OF THE U N I VERS ITY Of ILLINOIS 335 Ml'Sc Return this book on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates https://archive.org/details/correctmannerscoOOmcco CORRECT MANNERS. A COMPLETE HANDBOOK OF ETIQUETTE CONTAINING Clear and Concise Directions for Correct MannerSy Con versationy Letters of Introduction y Dinner Parties y Visiting y Traveling y Dancing y Dress y Table-Talk y Anecdote y Bridal Etiquette y Etc.y Etc. 3y J. 3. NEW YORK: EXCELSIOR PUBLISHING HOUSE, 29 AND 31 BEEKMAN STREET. r COPYRIGHT, 1892, BY EXCELSIOR PUBLISHING HOUSB. 3f5 PREFACE. ^ Good manners ought more to be desired than riches, land perfect manners more than all the power and ? glory of kings. Many books have been published on etiquette, but in presenting to the public this little vol- ume we feel that there may be found gathered together within these page^ such information, regarding manners and the laws and usages of polite society, as may be desired by those who wish to appear well. This book has ^een carefully compiled and arranged so the entire ground is covered, and the publishers feel in presenting it that they have a work as complete and desirable as anything that can be found. Read, study and ponder these pages, and remember that one of the passports to good society is good manners, and without them a man or woman has little to expect. c j CONTENTS. PAGE Etiquette in a Nutshell ^3 George Washington’s Life Maxims Bodily Deportment Position of the Body The Head 22 The Tongue - ^3 The Hand ^4 The Etiquette of Conversation 64 Prudence in Conversation Useful Hints for Conversation 7^ The Topics of Conversation 94 Good Taste ^5 The Manner of Speaking ^7 Speak Grammatically ^9 Egotism 32 Memory 3^ Truth 33 The Splendid Speaker 33 -Self-Respect 35 Modesty 3^ .Boldness 37 Forwardness 3^ Diffidence 39 I Civility 39 Attention 4^ Large Talk and Small Talk 4^ Anecdote 43 Punning 44 i Laughter 45 Table Talk 47 12 CONTENTS. PAGE After Dinner Accomplishments 50 Pedantry Social Characters ^8 The Ladies 61 How to Dress 62 Dancing 6^ Letters of Introduction 108 Dinner Parties 1^8 Visiting 124 Travelling 106 Marriage Ceremony and Reception Note 113 Marriage Announcement ny Bridal Etiquette 1 73 Familiar Notes ii^ Golden Wedding 1 18 Anniversary Weddings up Invitations ng The Ball i^o Etiquette for Funerals 182 ETIQUETTE IN A NUTSHELL. In the following condensed form is given a list of what may be termed miscellaneous laws of etiquette; they are at least rules which all who wish to appear at their best should read and study. It is the little things of life that tell, and a great many little things in home life and society are neglected or forgotten. The fol- lowing twenty-five rules will be useful : 1. If you are a gentleman, you will remove your hat when you enter your own house or that of a friend. By always following this rule you never forget to take off your hat where it might cause shame to keep it on. 2. Attend to your toilet at home, and you will have no need to pick your teeth, trim your nails, or attend to other details of your toilet when making calls. 3. Never break an engagement when one is made, whether of a business or social nature. If you are com- pelled to do so, make an immediate apology either by note or in person. 4. Be punctual as to time, precise as to payment, honest and thoughtful in all your transactions, whether with rich or poor. H ETIQUETTE IN A NUTSHELL. 5. N ever open another person's door without knocks ing, whether it be in your house or that of a friend or neighbor. 6. Never look over the shoulder of one who is read- ing, or intrude yourself into a conversation in which you are not invited or expected to take part. 7. Tell the truth at all times and in all places. It is better to have a reputation for truthfulness than one for wit, wisdom or brilliancy. 8. Avoid making personal comments regarding a person's dress, manners or habits. Be sure you are all- right in these respects, and you will find you have quite enough to attend to. 9. When entering a drawing-room, first salute the host, hostess, or both ; then you are at liberty to pass to the rest of the company. 10. Avoid affectation and eccentricity, and still more decidedly eschew imitation, except in the fullest cultivation of natural powers. 11. In entering a room let the lady precede you ; in going upstairs always precede her. 12. Be careful in your selection of gifts, and also in the bestowal of them. Send presents w^hen you think fit, without trading for rich returns, and do not magnify their worth, nor foolishly pretend they have no value. 13. Care for your dress before you enter company, but after that think only of your friends. 14. Always be thoughtful regarding the comfort and ETIQUETTE IN A NUTSHELL. 1 5 )leasure of others. Give the best seat in your room to i lady, an aged person or an invalid. 15. Never boast of your superior knowledge. If ^ou are learned, witty, or skilled in any of the arts or ciences, your friends will find it out without your being jbliged to tell them. 16. Ask no questions about the affairs of your friend mless he wants yoiu: advice. Then he will tell you all le desires to have you know. 17. A true gentleman, one who is worthy of the lame, will never disparage one of the other sex by yord or deed. 18. If a lady needs your aid, even though she be a stranger, do what may be required, and think honored Dy her thanks. If she wishes to pass, step aside, lift ^our hat and let her do so. But there is no need that ^ou should take advantage of your position by speaking lo her. 19. Always remember that a book that has been loaned you is not yours to loan to another. 20. Mention your wife or your husband with the o'reatest respect, even in your most faftiiliar references. The use of Christian or pet names should always be avoided in company. 21. If you have calls to make, see that you attend to them punctually. Your friends may reasonably think you slight them when you fail to do so. 22. The personal deformity or mental peculiarity of your friend should pass unmentioned, as though you had no idea of their existence. l6 GEORGE WASHINGTON’S LIFE MAXIMS. 23. The commission you have undertaken in court- esy is more incumbent than a business one. 24. Be neat and careful in your dress, but take care not to overdress. The fop is almost as much of an abomination as the slovenly man. 25. If wine or liquors are used on your table or in your presence, never urge others to use them against their own inclinations. GEORGE Washington’s life maxims. While modern rules of etiquette may have changed in some degree since the days of George Washington, yet the series of maxims which he drew up when a young man, and which he called Rules of Civility and . Decent Behavior in Company,” will apply now as well as then, and which may be studied with profit by all, especially the young. Here are the rules : Every action in company ought to be some sign of respect to those present. In the presence of others sing not to yourself with a humming voice, nor drum with your fingers or feet. Speak not when others speak, sit not when others stand, and walk not when others stop. 1 urn not your back to others, especially in speaking; jog not the table or desk on which another reads or writes; lean not on any one. Be no flatterer; neither play with any one that de- Jights not to be played with. GEORGE WASHINGTON’S LIFE MAXIMS. Read no letters, books, or papers in company ; but ,rhen there is a necessity for doing it you must not save ; come not near the books or writings of any one o as to read them, unasked; also look not nigh when .nother is writing a letter. Let your countenance be pleasant, but in serious natters somewhat grave. Show not yourself glad at the misfortune of another, hough he were your enemy. They that are in dignity or office have in all places precedency ; but whilst they are young they ought to espect those that are their equals in birth or other ijualities, though they have no public charge. It is good manners to prefer them to whom we speak before ourselves, especially if they be above us, with whom in no sort we ought to begin. Let your discourse with men of business be short and comprehensive. In writing or speaking give to every person his due title according to his degree and the custom of the place. Strive not with your superiors in argument, but al- ways submit your judgment to others with modesty. When a man does all he can, though it succeeds not well, blame not him that did it. Being to advise or reprehend any one, consider whether it ought to be in public or in private, presently or at some other time, also in what terms to do it ; and i|in reproving show no signs of choler, but do it with sweetness and mildness. Mock not nor jest at anything of importance; break no jests that are sharp or biting ; and if you deliver 1 8 GEORGE WASHINGTON’S LIFE MAXIMS. anything witty ox pleasant, restrain from laughing there- at yourself. Wherein you reprove another be unblamable your- self, for example is more prevalent than precept. Use no reproachful language against any one, neither curses nor revilings. Be not hasty to believe flying reports to the dispar- agement of any one. In your apparel be modest, and endeavor to accomo- date nature rather than procure admiration. Keep to the fashion of your equals, such as are civil and orderly with respect to time and place. Play not the peacock, looking everywhere about you to see if you be well decked, if your shoes fit well, if j your stockings set neatly and clothes handsomely. ' ! Associate yourself with men of good quality if you ! esteem your own reputation, for it is better to be alone than in bad company. Let your conversation be without malice or envy, for it is a sign of tractable and commendable nature j and in all causes of passion admit reason to govern. Be not immodest in urging your friend to discover a secret. Utter not base and frivolous things amongst grown and learned men, nor very difficult questions or sub- jects amongst the ignorant, nor things hard to be be- lieved. Speak not of doleful things in time of mirth nor at the table; speak not of melancholy things, as death and wounds ; and if others mention them, change, if you , can, the discourse. Tell not your dreams but to your intimate friends. GEORGE WASHINGTON'S LIFE MAXIMS. 