me now place you in their stead, and you will not have cause
again to feel regret, for you can think 'he _must love_ to deny himself
for one who represents his mother.'"

The old lady afterwards spoke of him as a perfect gentleman, and was
contradicted by a younger person who quoted some fault in etiquette
committed by the young man in company. "Ah, that may be," said her
friend; "but what I call a gentleman, is not the man who performs to the
minutest point all the little ceremonies of society, but the one whose
_heart_ prompts him to be polite at home."

If you have left the first home circle, that comprising your parents,
brothers, and sisters, to take up the duties of a husband and father,
you must carry to your new home the same politeness I have advised you
to exert in the home of your childhood.

Your wife claims your courtesy more now, even, than when you were
courting her. She has given up, for your sake, all the freedom and
pleasures of her maidenhood, and to you she looks for a love that will
replace them all. Can you disappoint that trusting affection? Before
your marriage you thought no stretch of courtesy too great, if the
result was to afford her pleasure; why, then, not strive to _keep_ her
love, by the same gentle courtesy you exerted to _win_ it?

"A delicate attention to the minute wants and wishes of your wife, will
tend, more than anything else, to the promotion of your domestic
happiness. It requires no sacrifices, occupies but a small degree of
attention, yet is the fertile source of bliss; since it convinces the
object of your regard, that, with the duties of a husband, you have
united the more punctilious behaviour of a lover. These trivial tokens
of regard certainly make much way in the affections of a woman of sense
and discernment, who looks not to the value of the gifts she receives,
but perceives in their frequency a continued evidence of the existence
and ardor of that love on which the superstructure of her happiness has
been erected. The strongest attachment will decline, if you receive it
with diminished warmth."

Mrs. Thrale gives the following advice, which is worth the consideration
of every young man:

"After marriage," she says, "when your violence of passion subsides, and
a more cool and tranquil affection takes its place, be not hasty to
censure as indifferent, or to lament yourself as unhappy; you have lost
that only which it is impossible to retain; and it were graceless amidst
the pleasures of a prosperous summer, to regret the blossoms of a
transient spring. Neither unwarily condemn your bride's insipidity, till
you have recollected that no object, however sublime, no sound, however
charming, can continue to transport us with delight, when they no longer
strike us with novelty. The skill to renovate the powers of pleasing is
said, indeed, to be possessed by some women in an eminent degree, but
the artifices of maturity are seldom seen to adorn the innocence of
youth. You have made your choice and ought to approve it.

"To be happy, we must always have something in view. Turn, therefore,
your attention to her mind, which will daily grow brighter by polishing.
Study some easy science together, and acquire a similarity of tastes,
while you enjoy a community of pleasures. You will, by this means, have
many pursuits in common, and be freed from the necessity of separating
to find amusement; endeavor to cement the present union on every side;
let your wife never be kept ignorant of your income, your expenses, your
friendships, or your aversions; let her know your very faults, but make
them amiable by your virtues; consider all concealment as a breach of
fidelity; let her never have anything to find out in your character, and
remember that from the moment one of the partners turns spy upon the
other, they have commenced a state of hostility.

"Seek not for happiness in singularity, and dread a refinement of wisdom
as a deviation into folly. Listen not to those sages who advise you
always to scorn the counsel of a woman, and if you comply with her
requests pronounce you to be wife-ridden. Think not any privation,
except of positive evil, an excellence; and do not congratulate yourself
that your wife is not a learned lady, or is wholly ignorant how to make
a pudding. Cooking and learning are both good in their places, and may
both be used with advantage. With regard to expense, I can only observe,
that the money laid out in the purchase of luxuries is seldom or ever
profitably employed. We live in an age when splendid furniture and
glittering equipage are grown too common to catch the notice of the
meanest spectator; and for the greater ones, they can only regard our
wasteful folly with silent contempt or open indignation.

"This may, perhaps, be a displeasing reflection; but the following
consideration ought to make amends. The age we live in pays, I think, a
peculiar attention to the higher distinctions of wit, knowledge, and
virtue, to which we may more safely, more cheaply, and more honorably
aspire.

"The person of your lady will not grow more pleasing to you; but, pray,
let her not suspect that it grows less so. There is no reproof, however
pointed, no punishment, however severe, that a woman of spirit will not
prefer to neglect; and if she can endure it without complaint, it only
proves that she means to make herself amends by the attention of others
for the slights of her husband. For this, and for every other reason, it
behoves a married man not to let his politeness fail, though his ardour
may abate; but to retain, at least, that general civility towards his
own lady which he is willing to pay to every other, and not show a wife
of eighteen or twenty years old, that every man in company can treat her
with more complaisance than he who so often vowed to her eternal
fondness.

"It is not my opinion that a young woman should be indulged in every
wild wish of her gay heart, or giddy head; but contradiction may be
softened by domestic kindness, and quiet pleasures substituted in the
place of noisy ones. Public amusements, indeed, are not so expensive as
is sometimes imagined; but they tend to alienate the minds of married
people from each other. A well-chosen society of friends and
acquaintances, more eminent for virtue and good sense than for gaiety
and splendor, where the conversation of the day may afford comment for
the evening, seems the most rational pleasure that can be afforded. That
your own superiority should always be seen, but never felt, seems an
excellent general rule.

"If your wife is disposed towards jealousy of you, let me beseech you be
always explicit with her, never mysterious. Be above delighting in her
pain in all things."

After your duty to your wife comes that towards the children whom God
lends to you, to fit them to return pure and virtuous to him. This is
your task, responsibility, and trust, to be undertaken prayerfully,
earnestly, and humbly, as the highest and most sacred duty this life
ever can afford you.

The relationship between parent and child, is one that appears to have
been ordained by Providence, to bring the better feelings of mankind and
many domestic virtues into active exercise. The implicit confidence with
which children, when properly treated, look up to their elders for
guidance is not less beautiful than endearing; and no parents can set
about the work of guiding aright, in real earnest, without deriving as
much good as they impart. The feeling with which this labor of love
would be carried forward is, as the poet writes of mercy, twice
blessed:--

    "It blesses him that gives and him that takes."

And yet, in daily life and experience, how seldom do we find these views
realized! Children, in too many instances, are looked on as anything but
a blessing; they are treated as incumbrances, or worse; and the neglect
in which they are brought up, renders it almost impossible for them,
when they grow older, to know anything properly of moral or social
duties. This result we know, in numerous cases, is not willful, does not
arise from ill intentions on the part of parents, but from want of fixed
plans and principles. There are hundreds of families in this country
whose daily life is nothing better than a daily scramble, where time and
place, from getting up in the morning to going to bed at night, are
regarded as matters of chance. In such homes as these, where the inmates
are willing to do well, but don't know how, a word in season is often
welcome. "Great principles," we are told, "are at the bottom of all
things; but to apply them to daily life, many little rules, precautions,
and insights are needed."

The work of training is, in some degree, lightened by the fact, that
children are very imitative; what they see others do, they will try to
do themselves, and if they see none but good examples, good conduct on
their part may naturally be looked for. Children are keen observers, and
are very ready at drawing conclusions when they see a want of
correspondence between profession and practice, in those who have the
care of them. At the age of seven, the child's brain has reached its
full growth; it seldom becomes larger after that period, and it then
contains the germ of all that the man ever accomplishes. Here is an
additional reason for laying down the precept:--be yourselves what you
wish the children to be. When correction is necessary, let it be
administered in such a way as to make the child refrain from doing wrong
from a desire to do right, not for the sole reason that wrong brings
punishment. All experience teaches us that if a good thing is to be
obtained, it must be by persevering diligence; and of all good things,
the pleasure arising from a well-trained family is one of the greatest.
Parents, or educators, have no right to use their children just as whim
or prejudice may dictate. Children are smaller links in the great social
chain, and bind together in lasting ties many portions which otherwise
would be completely disjointed; their joyousness enlivens many a home,
and their innocence is a powerful check and antidote to much that is
evil. The implicit obedience which is required of them, will always be
given when called forth by a spirit of forbearance, self-sacrifice, and
love:--

                "Ere long comes the reward,
    And for the cares and toils we have endured,
    Repays us joys and pleasures manifold."

If you cherish and honor your own parents, then do you give your
children the most forcible teaching for their duty, _example_. And your
duty to your children requires your example to be good in all things.
How can you expect counsel to virtue to have any effect, if you
constantly contradict it by a bad example? Do not forget, that early
impressions are deep and lasting, and from their infancy let them see
you keep an upright, noble walk in life, then may you hope to see them
follow in your footsteps.

Justice, as a sentiment, is inborn, and no one distinguishes its
niceties more quickly than a child. Therefore in your rewards and
punishments examine carefully every part of their conduct, and judge
calmly, not hastily, and be sure you are just. An unmerited reward will
make a child question your judgment as much as an unmerited punishment.

Guard your temper. Never reprove a child in the heat of passion.

If your sons see that you regard the rules of politeness in your home,
you will find that they treat their mother and sisters with respect and
courtesy, and observe, even in play, the rules of etiquette your example
teaches; but if you are a domestic tyrant, all your elder and stronger
children will strive to act like "father," by ill-treating or neglecting
the younger and weaker ones.

Make them, from the moment they begin to talk, use pure and grammatical
language, avoid slang phrases, and, above all, profanity. You will find
this rule, enforced during childhood, will have more effect than a
library full of books or the most unwearied instruction can accomplish,
after bad habits in conversation have once been formed.

Make them, from early childhood, observe the rules of politeness towards
each other. Let your sons treat your daughters as, when men, you would
have them treat other females, and let your daughters, by gentleness and
love, repay these attentions. You may feel sure that the brothers and
sisters, who are polite one to another, will not err in etiquette when
abroad.

In the home circle may very properly be included the humble portion,
whose onerous duties are too often repaid by harshness and rudeness; I
mean the servants. A true gentleman, while he never allows familiarity
from his servants, will always remember that they are human beings, who
feel kindness or rudeness as keenly as the more favored ones up stairs.
Chesterfield says:--

"There is a certain politeness _due_ to your inferiors, and whoever is
without it, is without good nature. We do not need to compliment our
servants, nor to talk of their doing us the honor, &c., but we ought to
treat them with benevolence and mildness. We are all of the same
species, and no distinction whatever is between us, except that which
arises from fortune. For example, your footman and cook would be your
equals were they as rich as you. Being poor they are obliged to serve
you. Therefore, you must not add to their misfortunes by insulting or
ill-treating them. If your situation is preferable to theirs, be
thankful, without either despising them or being vain of your better
fortune. You must, therefore, treat all your inferiors with affability
and good manners, and not speak to them in a surly tone, nor with harsh
expressions, as if they were of a different species. A good heart never
reminds people of their inferiority, but endeavors to alleviate their
misfortunes, and make them forget them."

"Example," says Mrs. Parkes, "is of the greatest importance to our
servants, particularly those who are young, whose habits are frequently
formed by the first service they enter. With the mild and good, they
become softened and improved, but with the dissipated and violent, are
too often disorderly and vicious. It is, therefore, not among the least
of the duties incumbent on the head of the family, to place in their
view such examples as are worthy their imitation. But these examples,
otherwise praiseworthy, should neither be rendered disagreeable, nor
have their force diminished by any accompaniment of ill humor. Rather by
the happiness and comfort resulting from our conduct towards our
domestics, should they be made sensible of the beauty of virtue. What we
admire, we often strive to imitate, and thus they may be led on to
imitate good principles, and to form regular and virtuous habits."




CHAPTER XIV.

TRUE COURTESY.


Politeness is the art of pleasing. It is to the deportment what the
finer touches of the pencil are to the picture, or what harmony is to
music. In the formation of character, it is indispensably requisite. "We
are all," says Locke, "a kind of chameleons, that take a tincture from
the objects which surround us." True courtesy, indeed, chiefly consists
in accommodating ourselves to the feelings of others, without descending
from our own dignity, or denuding ourselves of our own principles. By
constant intercourse with society, we acquire what is called politeness
almost intuitively, as the shells of the sea are rendered smooth by the
unceasing friction of the waves; though there appears to be a natural
grace about the well-bred, which many feel it difficult to attain.

Religion itself teaches us to honor all men, and to do unto others as we
would others do unto us. This includes the whole principle of courtesy,
which in this we may remark, assimilates to the principle of justice. It
comprises, indeed, all the moral virtues in one, consisting not merely
in external show, but having its principle in the heart. The politeness
which superficial writers are fond of describing, has been defined as
"the appearance of all the virtues, without possessing one of them;" but
by this is meant the mere outward parade, or that kind of artificial
adornment of demeanor, which owes its existence to an over-refinement of
civility. Anything forced or formal is contrary to the very character of
courtesy, which does not consist in a becoming deportment alone, but is
prompted and guided by a superior mind, impelling the really polite
person to bear with the failings of some, to overlook the weakness of
others, and to endure patiently the caprices of all. Indeed, one of the
essential characteristics of courtesy is good nature, and an inclination
always to look at the bright side of things.

The principal rules of politeness are, to subdue the temper, to submit
to the weakness of our fellow men, and to render to all their due,
freely and courteously. These, with the judgment to recommend ourselves
to those whom we meet in society, and the discrimination to know when
and to whom to yield, as well as the discretion to treat all with the
deference due to their reputation, station, or merit, comprise, in
general, the character of a polite man, over which the admission of even
one blot or shade will throw a blemish not easily removed.

Sincerity is another essential characteristic of courtesy; for, without
it, the social system would have no permanent foundation or hope of
continuance. It is the want of this which makes society, what it is said
to be, artificial.

Good breeding, in a great measure, consists in being easy, but not
indifferent; good humored, but not familiar; passive, but not
unconcerned. It includes, also, a sensibility nice, yet correct; a tact
delicate, yet true. There is a beautiful uniformity in the demeanor of a
polite man; and it is impossible not to be struck with his affable air.
There is a golden mean in the art, which it should be every body's
object to attain, without descending to obsequiousness on the one hand,
or to familiarity on the other. In politeness, as in everything else,
there is the medium betwixt too much and too little, betwixt constraint
and freedom; for civilities carried to extreme are wearisome, and mere
ceremony is not politeness, but the reverse.

The truly pious people are the truly courteous. "Religion," says
Leighton, "is in this mistaken sometimes, in that we think it imprints a
roughness and austerity upon the mind and carriage. It doth, indeed, bar
all vanity and lightness, and all compliance;" but it softens the
manners, tempers the address, and refines the heart.

Pride is one of the greatest obstacles to true courtesy that can be
mentioned. He who assumes too much on his own merit, shows that he does
not understand the simplest principles of politeness. The feeling of
pride is, of itself, highly culpable. No man, whether he be a monarch on
the throne, or the meanest beggar in his realm, possesses any right to
comport himself with a haughty or discourteous air towards his fellow
men. The poet truly says:

    "What most ennobles human nature,
    Was ne'er the portion of the proud."

