Blood is sure to tell, and with Emerson we say that “man is physically as well as metaphysically a thing of shreds and patches, borrowed unequally from good and bad ancestors.” To those of gentle blood, rudeness would be impossible. If there are partial lapses of manner with those looked upon as the refined, the question is asked, “Where does she get that trait?” and possibly the answer may be, “Her great-grandmother.” For thus are the sins visited upon the children of even the third and fourth generations. The deportment of the real gentleman or woman can never be unpleasantly criticised. They could not be ungracious, no matter how hard they should try. If there is ever a question about how far politeness should extend, err on the side of too much rather than that of too little. Have too much manner rather than not enough. Be too profuse in thanks rather than too scant and meagre.
When a gift has been received or a courtesy of any kind shown you, at once acknowledge it, unless you are too ill so to do, or a positively important matter prevents. If it is impossible to write to the one you are indebted to that day, do it the next. But as it is so easy for most of us to have good intentions, do not put off for to-morrow what should be done to-day.
The note should not be long, but heartily and pleasantly worded. Some people might reflect, “I would not tell a falsehood, and how can I say I like a thing if I do not?” Or, as happened lately, two boxes of wild flowers were sent me from California by two little boys, with a note in one of the boxes containing the words, “Which flowers got to you best, Pierre’s or mine?” and I was obliged to at once put both boxes in the fire. Should I write of the sweetness of the blossoms and the purity and beauty of their coloring? By no means. But I would not wound the childish hearts by telling of the condition of the flowers at the time they were received. Remember the thought that prompted the gift. Dwell on that altogether if you will. Send a loving message to the donors, and they will never dream you did not like their offering in the one case or were obliged to burn it in the other.
After all, remembrance is the sweetest of all earthly gifts. When the dear ones with whom we journey are no longer here, we will miss their gentle ministry. May not any one of us then know the bitterness of remorse, but rather let us hasten to send abundant, hearty thanks to those who have taken time to think and care for us!
A STORY WITHIN A STORY
It was the time when lilies blow,
And clouds are highest up in air,
that four young people were vivaciously talking on the front piazza at Aunt Mary’s.