1 9 Break not a jest when none take pleasure in mirth. Laugh not aloud, nor at all without occassion. Deride 10 man’s misfortunes, though there seem to be some :ause. Speak not injurious vords, neither in jest nor earnest. Scoff at none, although they give occasion. Be not forward, but friendly and courteous, the first to salute, hear and answer, and be not pensive when it is time to converse. Detract not from others, but neither be excessive in commending. Go not thither where you know not whether you shall be welcome or not. Give not advice without be- ing asked ; and when desired, do it briefly. If two contend together, take the part of either un- constrained, and be not obstinate in your opinion ; in things indifferent be of the major side. Reprehend not the imperfection of others, for that belongs to parents, masters and superiors. Gaze not on the marks or blemishes of others, and ask not how they came. What you may speak in secret to your friend deliver not before others. Speak not in an unknown tongue in company, but in your own language; and that as those of quality do, and not as the vulgar. Sublime matters treat seriously. Think before you speak ; pronounce not imperfectly, nor bring out your words too hastily, but orderly and distinctly. When another speaks, be attentive yourself, and dis- i turb not the audience. If any hesitate in his words, help him not, nor prompt him without being desired ; 20 GEORGE WASHINGTON’S LIFE MAXIMS. » interrupt him not, nor answer him till his speech be( ended. Treat with men at fit times about business, and whis- per not in the company of others. Make no comparisons ; and if any of the company be commended for any brave act of virtue, commend not another for the same. Be not apt to relate news if you know not the truth thereof. In discoursing of things you have heard, name not your author always. A secret discover not. Be not curious to know the affairs of others, neither [, approach to those that speak in private. i Undertake not what you cannot perform ; but be care- i fill to keep your promise. j When you deliver a matter, do it without passion and indiscretion, however mean the person may be you do it to. When your superiors talk to anybody, hear them; neither speak nor laugh. " In disputes be not so desirous to overcome as not to give liberty to each one to deliver his opinion, and sub- mit to the judgment of the major part, especially if they are judges of the dispute. Be not tedious in discourse, make not any disgres- sions, nor repeat often the same matter of discourse. Speak no evil of the absent, for it is unjust. Let your recreations be manful, not sinful. Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience. Be not angry at table, whatever happens; and if you ! have reason to be so, show it not; put on a cheerful BODILY DEPORTMENT. 21 ountenance, especially if there be strangers, for good tumor makes one dish a feast. When you speak of God or his attributes, let it be eriously, in reverence and honor, and obey your nat- iral parents. ^ BODILY DEPORTMENT. It is a matter of the first importance to the young .spirant that he attend to the training and deportment >f his body, as well as that of his mind. Besides, his >hysical bearing has much to do with that command >f address which is so noted a characteristic of the horough-bred gentleman. The body should be prop- ply ^‘set^^ by gymnastics, fencing, dancing, drill, or )ther physical exercises.* Don’t think you can launch ^ourself on society without previous preparation. You nust carefully prepare yourself before you can hope to ucceed in this world of ideas and impressions. It will lot do to despise this, declaiming against it as artifi- :ial. It is all art from beginning to end, though it is • pt so modelled according to nature as to be natural. Moreover, it is an art which must be acquired before t can be practised. All the parts of the body contrib- I ite to this deportment, and it may be as well to notice ihem in detail, with this special warning, however, that ; * A simple and easily accessible means of exercise is the chest xpander, made of vulcanized india-rubber, a pair of which may i .e attached to your bed-post, where they conveniently hang, for I ally morning and evening exercises. This is a decided improve- lent on the old method by dumb-bells, which, however, are bet- er than nothing at all. 22 THE HEAD. in action they are all subordinate to the impulse of th^ thought that is being expressed. If they act otherwise' the movement is sure to be awkward or ungainly. POSITION OF THE BODY. The general position of the body should be upright, with the head erect, the chest expanded and well for- ward, the shoulders thrown back, the bust firmly yet lightly resting on the loins, and the whole poised on I the legs with an elastic, easy grace. THE HEAD. The head should sway the movement of the whole i body. From it, through the eye, radiates the entire’ meaning of the man’s soul. Hence issues all true dig- ' nity, emanating from the mind that sits “ throned with- in the ivory palace of the skull.” You do not require to “ bulk out ” physically before the eye of the public i to bear a dignified presence. Earl Russel is a dimin- i utive person physically, but he bears himself in such a i dignified manner that you cannot but feel the large- i hearted, large-thoughted soul that forms his personal identity. Of course, a person who has a commanding figure has the advantage to begin with, but we mean to say that a good deal depends on the way you make use of that figure. The face is the index of the soul, especially in con- versation. By an intelligent reader, it is believed rather than the tongue. The tongue may temporize and dis- semble, but the face (and especially the eye and the mouth) reveals what is passing within. The old com- plaint of man not having a window in his breast is THE TONGUE. 23 groundless, so long as you can look through man's, eye nto his soul. Let him that would hope to shine com- )el his features and his tongue to tell the same tale, ind the tale will be told with effect. t THE TONGUE. The tongue, as the main organ of conversation, leserves particular attention. We are apt to think it ;ets plenty of exercise and needs no training, but that s decidedly a mistake. To do its work artistically and nethodically it must be trained, that the power to use t may be easy and unconstrained. This is, of course, .ispecially the case, should there be some physical lefect of the tongue impeding the utterance."^ The material which the tongue uses to syllable into words ,s the air which we breathe. Converted into voice as T passes out through the throat, it is stamped into syl- ables by the organs of articulation, the chief of which iS the tongue. The vocal or vowel sound must be pure and full, and the articulations distinct, if the thing is to f)e done properly and to the purpose. Over and above ^his, the ear has to determine and regulate the neces- sary cadences, and the mind to imbue the whole with ^he appropriate pathos. A considerable amount of )ractice is required here, and where practicable, regu- j.ar training should be undergone under a competent 1 master. I * Special defects claim special trainings, but in general the )roper training is simply judicious practice. The tongue, the eeth, the lips, the palate, and the nose, all combine in action to orm articulations, but the tongue, nevertheless, is the main I )rgan, the others arc mainly subsidiary. 24 THE HAND. Next to the eye the mouth is the most expressive feature, and contributes very much to the style of the man. Like that of the eye, its expression cannot be easily disguised. Large mouths are generally supposed to be ugly, and small mouths handsome, but this is a mistake. There certainly is a natural proportion for the size of the mouth, but such petty criticism is swept away by the expression that may be made to play around it. There is to be observed even in the simple open- ing and shutting of the mouth a moderation that con- fers sweetness and grace. The mouth has a range of gestures of its own that must not be marred nor exag- gerated. Its gesture lies more with the finer muscles about the lips than the lever tendons of the jaws. The eloquence of the lips is an old theme with the poets, who love to delineate all that charms the eye. Virgil pictures Dido “hanging on the lips’" of ^neas, as the handsome warrior recounts the wars of Troy ; not that the lips themselves wrought the charm, but no doubt they clothed with grace to the eye riveted upon them the eloquent fire of the hero’s soul. THE HAND. The hand has a greater range of expression than any other accessory of the tongue. The eye has more force, but the hand can vary its expression so much that it has even been styled a supplementary tongue. Not that when speaking the words should be measured out with a pantomimic accompaniment of the hands, but when the tongue is discoursing sweet sounds from the CONVERSATION. 25 eart, or thrilling the air with the thunder of the soul, le hand should vibrate obedient to the varying im- ulse, telling to the eye what the tongue tells to the ar. Boisterous gesticulation with the hand is most i-eprehensible. Ever cultivate a quiet, dignified com- osure as the habit of your manner, and you can, at tting opportunities, enliven that by seasonable im- ulses of your own, or by responding heartily to those f others. Remember through all that “ the greatest art is to onceal the art.” Never be conscious of playing your- elf out, make what you have determined to be the •roper thing habitual, and it will soon become natural. CONVERSATION. Whatever topic of conversation be ‘‘ on the carpet ” ;ive it your consideration to the utmost of your ability, •leglect or scorn will alienate the hearts of all engaged. Do not be so much inclined to contradict the speaker, !.s to approve of what you consider right in what he las spoken. If, however, he has said what ought to be :ontradicted, do it in a manner calculated not to give >ffence. If the speaker be obscure in what he has aid, do not charge him with mystification. Throw the dame rather on your own want of comprehension, and j isk him to enlighten you. Even when a speaker from ivant of knowledge of his subject talks what to you I ippears downright nonsense, do not snub him with an imcourteous expression of the thought in your mind. I i it be necessary to correct him, do it in a kindly way I ;o as not to hurt his feelings. I 26 CONVERSATION. When your are compelled to dissent from anything that has been said^ state first how far you agree with the speaker, and how happy you are to accord with him so far, then how unwilling you are to differ with him, did not what you consider truth constrain you, and lead you to adopt such or such an opinion! Let your opinion also be couched in the least repul- sive form, the words being few and gentle. Be sure to let the speaker finish what he is saying before you attempt to answer or reply to it. Remember what Solomon has said, “ He that answereth a matter before he heareth it, it is folly and shame unto him.” Conversation generally should be put in the form of propositions or thought proposed rather than dictatorial assertions, for it is a general contribution of talk, not a lesson, a sermon, or a lecture. There is a time “ when a fool should be answered according to his folly, lest he be wise in his own conceit.” This must be done judiciously, however, and only when the folly is' flagrant and annoying. Should you be listening to one who has a diffuse and magniloquent style of expressing himself, condense his statements, and ask him if that is what he means, then proceed to answer him. This mode of correction r will give him the hint more politely, and in such a way i that he need not take offence. The matter in hand I will also be more likely to receive a speedier solution. Learn to bear contradiction with patience and good > temper. Listen candidly and with consideration to all that is being said on the subject in hand j weigh it well and with justice, and show that you have taken it into account in the determination of your opinion. MANNER OF SPEAKING. 