Frequently in large cotillons in New York the blank or nonfavor figures are danced only once without change of partners, as in the snake or grand chain; otherwise the cotillon would be interminable. The leader calls out a number of couples and goes through the figure at once, the original partners dancing all the time with each other. I have given both forms, and although the first explanation may seem to those who go out every year antiquated, it is still the vogue for small and consequently enjoyable cotillons.
CHAPTER XIV.
A BACHELOR'S LETTERS.
Letter writing is an art, and there is no pleasure equal to that of receiving and reading a chatty and well-worded epistle from some dear friend. I have some packets of letters preserved to-day that I read and reread. They are always fresh and interesting to me. They are a complete index to the character of the writer, and they serve, after long years have passed, to bring up again delightful pictures of days and scenes which were brighter. However, there is one rule a man must observe: never keep a compromising letter—if you should receive one—especially from a woman. Sometimes women are foolish and careless, and they allow their pens to run away with them. They bitterly regret their folly, and the very idea that there exists somewhere a packet of letters which would bring serious trouble, if not ruin, upon them and those they love, is a cause of constant grief and worry. I know that there are letters written by one once dear, but now perhaps turned fickle or false, or separated from us forever, from which we feel loath to part; but we must be men and reduce to ashes what would hurt in the very least degree or cast a reflection upon an innocent if silly woman. Suppose you were to die suddenly, and among your papers these letters were found, with you alone, dumb in death, perhaps, only able to vindicate the unfortunate writer. We must think of those things. They belong to the personnel not only of a true gentleman, but they appeal to our common sense.
Character is frequently judged by handwriting. Write a good, clear, legible hand, without any flourishes, and always use the best and the blackest of ink. The typewriter is employed only for business correspondence.
For social correspondence use only Irish-linen white note paper, unruled, with square envelopes to match. Fancy or tinted note paper of any kind is vulgar. If you have a permanent residence your address can be legibly engraved in one color, usually blue or scarlet, at the head of the first sheet. If you are a member of a club, the club note paper is proper for all social correspondence. If you want to, use your crest in lieu of address, but this practice is somewhat strained in this country. Always add the date in writing. In letters, the day, the month, and the year should be written. In notes you only put the day—for instance, "Saturday the twenty-second." The best signature is "Sincerely yours," and not "Yours sincerely." In England the quaint "Faithfully yours" is used for business correspondence. Tradespeople and servants only sign "Respectfully yours."
In America we "esquire" all men who are our equals. A butcher, a baker, a tailor or other person, when we order supplies, we address as "Mr." The abbreviation "Esq." is the usual form. In England you would write to a duke and address the letter "The Duke of Buckingham"; to a knight, "Sir Thomas Appleby"; to an earl or a marquis, "Lord Dufferin"—that is, supposing the letter would be a social one.
In writing to a friend or in answer to an invitation or a note, you would begin, "My dear Mrs. Brown," "My dear Mr. Brown," or even "My dear Brown," but never "Dear Miss Brown," "Dear Mrs. Brown," or "Dear Brown," unless you were on terms of great intimacy with them. But if the letter is a strictly business one, and the term "Sir" or "Sirs" is used, then you would be obliged to drop the possessive pronoun. A very formal or a business letter would begin thus: