“Letters are the memory of friendship, and are to be reckoned among the chief links in the social chain that binds parent and child, lover and sweetheart, friend and friend, in harmonious accord.”

A letter may, from a business point of view, make or mar the fortunes of its sender, while none the less surely, from a social standard, will our epistles approve or condemn our claim for consideration. Every position in life, and every occasion which may arise therein, demand more or less exercise of our epistolary powers, and while but few can hope for the grace, the wit, the repartee that sparkle in the missives of a de Staël, a Récamier, a Walpole, a Macaulay, every one can and should learn to write a clear, concise, intelligent, appropriate letter.

A Rare Accomplishment.

To do this properly is a social accomplishment, and one of the greatest boons that education confers. A graceful note, a kindly, sparkling letter, are each the exponent of a true lady or gentleman, though it must be confessed, since our country furnishes no so-called “leisure class,” the art of letter-writing has, in great measure, fallen into feminine hands, the cares of business and professional life ofttimes preventing the sterner half of creation from mere friendly exercise of the pen. It is among women, therefore, that we will find in the present, as we have found in the past, the best and most fluent of correspondents.

A certain dread of letter-writing, however, seems to haunt a large class of people. This dread, arising either from imperfect education, a lack of practice or a fear of “nothing to say,” can be overcome in great measure by careful study of the few main requisites of the art, as embraced in style, orthography, forms to be adopted and stationery to be used for certain occasions.

The Style

Of course, is a subtle something inherent in each individual, not to be entirely done away with in any case, but to be improved by a careful study of good models, such, for example, as the letters of the above mentioned authors. To read the best prose writers also cannot fail to work an improvement. For instance, the writer once, after an enthusiastic study of Taine, was rewarded by the assurance from a literary correspondent that her letters were thoroughly “Tainesque” in style.

By judicious reading and carefully taking thought, an abrupt style may be softened and more graceful, flowing sentences substituted for its short, sharp phrases; while a redundant style, by the same care, may be pruned of its exuberance.