It is easy to bestow a kind word, or assume a gracious smile; these
will recommend us to every one; while a haughty demeanor, or an austere
look, may forfeit forever the favor of those whose good opinion we may
be anxious to secure. The really courteous man has a thorough knowledge
of human nature, and can make allowances for its weaknesses. He is
always consistent with himself. The polite alone know how to make others
polite, as the good alone know how to inspire others with a relish for
virtue.

Having mentioned pride as being opposed to true politeness, I may class
affectation with it, in that respect. Affectation is a deviation from,
at the same time that it is an imitation of, nature. It is the result of
bad taste, and of mistaken notions of one's own qualities. The other
vices are limited, and have each a particular object; but affectation
pervades the whole conduct, and detracts from the merit of whatever
virtues and good dispositions a man may possess. Beauty itself loses its
attraction, when disfigured by affectation. Even to copy from the best
patterns is improper, because the imitation can never be so good as the
original. Counterfeit coin is not so valuable as the real, and when
discovered, it cannot pass current. Affectation is a sure sign that
there is something to conceal, rather than anything to be proud of, in
the character and disposition of the persons practicing it.

In religion, affectation, or, as it is fitly called, hypocrisy, is
reprehensible in the highest degree. However grave be their deportment,
of all affected persons, those who, without any real foundation, make
too great pretensions to piety, are certainly the most culpable. The
mask serves to conceal innumerable faults, and, as has been well
remarked, a false devotion too often usurps the place of the true. We
can less secure ourselves against pretenders in matters of religion,
than we can against any other species of impostors; because the mind
being biased in favor of the subject, consults not reason as to the
individual. The conduct of people, which cannot fail to be considered an
evidence of their principles, ought at all times to be conformable to
their pretensions. When God alone is all we are concerned for, we are
not solicitous about mere human approbation.

Hazlitt says:--"Few subjects are more nearly allied than these
two--vulgarity and affectation. It may be said of them truly that 'thin
partitions do their bounds divide.' There cannot be a surer proof of a
low origin or of an innate meanness of disposition, than to be always
talking and thinking of being genteel. One must feel a strong tendency
to that which one is always trying to avoid; whenever we pretend, on all
occasions, a mighty contempt for anything, it is a pretty clear sign
that we feel ourselves very nearly on a level with it. Of the two
classes of people, I hardly know which is to be regarded with most
distaste, the vulgar aping the genteel, or the genteel constantly
sneering at and endeavoring to distinguish themselves from the vulgar.
These two sets of persons are always thinking of one another; the lower
of the higher with envy, the more fortunate of their less happy
neighbors with contempt. They are habitually placed in opposition to
each other; jostle in their pretensions at every turn; and the same
objects and train of thought (only reversed by the relative situations
of either party) occupy their whole time and attention. The one are
straining every nerve, and outraging common sense, to be thought
genteel; the others have no other object or idea in their heads than not
to be thought vulgar. This is but poor spite; a very pitiful style of
ambition. To be merely not that which one heartily despises, is a very
humble claim to superiority; to despise what one really is, is still
worse.

"Gentility is only a more select and artificial kind of vulgarity. It
cannot exist but by a sort of borrowed distinction. It plumes itself up
and revels in the homely pretensions of the mass of mankind. It judges
of the worth of everything by name, fashion, opinion; and hence, from
the conscious absence of real qualities or sincere satisfaction in
itself, it builds its supercilious and fantastic conceit on the
wretchedness and wants of others. Violent antipathies are always
suspicious, and betray a secret affinity. The difference between the
'Great Vulgar and the Small' is mostly in outward circumstances. The
coxcomb criticises the dress of the clown, as the pedant cavils at the
bad grammar of the illiterate. Those who have the fewest resources in
themselves, naturally seek the food of their self-love elsewhere. The
most ignorant people find most to laugh at in strangers; scandal and
satire prevail most in country-places; and a propensity to ridicule
every the slightest or most palpable deviation from what we happen to
approve, ceases with the progress of common sense. True worth does not
exult in the faults and deficiencies of others; as true refinement turns
away from grossness and deformity instead of being tempted to indulge in
an unmanly triumph over it. Raphael would not faint away at the daubing
of a sign painter, nor Homer hold his head the higher for being in the
company of the poorest scribbler that ever attempted poetry. Real power,
real excellence, does not seek for a foil in inferiority, nor fear
contamination from coming in contact with that which is coarse and
homely. It reposes on itself, and is equally free from spleen and
affectation. But the spirit of both these small vices is in _gentility_
as the word stands in vulgar minds: of affected delight in its own
would-be qualifications, and of ineffable disdain poured out upon the
involuntary blunders or accidental disadvantages of those whom it
chooses to treat as inferiors.

"The essence of vulgarity, I imagine, consists in taking manners,
actions, words, opinions on trust from others, without examining one's
own feelings or weighing the merits of the case. It is coarseness or
shallowness of taste arising from want of individual refinement,
together with the confidence and presumption inspired by example and
numbers. It may be defined to be a prostitution of the mind or body to
ape the more or less obvious defects of others, because by so doing we
shall secure the suffrages of those we associate with. To affect a
gesture, an opinion, a phrase, because it is the rage with a large
number of persons, or to hold it in abhorrence because another set of
persons very little, if at all, better informed, cry it down to
distinguish themselves from the former, is in either case equal
vulgarity and absurdity. A thing is not vulgar merely because it is
common. 'Tis common to breathe, to see, to feel, to live. Nothing is
vulgar that is natural, spontaneous, unavoidable. Grossness is not
vulgarity, ignorance is not vulgarity, awkwardness is not vulgarity; but
all these become vulgar when they are affected, and shown off on the
authority of others, or to fall in with _the fashion_ or the company we
keep. Caliban is coarse enough, but surely he is not vulgar. We might as
well spurn the clod under our feet, and call it vulgar.

"All slang phrases are vulgar; but there is nothing vulgar in the common
English idiom. Simplicity is not vulgarity; but the looking to
affectation of any sort for distinction is."

To sum up, it may be said, that if you wish to possess the good opinion
of your fellow men, the way to secure it is, to be actually what you
pretend to be, or rather to appear always precisely what you are. Never
depart from the native dignity of your character, which you can only
maintain irreproachable by being careful not to imitate the vices, or
adopt the follies of others. The best way in all cases you will find to
be, to adhere to truth, and to abide by the talents and appliances which
have been bestowed upon you by Providence.




CHAPTER XV.

LETTER WRITING.


There is no branch of a man's education, no portion of his intercourse
with other men, and no quality which will stand him in good stead more
frequently than the capability of writing a good letter upon any and
every subject. In business, in his intercourse with society, in, I may
say, almost every circumstance of his life, he will find his pen called
into requisition. Yet, although so important, so almost indispensable an
accomplishment, it is one which is but little cultivated, and a letter,
perfect in every part, is a great rarity.

In the composition of a good letter there are many points to be
considered, and we take first the simplest and lowest, namely, the
spelling.

Many spell badly from ignorance, but more from carelessness. The latter,
writing rapidly, make, very often, mistakes that would disgrace a
schoolboy. If you are in doubt about a word, do not from a feeling of
false shame let the spelling stand in its doubtful position hoping that,
if wrong, it will pass unnoticed, but get a dictionary, and see what is
the correct orthography. Besides the actual misplacing of letters in a
word there is another fault of careless, rapid writing, frequently
seen. This is to write two words in one, running them together. I have
more than once seen _with him_ written _withim_, and _for her_ stand
thus, _forer_. Strange, too, as it may seem, it is more frequently the
short, common words that are misspelled than long ones. They flow from
the pen mechanically, while over an unaccustomed word the writer
unconsciously stops to consider the orthography. Chesterfield, in his
advice to his son, says:

"I come now to another part of your letter, which is the orthography, if
I may call bad spelling _orthography_. You spell induce, _enduce_; and
grandeur, you spell _grandure_; two faults of which few of my housemaids
would have been guilty. I must tell you that orthography, in the true
sense of the word, is so absolutely necessary for a man of letters, or a
gentleman, that one false spelling may fix ridicule upon him for the
rest of his life; and I know a man of quality, who never recovered the
ridicule of having spelled _wholesome_ without the _w_.

"Reading with care will secure everybody from false spelling; for books
are always well spelled, according to the orthography of the times. Some
words are indeed doubtful, being spelled differently by different
authors of equal authority; but those are few; and in those cases every
man has his option, because he may plead his authority either way; but
where there is but one right way, as in the two words above mentioned,
it is unpardonable and ridiculous for a gentleman to miss it; even a
woman of tolerable education would despise and laugh at a lover, who
sent her an ill-spelled _billet-doux_. I fear, and suspect, that you
have taken it into your head, in most cases, that the matter is all, and
the manner little or nothing. If you have, undeceive yourself, and be
convinced that, in everything, the manner is full as important as the
matter. If you speak the sense of an angel in bad words, and with a
disagreeable utterance, nobody will hear you twice, who can help it. If
you write epistles as well as Cicero, but in a very bad hand, and very
ill-spelled, whoever receives, will laugh at them."

After orthography, you should make it a point to write a good hand;
clear, legible, and at the same time easy, graceful, and rapid. This is
not so difficult as some persons imagine, but, like other
accomplishments, it requires practice to make it perfect. You must write
every word so clearly that it _cannot_ be mistaken by the reader, and it
is quite an important requisite to leave sufficient space between the
words to render each one separate and distinct. If your writing is
crowded, it will be difficult to read, even though each letter is
perfectly well formed. An English author, in a letter of advice, says:--

"I have often told you that every man who has the use of his eyes and
his hand can write whatever hand he pleases. I do not desire that you
should write the stiff, labored characters of a writing master; a man of
business must write quick and well, and that depends simply upon use. I
would, therefore, advise you to get some very good writing master, and
apply to it for a month only, which will be sufficient; for, upon my
word, the writing of a genteel, plain hand of business is of much more
importance than you think. You say, it may be, that when you write so
very ill, it is because you are in a hurry; to which, I answer, Why are
you ever in a hurry? A man of sense may be in haste, but can never be in
a hurry, because he knows, that whatever he does in a hurry, he must
necessarily do very ill. He may be in haste to dispatch an affair, but
he will take care not to let that haste hinder his doing it well. Little
minds are in a hurry, when the object proves (as it commonly does) too
big for them; they run, they puzzle, confound, and perplex themselves;
they want to do everything at once, and never do it at all. But a man of
sense takes the time necessary for doing the thing he is about, well;
and his haste to dispatch a business, only appears by the continuity of
his application to it; he pursues it with a cool steadiness, and
finishes it before he begins any other....

"The few seconds that are saved in the course of the day by writing ill
instead of well, do not amount to an object of time by any means
equivalent to the disgrace or ridicule of a badly written scrawl."

By making a good, clear hand habitual to you, the caution given above,
with regard to hurry, will be entirely useless, for you will find that
even the most rapid penmanship will not interfere with the beauty of
your hand-writing, and the most absorbing interest in the subject of
your epistle can be indulged; whereas, if you write well only when you
are giving your entire attention to guiding your pen, then, haste in
writing or interest in your subject will spoil the beauty of your sheet.

Be very careful that the wording of your letters is in strict accordance
with the rules of grammar. Nothing stamps the difference between a well
educated man and an ignorant one more decidedly than the purely
grammatical language of the one compared with the labored sentences,
misplaced verbs, nouns, adjectives, and adverbs of the other.
Chesterfield caricatures this fault in the following letter, written as
a warning to his son, to guard him against its glaring faults:

"MY LORD: I _had_, last night, the honor of your Lordship's letter of
the 24th; and will _set about doing_ the orders contained _therein_; and
_if so be_ that I can get that affair done by the next post, I will not
fail _for to_ give your Lordship an account of it, by _next post_. I
have told the French Minister, _as how that if_ that affair be not soon
concluded, your Lordship would think it _all long of him_; and that he
must have neglected _for to_ have wrote to his court about it. I must
beg leave to put your Lordship in mind, _as how_, that I am now full
three quarters in arrear; and if _so be_ that I do not very soon receive
at least one half year, I shall _cut a very bad figure_; _for this here_
place is very dear. I shall be _vastly beholden_ to your Lordship for
_that there_ mark of your favor; and so I _rest_ or _remain_, Your, &c."

This is, I admit, a broad burlesque of a letter written by a man holding
any important government office, but in the more private correspondence
of a man's life letters quite as absurd and ungrammatical are written
every day.

Punctuation is another very important point in a letter, because it not
only is a mark of elegance and education to properly punctuate a letter,
but the omission of this point will inevitably confuse your
correspondent, for if you write to your friend:

"I met last evening Mr James the artist his son a lawyer Mr Gay a friend
of my mother's Mr Clarke and Mr Paul:"

he will not know whether Mr. Gay is a lawyer or your mother's friend, or
whether it is Mr. James or his son who is an artist; whereas, by the
proper placing of a few punctuation marks you make the sentence clear
and intelligible, thus:

"I met, last evening, Mr. James, the artist; his son, a lawyer; Mr. Gay,
a friend of my mother's; Mr. Clarke and Mr. Paul."

Without proper regard being paid to punctuation, the very essence of
good composition is lost; it is of the utmost importance, as clearness,
strength, and accuracy depend upon it, in as great a measure as the
power of an army depends upon the skill displayed in marshalling and
arranging the troops. The separation of one portion of a composition
from another; the proper classification and division of the subjects;
the precise meaning of every word and sentence; the relation each part
bears to previous or following parts; the connection of one portion and
separation of others--all depend upon punctuation. Many persons seem to
consider it sufficient to put in a period at the end of a long sentence,
leaving all the little niceties which a comma, semicolon, or colon would
render clear, in a state of the most lamentable obscurity. Others use
all the points, but misplace them in a most ludicrous manner. A sentence
may be made by the omission or addition of a comma to express a meaning
exactly opposite to the one it expressed before the little mark was
written or erased. The best mode of studying punctuation is to read
over what you write, aloud, and put in the points as you would dwell a
longer or shorter time on the words, were you speaking.

We now come to the use of capital letters, a subject next, in importance
to punctuation, and one too often neglected, even by writers otherwise
careful.

The first word of every piece of writing, whether it be a book, a poem,
a story, a letter, a bill, a note, or only a line of directions, must
begin with a capital letter.

Quotations, even though they are not immediately preceded by a period,
must invariably begin with a capital letter.

Every new sentence, following a period, exclamation mark, or
interrogation point, must begin with a capital letter.

Every proper name, whether it be of a person, a place, or an object,
must begin with a capital letter. The pronoun I and exclamation O must
be always written in capital letters.

Capitals must never, except in the case of proper names or the two
letters mentioned in the last paragraph, be written in the middle of a
sentence.

A capital letter must never be used in the middle of a word, among the
small letters; nor must it be used at the end of a word.

Nothing adds more to the beauty of a letter, or any written composition,
than handsomely written capital letters, used in their proper places.

