Young ladies of leisure, who are not weary, should not be too ready to "oust" tired clerks and laboring men whose ride home at six o'clock is their first chance to sit down, for ten hours. A gentleman is chivalrous; and there is a corresponsive quality in a lady, which makes her delicately sensitive about unjustly imposing on that chivalry, or which, in emergencies of sickness or disaster, enables her to be the chivalrous in spirit, and bear on her slender shoulders the burden that is temporarily dropped when some stroke of Providence lays the strong man low.
On the other hand, there are women of coarse fibre, who imagine that they vastly increase their own importance by being selfishly exacting in the matter of men's self-sacrificing attentions. They may browbeat the men who are in their power; but, outside of this narrow world of their own, they are held in thorough contempt by the very men whose admiration they had hoped to gain by their aggressive and ill-tempered demands.
Men who smoke on the street should avoid the crowded promenade, where ladies "most do congregate;" since it is nearly impossible to avoid annoying some one with the smoke.
In most towns, the Board of Health ordinance forbidding spitting on floors, sidewalks, etc., is not only a hygienic safe-guard, but a much needed enforcement of good manners. Comment is superfluous.
Based upon an idea borrowed from olden days—that the right arm, the "sword arm," should be free for defense—a custom formerly prevailed for a man, walking with a lady, to place her always at his left side. Then later—also with some idea of shielding her from danger—it was the custom for a man to walk next to the curbstone, whether it happened to be left or right. This is still the rule, unless the sidewalk is crowded; in which case a man walks at the side next the opposing throng, in order to shield a lady from the elbows of the passers-by.
Authorities are divided on the subject of elevator etiquette, some denouncing in round terms the man who is so rude as to keep his hat on in an elevator where there are ladies; arguing that the elevator is a "little room," an "interior," not a thoroughfare. Others are equally emphatic in asserting that the elevator is a thoroughfare, merely; and that hats are not to be removed, except under the same conditions that would call for their removal in the street—as the greeting of acquaintances, or the exchange of civilities. The good sense of this view is apparent. A hat held in the hand in a crowded elevator is sure to be in the way, and liable to be crushed. A gentleman who wishes to compromise between stolid ignoring of the ladies who are strangers, and superfluous recognition of their presence, may lift his hat and replace it immediately, when a lady enters the elevator, or when he enters an elevator where ladies already are. Such a courtesy differs from a greeting in this: a stranger offering this elevator civility does not look at the lady, nor does he bend his head; and his lifted hat is an impersonal tribute to the sex. A lady makes no response to such a courtesy; yet there is in her general bearing a subtle something, hard to describe, but which every gentleman will readily recognize, that shows whether or not she observes and appreciates his little act of deference. The atmosphere of good manners may be as invisible as the air about us; but we know when we are breathing it.
During a promenade in the day-time, a lady does not take a man's arm unless she is feeble from age or ill-health, and needs the support. In the evening, a gentleman walking with a lady may offer her his arm. On no account should a man take a woman's arm. This is a disrespectful freedom, that might be supposed to be the specialty of the rustic beau, if it were not so frequently observed in city thoroughfares.
The "cut direct" is the rudest possible way of dropping an acquaintance; and is allowable only in the case of some flagrant offender who deserves public and merciless rebuke. Ordinarily, the result sought—of ending an undesired acquaintance—is attained by a persistently cold courtesy, supplemented by as much avoidance as possible; drifting apart, not sinking each other's craft without warning.
As crowds are distracting, and people bent on their own errands are often oblivious of their surroundings, it is quite possible for a seeming cut to have been an unconscious oversight. When an acquaintance seems not to see one, though close at baud, it is possible that something closer yet to his consciousness is absorbing all his thoughts. Only clear and unmistakable evidence of intention should lead one to infer a slight. It is not only more polite, but more self-respecting, to "take offense" slowly.