27 fever anticipate judgment. That would show either lat you were indifferent to the opinions of the others, r that you questioned their judgment, or that you were ailed down to a judgment probably not of your own laking. THE MANNER OF SPEAKING. Before beginning to speak with any one, note the ex- j-ression of his face. If it be sad, do not begin, by ■reaking a jest with him ; if merry, do not begin by ighing out a complaint. Suit yourself to your man, nd then you may hope to begin successfully, j Watch the effect of your words through his face, .^hat is where you must read the result whether success- al or not. All the time you are talking you must wait n him also with your eye, so as to be guided in what j.; would be judicious to say next. It is a kind of fenc- '^.ig with the tongue, with the eye as guide and guard, i As a general rule, it is wise to shun everything in conversation upon which the company may be likely to iffer seriously. Politics and religion generally come j nder this head. Politics may be made to assume a I 'base that is by no means reprehensible, as a policy of I nother nation in which no one present is immediately I iterested vitally. What is general in religion — what I :itimately concerns religious morality is a legitimate I nough topic. Especially what bears upon Christian ; lanliness must be one of the noblest topics any com- »any can talk about, but cant, dogma, special creeds, uestionable experiences, and such like, must never be I ntered on. 28 MANNER OF SPEAKING. Though you should have the soundest reason on your side, yield with a good grace when you see that the discussion is becoming irritating, and likely to lead to downright quarrel. You will thereby conciliate your opponent, who, you may be sure, will not on any terms allow himself to be talked into the right, seeing that he has lost his temper, which means that for the time being he has actually lost his reason. You would have no objection to give in to the whim of a madman, why then not to him who is temporarily mad ? Such a procedure may convince him when he reflects upon what has been said. At any rate, by yielding the point you show to advantage in the opinion of every sensible person in the company. Never hold an opinion obstinately in the face of rea- son and sense. Some people assert dogmatically, and will listen to nothing on the opposite side. Gen- erally those who assert dogmatically believe blindly, and are looked upon as bigoted fools. You may have decided opinions, and yet wear them easily and grace- fully. Obstinacy is sometimes looked upon as dignity, but it is a great mistake. It is more dignified to keep your opinions in the background than to push them arrogantly forward. Never talk about things of which you are ignorant, nor of which you know very little, else you are sure to make a fool of yourself. Never venture out of your depth, and you are not likely to get drowned. If some one knocks you out of your soundings don’t be ashamed to say that you can’t swim. The art of listening is as important as the art of con- I versing. A good listener is always sure to please, J SPEAK GRAMMATICALLY. 29 ^he one who is talking to him gifts him with all the ualities necessary to appreciate his own discourse, nd the listener venturing nothing cannot of course .ossibly lose anything. Not that we would recommend his quiet swallowing of others^ talk. Each man is ►ound in courtesy to furnish his quota, and the most )olite way is to give as much as you receive. It is won- lerful how much you can contribute to a conversation he subject matter of which is comparatively strange to 'ou. Different kinds of knowledge have all a relation- ;hip which frequently brings them into contact, and in drtue of this your turn is pretty sure to come, how re- note soever the subject be from your accustomed )phere of studies. Every man should make himself as nany-sided as possible, and in that case no kind of conversation should come amiss. In contributing be- sides to a conversation, in the absence of facts you may 'urnish inquiries regarding facts of which you may hap- pen to be ignorant. No man is bound to know every- thing except a schoolmaster, as Charles Lamb face- tiously remarks. SPEAK GRAMMATICALLY. All who move in polite society are understood to be I grammatically conversant with their mother tongue. I Indeed, the more thoroughly acquainted you are with i the language you are conversing in, the more likely you i are to shine in it It may not be so much adapted for conversation as the French, but it has more power, for it is pre-eminently the language of thought. It is earn- ' est beyond any language living, but there is a wide dif- 30 SPEAK GRAMMATICALEY. f^rence between a superficial knowledge of it, amd that thorough acquaintance with it that finds its words winged with the gentleness of the dove or the vigor of the eagle. At the same time that you take care to speak correctly, be not forward to correct the language of others, should they happen to make mistakes. Such a course would be the height of ill-breeding. Take not the slightest obvious notice of them, nor is there any need for your doing so — they have already been noted quietly by every well-educated person who may have heard them. Your noticing them publicly would be set down against you as an act of malicious pedantry. Let others alone and be content to watch yourself. Avoid pedantic and obsolete words and phrases in your conversation, unless )'ou wish to pass for a solemn fool. Affectation of any kind is simply ridiculous. Use the words and phrases that are correct in good so- ciety. Your own good sense will generally guide you in determining what should be adopted and what should be avoided. Phraseology peculiar to the sa- loons, clubs, theatres, stables, etc., is not allowable on any account, as it is certain to stamp any person who uses it as a ‘Mow fellow.’’ Equally reprehensible as being out of place, is the phraseology peculiar to the house of prayer. That is too sacred a subject to be drawled over with commonplace topics, and the manner so venerably appropriate to the hour of prayer sounds very much like cant in the hour of light conversation. Ihe surest way to please is to speak simply and with no appearance of affectation. Pretentiousness is sure j to be put down, for it wounds the a77iour propre of the listeners, and bores them with want of useful purpose. SPEAK GRAMMATICALLY. 31 lOepend upon it, if once you begin to admire yourself 'or what you are saying, the admiration of others is mre to be in the inverse ratio to your own. To exhibit /ourself in conversation is just about as bad as to talk about yourself ; both are insufferable, and should lever be attempted by him who has the least desire to >hine. Be sure that you consider well what you are going ;o say before you actually say it ; moreover, consider veil to whom you are going to say it. Never ask infor- nation concerning a third party from one whom you mow nothing about, and take care to say nothing good )r ill to him relative to the third party. You would be naking a confidant thereby of one who is an utter Jtranger to you. You are apt to forget this in the mo- nent of good companionship. Never speak evil or good )f a person who is not present, if you wish to please iverybody. If you speak evil of him, he may have fiends there unknown to you who will make your words *ecoil on yourself. If you speak good of him, then his ' memies may become yours. It is the best and safest vay not to talk of him at all. But if you must speak of lim, speak good rather than evil, for you will thereby be ikely to make fewer enemies. A better reason is that t is more Christian-like, and therefore more in accord- ince with true politeness. ! “ Not to offend, ’’ it has been truly said, ‘‘ is the first ! )tep towards pleasing.^^ This remark is well worth the ; consideration of all who try to shine by brilliancy of wit. The shaft of ridicule that wounds to pain rebounds on I lim who sped it, and wounds himself more seriously I ban the victim. This first step is the only introduction 32 MEMORY. to those that follow. To wound the feelings of others is un-Christian and therefore unpolite. EGOTISM. Of course, unless you happen to be in love, you are the most important being in the world to yourself. You think, feel, and act from self. The Golden Rule of etiquette is simply that you should do unto others as you would that others should do unto you. Without a due sense of the Ego you would be a nonentity. There is no man however small but makes a figure in his own eyes.’’ When the due sense of it beams out handsomely, we call it self-respect ; when it darts out offensively, egotism. Modesty is but the proper thing if you find yourself inferior, and the most becoming if superior. It is a good background for talents to shine from. It will never degrade you lower, but may often raise you higher than you deserve ; for in polite society the bal- ance is always in favor of what is proper and correct. A favorite mode of egotism is what is commonly called ‘‘fishing ” for praise out of the mouths of others, either by praising them in the first instance, by way of giving the cue, for the very qualities we are vain enough to think ourselves possessed of, or by under-rating our ability, when we are well known to possess it in a high degree. MEMORY. A good memory is a great help to ready conversation. It is a storehouse from which you may draw inexhaus- THE SPLENDID SPEAKER. 33 ible material. Of course, you can draw out only what fou have stored up in it. Be careful, then, to put into : what you need not be ashamed to bring out of it. To hine in society you need not necessarily be brilliant in iitellect or in imagination — to be well informed and in- slligent is all that is required. The well-informed man as a great advantage in conversation. It is not a time lor a place for reference, and he who can off-hand fix . date or supply a fact, shines to advantage in the con- ersation. TRUTH. In the excitement and play of conversation always )ear a strict adherence to truth. Honesty of fact : hould never be departed from, else it will vitiate the ' trength and influence of what a man says. He is sure I o be found out sooner or later, for men are pretty good ' :ritics of the probable and the improbable. Never at- I empt to angle for surprise with relating prodigious in- [ adents. Such are only fit for children and silly old nen. ! I A great retailer of this curious ware , Having unloaded and made many stare, I ‘ Can this be true ? ’ an arch observer cries ; I ‘ Yes,.’ rather moved, ‘ I saw it with these eyes.’ I ‘ Sir, I believe it, on that ground alone, I I could not, had I seen it with my own.’ ” i THE SPLENDID SPEAKER. There he is, faultlessly dressed! Instinctively he las taken his seat in the most conspicuous part of the 3 34 THE SPLENDID SPEAKER. room, every corner of which he commands with his omni-radiating eye. With ears erect, he awaits the de- ^ cisive moment to lay hold of the conversation with his everlasting tongue. He is lying in wait, and now he springs from his ambush, and fastens on his helpless victims. You have said something to an intelligent person next you, with whom you anticipate an agreeable chat. No such happiness for you, with such an animal prowling near. Clearing his throat (which sounds like an ominous growl before the decisive leap) and extend- ing his hand to your neighbor to indicate that he need not answer, he comes down upon you with infinite majesty, and with an air that stills every voiceful breath in the room. (You never hear the birds sing when a kite is upon them.) Magniloquently he replies to your simple remarks, nor need you answer him back. He means to talk for you and the company the rest of the evening. Nor is his voice shaped for you alone. It is conscious of being addressed to ever}' pair of ears in the room. At length one of the victims rebels. The splendid speaker is contradicted. With terrible concentration of power he turns round upon the of- fending culprit, and annihilating him with his eyes, pro- ceeds to re-annihilate him with his tongue. But to his astonishment the rebellion is general. A thousand satiric darts are hurled at his head. He is silenced. With inexpressible hauteur he turns from them all and wraps himself in the imperturbable impenetrability of his self-conscious dignity. He is fairly “ shut up,” and everybody is thankful. 'I SELF-RESPECT. 35 SELF-RESPECT. ' This is a feeling that has nothing in common with %otism, though it has reference to self. The man who does not respect himself will never be respected by oth- ers. There is a dignity, in the assuming of which there s no arrogance but the greatest propriety. This dignity is quite compatible with modesty, humility, and all the unpretending virtues. It is a sad sight to see a man undervaluing himself and the purpose for which he was destined, by not employing, or by abusing the powers he possesses. One man fritters himself away in silly or ignoble pursuits ; another helps to swell the current of crime by prostituting, it may be, splendid talents in the service of vice. Just think what a man is. Take Shakespeare's fine description — What a piece of work is man ! how noble in reason ! how in- Snite in faculties 1 in form and moving how express and admirable ! in action how like an angel ! in ap- : prehension how like a god ! " It is quite right and proper to have an adequate idea of what you really are, ' and to act upon that idea, which you may very well do without arrogating more to yourself than is necessary. Self-respect, be it remembered, is acted, not professed by word of mouth. Whenever you begin to talk of your I self-respect you are in imminent danger of loosing it. Fie only can properly respect himself who orders all ais thoughts and actions in accordance with the princi- I ales of religion and morality. It is nonsense to speak af a silly man or a bad man respecting himself. It is accessary to have the elements that cause respect to be mtertained by others. The consciousness of having 36 MODESTY. them and of ever acting on them induces the feeling in our breast. The meanest hind may be actuated by it as well as the proudest monarch. It is every man’s safeguard against degradation. Whenever self-respect is gone, all trace of manliness is quickly lost. MODESTY. Of all qualities, modesty would seem at first thought the least compatible with “shining in society,” but it is not so. “ A just and reasonable modesty,” says Addison, “ sets off every great talent a man maybe pos- sessed of. It heightens all the virtues which it accom- panies ; like the shades in paintings, it raises and rounds every figure, and makes the colors more beautiful, though not so glaring as they would be without it.” Indeed, this quality is of so much importance that you must “ assume a modesty if you have it not.” You gain infinitely more than you give up, for there is a generous feeling in society that tends to accord where no pre- tension is made, even to a greater extent than there is any real ground for. “ Be not too tame either, but let your own discretion be your tutor.” A man generally feels bashful when he feels that he is singular. Place him where this feeling has no rea- son to exist, and his bashfulness disappears. It is much better that any singularity he may possess should induce bashfulness rather than vanity, but there is no substantial reason for either the one or the other. Re* move the singularity, if there be one really and nor merely in your own imagination, as is often the case, and then there can be no occasion for it ; or if the sinirular- BOLDNESS. 37 ty be such that you cannot remove it, do not seem to be ;onscious of it yourself, and he who dares to notice will (Pe censured by every man of sense in the company. J I pity bashful men, who feel the pain Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain, And bear the marks upon a blushing face ; Of endless shame and self-imposed disgrace. Our sensibilities are so acute, The fear of being silent makes us mute. T We sometimes think we could a speech produce : Much to the purpose, if our tongues were loose ; ^ But being tried it dies upon the lip. Faint as a chicken’s note that has the pip.” BOLDNESS. ' Without a proper amount of boldness no one can lope to shine in society. A weak, flickering light can- ! lot shine to any useful purpose. If you have plenty of ^ lil within to keep your light burning, hide it not under ! 1 bushel, but place it boldly where it may give light to t11 who are within its range. 1 “ But know, that nothing can so foolish be ' As empty boldness ; therefore first essay To stuff thy mind with solid bravery ; ^ Then march on gallant, get substaiftial worth: ^ Boldness gilds finely, and will set it forth.” I i Take care, however, that your boldness does not over-reach itself and degenerate into impertinence or ^rudeness. You may know when that takes place by ^:he impression you have made upon your listeners. If '/ou have done wrong, don’t hesitate to apologize at 38 FORWARDNESS. once, as an artist who has made a false stroke is not ashamed to rub it out. Even in rendering the apology you may find occasion to distinguish yourself, for it stamps you as a gentleman of the right sort at once. “ Handsome is that handsome does is a very well known and much appreciated saying in all companies. , FORWARDNESS. Nothing is more unbecoming or more calculated to defeat one’s attempts to “ shine ” than forwardness. Young persons ought not to assume consequence in any kind of society, but especially before men of age, wis- dom, and experience. Take the sensible advice of Parmenio, the Grecian general, to his son — “My son, would you be great, you must be less ; that is, you must] be less in your own eyes if you would be great in thel eyes of others.” A French writer beautifully illustrates! the contrast thus : — “The modest deportment of really! wise men, when contrasted with the assuming air of thel young and ignorant, may be compared to the different} appearance of wheat, which while its ear is empty holds] up its head proudly, but as soon as it is filled witlij grain, bends modestly down and withdraws from o\y\ servation.” i Boasting is a mode of putting one’s self forward that is very offensive. Don’t try it, for people won’t believe a word of what you say. There’s a good story told of m ybung clergyman in America boasting in company that he had been educated at two colleges Harvard an(^ Cambridge. “You remind me,” said an aged divind j)resent, “ of an instance I knew of a calf that suckec CIVILITY. 39 :wo cows.^’ What was the consequence ? ’’ said a ,|hird person. ‘‘Why, sir/’ replied the old gentleman ‘Very gravely, “ the consequence was that he was a very ^reaf Served him right. DIFFIDENCE. I Though forwardness is to be avoided if you desire to blease, you must not fall into the other extreme of diffi- dence. As it is usually men of little knowledge and of aediocre talent that push themselves forward where hey ought not to be, so generally we find it to be men •f uncommon worth, fine genius, and excellent ability ^hat labor under the terrors of diffidence. Of the two, [iffidence is certainly the less objectionable, but if you ^iesire to make a figure at all this will defeat your object, hough you should be otherwise most distinguished. ?he fact is, society is a terror to a diffident man, and lie instinctively avoids it. Diffidence may be overcome, owever, by the force of moral courage, and the accus- I Dming one’s self, so as to become familiar with the so- ial duties. Habit in this becomes second nature. ” CIVILITY. Civility, it has been said, costs nothing, and yet it is of /Teat value. We cannot dispense with the law to honor dl men. If a civil word or two will make a man happy, /hy should we withhold them when they cost us noth- y|ig. “ It is like lighting another man’s candle by one’s /wn, which loses none of its light by what the other ^ains.” A kind word or a kind action will often call 40 ATTENTION. forth more gratitude in the heart of the recipient thai material benefits. It is quite possible for a man to b compelled to receive a benefit, and yet not thank th giver through the incivility of the conferment. ATTENTION. A good listener is always a favorite in conversation The art of listening well is sometimes preferable to th art of speaking well. Want of attention to a person wh is speaking to you is a gross contravention of the law o politeness. It is a crime not easily pardoned by the vie tim, who feels it perhaps more keenly than an open in suit. We know that towards “ bores ’’ it is almost irr possible not to conduct one’s self even with som marked show of inattention, but the well-bred man wil rather seek the means of politely ridding himself of tli ‘‘ bore,” and so have “ one enemy the less,” which i the next best to having ‘‘ one friend the more.” In lis| tening to the conversation of another, it is not only nec essary that you should attend, but that you should shov your interest in the matter by frequent responses Oj ejaculations, or remarks. Passive silence merely even with your eyes indicating attention, is not enough You must show that you have been attending with you' ears also, and that is best done by responding with youi tongue. One very common reason why we meet with so fev people wlio are really agreeable in conversation is thoj there is scarcely anybody who does not think more O) what he has to say, than of listening to and answerin] what is said to him, Even those who are reputed tfl ‘‘LARGE TALK AND SMALL TALK/' 41 lave the greatest politeness sometimes think they do mough if they only seem to be attentive. At the same ime their eyes and gestures betray a distraction as to i^hat is addressed to them, and an impatience to return o what they themselves were saying. They forget that 0 be studious of pleasing themselves is but a poor way D please others, and that to listen patiently and answer omplaisantly is essentially characteristic of good con- ersation. Without careful attention nothing can be one, and your attention should not only be careful and onsiderate, but quick and universal too, so far as your ange is occupied, for where all are considered on an quality no one cares to be overlooked. Readiness of ttention is also a valuable auxiliary to maintain that asy flow of conversation which is so liable to be inter- jpted by a change of speakers or of subjects. The let is, that to be perfect in this, you should have within le range of your observation all that is transpiring round you — all the people, their motions, their looks, leir words, and yet without staring at them or seeming ) be an observer. Be ever ready for any little inter- lange of civility that may occur. Remember how 1 leased you were with the slightest mark of attention jaid to you. The same result will follow when you ' low them to others. i jj “ LARGE TALK AND SMALL TALK.’’ ; Some young men have a habit of talking largely about 1 ings and about themselves. They desire not only to i line but to astonish. These belong to the class i ibbed by society “ Magnificent liars. ” Let them give 42 LARGE TALK AND SMALL TALK.” over the habit, for they are never believed, even wh< they may be telling the plain, unadorned matter of far So far from shining, they are pretty sure some time > other, to have the shine ’’ completely extinguished I some intended victim who cannot stomach the silly ir position longer. Small talk is as great a fault as large talk, A\iiether be shallow or flippant. Part of the conversation mu necessarily be made up of commonplace topics, but the: can be dealt with in a rational and gentlemanly manne without condescending to gossip and old wives’ ga ble.” Talk much and err much, says the Spaniard, and tl Spaniard is not far wrong. If we lay ourselves out talk much, then we venture upon what we do not kno very well rather than cease talking, and so make blu ders. To bridle the tongue is not so very easy when has a mind to set off at full gallop. Reason lies b tween the spur and the bridle.” Use a wise moder tion, being neither too sedate nor too talkative. Tf former will proclaim your ignorance to the company, tl latter your presumption and conceit. Talkativenes though in the main to be censured, does not always pr ceed from want of judgment. In Scotland people ai not talkative enough — they are too reticent, and whe they do talk, they rather argue than converse. 1 France the conversation seems to us an eternal jabbd so incessantly do they talk. In England they have free open-hearted talkativeness that is light, merry, ar cheerful, without being at all flippant, and this seems ] be the vein most natural for the purposes of convers tion. anecdote. 43 ® ANECDOTE. ^Anecdotes, when well told and fittingly introduced, )rm good shining ’’ material. The chief requisite is ;iat they be new, and calculated to interest and amuse le company. They ought to be introduced seldom, ,id only when they are apt. Omit unnecessary detail ^id never digress. Impregnate them with as much live- ^pess and humor as you can. The more brilliantly they parkle the more they are appreciated. But beware of ry narrative. “ A story in which native humor reigns Is often useful, always entertains ; But sedentary weavers of long tales Give me the fidgets, and my patience fails. ’Tis the most asinine employ on earth To hear them tell of parentage and birth, And echo conversations dull and dry. Embellished with — He said, and so said /.” , Anecdotes which may do very well in one company L.ay fall flat and tedious in another. The character, le habits, the cant of one company may give merit to story which may be entirely wanting in another. I eople are often disappointed by not attending to this. I hey are mortified beyond measure to find what set I le company in a roar, and procured for them, may- jap, immediate conversational status, falls flat and jail in another which they hoped to have taken by I orm, and for that purpose committed themselves to . le most unmistakable emphasis which characterizes a j lan when he knows he is saying a good thing. Such I check is enough to freeze him up for the rest of the 44 TUNNING. evening, so let him beware of being out of season with unseasonable wit. Long stories are quite out of place in general con- versation. There are times when a person is called on to relate a story, but these are special. When such an occasion does occur, it is best to meet the emergency boldly, and to tell the story as directly, yet as circum- stantially, as your information will allow. A good story-teller has then a first-rate opportunity to shine, and it is worth while to have paid some attention to the art beforehand, so as the more thoroughly to please the company and gain credit for yourself. Whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well. That mus : be our excuse for advising preparation. Short incidents and bon-mots are quite allowable. Indeed they are highly ornamental and even useful in varying the style of conversation. A tale should be judicious, clear, succinct. The language plain, and incidents well linked; Tell not as new what everybody knows. And new or old, still hasten to a close ; There cent ring in a focus, round and neat. Let all your rays of information meet.” PUNNING. Punning used to be more respectable than it is now. It can, however, boast the example of Shakespeare, and some of the finest wits that have graced society. J unch^ too, lias so commended the practice to our notice, that the prejudice against it is wearing away. Vile puns by conceited jninsters have brought the thing LAUGHTER. 45 nto disrepute. A good pun, rising naturally out of he current of the conversation, is not to be despised, ri|)ut there must be nothing like an attempt to be funny .i)y playing upon the words when everybody else is seri- ^^usly engaged in attending to the thought. Some posi- ively lay a trap for it, and when the opportunity is aade to present itself, pounce upon it immediately ; ;arnish their contemptible game with a few grins, and pioss it with a conceited leer among their unfortunate ictims. The trap is set in many ways. The trap :nigmatical, thus : — Why is a person beating his wife ike a ladies’ tailor ? Because he is a man milling her man millineT^, The trap hypothetical, thus : — If a hairman were /(^/itical, he would certainly lend a help- ng hand to the Foies, The trap anecdotical, thus : — Vhen the tyrant of Algiers was conveyed to Naples, he Polacca, on board which vessel he was, outsailed : .11 the vessels which accompanied her. “ Indeed.” I ^ut you know there was no wonder in that, for she was ure to carry the Dey, LAUGHTER. ! Goldsmith well describes the “ loud laugh ” as speak- I ng ‘‘ the vacant mind.” He was not far wrong. Loud ! aughter generally indicates a lamentable absence of i lue - mental occupation. Whatever the truth of the I natter may be, people generally suspect vacuity of j bought ‘‘where laughter hath such room to ring,” on the principle that “ an empty barrel gives forth the j Teatest sound.” The “ Preacher ” tells us that 46 LAUGHTER. ** The noisy laughter of the fool Is like the crackling sound Of blazing thorns, which quickly fall In ashes to the ground.” So you see there is not much “ shining ” stuff in this to suit your purpose. There is, at any rate, in the best view of it, much suspicion attached, and like Casar’s wife, your reputation to shine must be above suspicion. You may laugh heartily yet not loudly nor noisily. “ I have always preferred cheerfulness to mirth,” says the essayist. It was the instinct of good manners that prompted the thought. Cheerfulness produces the smile, and the gentle laugh, and fills the mind with the steady and constant serenity of the summer day. Cheerfulness is the best mood for conversation. It is the most easily sustained and the most comforta- bly enjoyed. There are exceptions of course. Some by their flashes of wit can “ set the table in a roar.’’ Then the “ roar ” is proper and becoming, and the ! restraint of it would be pure affectation. i Unless a person has fairly brought down ridicule | upon his own head, it is highly unbecoming to laugh I at him. It destroys that sympathy without which no company can feel comfortable. Do not be too suspi- cious either that people are laughing at you. If you behave properly and people do laugh at you, it is to their own disadvantage, not yours. A laugh may often be used judiciously in conversa- tion to blunt the edge of some sarcasm that may have | been ill-naturedly uttered against you. It shows that the barbed dart has not pierced your good nature, and if you follow it up with a good-natured joke your vie- TABLE TALK. 47 tory is complete, and you shine forth like the sun dispersing a wintry cloud. The most detestable kind of laughter we know is the giggle. Detestable enough in woman, it is far more so in man. It is the sure indication of not only vacuity of thought, but of lightness of intellect and instability of affection. It is equally characteristic of the heartless coquette and the foppish man-flirt. George Herbert has some very sensible lines on laughter; they are these : — “ Pick out of mirth, like stones out of thy ground, Profaneness, filthiness, abusiveness. These are the scum, with which coarse wits abound ; The fine may spare these well, yet not go less. All things are big with jest : nothing that’s plain But may be witty, if thou hast the vein. - “ Wit’s an unruly engine, wildly striking Sometimes a friend, sometimes the engineer : Hast thou the knack ? pamper it not with liking; But if thou want it, buy it not too dear. Many affecting wit beyond their power Have got to be a dear fool for an hour. “ A sad wise vcdor is the brave complexion^ That leads the van, and swallows up the cities. The giggler is a milkmaid^ whom infection. Or a fired beacon frighteth from his ditties. Then he'*s the sporty the mirth then in him rests. And the sad man is cock of all his jests P TABLE TALK. Table talk is a sphere in which the most distinguished may have endeavored to shine. Volumes of their table 48 TABLE TALK. talk have been published, and this aphoristic literature is held in high esteem. While the dinner is being served, the prelude to the conversation is being carried on. Now is the favorable time for gaining a knowledge of the different individuals with whom you are to pass the next few hours. At this period the tone of conver- sation is not very high pitched. The topics are gener- ally of a commonplace kind, for as yet you have no common ground on which to meet your associates. The weather — what's new — the interchange of civilities — public amusements form a starting point. The asso- ciation of ideas and their interchange keep up the flow. Gradually mind discloses itself to mind, and the mere talk passes into genuine conversation. The common- place topics enable us to form an estimate of the com- pany — to distinguish the talkative from the taciturn, the quick from the dull, the cheerful, jovial man from the slow and the sour. . If you desire to shine to advantage at dinner, order and" husband your topics like the courses that come before you, for a great deal depends on the inclination of your associates to listen to you. Let them be light at first and more substantial as you proceed, and if you have wit, spend it judiciously in seasoning all. During the soup course, conversation is almost en- tirely dispensed with. The minds of all are generally engrossed with one topic, and to talk upon that topic is forbidden by the laws of dinner etiquette. The animal appetite must be silenced before the rational faculty is allowed to play. After the first course, you may begin to feel the pulse of your neighbor, or vis-a-vis^ by some little ap- AFTER DINNER. 