Having specified the most important points in a correct letter, we next
come to that which, more than anything else, shows the mind of the
writer; that which proves his good or bad education; that which gives
him rank as an elegant or inelegant writer--Style.

It is style which adorns or disfigures a subject; which makes the
humblest matter appear choice and elegant, or which reduces the most
exalted ideas to a level with common, or vulgar ones.

Lord Chesterfield says, "It is of the greatest importance to write
letters well; as this is a talent which unavoidably occurs every day of
one's life, as well in business as in pleasure; and inaccuracies in
orthography or in style are never pardoned. Much depends upon the manner
in which they are written; which ought to be easy and natural, not
strained and florid. For instance, when you are about to send a
_billet-doux_, or love letter to a fair friend, you must only think of
what you would say to her if you were both together, and then write it;
that renders the style easy and natural; though some people imagine the
wording of a letter to be a great undertaking, and think they must write
abundantly better than they talk, which is not at all necessary. Style
is the dress of thoughts, and let them be ever so just, if your style is
homely, coarse, and vulgar, they will appear to as much disadvantage and
be as ill received as your person, though ever so well proportioned,
would, if dressed in rags, dirt, and tatters. It is not every
understanding that can judge of matter; but every one can and does
judge, more or less, of style; and were I either to speak or write to
the public, I should prefer moderate matter, adorned with all the
beauties and elegancies of style, to the strongest matter in the world,
ill worded and ill delivered."

Write legibly, correctly, and without erasures upon a whole sheet of
paper, never upon half a sheet. Choose paper which is thick, white, and
perfectly plain. The initials stamped at the top of a sheet are the only
ornament allowed a gentleman.

It is an unpardonable fault to write upon a sheet which has anything
written or drawn upon it, or is soiled; and quite as bad to answer a
note upon half the sheet it is written upon, or write on the other side
of a sheet which has been used before.

Write your own ideas in your own words, neither borrowing or copying
from another. If you are detected in a plagiarism, you will never
recover your reputation for originality, and you may find yourself in
the position of the hero of the following anecdote:

Mr. O., a man of but little cultivation, fell in love with Miss N.,
whose fine intellect was duly improved by a thorough course of study and
reading, while her wit, vivacity, and beauty made Mr. O. one only
amongst many suitors. Fascinated by her beauty and gracious manner he
determined to settle his fate, and ask her to go forward in the alphabet
and choose the next letter to put to her surname. But how? Five times he
tried to speak, and five times the gay beauty so led the discourse that
he left at the end of each interview, no wiser than when he came. At
length he resolved to write. It was the first time he had held the pen
for any but a business letter. After commencing twice with "Dear sir,"
once with, "I write to inform you that I am well and hope this letter
will find you the same," and once with, "Your last duly received," he
threw the pen aside in disgust and despair. A love letter was beyond his
feeble capacities. Suddenly a brilliant idea struck him. He had lately
seen, in turning the leaves of a popular novel, a letter, perhaps a love
letter. He procured the book, found the letter. It was full of fire and
passion, words of love, protestations of never failing constancy, and
contained an offer of marriage. With a hand that trembled with ecstasy,
O. copied and signed the letter, sealed, directed, and sent it. The next
day came the answer--simply:

    "My Friend,

    "Turn to the next page and you will find the reply.

                                                          "A. N."

He did so, and found a polite refusal of his suit.

The secret of letter writing consists in writing as you would speak.
Thus, if you speak well, you will write well; if you speak ill, you will
also write ill.

Endeavor always to write as correctly and properly as possible. If you
have reason to doubt your own spelling, carefully read and correct every
letter before you fold it. An ill-formed letter is, however, better let
alone. You will not improve it by trying to reform it, and the effort
will be plainly visible.

Let your style be simple, concise, and clear, entirely void of
pretension, without any phrases written merely for effect, without
useless flowery language, respectful towards superiors, women, and
older persons, and it will be well.

Abbreviations are only permitted in business letters, and in friendly
correspondence must never be used.

Figures are never to be used excepting when putting a date or a sum of
money. In a business letter the money is generally specified both in
figures and words, thus; $500 Five hundred dollars.

You may put the name, date, and address of a letter either at the top of
the page or at the end. I give a specimen of each style to show my
meaning.

                                 PHILADELPHIA, _June 25th, 1855_.

    MR. JAMES SMITH,

      Dear Sir,

    The goods ordered in your letter of the 19th inst. were sent
    this morning by Adam's Express. We shall be always happy to
    hear from you, and will promptly fill any further orders.

                                    Yours, truly,
                                              JONES, BROWN, & CO.

or,

    Dear Sir,

    Your favor of the 5th inst. received to day. Will execute your
    commissions with pleasure.

                                             Yours, truly,
                                                        J. Jones.

    MR. JAMES SMITH.
          PHILA., _June 25th, 1854_.

If you send your own address put it under your own signature, thus:

                                             J. JONES,
                                                  17 W---- st.,
                                                        NEW YORK.

The etiquette of letter-writing, should, as much as possible, be
influenced by principles of truth. The superscription and the
subscription should alike be in accordance with the tone of the
communication, and the domestic or social relation of those between whom
it passes. Communications upon professional or business matters, where
no acquaintance exists to modify the circumstances, should be written
thus:--"Mr. Gillot will feel obliged by Mr. Slack's sending by the
bearer," &c. It is an absurdity for a man who writes a challenge, or an
offensive letter, to another, to subscribe himself, "Your obedient
Servant." I dislike this form of subscription, also, when employed by
persons of equal rank. It is perfectly becoming when addressed by a
servant to an employer. But in other cases, "Yours truly," "Yours very
truly," "Your Friend," "Your sincere Friend," "Your Well-wisher," "Your
grateful Friend," "Your affectionate Friend," &c., &c., appears to be
much more truthful, and to be more in keeping with the legitimate
expression of good feeling. It is impossible to lay down a set of rules
that shall govern all cases. But as a principle, it may be urged, that
no person should address another as, "Dear Sir," or, "Dear Madam,"
without feelings and relations that justify the use of the adjective.
These compliments are mockeries. No one who entertains a desire to
write another as "dear," need feel afraid of giving offence by
familiarity; for all mankind prize the esteem even of their humblest
fellows too much to be annoyed by it. And in proportion as the integrity
of the forms of correspondence increase, so will these expressions of
good feeling be more appreciated.

The next point to be considered is the _subject_ of your letter, and
without a good subject the epistle will be apt to be dull. I do not mean
by this that it is necessary to have any extraordinary event to relate,
or startling news to communicate; but in order to write a _good_ letter,
it is necessary to have a _good_ subject, that you may not rival the
Frenchman who wrote to his wife--"I write to you because I have nothing
to do: I stop because I have nothing to say." Letters written without
aim or object, simply for the sake of writing, are apt to be stupid,
trivial, or foolish.

You may write to a friend to congratulate him upon some happy event to
himself, or to condole with him in some misfortune, or to ask his
congratulations or condolence for yourself. You may write to enquire for
his health, or to extend an invitation, a letter of thanks,
felicitations, upon business, or a thousand other subjects, which it is
useless for me to enumerate.

LETTERS OF BUSINESS. The chief object in a letter of business is to
communicate or enquire about some one fact, and the epistle should be
confined entirely to that fact. All compliments, jests, high-flown
language and sentiment, are entirely out of place in a business letter,
and brevity should be one of the most important aims. Do not let your
desire to be brief, however, make your meaning obscure; better to add a
few words, or even lines, to the length of your letter, than to send it
in confused, unintelligible language. Chesterfield's advice on business
letters is excellent. He says:

"The first thing necessary in writing letters of business is, extreme
clearness and perspicuity; every paragraph should be so clear and
unambiguous that the dullest fellow in the world may not be able to
mistake it, nor obliged to read it twice in order to understand it. This
necessary clearness implies a correctness, without excluding an elegance
of style. Tropes, figures, antithesis, epigrams, &c., would be as
misplaced and as impertinent in letters of business as they are
sometimes (if judiciously used) proper and pleasing in familiar letters,
upon common and trite subjects. In business, an elegant simplicity, the
result of care, not of labor, is required. Business must be well, not
affectedly dressed; but by no means negligently. Let your first
attention be to clearness, and read every paragraph after you have
written it, in the critical view of discovering whether it is possible
that any one man can mistake the true sense of it; and correct it
accordingly.

"Our pronouns and relatives often create obscurity and ambiguity; be,
therefore, exceedingly attentive to them, and take care to mark out with
precision their particular relations. For example, Mr. Johnson
acquainted me, that he had seen Mr. Smith, who had promised him to speak
to Mr. Clarke, to return him (Mr. Johnson) those papers, which he (Mr.
Smith) had left some time ago with him (Mr. Clarke); it is better to
repeat a name, though unnecessarily, ten times, than to have the person
mistaken once.

"_Who_, you know, is singly relative to persons, and cannot be applied
to things; _which_ and _that_ are chiefly relative to things, but not
absolutely exclusive of persons; for one may say the man, _that_ robbed
or killed such-a-one; but it is better to say, the man _who_ robbed or
killed. One never says, the man or woman _which_. _Which_ and _that_,
though chiefly relative to things, cannot be always used indifferently
as to things. For instance, the letter _which_ I received from you,
_which_ you referred to in your last, _which_ came by Lord Albemarle's
messenger, _which_ I showed to such-a-one; I would change it thus--The
letter that I received from you, _which_ you referred to in your last,
_that_ came by Lord Albemarle's messenger, and _which_ I showed to
such-a-one.

"Business does not exclude (as possibly you wish it did) the usual terms
of politeness and good breeding; but, on the contrary, strictly requires
them; such as, _I have the honor to acquaint you_; _Permit me to assure
you_; or, _If I may be allowed to give my opinion, &c._

"LETTERS OF BUSINESS will not only admit of, but be the better for
_certain graces_--but then, they must be scattered with a skillful and
sparing hand; they must fit their place exactly. They must adorn without
encumbering, and modestly shine without glaring. But as this is the
utmost degree of perfection in letters of business, I would not advise
you to attempt those embellishments, till you have just laid your
foundation well.

"Carefully avoid all Greek or Latin quotations; and bring no precedents
from the _virtuous Spartans_, _the polite Athenians_, _and the brave
Romans_. Leave all that to futile pedants. No flourishes, no
declamations. But (I repeat it again) there is an elegant simplicity and
dignity of style absolutely necessary for _good_ letters of business;
attend to that carefully. Let your periods be harmonious, without
seeming to be labored; and let them not be too long, for that always
occasions a degree of obscurity. I should not mention correct
orthography, but that to fail in that particular will bring ridicule
upon you; for no man is allowed to spell ill. The hand-writing, too,
should be good; and I cannot conceive why it is ever otherwise, since
every man may, certainly, write whatever hand he pleases. Neatness in
folding up, sealing, and directing your packets is, by no means, to be
neglected. There is something in the exterior, even of a packet or
letter, that may please or displease; and, consequently, worth some
attention."

If you are writing a letter, either upon your own business or upon that
of the person you are addressing, not in answer to him, but opening the
subject between you, follow the rule of clearness and of business
brevity. Come to the point at once, in order that the person addressed
may easily comprehend you. Put nobody to the labor of _guessing_ what
you desire, and be careful that half-instructions do not lead your
correspondent astray. If you have so clear an idea of your operation in
your mind, or if it is so simple a one that it needs no words, except
specific directions, or a plain request, you need not waste time, but,
with the proper forms of courtesy, instruct him of your wishes. In
whatever you write, remember that time is valuable; and that
embarrassing or indefinite letters are a great nuisance to a business
man. I need hardly remark, that punctuality in answering correspondents
is one of the cardinal business virtues. Where it is possible, answer
letters by return of post, as you will thus save your own time, and pay
your correspondent a flattering compliment. And in opening a
correspondence or writing upon your own business, let your communication
be made at the earliest proper date in order that your correspondent, as
well as yourself, may have the benefit of thought and deliberation.

LETTERS OF INQUIRY should be written in a happy medium, between tedious
length and the brevity which would betoken indifference. As the subject
is generally limited to questions upon one subject, they will not admit
of much verbiage, and if your inquiry relates simply to a matter of
business, it is better to confine your words strictly to that business;
if, however, you are writing to make inquiry as to the health of a
friend, or any other matter in which feeling or affection dictates the
epistle, the cold, formal style of a business letter would become
heartless, and, in many cases, positively insulting. You must here add
some words of compliment, express your friendly interest in the subject,
and your hope that a favorable answer may be returned, and if the
occasion is a painful one, a few lines of regret or condolence may be
added.

If you are requesting a favor of your correspondent, you should
apologize for the trouble you are giving him, and mention the necessity
which prompts you to write.

If you are making inquiries of a friend, your letter will then admit of
some words of compliment, and may be written in an easy, familiar style.

If writing to a stranger, your request for information becomes a
personal favor, and you should write in a manner to show him that you
feel this. Speak of the obligation he will confer, mention the necessity
which compels you to trouble him, and follow his answer by a note of
thanks.

Always, when sending a letter of inquiry, enclose a stamp for the
answer. If you trouble your correspondent to take his time to write you
information, valuable only to yourself, you have no right to tax him
also for the price of postage.

ANSWERS TO LETTERS OF INQUIRY should be written as soon as possible
after such letters are received. If the inquiry is of a personal nature,
concerning your health, family affairs, or the denial or corroboration
of some report concerning yourself, you should thank your correspondent
for the interest he expresses, and such a letter should be answered
immediately. If the letter you receive contains questions which you
cannot answer instantly, as, for instance, if you are obliged to see a
third party, or yourself make inquiry upon the subject proposed, it is
best to write a few lines acknowledging the receipt of your friend's
letter, expressing your pleasure at being able to serve him, and stating
why you cannot immediately give him the desired information, with the
promise to write again as soon as such information is yours to send.

LETTERS REQUESTING FAVORS are trying to write, and must be dictated by
the circumstances which make them necessary. Be careful not to be
servile in such letters. Take a respectful, but, at the same time, manly
tone; and, while you acknowledge the obligation a favorable answer will
confer, do not adopt the cringing language of a beggar.

LETTERS CONFERRING FAVORS should never be written in a style to make the
recipient feel a weight of obligation; on the contrary, the style should
be such as will endeavor to convince your correspondent that in his
acceptance of your favor _he_ confers an obligation upon _you_.

LETTERS REFUSING FAVORS call for your most courteous language, for they
must give some pain, and this may be very much softened by the manner in
which you write. Express your regret at being unable to grant your
friend's request, a hope that at some future time it may be in your
power to answer another such letter more favorably, and give a good
reason for your refusal.

LETTERS ACKNOWLEDGING FAVORS, or letters of thanks, should be written in
a cordial, frank, and grateful style. While you earnestly thank your
correspondent for his kindness, you must never hint at any payment of
the obligation. If you have the means of obliging him near you at that
instant, make your offer of the favor the subject of another letter,
lest he attribute your haste to a desire to rid yourself of an
obligation. To hint at a future payment is still more indelicate. When
you can show your gratitude by a suitable return, then let your actions,
not your words, speak for the accuracy of your memory in retaining the
recollection of favors conferred.

ANONYMOUS LETTERS. The man who would write an anonymous letter, either
to insult the person addressed, or annoy a third person, is a scoundrel,
"whom 'twere gross flattery to name a coward." None but a man of the
lowest principles, and meanest character, would commit an act to gratify
malice or hatred without danger to himself. A gentleman will treat such
a communication with the contemptuous silence which it deserves.

LETTERS OF INTELLIGENCE. The first thing to be regarded in a letter of
intelligence is _truth_. They are written on every variety of subjects,
under circumstances of the saddest and the most joyful nature. They are
written often under the pressure of the most crushing grief, at other
times when the hand trembles with ecstacy, and very frequently when a
weight of other cares and engagements makes the time of the writer
invaluable. Yet, whether the subject communicated concerns yourself or
another, remember that every written word is a record for your veracity
or falsehood. If exaggeration, or, still worse, malice, guide your pen,
in imparting painful subjects, or if the desire to avoid causing grief
makes you violate truth to soften trying news, you are signing your name
to a written falsehood, and the letter may, at some future time, rise to
confront you and prove that your intelligence cannot be trusted.
Whatever the character of the news you communicate, let taste and
discretion guide you in the manner of imparting it. If it is of so
sorrowful a character that you know it must cause pain, you may endeavor
to open the subject gradually, and a few lines of sympathy and comfort,
if unheeded at the time, may be appreciated when the mourner re-reads
your letter in calmer moments. Joyful news, though it does not need the
same caution, also admits of expressions of sympathy.

Never write the gossip around you, unless you are _obliged_ to
communicate some event, and then write only what you know to be true,
or, if you speak of doubtful matters, state them to be such. Avoid mere
scandal and hearsay, and, above all, avoid letting your own malice or
bitterness of feeling color all your statements in their blackest dye.
Be, under such circumstances, truthful, just, and charitable.

LETTERS OF RECOMMENDATION should be written only when they are
positively necessary, and great caution should be used in giving them.
They make you, in a measure, responsible for the conduct of another, and
if you give them frequently, on slight grounds, you will certainly have
cause to repent your carelessness. They are letters of business, and
should be carefully composed; truthful, while they are courteous, and
just, while they are kind. If you sacrifice candor to a mistaken
kindness, you not only make yourself a party to any mischief that may
result, but you are committing a dishonest act towards the person to
whom the letter will be delivered.

LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION should be short, as they are generally delivered
in person, and ought not to occupy much time in reading, as no one likes
to have to wait while a long letter of introduction is read. While you
speak of the bearer in the warm language of friendship, do not write
praises in such a letter; they are about as much in place as they would
be if you spoke them at a personal introduction. Leave letters of
introduction unsealed, for it is a gross breach of politeness to
prevent the bearer from reading what you have written, by fastening the
envelope. The most common form is:--

    Dear Sir,

    It gives me much pleasure to introduce to you, the bearer of
    this letter, as my friend Mr. J----, who is to remain a few
    days in your city on his way to New Orleans. I trust that the
    acquaintance of two friends, for whom I have so long
    entertained so warm an esteem, will prove as pleasant as my
    intercourse with each has always been. Any attention which it
    may be in your power to pay to Mr. J----, whilst he is in your
    city, will be highly appreciated and gratefully acknowledged by

                                        Your sincere friend
                                                    JAMES C. RAY.

    MR. L. G. EDMONDS.
          _June 23d, 18--._

If your letter is to introduce any gentleman in his business or
professional capacity, mention what that business is; and if your own
acquaintance with the bearer is slight, you may also use the name of the
persons from whom he brought letters to yourself. Here, you may, with
perfect propriety, say a few words in praise of the bearer's skill in
his professional labors. If he is an artist, you need not hesitate to
give a favorable opinion of whatever of his pictures you have seen, or,
if a musician, express the delight his skill has afforded you.

A LETTER REQUESTING AN AUTOGRAPH should always enclose a postage stamp
for the reply. In such a letter some words of compliment, expressive of
the value of the name for which you ask, is in good taste. You may refer
to the deeds or celebrity which have made the name so desirable, and
also express your sense of the greatness of the favor, and the
obligation the granting of it will confer.

AUTOGRAPH LETTERS should be short; containing merely a few lines,
thanking the person addressed for the compliment paid in requesting the
signature, and expressive of the pleasure it gives you to comply with
the request. If you wish to refuse (though none but a churl would do
so), do not fall into the error of an eccentric American whose high
position in the army tempted a collector of autographs to request his
signature. The general wrote in reply:--

    "Sir,

    "I'll be hanged if I send my autograph to anybody.

                                                      "Yours,

                                                          "----."

and signed his name in full in the strong, bold letters which always
characterized his hand writing.

INVITATIONS TO LADIES should be written in the third person, unless you
are very intimate with them, or can claim relationship. All letters
addressed to a lady should be written in a respectful style, and when
they are short and to a comparative stranger, the third person is the
most elegant one to use. Remember, in directing letters to young ladies,
the eldest one in a family is addressed by the surname alone, while the
others have also the proper name; thus, if you wrote to the daughters
of Mr. Smith, the eldest one is Miss Smith, the others, Miss Annie Smith
and Miss Jane Smith.

Invitations should be sent by your own servant, or clerk. Nothing is
more vulgar than sending invitations through the despatch, and you run
the risk of their being delayed. The first time that you invite a lady
to accompany you to ride, walk, or visit any place of public amusement,
you should also invite her mother, sister, or any other lady in the same
family, unless you have a mother or sister with whom the lady invited is
acquainted, when you should say in your note that your mother or sister
will accompany you.

LETTERS OF COMPLIMENT being confined to one subject should be short and
simple. If they are of thanks for inquiry made, they should merely echo
the letter they answer, with the acknowledgement of your correspondent's
courtesy.

LETTERS OF CONGRATULATION. Letters of congratulation are the most
agreeable of all letters to write; your subject is before you, and you
have the pleasure of sympathizing in the happiness of a friend. They
should be written in a frank, genial style, with warm expressions of
pleasure at your friend's joy, and admit of any happy quotations or
jest.

When congratulating your friend on an occasion of happiness to himself,
be very careful that your letter has no word of envy at his good
fortune, no fears for its short duration, no prophecy of a change for
the worse; let all be bright, cheerful, and hopeful. There are few men
whose life calls for letters of congratulation upon many occasions, let
them have bright, unclouded ones when they can claim them. If you have
other friends whose sorrow makes a contrast with the joy of the person
to whom you are writing, nay, even if you yourself are in affliction, do
not mention it in such a letter.

At the same time avoid the satire of exaggeration in your expressions of
congratulation, and be very careful how you underline a word. If you
write a hope that your friend may be _perfectly happy_, he will not
think that the emphasis proves the strength of your wish, but that you
are fearful that it will not be fulfilled.

If at the same time that you are writing a letter of congratulation, you
have sorrowful news to communicate, do not put your tidings of grief
into your congratulatory letter; let that contain only cheerful,
pleasant words; even if your painful news must be sent the same day,
send it in a separate epistle.

LETTERS OF CONDOLENCE are trying both to the writer and to the reader.
If your sympathy is sincere, and you feel the grief of your friend as if
it were your own, you will find it difficult to express in written words
the sorrow that you are anxious to comfort.

Even the warmest, most sincere expressions, sound cold and commonplace
to the mourner, and one grasp of the hand, one glance of the eye, will
do more to express sympathy than whole sheets of written words. It is
best not to try to say _all_ that you feel. You will fail in the attempt
and may weary your friend. Let your letter, then, be short, (not
heartlessly so) but let its words, though few, be warm and sincere. Any
light, cheerful jesting will be insulting in a letter of condolence. If
you wish to comfort by bringing forward blessings or hopes for the
future, do not do it with gay, or jesting expressions, but in a gentle,
kind manner, drawing your words of comfort, not from trivial, passing
events, but from the highest and purest sources.

If the subject for condolence be loss of fortune or any similar event,
your letter will admit of the cheering words of every-day life, and
kindly hopes that the wheel of fortune may take a more favorable turn;
but, if death causes your friend's affliction, there is but little to be
said in the first hours of grief. Your letter of sympathy and comfort
may be read after the first crushing grief is over, and appreciated
then, but words of comfort are but little heeded when the first agony of
a life-long separation is felt in all the force of its first hours.

LETTERS SENT WITH PRESENTS should be short, mere cards of compliment,
and written in the third person.

LETTERS ACKNOWLEDGING PRESENTS should also be quite short, written in
the third person, and merely containing a few lines of thanks, with a
word or two of admiration for the beauty, value, or usefulness of the
gift.

LETTERS OF ADVICE are generally very unpalatable for the reader, and had
better not be written unless solicited, and not then unless your counsel
will really benefit your correspondent. When written, let them be
courteous, but, at the same time, perfectly frank. If you can avert an
evil by writing a letter of advice, even when unsolicited, it is a
friendly office to write, but it is usually a thankless one.

To write after an act has been performed, and state what your advice
would have been, had your opinion been asked, is extremely foolish, and
if you disapprove of the course that has been taken, your best plan is,
certainly, to say nothing about it.

In writing your letter of advice, give your judgement as an opinion, not
a law, and say candidly that you will not feel hurt if contrary advice
offered by any other, more competent to judge in the case, is taken.
While your candor may force you to give the most unpalatable counsel,
let your courtesy so express it, that it cannot give offence.

LETTERS OF EXCUSE are sometimes necessary, and they should be written
promptly, as a late apology for an offence is worse than no apology at
all. They should be written in a frank, manly style, containing an
explanation of the offence, and the facts which led to it, the assurance
of the absence of malice or desire to offend, sorrow for the
circumstances, and a hope that your apology will be accepted. Never wait
until circumstances force an apology from you before writing a letter of
excuse. A frank, prompt acknowledgement of an offence, and a candidly
expressed desire to atone for it, or for indulgence towards it, cannot
fail to conciliate any reasonable person.

CARDS OF COMPLIMENT must always be written in the third person.

ANSWERS. The first requisite in answering a letter upon any subject, is
promptness. If you can answer by return of mail, do so; if not, write as
soon as possible. If you receive a letter making inquiries about facts
which you will require time to ascertain, then write a few lines
acknowledging the receipt of the letter of inquiry and promising to send
the information as soon as possible.




CHAPTER XVI.

WEDDING ETIQUETTE.


From an English work, "The Habits of Good Society," I quote some
directions for the guidance of the happy man who proposes to enter the
state of matrimony. I have altered a few words to suit the difference of
country, but when weddings are performed in church, the rules given here
are excellent. They will apply equally well to the evening ceremony.

"At a time when our feelings are or ought to be most susceptible, when
the happiness or misery of a condition in which there is no medium
begins, we are surrounded with forms and etiquettes which rise before
the unwary like spectres, and which even the most rigid ceremonialists
regard with a sort of dread.

"Were it not, however, for these forms, and for this necessity of being
_en regle_, there might, on the solemnization of marriage, be confusion,
forgetfulness, and, even--speak it not aloud--irritation among the
parties most intimately concerned. Excitement might ruin all. Without a
definite programme, the old maids of the family would be thrusting in
advice. The aged chronicler of past events, or grandmother by the
fireside, would have it all her way; the venerable bachelor in tights,
with his blue coat and metal buttons, might throw every thing into
confusion by his suggestions. It is well that we are independent of all
these interfering advisers; that there is no necessity to appeal to
them. Precedent has arranged it all; we have only to put in or
understand what that stern authority has laid down; how it has been
varied by modern changes; and we must just shape our course boldly.
'Boldly?' But there is much to be done before we come to that. First,
there is the offer to be made. Well may a man who contemplates such a
step say to himself, with Dryden:

    'These are the realms of everlasting fate;'

for, in truth, on marriage one's well-being not only here but even
hereafter mainly depends. But it is not on this bearing of the subject
that we wish to enter, contenting ourselves with a quotation from the
_Spectator_:

"'It requires more virtues to make a good husband or wife, than what go
to the finishing any the most shining character whatsoever.'

"In France, an engagement is an affair of negotiation and business; and
the system, in this respect, greatly resembles the practice in England,
on similar occasions, a hundred and fifty or two hundred years ago, or
even later. France is the most unchanging country in the world in her
habits and domestic institutions, and foremost among these is her
'_Marriage de convenance_,' or '_Marriage de raison_.'

"It is thus brought about. So soon as a young girl quits the school or
convent where she has been educated, her friends cast about for a
suitable _parti_. Most parents in France take care, so soon as a
daughter is born, to put aside a sum of money for her '_dot_,' as they
well know that, whatever may be her attractions, _that_ is indispensable
in order to be married. They are ever on the look out for a youth with,
at least, an equal fortune, or more; or, if they are rich, for title,
which is deemed tantamount to fortune; even the power of writing those
two little letters _De_ before your name has some value in the marriage
contract. Having satisfied themselves, they thus address the young
lady:--'It is now time for you to be married; I know of an eligible
match; you can see the gentleman, either at such a ball, or [if he is
serious] at church. I do not ask you to take him if his appearance is
positively disagreeable to you; if so, we will look out for some one
else.'

"As a matter of custom, the young lady answers that the will of her
parents is hers; she consents to take a survey of him to whom her
destiny is to be entrusted; and let us presume that he is accepted,
though it does not follow, and sometimes it takes several months to look
out, as it does for other matters, a house, or a place, or a pair of
horses. However, she consents; a formal introduction takes place; the
_promis_ calls in full dress to see his future wife; they are only just
to speak to each other, and those few unmeaning words are spoken in the
presence of the bride-elect's mother; for the French think it most
indiscreet to allow the affections of a girl to be interested before
marriage, lest during the arrangements for the contract all should be
broken off. If she has no dislike, it is enough; never for an instant
are the engaged couple left alone, and in very few cases do they go up
to the altar with more than a few weeks' acquaintance, and usually with
less. The whole matter is then arranged by notaries, who squabble over
the marriage-contract, and get all they can for their clients.

"The contract is usually signed in France on the day before the
marriage, when all is considered safe; the religious portion of their
bond takes place in the church, and then the two young creatures are
left together to understand each other if they can, and to love each
other if they will; if not they must content themselves with what is
termed, _un menage de Paris_.

"In England, formerly, much the same system prevailed. A boy of
fourteen, before going on his travels, was contracted to a girl of
eleven, selected as his future wife by parents or guardians; he came
back after the _grande tour_ to fulfil the engagement. But by law it was
imperative that forty days should at least pass between the contract and
the marriage; during which dreary interval the couple, leashed together
like two young greyhounds, would have time to think of the future. In
France, the perilous period of reflection is not allowed. 'I really am
so glad we are to take a journey,' said a young French lady to her
friends; 'I shall thus get to know something about my husband; he is
quite a stranger to me.' Some striking instances of the _Marriage de
convenance_ being infringed on, have lately occurred in France. The late
Monsieur de Tocqueville married for love, after a five years'
engagement. Guizot, probably influenced by his acquaintance with
England, gave his daughters liberty to choose for themselves, and they
married for _love_[B]--'a very indelicate proceeding,' remarked a French
comtesse of the old _regime_, when speaking of this arrangement.

[B] Two brothers, named _De Witte_.

"Nothing can be more opposed to all this than the American system. They
are so tenacious of the freedom of choice, that even persuasion is
thought criminal.

"In France negotiations are often commenced on the lady's side; in
America, never. Even too encouraging a manner, even the ordinary
attentions of civility, are, occasionally, a matter of reproach. We are
jealous of the delicacy of that sacred bond; which we presume to hope is
to spring out of mutual affection. A gentleman who, from whatever
motives, has made up his mind to marry, may set about it in two ways. He
may propose by letter or in words. The customs of society imply the
necessity of a sufficient knowledge of the lady to be addressed. This,
even in this country, is a difficult point to be attained; and, after
all, cannot be calculated by time, since, in large cities, you may know
people a year, and yet be comparative strangers; and, meeting them in
the country, may become intimate in a week.

"Having made up his mind, the gentleman offers--wisely, if he can, in
speech. Letters are seldom expressive of what really passes in the mind
of man; or, if expressive, seem foolish, since deep feelings are liable
to exaggeration. Every written word may be the theme of cavil. Study,
care, which avail in every other species of composition, are death to
the lover's effusion. A few sentences, spoken in earnest, and broken by
emotion, are more eloquent than pages of sentiment, both to parent and
daughter. Let him, however, speak and be accepted. He is, in that case,
instantly taken into the intimacy of his adopted relatives. Such is the
notion of American honor, that the engaged couple are henceforth allowed
to be frequently alone together, in walking and at home. If there be no
known obstacle to the engagement, the gentleman and lady are mutually
introduced to the respective relatives of each. It is for the
gentleman's family to call first; for him to make the first present; and
this should be done as soon as possible after the offer has been
accepted. It is a sort of seal put upon the affair. The absence of
presents is thought to imply want of earnestness in the matter. This
present generally consists of some personal ornament, say, a ring, and
should be handsome, but not so handsome as that made for the
wedding-day. During the period that elapses before the marriage, the
betrothed man should conduct himself with peculiar deference to the
lady's family and friends, even if beneath his own station. It is often
said: 'I marry such a lady, but I do not mean to marry her whole
family.' This disrespectful pleasantry has something in it so cold, so
selfish, that even if the lady's family be disagreeable, there is a
total absence of delicate feeling to her in thus speaking of those
nearest to her. To her parents especially, the conduct of the betrothed
man should be respectful; to her sisters kind without familiarity; to
her brothers, every evidence of good-will should be testified. In making
every provision for the future, in regard to settlements, allowance for
dress, &c., the _extent_ of liberality convenient should be the spirit
of all arrangements. Perfect candor as to his own affairs, respectful
consideration for those of the family he is about to enter, mark a true
gentleman.

"In France, however gay and even blameable a man may have been before
his betrothal, he conducts himself with the utmost propriety after that
event. A sense of what is due to a lady should repress all habits
unpleasant to her; smoking, if disagreeable; frequenting places of
amusement without her; or paying attention to other women. In this
respect, indeed, the sense of honor should lead a man to be as
scrupulous when his future wife is absent as when she is present, if not
more so.

"In equally bad taste is exclusiveness. The devotions of two engaged
persons should be reserved for the _tete-a-tete_, and women are
generally in fault when it is otherwise. They like to exhibit their
conquest; they cannot dispense with attentions; they forget that the
demonstration of any peculiar condition of things in society must make
some one uncomfortable; the young lady is uncomfortable because she is
not equally happy; the young man detests what he calls nonsense; the old
think there is a time for all things. All sitting apart, therefore, and
peculiar displays, are in bad taste; I am inclined to think that they
often accompany insincerity, and that the truest affections are those
which are reserved for the genuine and heartfelt intimacy of private
interviews. At the same time, the airs of indifference and avoidance
should be equally guarded against; since, however strong and mutual
attachment may be, such a line of conduct is apt needlessly to mislead
others, and so produce mischief. True feeling, and a lady-like
consideration for others, a point in which the present generation
essentially fails, are the best guides for steering between the extremes
of demonstration on the one hand, and of frigidity on the other.

"During the arrangement of pecuniary matters, a young lady should
endeavor to understand what is going on, receiving it in a right spirit.
If she has fortune, she should, in all points left to her, be generous
and confiding, at the same time prudent. Many a man, she should
remember, may abound in excellent qualities, and yet be improvident. He
may mean to do well, yet have a passion for building; he may be the very
soul of good nature, yet fond of the gaming-table; he may have no wrong
propensities of that sort, and yet have a confused notion of accounts,
and be one of those men who muddle away a great deal of money, no one
knows how; or he may be a too strict economist, a man who takes too good
care of the pence, till he tires your very life out about an extra
dollar; or he may be facile or weakly good natured, and have a friend
who preys on him, and for whom he is disposed to become security.
Finally, the beloved Charles, Henry, or Reginald may have none of these
propensities, but may chance to be an honest merchant, or a tradesman,
with all his floating capital in business, and a consequent risk of
being one day rich, the next a pauper.

"Upon every account, therefore, it is desirable for a young lady to have
a settlement on her; and she should not, from a weak spirit of romance,
oppose her friends who advise it, since it is for her husband's
advantage as well as her own. By making a settlement there is always a
fund which cannot be touched--a something, however small, as a
provision for a wife and children; and whether she have fortune or not,
this ought to be made. An allowance for dress should also be arranged;
and this should be administered in such a way that a wife should not
have to ask for it at inconvenient hours, and thus irritate her husband.

"Every preliminary being settled, there remains nothing except to fix
the marriage-day, a point always left to the lady to advance; and next
to settle how the ceremonial is to be performed is the subject of
consideration.

"It is to be lamented that, previous to so solemn a ceremony, the
thoughts of the lady concerned must necessarily be engaged for some time
upon her _trousseau_. The _trousseau_ consists, in this country, of all
the habiliments necessary for a lady's use for the first two or three
years of her married life; like every other outfit there are always a
number of articles introduced into it that are next to useless, and are
only calculated for the vain-glory of the ostentatious.

"The _trousseau_ being completed, and the day fixed, it becomes
necessary to select the bridesmaids and the bridegroom's man, and to
invite the guests.

"The bridesmaids are from two to eight in number. It is ridiculous to
have many, as the real intention of the bridesmaid is, that she should
act as a witness of the marriage. It is, however, thought a compliment
to include the bride's sisters and those of the bridegroom's relations
and intimate friends, in case sisters do not exist.

"When a bride is young the bridesmaids should be young; but it is absurd
to see a 'single woman of a certain age,' or a widow, surrounded by
blooming girls, making her look plain and foolish. For them the discreet
woman of thirty-five is more suitable as a bridesmaid. Custom decides
that the bridesmaids should be spinsters, but there is no legal
objection to a married woman being a bridesmaid, should it be necessary,
as it might be abroad, or at sea, or where ladies are few in number.
Great care should be taken not to give offence in the choice of
bridesmaids by a preference, which is always in bad taste on momentous
occasions.

"The guests at the wedding should be selected with similar attention to
what is right and kind, with consideration to those who have a claim on
us, not only to what we ourselves prefer.

"For a great wedding breakfast, it is customary to send out printed
cards from the parents or guardians from whose house the young lady is
to be married.

"Early in the day, before eleven, the bride should be dressed, taking
breakfast in her own room. In America they load a bride with lace
flounces on a rich silk, and even sometimes with ornaments. In France it
is always remembered, with better taste, that when a young lady goes up
to the altar, she is '_encore jeune fille_;' her dress, therefore, is
exquisitely simple; a dress of tulle over white silk, a long, wide veil of
white tulle, going down to the very feet, a wreath of maiden-blush-roses
interspersed with orange flowers. This is the usual costume of a French
bride of rank, or in the middle classes equally.

"The gentleman's dress should differ little from his full morning
costume. The days are gone by when gentlemen were married--as a
recently deceased friend of mine was--in white satin breeches and
waistcoat. In these days men show less joy in their attire at the fond
consummation of their hopes, and more in their faces. A dark-blue
frock-coat--black being superstitiously considered ominous--a white
waistcoat, and a pair of light trousers, suffice for the 'happy man.'
The neck-tie also should be light and simple. Polished boots are not
amiss, though plain ones are better. The gloves must be as white as the
linen. Both are typical--for in these days types are as important as
under the Hebrew law-givers--of the purity of mind and heart which are
supposed to exist in their wearer. Eheu! after all, he cannot be too
well dressed, for the more gay he is the greater the compliment to his
bride. Flowers in the button-hole and a smile on the face show the
bridegroom to be really a 'happy man.'

"As soon as the carriages are at the door, those bridesmaids, who happen
to be in the house, and the other members of the family set off first.
The bride goes last, with her father and mother, or with her mother
alone, and the brother or relative who is to represent her father in
case of death or absence. The bridegroom, his friend, or bridegroom's
man, and the bridesmaids ought to be waiting in the church. The father
of the bride gives her his arm, and leads her to the altar. Here her
bridesmaids stand near her, as arranged by the clerk, and the bridegroom
takes his appointed place.

"It is a good thing for the bridegroom's man to distribute the different
fees to the clergyman or clergymen, the clerk, and pew-opener, before
the arrival of the bride, as it prevents confusion afterwards.

"The bride stands to the left of the bridegroom, and takes the glove off
her right hand, whilst he takes his glove off his right hand. The bride
gives her glove to the bridesmaid to hold, and sometimes to keep, as a
good omen.

"The service then begins. During the recital, it is certainly a matter
of feeling how the parties concerned should behave; but if tears can be
restrained, and a quiet modesty in the lady displayed, and her emotions
subdued, it adds much to the gratification of others, and saves a few
pangs to the parents from whom she is to part.

"It should be remembered that this is but the closing scene of a drama
of some duration--first the offer, then the consent and engagement. In
most cases the marriage has been preceded by acts which have stamped the
whole with certainty, although we do not adopt the contract system of
our forefathers, and although no event in this life can be certain.

"I have omitted the mention of the bouquet, because it seems to me
always an awkward addition to the bride, and that it should be presented
afterwards on her return to the breakfast. Gardenias, if in season,
white azalia, or even camellias, with very little orange flowers, form
the bridal bouquet. The bridesmaids are dressed, on this occasion, so as
to complete the picture with effect. When there are six or eight, it is
usual for three of them to dress in one color, and three in another. At
some of the most fashionable weddings in London, the bridesmaids wear
veils--these are usually of net or tulle; white tarlatan dresses, over
muslin or beautifully-worked dresses, are much worn, with colors
introduced--pink or blue, and scarves of those colors; and white
bonnets, if bonnets are worn, trimmed with flowers to correspond. These
should be simple, but the flowers as natural as possible, and of the
finest quality. The bouquets of the bridesmaids should be of mixed
flowers. These they may have at church, but the present custom is for
the gentlemen of the house to present them on their return home,
previous to the wedding breakfast.

"The register is then signed. The bride quits the church first with the
bridegroom, and gets into his carriage, and the father and mother,
bridesmaids, and bridegroom's man, follow in order in their own.

"The breakfast is arranged on one or more tables, and is generally
provided by a confectioner when expense is not an object.

"Presents are usual, first from the bridegroom to the bridesmaids. These
generally consist of jewelry, the device of which should be unique or
quaint, the article more elegant than massive. The female servants of
the family, more especially servants who have lived many years in their
place, also expect presents, such as gowns or shawls; or to a very
valued personal attendant or housekeeper, a watch. But on such points
discretion must suggest, and liberality measure out the _largesse_ of
the gift."

When the ceremony is performed at the house of the bride, the bridegroom
should be ready full half an hour before the time appointed, and enter
the parlor at the head of his army of bridesmaids and groomsmen, with
his fair bride on his arm. In America a groomsman is allowed for each
bridesmaid, whilst in England one poor man is all that is allowed for
six, sometimes eight bridesmaids. The brothers or very intimate friends
of the bride and groom are usually selected for groomsmen.




CHAPTER XVII.

ETIQUETTE FOR PLACES OF AMUSEMENT.


When you wish to invite a lady to accompany you to the theatre, opera, a
concert, or any other public place of amusement, send the invitation the
day previous to the one selected for taking her, and write it in the
third person. If it is the first time you have invited her, include her
mother, sister, or some other lady in the invitation.

If she accepts your invitation, let it be your next care to secure good
seats, for it is but a poor compliment to invite a lady to go to the
opera, and put her in an uncomfortable seat, where she can neither hear,
see, nor be seen.

Although, when alone, you will act a courteous part in giving your seat
to a strange lady, who is standing, in a crowded concert room, you
should not do so when you are with a lady. By giving up your place
beside her, you may place a lady next her, whom she will find an
unpleasant companion, and you are yourself separated from her, when the
conversation between the acts makes one of the greatest pleasures of an
evening spent in this way. In case of accident, too, he deprives her of
his protection, and gives her the appearance of having come alone. Your
first duty, when you are escorting a lady, is to that lady before all
others.

When you are with a lady at a place of amusement, you must not leave
your seat until you rise to escort her home. If at the opera, you may
invite her to promenade between the acts, but if she declines, do you
too remain in your seat.

Let all your conversation be in a low tone, not whispered, nor with any
air of mystery, but in a tone that will not disturb those seated near
you.

Any lover-like airs or attitudes, although you may have the right to
assume them, are in excessively bad taste in public.

If the evening you have appointed be a stormy one, you must call for
your companion with a carriage, and this is the more elegant way of
taking her even if the weather does not make it absolutely necessary.

When you are entering a concert room, or the box of a theatre, walk
before your companion up the aisle, until you reach the seats you have
secured, then turn, offer your hand to her, and place her in the inner
seat, taking the outside one yourself; in going out, if the aisle is too
narrow to walk two abreast, you again precede your companion until you
reach the lobby, where you turn and offer your arm to her.

Loud talking, laughter, or mistimed applause, are all in very bad taste,
for if you do not wish to pay strict attention to the performance, those
around you probably do, and you pay but a poor compliment to your
companion in thus implying her want of interest in what she came to
see.

Secure your programme, libretto, or concert bill, before taking your
seat, as, if you leave it, in order to obtain them, you may find some
one else occupying your place when you return, and when the seats are
not secured, he may refuse to rise, thus giving you the alternative of
an altercation, or leaving your companion without any protector. Or, you
may find a lady in your seat, in which case, you have no alternative,
but must accept the penalty of your carelessness, by standing all the
evening.

In a crowd, do not push forward, unheeding whom you hurt or
inconvenience, but try to protect your companion, as far as possible,
and be content to take your turn.

