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

by Cecil B. Hartley

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 soirée, 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 tête-à-tête 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 règle, 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 ménage 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 régime, when speaking of this arrangement.

“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 tête-à-tête, 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 mâche 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 cripple, 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 honnête 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 off.

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.