49 proach to gayety, but beware of attracting general atten- tion. At the second course the appetite begins to ab#te, and a restraining pause ensues. Now they like ^notning better than to talk and listen for a short time. [This is the time for the interchange of pleasantries, and short lively anecdotes. But don’t bother the mind with any serious work to do, for it is still under the sway of the stomach, and will not brook anything that requires sustained attention. People resent anything that looks like an attempt to spoil their dinner or the digestion of it. As the courses proceed you may open out more freely, for all are becoming emancipated from the. dominion of physical appetite, and the mental is now decidedly in the ascendant. Beware still, however, of boring your neighbors with too heavy talk, or too con- tinuous, for the reign of free uninterrupted conversation has not yet begun. But when the desert is on the table — when the ripe I delicate fruit is set, and the sparkling wines stream from I the crystal, then let flow your raciest thoughts — your wit — your humor — your fancies — whatever you may ■ excel in. No restraint is needed now but that of good I sense, sound judgment and manly courtesy. i AFTER DINNER. After dinner the subject of conversation should be of ! a light and entertaining character, such as the general i news or current literature of the day. Keep pace with i the tenor of the conversation around you. Carefully I guard against the wily wine stealing away your brains, i 4 50 ACCOMPLISHMENTS. Then the tongue loosens itself and runs off, or floun- ders in the mud of a thick utterance or a plunging stuttering. Shun all approaches to argument or discus- sion ; you are not met to draw conclusions, but to accept them from each other in a friendly way. For this reason politics is generally forbidden as an article of conversation, for in a mixed company there is sure to j be a difference of opinion, and men think too keenly upon that to talk amicably about it. Besides, it is extremely suggestive of the hot electioneering party ; spirit we witness so often when summoned to record I our thought by actual vote. Should any one be so rude | ^as to turn a joke upon you, turn the laugh as good natur- i edly as you can upon himself, but avoid collision with | any one as much as possible. Toasts are going out o' fashion except at public entertainments. A well-tolc ancedote or a clever conundrum is about the only kind of public solo you can venture on. I When you have joined the ladies, alter your style ! entirely. Should the evening be fine and you take a ' turn in the garden, you find yourself paired off with a | companion. Should that companion be of the fair sex, | entertain her with the language of Flora, or the poetry | of flowers, or some such sentimental subject. Should | 3'ou be linked to a gentleman, you may narrow the | choice of your subject, and select that which you know he is the most intimately conversant with. ACCOMPLISHMENTS. There is not a more legitimate method of ^‘shining in society than through what are termed ‘‘accomplish- ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 51 merits.'’ There are the active fields of science, litera< ture, and art to choose accomplishments from, according to the taste of the chooser. Science, or the knowledge of things, is as wide as creation, and as interesting to intelligent minds. Its wonders- are inexhaustible ; and he who is conversant with them can always have it in his power to promote conversation of the loftiest kind. He is the privileged exhibitor of the beautiful spectacle of the universe, and his intelligent audience gladly pay him for his enter- tainment, by feelings of gratitude, admiration, and re- spect. ^ Literature is one in which elegant minds delight to shine. In this, human nature refines itself by finding itself mirrored back in ideal forms. The idealization of our being need not spend itself in mere ideas. The thoughts in our minds, the words upon our lips may be purified and refined by this idealizing process couched in the study of literature, and yet be as true, as good, and as strong as before. The action too is not im- 1 paired — it is that of a higher being. Both science and literature have great thoughts for expression, and he who can express them greatly will i always be deemed a great man. Nor can we cultivate them without getting into the society of great men, and unconsciously borrowing something of their greatness. It is said, with a deal of truth, that a man is known by the society he keeps. If, then, you show that you have been in the company of such as Homer, Shake- speare, Galileo, or Buffon, you will be known only for I what is noble and good. On a woodland excursion he i who can find “ sermons in stones, books in the running 52 ACCOMPLISHMENTS. - brooks, and good in everything ’’ will shine to greater advantage than he who babbles talk foreign to the lovely world that surrounds him, and that is constantly projecting the loveliest pictures on the tablet of his mind. A knowledge of languages, ancient or modern, or both, with their literatures, has great weight in society, and makes a man shine more powerfully than the little “ art,’’ which shows off accomplishments that are merely surface deep. Nothing is considered more the mark of a gentleman than an acquaintance with the classics, ancient or modern. True, it sometimes de- generates into pedantry ; but that is the abuse, not the use of it. Thought is of course a higher sphere of con- versation than mere language, but the Attic salt is con- sidered best as a seasoner by average minds, and you ^ cannot always have the pleasing of your own judgment I as to what is best. Art is another very extensive field for the display of your ability to shine. If you have the power itself it gives you more authority to speak, for you are thereby enabled to form juster opinions that can stand criti- cism. But whatever range of studies you enter upon for the proper fitting out of your mind, avoid furnishing it with such articles as, however useful in their own proper sphere, are quite out of place as items of furniture in your mind. By way of warning, let us show you a pedant with all his quaint nick-nackery of mental furniture. PEDANTRY. 53 PEDANTRY. A pedant is generally a puzzle of a man — his knowl- edge and his ignorance are both in extremes. He knows a huge mass of what nobody else cares to know, and does not care to know a huge mass of what everybody else would feel ashamed to be ignorant. He knows a good deal more about the Greeks and Romans than about the people he is living among. He may not be able to find his way to the next street, yet he is in- timately acquainted with the buildings of ancient Rome, and the several quarters of ancient Jerusalem. He knows exactly the dimensions of t^e Forum Boarium, but would feel insulted by a question about those of our own bazaar. He would express extreme indignation and contempt if asked to handle a cricket bat or an oar, but he will dis" course learnedly on the Trochus or the Trireme. He IS not able to distinguish a quadrille from a polka, but he can detail all the evolutions of the Pyrrhic dance. He has written a dissertation on the Lydian and Dorian Moods, but he can't see any great difference between a Highland pibroch and an oratorio of Handel or Bee- thoven. He is equally ignorant of sculpture and paint- ing. He talks indeed about Phidias and Praxiteles, be- cause he finds them mentioned in his classic authors ; but he puts no value on Thorwaldsen or Turner ; and even when you place him before the Elgin Marbles, he feels interested in them only in so far as they settle the meaning of some disputed passage. His physician has impressed on him the necessity of exercise, but ’tis al- most a matter of course he doesn't know how to take a walk. He sees no beauty in the face of Nature — or if S4 PEDANTRY. there comes across his mind a recollection of a time when he did delight to look upon it, this natural feeling ^ soon evaporates in a musty quotation. Parallel pas- sages in Greek and Latin he can cite without limit — and there are few words whose quantity he has not some line of poetry ready to determine. But worth of sentiment and felicity of expression are lost on him. Though he prates about the sublimity of ^schylus, and the philosophy of Euripides, he is not terrified by Macbeth, does not speculate vdth Hamlet. His pride comes to back his ignorance, and he regards as vulgar and mechanical all that he does not know, and every- thing that he cannot do. He looks with affected con- i tempt on fishing and shooting, fencing and dancing, — he doesn’t swim — he doesn’t play cards, chess, or bag- atelle — he went once to the theatre to see Antigone — but he has an infinite horror of all kinds of amusements. We have known only one of this class who had in ! his composition a fine vein of natural humor ; but he is sometimes not without pretension to wit. He even i makes puns ; but the analogies he discovers have al- | ways one term at least in the dread unknown of school cram. He suggests the propriety of naming streets after the five Predicables — assigning one to people of substance — another to people of quality, etc., and argues against the illogical procedure of landlords who insist upon their tenants coming to a conclusion on the sub- ject of rent before they have granted them the premises. Should you happen to hear him discoursing upon some favorite theme, you might think his intellectual activity unbounded; yet in this point he is the most slothful man alive ; he thinks none, he merely remembers. PEDANTRY. 55 leading is to him just an intemperate habit, like dram- Irinking; he has accustomed himself to a stimulus vhich his enfeebled mind can no longer want. He has )ecome so habituated to the authority of books, that he las forgot that judgment has any authority. Although le has a prodigious acquaintance with other people’s deas — of all people in the world he has fewest of his >wn. He looks at everything as reflected in other men’s ninds — the broad daylight streaming from the thing Iself blinds him. Books are called spectacles through vhich we look at the world — to him books are blue pectacles that keep the strong light from his weak yes, and tint everything with their own hue. He hinks with his books, as a cripple walks with his :rutches, and he is always behind when the angel comes lown to stir the waters. Thoughts that live and work nthe heart of ages acquire value to him only when he ;ets them served up in printer’s ink and parchment, ,s dilettanti care little for Pharaoh’s daughter, who v^alked with her maidens on the banks of the Nile, but )ut great value on her when salted and swaddled and >oxed in a mummy case. He is a very child in the V2iys of the world. He doesn’t take any interest in his lext-door neighbor, though he may have known him cince he was a child — he takes far more interest in the ;enealogies of the Caesars or the Scipios. He can’t .ppreciate honest manliness in any but Aristides or Cato. He can pronounce an oration on the character >f Pericles, or Pompey, but cannot tell whether or not lis most intimate friend is a knave or a numskull. He lever reads the debates in Parliament — but sometimes ooks at the column of varieties. He reads some novels 56 PEDANTRY. — Valerius and the Fawn of Sertorius — and expressi' his regret that Shakespeare’s Roman plays have so li tie of the Roman spirit. When he goes to church h uses the Greek Testament and the Septuagint — and n( unfrequently laments that our vernacular has failed j! expressing the force of this tense or that particle. Du i ing sermon he employs himself in reconciling Griesbac and Tischendorf, or keeps a sharp lookout for slips i the minister’s grammar, or fallacies in his argument. A one-sided being stamped with any portion of th preceding feature is certain of proving a bore in an intelligent society. He can be endured only by bein made a butt for pleasantries and ridicule. Indeed, w ourselves in describing our ideal of a learned pedan have not been able to restrain our pen from carica ture. But pedantry is not confined to learning alone There is pedantry wherever there is persevering mono- talk on any subject, simply because we know it partic- ularly well, to the evident boring ’’ of the company] Such is the case of a merchant talking shop,” or i clergyman talking ‘‘church.” Remember, however' that it is not the talking well and thoroughly on a sub- ject that constitutes pedantry. It is the keeping of it up when the others desire to let it drop, or the intro- duction of an outr^ subject in which the others have nof common interest. Some have a habit of preaching their opinions in con- versation. This is very disagreeable and unwise. Your opinions, if you wish them expressed most effec-i lively, will have a much better chance of being enter- tained if they are suggested modestly. Some learned PEDANTRY. 57 men, proud of their knowledge, speak only to decide, and to let you know pretty plainly by their imperious manner that their decision is not to be appealed from. Even though they should speak nothing but the truth, men are at once inclined to dissent, and even to serve them with a return in kind. The more you know, the more modest should you be, if your knowledge has done you the good it was intended. Remember Sir Isaac Newton, who compared himself with all his learn- ing to a child gathering pebbles on the sea-shore ; so little did he think of what even he had gathered on this shore of time. Even where you are sure, do not press it dogmatically ; represent but do not pronounce ; and if you would convince others, be open to convic- tion yourself. Our modern education is becoming less and less pedantic. The ancients are not worshipped with the reverence they once were. ‘‘We are the ancients,’’ is the common-sense cry now, for we are older in know!- edge and art than they. Formerly, when Latin and Greek were the only humanities studied at school and college, the ancients were talked of as something more than men, and the moderns as something less. Speak of the moderns without contempt, and of the ancients without idolatry. Judge them all by their merits, whether old or new, and never stoop to the authority of any writer if your considerate judgment tells you that he is not to be trusted. Some great scholars almost absurdly draw empiric 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 two 58 SOCIAL CHARACTERS. cases exactly parallel ; and in the next place, there never was a case known — much less stated — with all its circumstances and conditions, by any historian. Wise ^aws and instances, ancient or modern, have un- doubtedly great authority, but should be regarded rather as enforcements than proofs. Reason upon the case itself, taking into due consideration the circum- stances and conditions. Look upon analogies as helps only, not as guides. SOCIAL CHARACTERS. The characters that infest the social circle are as varied as the faces that denote them. There is the silent man, who, where all are talking, seldom ventures to open his riiouth. The reason is various. It may be through diffidence of his ability or dread of impropriety, or because no one has taken the trouble to tap him and make him run. Then there is the noisy man who seems to love so much the sound of his own voice that it predominates everywhere. He boils and fizzes eternally, and may boil over, but never evaporates. His steam is inexhaustible. He talks for talking’s sake To silence him you agree with him, but he is not silenced. Sooner than that he will turn round and eat up his own arguments to prolong the discussion. He is always in the right. You have no refuge but “To twirl your thumbs, fall back into your chair. Fix on the wainscot a distressful stare, And, when you liope his blunders are all out, Reply di.screetly— to lie sure— no doubt !” SOCIAL CHARACTERS. 59 There is the doubtful man who knows nothing positively. You can’t catch him tripping in a hurry. He hedges himself round with humbly hoping, and pos- Isibly presuming. He remembers if he does not forget, land thinks he saw, but would' not swear he did. “ His evidence, if he were called by law To swear to some enormity he saw, For want of prominence and just relief. Would hang an honest man and save a thief.” There is the positive man, on the other hand, who pronounces judgment without the least hesitation. Ordinary mortals base their opinions upon proof, but f he requires none. “ Without the means of knowing right from wrong. He always is decisive, clear and strong.” He wonders you can’t see the thing in the same light with him, and sets you down for a very stupid fellow in consequence. He “ Flings at your head conviction in the lump. And gains remote conclusions at a jump.” There are the disputatious men who dispute about everything, and quarrel with everybody. They con- sider conversation a sparring match, and planting hits the great end of it. They become terribly excited when opposition warms them into thorough exercise, and stop at nothing to make themselves and their argu- ments triumphant. The best method of stopping their play is to give them nobody to fence with, and if I they assault any one, let them be proclaimed victorious before the fight begins. 6o SOCIAL CHARACTERS. There is the hypochondriac maletudinarian who is always talking of his ailings. He always breathes an atrabilarious atmosphere of colds and coughs and in- digestions, and blue-pill recoveries. He entertains you, as if you were his nurse or his doctor, with a long catalogue of bilious experiences, until you begin to think that they are contagious disorders, and feel all wrong as well as he. You find yourself pulling a long face, while those around you broaden with healthy grins. You feel as in a wet blanket and damp night- cap. You are migerable and can’t stand it longer. You break in pieces the cenotaph of vapors he has been erecting around you by a sudden burst of re- covered cheerfulness, slap him on the shoulder with a “ begone, dull care,” and warm yourself again with the sunny eyes and merry countenances that are beaming all round you. You were caught once ; you never shall be again. You know the maletudinarians by the shadows they cast around them. There is the fretful man who seems to find pleasure only in being displeased. Nothing is said or done to his mind. The room is either too hot or too cold. His stomach seems out of order ; his brain is out of order ; and of course his heart and his tongue follow suit. He is restless and impatient, talking at random, and ever by fils and starts. He is on good terms with nobody, not even with himself. He says a thousand extravagant tilings, and these in an ill-natured tone of voice. He cares not who takes offence at his ill-natured remarks, and is rather gratified than otherwise if you complain or resent. He is unhapjiy himself, and, so far as he can, ntakes others unhajipy also. THE LADIES. 6l Such characters as the foregoing are a few of many indrances to the natural current of genial conversation -hich “ Should flow like waters after summer showers,” lling our minds with freshening streams of thought nd our hearts with the babble of gladness. THE LADIES. Young men are proverbially fond of making a igure” when they enter polite society; especially vhen fair eyes are bent upon them, and their hearts ire still disengaged, there is a romantic charm that ascinates them with an intense desire to please. How drcumspect they are ! ever dreading to commit some ncongruous action for which they may be laughed at. Gallantry, indeed, is the great play of every social rathering. ** Place aux davics ” supersedes every other :onsideration. Few love to hear ill of themselves. Ladies espe- ;ially dislike it. We do not mean to say that you must consider them faultless, but the more you respect and admire them, the purer and pleasanter will be your inteftourse with them. It is the custom now-a-days to sneer at Platonic attachments, but it is one great feat- ure of our Christian religion that such relations may and ought to exist. The society of ladies is indispensa- ble to the young man who is desirous of polishing his manner to any degree of refinement. tVoman is insep- ‘ arable from every advance we make in life. When the I child is clasped to the mother’s bosom, the first impres- 62 now TO DRESS. sions of intelligence are conveyed in love from her eyes Soon that tender love stirs up emotions in its litth heart. Anon her gentle will guides with discretion it‘ thoughtless wishes. The same relation holds good ii after life. It is matter of notoriety that great mei generally have had noble mothers. It has been said too, with much truth, that all great men have had mud of woman’s nature in their composition. Womar moulds us more than we are willing to allow, ant history attests the fact that she has seriously affected even the fates of empires. Young men then need not be ashamed to court the so Jety of the ladies as a positive item of their training. Some frequent their company to trifle and amuse themselves. Such congregating is beneath the dignity of being styled society. HOW TO DRESS. “ The beauty of dress,” says Dr. Gregory, “ consists in not being conspicuous.” Quiet dressing is ever the best. Dressiness is what detraction will lay hold of at once, for it i)roclaims itself and invites censure. The art of dressing is just the art of draping the human fcrm so as to exhibit it to the best advantage. We do not mean the mere draping of a statue, for there is action in the human form which the statue wants. The beautiful outlines of the human figure form the ground- work of the “ cut, ” as it is expressively termed, of our clothes. 