If your seats are secured, call for your companion in time to be seated
some three or four minutes before the performance commences, but if you
are visiting a hall where you cannot engage seats, it is best to go
early.

If you are alone and see ladies present with whom you are acquainted,
you may, with perfect propriety, go and chat with them between the acts,
but when with a lady, never leave her to speak to another lady.

At an exhibition of pictures or statuary, you may converse, but let it
be in a quiet, gentlemanly tone, and without gesture or loud laughter.
If you stand long before one picture or statue, see that you are not
interfering with others who may wish to see the same work of art. If you
are engaged in conversation, and wish to rest, do not take a position
that will prevent others from seeing any of the paintings, but sit
down, or stand near the centre of the room.

Never, unless urgently solicited, attach yourself to any party at a
place of amusement, even if some of the members of it are your own
relatives or intimate friends.




CHAPTER XVIII.

MISCELLANEOUS.


When you are walking with a lady who has your arm, be careful to _keep
step_ with her, and do not force her to take long, unladylike steps, or
trot beside you with two steps to one of yours, by keeping your usual
manly stride.

Never allow a lady, with whom you are walking, to carry a bundle, shawl,
or bag, unless both your hands are already occupied in her service.

When you attend a wedding or bridal reception, it is the bridegroom whom
you are to _congratulate_, offering to the bride your wishes for her
future happiness, but not _congratulation_. If you are acquainted with
the bridegroom, but not with the bride, speak to him first, and he will
introduce you to his bride, but in any other case, you must speak first
to the bride, then to the bridegroom, then the bridesmaids, if you have
any previous acquaintance with them, then to the parents and family of
the bride, and after all this you are at liberty to seek your other
friends among the guests. If you are personally a stranger to the newly
married couple, but have received a card from being a friend of one of
the families or from any other reason, it is the first groomsman's
place to introduce you, and you should give him your card, or mention
your name, before he leads you to the bride.

Always remove a chair or stool that stands in the way of a lady passing,
even though she is an entire stranger to you.

You may hand a chair to a strange lady, in a hotel, or upon a boat; you
may hand her water, if you see her rise to obtain it, and at a hotel
table you may pass her the dishes near you, with perfect propriety.

In this country where every other man uses tobacco, it may not be amiss
to say a few words on smoking.

Dr. Prout says, "Tobacco is confessedly one of the most virulent poisons
in nature. Yet such is the fascinating influence of this noxious weed,
that mankind resort to it in every form they can devise, to ensure its
stupifying and pernicious agency. Tobacco disorders the assimilating
functions in general, but particularly, as I believe, the assimilation
of the saccharine principle. I have never, indeed, been able to trace
the development of oxalic acid to the use of tobacco; but that some
analogous, and equally poisonous principle (probably of an acid nature),
is generated in certain individuals by its abuse, is evident from their
cachectic looks, and from the dark, and often greenish yellow tint of
the blood. The severe and peculiar dyspeptic symptoms sometimes produced
by inveterate snuff-taking are well known; and I have more than once
seen such cases terminate fatally with malignant disease of the stomach
and liver. Great smokers, also, especially those who employ short pipes
and cigars, are said to be liable to cancerous affections of the lips."

Yet, in spite of such warnings met with every day, Young America,
Middle-aged America, and Old America will continue to use the poison,
and many even use it in excess. An English writer gives some very good
rules for the times and places where smoking may be allowed, which I
quote for the use of smokers on this side of the water.

He says:

"But what shall I say of the fragrant weed which Raleigh taught our
gallants to puff in capacious bowls; which a royal pedant denounced in a
famous 'Counterblast;' which his flattering laureate, Ben Jonson,
ridiculed to please his master; which our wives and sisters protest
gives rise to the dirtiest and most unsociable habit a man can indulge
in; of which some fair favorers declare that they love the smell, and
others that they will never marry an indulger (which, by the way, they
generally end in doing); which has won a fame over more space and among
better men than Noah's grape has ever done; which doctors still dispute
about, and boys still get sick over; but which is the solace of the
weary laborer; the support of the ill-fed; the refresher of over-wrought
brains; the soother of angry fancies; the boast of the exquisite; the
excuse of the idle; the companion of the philosopher; and the tenth muse
of the poet. I will go neither into the medical nor the moral question
about the dreamy, calming cloud. I will content myself so far with
saying what may be said for everything that can bless and curse mankind,
that, in moderation, it is at least harmless; but what is moderate and
what is not, must be determined in each individual case, according to
the habits and constitution of the subject. If it cures asthma, it may
destroy digestion; if it soothes the nerves, it may, in excess, produce
a chronic irritability.

"But I will regard it in a social point of view; and, first, as a
narcotic, notice its effects on the individual character. I believe,
then, that in moderation it diminishes the violence of the passions,
and, particularly, that of the temper. Interested in the subject, I have
taken care to seek instances of members of the same family having the
same violent tempers by inheritance, of whom the one has been calmed
down by smoking, and the other gone on in his passionate course. I
believe that it induces a habit of calm reflectiveness, which causes us
to take less prejudiced, perhaps less zealous views of life, and to be,
therefore, less irritable in our converse with our fellow creatures. I
am inclined to think that the clergy, the squirearchy, and the peasantry
are the most prejudiced and most violent classes in this country; there
may be other reasons for this, but it is noteworthy that these are the
classes which smoke least. On the other hand, I confess that it induces
a certain lassitude, and a lounging, easy mode of life, which are fatal
both to the precision of manners and the vivacity of conversation. The
mind of a smoker is contemplative rather than active; and if the weed
cures our irritability, it kills our wit. I believe that it is a fallacy
to suppose that it encourages drinking. There is more drinking and less
smoking in England than in any other country of the civilized world.
There was more drinking among the gentry of last century, who never
smoked at all. Smoke and wine do not go well together. Coffee or beer
are its best accompaniments, and the one cannot intoxicate, the other
must be largely imbibed to do so. I have observed among young bachelors
that very little wine is drunk in their chambers, and that beer is
gradually taking its place. The cigar, too, is an excuse for rising from
the dinner-table where there are no ladies to go to.

"In another point of view, I am inclined to think that smoking has
conduced to make the society of men, when alone, less riotous, less
quarrelsome, and even less vicious than it was. Where young men now blow
a common cloud, they were formerly driven to a fearful consumption of
wine, and this in their heads, they were ready and roused to any
iniquity. But the pipe is the bachelor's wife. With it he can endure
solitude longer, and is not forced into low society in order to shun it.
With it, too, the idle can pass many an hour, which otherwise he would
have given, not to work, but to extravagant devilries. With it he is no
longer restless and impatient for excitement of any kind. We never hear
now of young blades issuing in bands from their wine to beat the watch
or disturb the slumbering citizens, as we did thirty or forty years ago,
when smoking was still a rarity; they are all puffing harmlessly in
their chambers now. But, on the other hand, I foresee with dread a too
tender allegiance to the pipe, to the destruction of good society, and
the abandonment of the ladies. No wonder they hate it, dear creatures;
the pipe is the worst rival a woman can have, and it is one whose eyes
she cannot scratch out; who improves with age, while she herself
declines; who has an art which no woman possesses, that of never
wearying her devotee; who is silent, yet a companion; costs little, yet
gives much pleasure; who, lastly, never upbraids, and always yields the
same joy. Ah! this is a powerful rival to wife or maid, and no wonder
that at last the woman succumbs, consents, and, rather than lose her
lord or master, even supplies the hated herb with her own fair hands.

"There are rules to limit this indulgence. One must never smoke, nor
even ask to smoke, in the company of the fair. If they know that in a
few minutes you will be running off to your cigar, the fair will do
well--say it is in a garden, or so--to allow you to bring it out and
smoke it there. One must never smoke, again, in the streets; that is, in
daylight. The deadly crime may be committed, like burglary, after dark,
but not before. One must never smoke in a room inhabited at times by the
ladies; thus, a well-bred man who has a wife or sisters, will not offer
to smoke in the dining-room after dinner. One must never smoke in a
public place, where ladies are or might be, for instance, a flower-show
or promenade. One may smoke in a railway-carriage in spite of by-laws,
if one has first obtained the consent of every one present; but if there
be a lady there, though she give her consent, smoke not. In nine cases
out of ten, she will give it from good nature. One must never smoke in a
close carriage; one may ask and obtain leave to smoke when returning
from a pic-nic or expedition in an open carriage. One must never smoke
in a theatre, on a race-course, nor in church. This last is not,
perhaps, a needless caution. In the Belgian churches you see a placard
announcing, 'Ici on ne mache pas du tabac.' One must never smoke when
anybody shows an objection to it. One must never smoke a pipe in the
streets; one must never smoke at all in the coffee-room of a hotel. One
must never smoke, without consent, in the presence of a clergyman, and
one must never offer a cigar to any ecclesiastic.

"But if you smoke, or if you are in the company of smokers, and are to
wear your clothes in the presence of ladies afterwards, you must change
them to smoke in. A host who asks you to smoke, will generally offer you
an old coat for the purpose. You must also, after smoking, rinse the
mouth well out, and, if possible, brush the teeth. You should never
smoke in another person's house without leave, and you should not ask
leave to do so if there are ladies in the house. When you are going to
smoke a cigar you should offer one at the same time to anybody present,
if not a clergyman or a very old man. You should always smoke a cigar
given to you, whether good or bad, and never make any remarks on its
quality.

"Smoking reminds me of spitting, but as this is at all times a
disgusting habit, I need say nothing more than--never indulge in it.
Besides being coarse and atrocious, it is very bad for the health."

Chesterfield warns his son against faults in good breeding in the
following words, and these warnings will be equally applicable to the
student of etiquette in the present day. He says:--

"Of the lesser talents, good breeding is the principal and most
necessary one, not only as it is very important in itself, but as it
adds great lustre to the more solid advantages both of the heart and the
mind. I have often touched upon good breeding to you before; so that
this letter shall be upon the next necessary qualification to it, which
is a genteel and easy manner and carriage, wholly free from those odd
tricks, ill-habits, and awkwardnesses, which even many very worthy and
sensible people have in their behaviour. However trifling a genteel
manner may sound, it is of very great consequence towards pleasing in
private life, especially the women, which one time or other, you will
think worth pleasing; and I have known many a man from his awkwardness,
give people such a dislike of him at first, that all his merit could not
get the better of it afterwards. Whereas a genteel manner prepossesses
people in your favor, bends them towards you, and makes them wish to be
like you. Awkwardness can proceed but from two causes; either from not
having kept good company, or from not having attended to it. In good
company do you take care to observe their ways and manners, and to form
your own upon them. Attention is absolutely necessary for this, as,
indeed, it is for everything else; and a man without attention is not
fit to live in the world. When an awkward fellow first comes into a
room, it is highly probable that he goes and places himself in the very
place of the whole room where he should not; there he soon lets his hat
fall down, and, in taking it up again, throws down his cane; in
recovering his cane, his hat falls a second time, so that he is quarter
of an hour before he is in order again. If he drinks tea or coffee, he
certainly scalds his mouth, and lets either the cup or saucer fall, and
spills either the tea or coffee. At dinner his awkwardness distinguishes
itself particularly, as he has more to do; there he holds his knife,
fork, and spoon differently from other people, eats with his knife, to
the great danger of his mouth, picks his teeth with his fork, and puts
his spoon, which has been in his throat twenty times, into the dishes
again. If he is to carve, he can never hit the joint: but, in his vain
efforts to cut through the bone, scatters the sauce in everybody's face.
He generally daubs himself with soup and grease, though his napkin is
commonly stuck through a button-hole, and tickles his chin. When he
drinks, he infallibly coughs in his glass, and besprinkles the company.
Besides all this, he has strange tricks and gestures; such as snuffing
up his nose, making faces, putting his finger in his nose, or blowing it
and looking afterwards in his handkerchief so as to make the company
sick. His hands are troublesome to him, when he has not something in
them, and he does not know where to put them; but they are in perpetual
motion between his bosom and his breeches; he does not wear his clothes,
and, in short, he does nothing like other people. All this, I own, is
not in any degree criminal; but it is highly disagreeable and ridiculous
in company, and ought most carefully to be avoided, by whoever desires
to please.

"From this account of what you should not do, you may easily judge what
you should do; and a due attention to the manners of people of fashion,
and who have seen the world, will make it habitual and familiar to you.

"There is, likewise, an awkwardness of expression and words, most
carefully to be avoided; such as false English, bad pronunciation, old
sayings, and common proverbs; which are so many proofs of having kept
bad and low company. For example, if, instead of saying that tastes are
different, and that every man has his own peculiar one, you should let
off a proverb, and say, That what is one man's meat is another man's
poison; or else, Every one as they like, as the good man said when he
kissed his cow; everybody would be persuaded that you had never kept
company with anybody above footmen and housemaids.

"Attention will do all this, and without attention nothing is to be
done; want of attention, which is really want of thought, is either
folly or madness. You should not only have attention to everything, but
a quickness of attention, so as to observe, at once, all the people in
the room, their motions, their looks, and their words, and yet without
staring at them, and seeming to be an observer. This quick and
unobserved observation is of infinite advantage in life, and is to be
acquired with care; and, on the contrary, what is called absence, which
is thoughtlessness, and want of attention about what is doing, makes a
man so like either a fool or a madman, that, for my part, I see no real
difference. A fool never has thought; a madman has lost it; and an
absent man is, for the time, without it.

"I would warn you against those disagreeable tricks and awkwardnesses,
which many people contract when they are young, by the negligence of
their parents, and cannot get quit of them when they are old; such as
odd motions, strange postures, and ungenteel carriage. But there is
likewise an awkwardness of the mind, that ought to be, and with care may
be, avoided; as, for instance, to mistake names; to speak of Mr.
What-d'ye-call-him, or Mrs. Thingum, or How-d'ye-call-her, is
excessively awkward and ordinary. To call people by improper titles and
appellations is so too. To begin a story or narration when you are not
perfect in it, and cannot go through with it, but are forced, possibly,
to say, in the middle of it, 'I have forgotten the rest,' is very
unpleasant and bungling. One must be extremely exact, clear, and
perspicuous, in everything one says, otherwise, instead of entertaining,
or informing others, one only tires and puzzles them. The voice and
manner of speaking, too, are not to be neglected; some people almost
shut their mouths when they speak, and mutter so, that they are not to
be understood; others speak so fast, and sputter, that they are not to
be understood neither; some always speak as loud as if they were talking
to deaf people; and others so low that one cannot hear them. All these
habits are awkward and disagreeable, and are to be avoided by attention;
they are the distinguishing marks of the ordinary people, who have had
no care taken of their education. You cannot imagine how necessary it is
to mind all these little things; for I have seen many people with great
talents ill-received, for want of having these talents, too; and others
well received, only from their little talents, and who have had no great
ones."

Nothing is in worse taste in society than to repeat the witticisms or
remarks of another person as if they were your own. If you are
discovered in the larceny of another's ideas, you may originate a
thousand brilliant ones afterwards, but you will not gain the credit of
one. If you quote your friend's remarks, give them as quotations.

Be cautious in the use of your tongue. Wise men say, that a man may
repent when he has spoken, but he will not repent if he keeps silence.

If you wish to retain a good position in society, be careful to return
all the visits which are paid to you, promptly, and do not neglect your
calls upon ladies, invalids, and men older than yourself.

Visiting cards should be small, perfectly plain, with your name, and, if
you will, your address _engraved_ upon it. A handsomely written card is
the most elegant one for a gentleman, after that comes the engraved one;
a printed one is very seldom used, and is not at all elegant. Have no
fanciful devices, ornamented edges, or flourishes upon your visiting
cards, and never put your profession or business upon any but business
cards, unless it is as a prefix or title: as, Dr., Capt., Col., or Gen.,
in case you are in the army or navy, put U.S.N., or U.S.A. after your
name, but if you are only in the militia, avoid the vulgarity of using
your title, excepting when you are with your company or on a parade.
Tinted cards may be used, but plain white ones are much more elegant. If
you leave a card at a hotel or boarding house, write the name of the
person for whom it is intended above your own, on the card.

In directing a letter, put first the name of the person for whom it is
intended, then the name of the city, then that of the state in which he
resides. If you send it to the care of another person, or to a boarding
house, or hotel, you can put that name either after the name of your
correspondent, or in the left hand corner of the letter--thus:--

                              MR. J. S. JONES,
                                  Care of Mr. T. C. Jones,
                                                       Boston,
                                                            Mass.

or,

                                          MR. J. S. JONES,
                                                       Boston,
                                                            Mass.
     Revere House.

If your friend is in the army or navy, put his title before his station
after his name, thus:--

                                          CAPT. L. LEWIS, U.S.A.,

or,

                                    LIEUTENANT T. ROBERTS, U.S.N.

If you send your letter by a private hand, put the name of the bearer in
the lower left hand corner of the envelope, but put the name only.
"Politeness of,"--or "Kindness of," are obsolete, and not used now at
all. Write the direction thus:--

                                     J. L. HOLMES, ESQ.,
                                              Revere House,
                                                       Boston,
                                                            Mass.

    C. L. Cutts, Esq.

This will let your friend, Mr. Holmes, know that Mr. Cutts is in Boston,
which is the object to be gained by putting the name of the bearer on a
letter, sent by a private hand.

GUARD AGAINST VULGAR LANGUAGE. There is as much connection between the
words and the thoughts as there is between the thoughts and the words;
the latter are not only the expression of the former, but they have a
power to re-act upon the soul and leave the stains of their corruption
there. A young man who allows himself to use one profane or vulgar word,
has not only shown that there is a foul spot on his mind, but by the
utterance of that word he extends that spot and inflames it, till, by
indulgence, it will soon pollute and ruin the whole soul. Be careful of
your words as well as your thoughts. If you can control the tongue, that
no improper words are pronounced by it, you will soon be able to control
the mind and save it from corruption. You extinguish the fire by
smothering it, or by preventing bad thoughts bursting out in language.
Never utter a word anywhere, which you would be ashamed to speak in the
presence of the most religious man. Try this practice a little, and you
will soon have command of yourself.

Do not be known as an egotist. No man is more dreaded in society, or
accounted a greater "bore" than he whose every other word is "I," "me,"
or "my." Show an interest in all that others say of themselves, but
speak but little of your own affairs.

It is quite as bad to be a mere relater of scandal or the affairs of
your neighbors. A female gossip is detestable, but a male gossip is not
only detestable but utterly despicable.

A celebrated English lawyer gives the following directions for young men
entering into business. He says:--

"SELECT THE KIND OF BUSINESS THAT SUITS YOUR NATURAL INCLINATIONS AND
TEMPERAMENT.--Some men are naturally mechanics; others have a strong
aversion to anything like machinery, and so on; one man has a natural
taste for one occupation in life, and another for another.

"I never could succeed as a merchant. I have tried it, unsuccessfully,
several times. I never could be content with a fixed salary, for mine is
a purely speculative disposition, while others are just the reverse; and
therefore all should be careful to select those occupations that suit
them best.

"LET YOUR PLEDGED WORD EVER BE SACRED.--Never promise to do a thing
without performing it with the most rigid promptness. Nothing is more
valuable to a man in business than the name of always doing as he
agrees, and that to the moment. A strict adherence to this rule gives a
man the command of half the spare funds within the range of his
acquaintance, and encircles him with a host of friends, who may be
depended upon in any emergency.

"WHATEVER YOU DO, DO WITH ALL YOUR MIGHT.--Work at it, if necessary,
early and late, in season and out of season, not leaving a stone
unturned, and never deferring for a single hour that which can just as
well be done _now_. The old proverb is full of truth and
meaning--"Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well." Many a
man acquires a fortune by doing his business _thoroughly_, while his
neighbor remains poor for life, because he only _half_ does his
business. Ambition, energy, industry, and perseverance, are
indispensable requisites for success in business.

"SOBRIETY. USE NO DESCRIPTION OF INTOXICATING DRINKS.--As no man can
succeed in business unless he has a _brain_ to enable him to lay his
plans, and _reason_ to guide him in their execution, so, no matter how
bountifully a man may be blessed with intelligence, if his brain is
muddled, and his judgment warped by intoxicating drinks, it is
impossible for him to carry on business successfully. How many good
opportunities have passed never to return, while a man was sipping a
'social glass' with a friend! How many a foolish bargain has been made
under the influence of the wine-cup, which temporarily makes his victim
so _rich_! How many important chances have been put off until to-morrow,
and thence for ever, because indulgence has thrown the system into a
state of lassitude, neutralizing the energies so essential to success in
business. The use of intoxicating drinks as a beverage is as much an
infatuation as is the smoking of opium by the Chinese, and the former is
quite as destructive to the success of the business man as the latter.

"LET HOPE PREDOMINATE, BUT BE NOT TOO VISIONARY.--Many persons are
always kept poor because they are too _visionary_. Every project looks
to them like certain success, and, therefore, they keep changing from
one business to another, always in hot water, and always 'under the
harrow.' The plan of 'counting the chickens before they are hatched,' is
an error of ancient date, but it does not seem to improve by age.

"DO NOT SCATTER YOUR POWERS.--Engage in one kind of business only, and
stick to it faithfully until you succeed, or until you conclude to
abandon it. A constant hammering on one nail will generally drive it
home at last, so that it can be clinched. When a man's undivided
attention is centered on one object, his mind will continually be
suggesting improvements of value, which would escape him if his brain
were occupied by a dozen different subjects at once. Many a fortune has
slipped through men's fingers by engaging in too many occupations at
once.

"ENGAGE PROPER EMPLOYEES.--Never employ a man of bad habits when one
whose habits are good can be found to fill his situation. I have
generally been extremely fortunate in having faithful and competent
persons to fill the responsible situations in my business; and a man can
scarcely be too grateful for such a blessing. When you find a man unfit
to fill his station, either from incapacity or peculiarity of character
or disposition, dispense with his services, and do not drag out a
miserable existence in the vain attempt to change his nature. It is
utterly impossible to do so, 'You cannot make a silk purse,' &c. He has
been created for some other sphere; let him find and fill it."

If you wish to succeed in society, and be known as a man who converses
well, you must cultivate your memory. Do not smile and tell me that this
is a gift, not an acquirement. It is true that some people have
naturally a more retentive memory than others, but those naturally most
deficient may strengthen their powers by cultivation.

Cultivate, therefore, this glorious faculty, by storing and exercising
it with trains of imagery. Accustom yourselves to look at any natural
object, and then consider how many facts and thoughts may be associated
with it--how much of poetic imagery and refined combinations. Follow out
this idea, and you will find that imagination, which is too often in
youth permitted to build up castles in the air, tenantless as they are
unprofitable, will become, if duly exercised, a source of much
enjoyment. I was led into this train of thought while walking in a
beautiful country, and seeing before me a glorious rainbow, over-arching
the valley which lay in front. And not more quickly than its appearance,
came to my remembrance an admirable passage in the "Art of Poetic
Painting," wherein the author suggests the great mental advantage of
exercising the mind on all subjects, by considering--

    "What use can be made of them?
    What remarks they will illustrate?
    What representations they will serve?
    What comparison they will furnish?"

And while thus thinking, I remembered that the ingenious author has
instanced the rainbow as affording a variety of illustrations, and
capable, in the imagery which it suggests, of numerous combinations.
Thus:


THE HUES OF THE RAINBOW

    Tinted the green and flowery banks of the stream;
    Tinged the white blossoms of the apple orchards;
    Shed a beauteous radiance on the grass;
    Veiled the waning moon and the evening star;
    Over-arched the mist of the waterfall;
    Reminded the looker-on of peace opposed to turbulence.
    And illustrated the moral that even the most beautiful things
      of earth must pass away.

Every book you read, every natural object which meets your view, may be
the exercise of memory, be made to furnish food both for reflection and
conversation, enjoyment for your own solitary hours, and the means of
making you popular in society. Believe me, the man who--"saw it, to be
sure, but really forgot what it looked like," who is met every day in
society, will not be sought after as will the man, who, bringing memory
and fancy happily blended to bear upon what he sees, can make every
object worthy of remark familiar and interesting to those who have not
seen it.

If you have leisure moments, and what man has not? do not consider them
as spare atoms of time to be wasted, idled away in profitless lounging.
Always have a book within your reach, which you may catch up at your odd
minutes. Resolve to edge in a little reading every day, if it is but a
single sentence. If you can give fifteen minutes a day, it will be felt
at the end of the year. Thoughts take up no room. When they are right
they afford a portable pleasure, which one may travel or labor with
without any trouble or incumbrance.

In your intercourse with other men, let every word that falls from your
lips, bear the stamp of perfect truth. No reputation can be more
enviable than that of being known as a man who no consideration could
force to soil his soul with a lie.

"Truth is naturally so acceptable to man, so charming in herself, that
to make falsehood be received, we are compelled to dress it up in the
snow-white robes of Truth; as in passing base coin, it must have the
impress of the good ere it will pass current. Deception, hypocrisy, and
dissimulation, are, when practised, direct compliments to the power of
Truth; and the common custom of passing off Truth's counterfeit for
herself, is strong testimony in behalf of her intrinsic beauty and
excellence."

Next to being a man of talent, a well-read man is the most agreeable in
society, and no investment of money or time is so profitable as that
spent in good, useful books, and reading. A good book is a lasting
companion. Truths, which it has taken years to glean, are therein at
once freely but carefully communicated. We enjoy communion with the
mind, though not with the person of the writer. Thus the humblest man
may surround himself by the wisest and best spirits of past and present
ages. No one can be solitary who possesses a book; he owns a friend that
will instruct him in moments of leisure or of necessity. It is only
necessary to turn open the leaves, and the fountain at once gives forth
its streams. You may seek costly furniture for your homes, fanciful
ornaments for your mantel-pieces, and rich carpets for your floors; but,
after the absolute necessaries for a home, give me books as at once the
cheapest, and certainly the most useful and abiding embellishments.

A true gentleman will not only refrain from ridiculing the follies,
ignorance, or infirmities of others, but he will not even allow himself
to smile at them. He will treat the rudest clown with the same easy
courtesy which he would extend to the most polished gentleman, and will
never by word, look, or gesture show that he notices the faults, or
vulgarity of another. _Personal deformity_ is a cross sent by God, and
none but a depraved, wicked, and brutal man could ridicule, or even
greet with a passing smile the unfortunate thus stamped. Even a word or
look of pity will wound the sensitive, but frank, gentle courtesy, the
regard paid by a feeling man to the comfort of a <DW36>, or that easy
grace which, while it shows no sign of seeing the deformity, shows more
deference to the afflicted one than to the more fortunate, are all duly
appreciated and acknowledged, and win for the man who extends them the
respect and love of all with whom he comes in contact.

Remember that true wit never descends to personalities. When you hear a
man trying to be "funny" at the expense of his friends, or even his
enemies, you may feel sure that his _humor_ is forced, and while it
sinks to ill-nature, cannot rise to the level of true _wit_.

Never try to make yourself out to be a very important person. If you are
so really, your friends will soon find it out, if not, they will not
give you credit for being so, because you try to force your fancied
importance upon them. A pompous fool, though often seen, is not much
loved nor respected, and you may remember that the frog who tried to
make himself as big as an ox, died in the attempt.

A severe wit once said, "If you do not wish to be the mark for
slanderous tongues, be the first to enter a room, and the last to leave
it."

If you are ever tempted to speak against a woman, think first--"Suppose
she were my sister!" You can never gain anything by bringing your voice
against a woman, even though she may deserve contempt, and your
forbearance may shame others into a similar silence. It is a cowardly
tongue that will take a woman's name upon it to injure her; though many
men do this, who would fear,--_absolutely be afraid_, to speak against a
man, or that same woman, had she a manly arm to protect her.

I again quote from the celebrated Lord Chesterfield, who says:

"It is good-breeding alone that can prepossess people in your favour at
first sight, more time being necessary to discover greater talents. This
good-breeding, you know, does not consist in low bows and formal
ceremony; but in an easy, civil, and respectful behaviour. You will take
care, therefore, to answer with complaisance, when you are spoken to; to
place yourself at the lower end of the table, unless bid to go higher;
to drink first to the lady of the house, and next to the master; not to
eat awkwardly or dirtily; not to sit when others stand; and to do all
this with an air of complaisance, and not with a grave, sour look, as if
you did it all unwillingly. I do not mean a silly, insipid smile, that
fools have when they would be civil; but an air of sensible good-humor.
I hardly know anything so difficult to attain, or so necessary to
possess, as perfect good-breeding; which is equally inconsistent with a
still formality, and impertinent forwardness, and an awkward
bashfulness. A little ceremony is often necessary; a certain degree of
firmness is absolutely so; and an outward modesty is extremely becoming;
the knowledge of the world, and your own observations, must, and alone
can tell you the proper quantities of each.

"I mentioned the general rules of common civility, which, whoever does
not observe, will pass for a bear, and be as unwelcome as one, in
company; there is hardly any body brutal enough not to answer when they
are spoken to. But it is not enough not to be rude; you should be
extremely civil, and distinguished for your good breeding. The first
principle of this good breeding is never to say anything that you think
can be disagreeable to any body in company; but, on the contrary, you
should endeavor to say what will be agreeable to them; and that in an
easy and natural manner, without seeming to study for compliments. There
is likewise such a thing as a civil look, and a rude look; and you
should look civil, as well as be so; for if, while you are saying a
civil thing, you look gruff and surly, as English bumpkins do, nobody
will be obliged to you for a civility that seemed to come so
unwillingly. If you have occasion to contradict any body, or to set them
right from a mistake, it would be very brutal to say, '_That is not so,
I know better_, or _You are out_; but you should say with a civil look,
_I beg your pardon, I believe you mistake_, or, _If I may take the
liberty of contradicting you, I believe it is so and so_; for, though
you may know a thing better than other people, yet it is very shocking
to tell them so directly, without something to soften it; but remember
particularly, that whatever you say or do, with ever so civil an
intention, a great deal consists in the manner and the look, which must
be genteel, easy, and natural, and is easier to be felt than described.

"Civility is particularly due to all women; and remember, that no
provocation whatsoever can justify any man in not being civil to every
woman; and the greatest man would justly be reckoned a brute, if he were
not civil to the meanest woman. It is due to their sex, and is the only
protection they have against the superior strength of ours; nay, even a
little flattery is allowable with women; and a man may, without
meanness, tell a woman that she is either handsomer or wiser than she
is. Observe the French people, and mind how easily and naturally civil
their address is, and how agreeably they insinuate little civilities in
their conversation. They think it so essential, that they call an honest
man and a civil man by the same name, of _honnete homme_; and the Romans
called civility _humanitas_, as thinking it inseparable from humanity.
You cannot begin too early to take that turn, in order to make it
natural and habitual to you."

Again, speaking of the inconveniency of bashfulness, he says:--

"As for the _mauvaise honte_, I hope you are above it. Your figure is
like other people's; I suppose you will care that your dress shall be so
too, and to avoid any singularity. What then should you be ashamed of?
and why not go into a mixed company, with as much ease and as little
concern, as you would go into your own room? Vice and ignorance are the
only things I know, which one ought to be ashamed of; keep but clear of
them, and you may go anywhere without fear or concern. I have known some
people, who, from feeling the pain and inconveniences of this _mauvaise
honte_, have rushed into the other extreme, and turned impudent, as
cowards sometimes grow desperate from the excess of danger; but this too
is carefully to be avoided, there being nothing more generally shocking
than impudence. The medium between these two extremes marks out the
well-bred man; he feels himself firm and easy in all companies; is
modest without being bashful, and steady without being impudent; if he
is a stranger, he observes, with care, the manners and ways of the
people most esteemed at that place, and conforms to them with
complaisance."

Flattery is always in bad taste. If you say more in a person's praise
than is deserved, you not only say what is _false_, but you make others
doubt the wisdom of your judgment. Open, palpable flattery will be
regarded by those to whom it is addressed as an insult. In your
intercourse with ladies, you will find that the delicate compliment of
seeking their society, showing your pleasure in it, and choosing for
subjects of conversation, other themes than the weather, dress, or the
opera, will be more appreciated by women of sense, than the more awkward
compliment of open words or gestures of admiration.

Never imitate the eccentricities of other men, even though those men
have the highest genius to excuse their oddities. Eccentricity is, at
the best, in bad taste; but an imitation of it--second hand oddity--is
detestable.

Never feign abstraction in society. If you have matters of importance
which really occupy your mind, and prevent you from paying attention to
the proper etiquette of society, stay at home till your mind is less
preoccupied. Chesterfield says:--

"What is commonly called an absent man, is commonly either a very weak,
or a very affected man; but be he which he will, he is, I am sure, a
very disagreeable man in company. He fails in all the common offices of
civility; he seems not to know those people to-day, whom yesterday he
appeared to live in intimacy with. He takes no part in the general
conversation; but, on the contrary, breaks into it from time to time,
with some start of his own, as if he waked from a dream. This (as I said
before) is a sure indication, either of a mind so weak that it is not
able to bear above one object at a time; or so affected, that it would
be supposed to be wholly engrossed by, and directed to, some very great
and important objects. Sir Isaac Newton, Mr. Locke, and (it may be) five
or six more, since the creation of the world, may have had a right to
absence, from that intense thought which the things they were
investigating required. But if a young man, and a man of the world, who
has no such avocations to plead, will claim and exercise that right of
absence in company, his pretended right should, in my mind, be turned
into an involuntary absence, by his perpetual exclusion out of company.
However frivolous a company may be, still, while you are among them, do
not show them, by your inattention, that you think them so; but rather
take their tone, and conform, in some degree, to their weakness, instead
of manifesting your contempt for them. There is nothing that people
bear more impatiently, or forgive less, than contempt; and an injury is
much sooner forgotten than an insult. If, therefore, you would rather
please than offend, rather be well than ill-spoken of, rather be loved
than hated; remember to have that constant attention about you, which
flatters every man's little vanity; and the want of which, by mortifying
his pride, never fails to excite his resentment, or, at least, his ill
will. For instance: most people (I might say all people) have their
weaknesses; they have their aversions and their likings to such or such
things; so that, if you were to laugh at a man for his aversion to a
cat, or cheese, (which are common antipathies,) or, by inattention and
negligence, to let them come in his way, where you could prevent it, he
would, in the first case, think himself insulted, and, in the second,
slighted, and would remember both. Whereas your care to procure for him
what he likes, and to remove from him what he hates, shows him that he
is, at least, an object of your attention; flatters his vanity, and
makes him, possibly, more your friend than a more important service
would have done. With regard to women, attentions still below these are
necessary, and, by the custom of the world, in some measure due,
according to the laws of good breeding."

In giving an entertainment to your friends, while you avoid extravagant
expenditure, it is your duty to place before them the best your purse
will permit you to purchase, and be sure you have plenty. Abundance
without superfluity, and good quality without extravagance, are your
best rules for an entertainment.

If, by the introduction of a friend, by a mistake, or in any other way,
your enemy, or a man to whom you have the strongest personal dislike, is
under your roof, or at your table, as a guest, hospitality and good
breeding both require you to treat him with the same frank courtesy
which you extend to your other guests; though you need make no violent
protestations of friendship, and are not required to make any advances
towards him after he ceases to be your guest.

In giving a dinner party, invite only as many guests as you can seat
comfortably at your table. If you have two tables, have them precisely
alike, or, rest assured, you will offend those friends whom you place at
what they judge to be the inferior table. Above all, avoid having little
tables placed in the corners of the room, when there is a large table.
At some houses in Paris it is a fashion to set the dining room entirely
with small tables, which will accommodate comfortably three or four
people, and such parties are very merry, very sociable and pleasant, if
four congenial people are around each table; but it is a very dull
fashion, if you are not sure of the congeniality of each quartette of
guests.

If you lose your fortune or position in society, it is wiser to retire
from the world of fashion than to wait for that world to bow you out.

If you are poor, but welcome in society on account of your family or
talents, avoid the error which the young are most apt to fall into, that
of living beyond your means.

The advice of Polonius to Laertes is as excellent in the present day, as
it was in Shakespeare's time:--

                  "Give thy thoughts no tongue,
    Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
    Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
    The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
    Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel:
    But do not dull thy palm with entertainments
    Of each new hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware
    Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in,
    Bear it that the opposer may beware of thee.
    Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice;
    Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
    Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
    But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
    For the apparel oft proclaims the man.

           *       *       *       *       *

    Neither a borrower nor a lender be:
    For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
    And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
    This above all,--To thine ownself be true;
    And it must follow, as the night the day,
    Thou canst not then be false to any man."

It is by no means desirable to be always engaged in the serious pursuits
of life. Take time for pleasure, and you will find your work progresses
faster for some recreation. Lord Chesterfield says:

"I do not regret the time that I passed in pleasures; they were
seasonable; they were the pleasures of youth, and I enjoyed them while
young. If I had not, I should probably have overvalued them now, as we
are very apt to do what we do not know; but knowing them as I do, I know
their real value, and how much they are generally overrated. Nor do I
regret the time that I have passed in business, for the same reason;
those who see only the outside of it, imagine it has hidden charms,
which they pant after; and nothing but acquaintance can undeceive them.
I, who have been behind the scenes, both of pleasure and business, and
have seen all the springs and pullies of those decorations which
astonish and dazzle the audience, retire, not only without regret, but
with contentment and satisfaction. But what I do, and ever shall regret,
is the time which, while young, I lost in mere idleness, and in doing
nothing. This is the common effect of the inconsideracy of youth,
against which I beg you will be most carefully upon your guard. The
value of moments, when cast up, is immense, if well employed; if thrown
away, their loss is irrecoverable. Every moment may be put to some use,
and that with much more pleasure than if unemployed. Do not imagine that
by the employment of time, I mean an uninterrupted application to
serious studies. No; pleasures are, at proper times, both as necessary
and as useful; they fashion and form you for the world; they teach you
characters, and show you the human heart in its unguarded minutes. But
then remember to make that use of them. I have known many people, from
laziness of mind, go through both pleasure and business with equal
inattention; neither enjoying the one nor doing the other; thinking
themselves men of pleasure, because they were mingled with those who
were, and men of business, because they had business to do, though they
did not do it. Whatever you do, do it to the purpose; do it thoroughly,
not superficially. _Approfondissez_: go to the bottom of things.
Anything half done or half known, is, in my mind, neither done nor
known at all. Nay worse, it often misleads. There is hardly any place or
any company where you may not gain knowledge, if you please; almost
every body knows some one thing, and is glad to talk upon that one
thing. Seek and you will find, in this world as well as in the next. See
everything; inquire into everything; and you may excuse your curiosity,
and the questions you ask, which otherwise might be thought impertinent,
by your manner of asking them; for most things depend a great deal upon
the manner. As, for example, I _am afraid that I am very troublesome
with my questions; but nobody can inform me so well as you_; or
something of that kind."

The same author, speaking of the evils of pedantry, says:--

"Every excellency, and every virtue has its kindred vice or weakness;
and, if carried beyond certain bounds, sinks into one or the other.
Generosity often runs into profusion, economy into avarice, courage into
rashness, caution into timidity, and so on:--insomuch that, I believe,
there is more judgment required for the proper conduct of our virtues,
than for avoiding their opposite vices. Vice, in its true light, is so
deformed, that it shocks us at first sight, and would hardly ever seduce
us, if it did not at first wear the mask of some virtue. But virtue is,
in itself, so beautiful, that it charms us at first sight; engages us
more and more upon further acquaintance; and, as with other beauties, we
think excess impossible, it is here that judgment is necessary, to
moderate and direct the effects of an excellent cause. I shall apply
this reasoning, at present, not to any particular virtue, but to an
excellency, which, for want of judgment, is often the cause of
ridiculous and blameable effects; I mean great learning; which, if not
accompanied with sound judgment, frequently carries us into error,
pride, and pedantry. As, I hope, you will possess that excellency in its
utmost extent, and yet without its too common failings, the hints, which
my experience can suggest, may probably not be useless to you.

"Some learned men, proud of their knowledge, only speak to decide, and
give judgment without appeal; the consequence of which is, that mankind,
provoked by the insult, and injured by the oppression, revolt; and, in
order to shake off the tyranny, even call the lawful authority in
question. The more you know, the modester you should be; and (by the
bye) that modesty is the surest way of gratifying your vanity. Even
where you are sure, seem rather doubtful; represent, but do not
pronounce; and, if you would convince others, seem open to conviction
yourself.

"Others, to show their learning, or often from the prejudices of a
school education, where they hear of nothing else, are always talking of
the ancients, as something more than men, and of the moderns, as
something less. They are never without a classic or two in their
pockets; they stick to the old good sense; they read none of the modern
trash; and will show you plainly that no improvement has been made in
any one art or science these last seventeen hundred years. I would, by
no means, have you disown your acquaintance with the ancients; but still
less would I have you brag of an exclusive intimacy with them. Speak of
the moderns without contempt, and of the ancients without idolatry;
judge them all by their merits, but not by their ages; and if you happen
to have an Elzevir classic in your pocket, neither show it nor mention
it.

"Some great scholars, most absurdly, draw all their maxims, both for
public and private life, from what they call parallel cases in the
ancient authors; without considering that, in the first place, there
never were, since the creation of the world, two cases exactly parallel;
and, in the next place, that there never was a case stated, or even
known, by any historian, with every one of its circumstances; which,
however, ought to be known in order to be reasoned from. Reason upon the
case itself, and the several circumstances that attend it, and act
accordingly; but not from the authority of ancient poets or historians.
Take into your consideration, if you please, cases seemingly analogous;
but take them as helps only, not as guides.

"There is another species of learned men who, though less dogmatical and
supercilious, are not less impertinent. These are the communicative and
shining pedants, who adorn their conversation, even with women, by happy
quotations of Greek and Latin; and who have contracted such a
familiarity with the Greek and Roman authors, that they call them by
certain names or epithets denoting intimacy. As, _old_ Homer; that _sly
rogue_ Horace; _Maro_, instead of Virgil; and _Naso_, instead of Ovid.
These are often imitated by coxcombs who have no learning at all, but
who have got some names and some scraps of ancient authors by heart,
which they improperly and impertinently retail in all companies, in
hopes of passing for scholars. If, therefore, you would avoid the
accusation of pedantry on one hand, or the suspicion of ignorance on the
other, abstain from learned ostentation. Speak the language of the
company that you are in; speak it purely, and unlarded with any other.
Never seem wiser nor more learned than the people you are with. Wear
your learning, like your watch, in a private pocket; and do not pull it
out and strike it, merely to show that you have one. If you are asked
what o'clock it is, tell it, but do not proclaim it hourly and unasked,
like the watchman.

"Upon the whole, remember that learning (I mean Greek and Roman
learning) is a most useful and necessary ornament, which it is shameful
not to be master of; but, at the same time, most carefully avoid those
errors and abuses which I have mentioned, and which too often attend it.
Remember, too, that great modern knowledge is still more necessary than
ancient; and that you had better know perfectly the present, than the
old state of the world; though I would have you well acquainted with
both."

If you are poor, you must deprive yourself often of the pleasure of
escorting ladies to ride, the opera, or other entertainments, because it
is understood in society that, in these cases, a gentleman pays all the
expenses for both, and in any emergency you may find your bill for
carriage hire, suppers, bouquets, or other unforeseen demands, greater
than you anticipated.

Shun the card table. Even the friendly games common in society, for
small stakes, are best avoided. They feed the love of gambling, and you
will find that this love, if once acquired, is the hardest curse to get
rid of.

It is in bad taste, though often done, to turn over the cards on a
table, when you are calling. If your host or hostess finds you so doing,
it may lead them to suppose you value them more for their acquaintances
than themselves.




----------------------------------------------------------------------

Transcriber's Note:


Inconsistencies in accents (e.g. tete a tete vs. tete a tete) and
hyphenation (e.g. ball room vs. ball-room) have not been corrected.
Variant spellings have also been retained.

Minor typographical errors (e.g. missing punctuation, incorrect or
duplicate letters) have been corrected without note.

The following changes were also made to the text:

p. 130: missing 'at' added (too lazy to part it at all)

p. 255: two asterisks changed to ellipsis (before he begins any
other....)

p. 266: italics added to 'I' and removed from 'or' ( _I have the honor
to acquaint you_; _Permit me to assure you_; or,)

p. 292: italics removed from 'of' (_largesse_ of)

p. 332: off to of (get rid of)





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gentlemen's Book of Etiquette and
Manual of Politeness, by Cecil B. Hartley

*** 