'Those outlines should neither be concealed nor distortCil. Tashion, it is true, is not always synony- DANCING. 63 mous with good taste in this respect, and modifies somewhat the manner in which we ought to dress. The body is more dressed than the mind, we fear, in average society, and this may be because it is sooner dressed. But this should not be, and will not be ere long. The atmosphere of society is becoming less showy and more ‘‘ spirituelle.’’ The flow of soul is taking the place of mere talk. DANCING. It is not so easy now as of old to dance yourself into the good graces of a company. Long ago people did ’'actually trip it on the light fantastic toe,^^ and were admired for it, but not so now. All that is required of you is to keep time, and keep the figure. If you obey the impulse of the music and really dance, you are set down^as a skip-jack or a dancing-master. No mistake but this is eminently absurd, but so it is, and fashion is peremptory. If pianists were to play, as dancers dance, without any accent or articulation or variety, what a “sorry thing it would be altogether. Let us hope that as fashion has changed it, fashion may change again 'into the good old method of bounding merrily to the 'musical impulse of the soul. There is little opportunity for conversation during dancing. It is all suggested by the requirements of ±e dance, and kept subordinate to it, for your atten- :ion should be given entirely to what you are engaged in dr the present. There are many little attentions and flvilities, however, presenting themselves, in which you ^ nay shine to advantage if you lay hold of the opportu- 64 THE ETIQUETTE OF CONVERSATION. nity. Presence of mind and a desire to please will carry you successfully through them all. The only perfume you should allow yourself to be redolent of in company, is the freshness of health and cleanliness. Fragrant scents are generally suspected as employed to kill more questionable ones. Pepper- mint on the breath barely disguises the alcoholic pota- tion, and eau de Cologne will never atone for a dirty shirt collar. Other things being equal, a little perfume is rather grateful than otherwise, but beware of smell- ing rank, — it is vulgar as well as disagreeable. ‘‘ I cannot talk with civet in the room, A fine puss gentleman that’s all perfume ; His odoriferous attempts to please Perhaps might prosper with a swarm of bees,’* or the giddy flies that buzz about society, and are caught with every sense but that, which, though called ,com- mon, is the most un.common of all. THE ETIQUETTE OF CONVERSATION. It may be useful to sum up a few of the most useful rules for conversation, that they may be the more read- ily borne in mind. In general, people who have not been introduced are not understood to be on conversing terms. In travel- ling more freedom is allowed, but even then the conver- sation is but very general unless special circumstances warrant otherwise. Who should begin a conversation it is not easy to say. Where there is a doubt as to who should begin. THE ETIQUETTE OF CONVERSATION. 6 $ 1: it be the person of greatest importance in the com- ny. But if it be done modestly, any one may begin. But it is not so difficult to begin a conversation as it to carry it on successfully. Wit is by no means a re card. Few can play it well, and still fewer main- n the play. Nor will learning supply you with the iterial of the right sort altogether. That must pass rough the alembic of your mind, and give forth its e precipitate of thought, and this brings us to the iff of the proper kind for conversational purposes, for fiversation is but the interchange of thought. Learn- ^is dead inert matter that begets nothing, but thought living spirit and begets thought. It is thought that ikes words winged, and the hours too. Look the rson in the face with whom you are conversing, ver talk past him — it gives you an air of insin- *ity. Let your manner be confident without being Id, easy without being familiar. Falk neither too slowly nor too quickly, but with a dy degree of raciness. Animation is indispensable successful conversation. Let the tones of your voice as musical as possible, steering equally clear of lipping ’’ the words of their due amount of sound, or mouthing them with too much. .n general, society never alludes to private matters. Ik with the company on subjects of general interest, ih learned men you may talk of learned subjects, never inflict your superior knowledge on people of re slender pretensions. It would be like a rich man playing his gold against poorer men's copper. 'lever interrupt a speaker in what l^e is saying. If i step before him so unceremoniously, it is courteous 5 66 PRUDENCE IN CONVERSATION. of him, indeed, if he does not take the tempting oppoi tunity of using his foot to take you out of his way. Never crush any subject of conversation and subst tute one of your own in its stead. If you wish changed, wait till it is exhausted, or lead it in the d rection of your own. Never converse with a preoccupied mind. Thro' your whole mind into it, else you are sure to make th conversation hang and drag its ‘‘ weary length along.^’ If unable or not disposed to talk on a subject, yo can listen. PRUDENCE IN CONVERSATION. There is not a more necessary quality in converse tion than prudence. Consider well what you are goin to say before you say it. Consider how it will affec yourself, your hearers, or any other person present o absent. By cultivating the habit, a flash of your min« over it in review will decide the matter for you at once so that it need not check the genial and uninterrupte- flow of soul. The great vice of conversation is detraction. It piquancy is a sad temptation, and all are guilty of i more or less. But it puts you in the light of an env ous person, though there may not be a particle of env present in the matter so far as you are concernec The presence of envy, real or attributed, will not hel| you to shine. Speak of the absent as you would if the; were present and heard you. Do not say behind man’s back what you would not dare to say to his fac€ Besides the possible disgrace of having to ‘‘ eat you PRUDENCE IN CONVERSATION. 67 wn words/’ it is most unmanly. You can never be /rong in taking a good-natured view of the characters •f others. It does you no harm ; possibly it may do ou good. What you say is not so much at the mercy f the company to retail. Good-natured remarks, un- 3 SS maliciously perverted, will stand the saying over gain without harm ; but ill-natured are sure to become arsher in the carrying. Evil speaking is a most un- lanly, un-Christian habit, and should be encouraged either in ourselves nor m others. If a person speaks vil of others to you, be pretty sure that in another ompany he will speak evil of you. Beware of it not nly in yourself, but in others also. If you are wise you will avoid the giving expression ) opinions that may be singular to the company you nd yourself in — above all, opinions in religion. Com. any is not a place for disputation, and every one is 3 fond of his opinions as you are of yours, and is dis- eased to uphold them when questioned by the state- lent of an opposite. You can only startle and dis- lease at the best, should no opposition be shown from lability or good taste. If an argument be started and bu loose it, you feel that you have not shone to advan- Lge ; and if you win it, you have surely lost the kindly eling of those opposed to you. Always be modest in the expression of your senti- ents. Do not dogmatically assert, even when you *e certain. All appearance of force is sure to be re- sted. Be content with the happiness of believing ■lat you are in the right. If your opinions are worth lything at all, they will not only be self-sustaining, it self-comforting also. 68 rRUDENCE IN CONVERSATION. Should an argument occur in which you cann^ avoid taking a part, remember that he seems to ha\ the best of it that keeps his temper. Feeling moi than thought is the tone of company. Take care you do not touch upon the infirmities c peculiarities of those present. It is difficult enough i convince a man himself of such, but to expose him b' fore the eyes of assembled company is an offence I will never forgive, whether you are right or wrong. B- sides, he feels bound to defend himself, and ends wit being more confirmed than ever in his eccentricity. Some people are very fond of “ speaking their minds, which, when not under proper restraint, is just anothe name for being rude. Remember that people are n^ bound to please you, and the offence that makes yo speak your mind may be in yourself and not in then This is the modest and charitable aspect, and more i| consonance with the disposition you ought to hav when in company. If all spoke their minds what chaos of thought and sentiment would the converse tionbe. No — we need the oil of charity and modest and prudent reserve to lubricate the machinery of oi social converse. If this were wanting it would be a uninterrupted jar and screech. We must again warn you against the misdirectio of your wit, if you possess it. The safest plan is t make it general, for when it flies at any particula person it may hit harder than you intended, and blo' for blow may, begun in harmless fun, end in seriom earnest. Nobody, including yourself, likes to b laughed at. Never hesitate to apologize when you have done PRUDENCE IN CONVERSATION. 69 wrong. The next best thing to the not having done it at all, is the trying to undo it by tendering your sincere regret at having done it. Perfect ease in behavior and conversation is the tem- per to arrive at, and that is wonderfully assisted in be- ing gained by attending more to the humor of the com- pany than to your own. As conversation is truly said ‘to “flow,” remember that you are only one particle of the fluid, and so move freely and pleasantly with the others. If there be acid in your composition it will tinge the whole with sourness, if you do not hold it within yourself in secret solution. Taint not then with any egotistic humor “ the genial current of the soul.” Rather flow v/ith the others. If you rise to the surface Df the general current, you may shine as you flow. If there be any one worthy of imitation, imitate him in his excellence, but not in his defects. None are oerfect ; all have defects and faults more or less. Be sure you discriminate, else you run the risk of being simply an ape. You ought not even to copy closely ^vhat he shines in. You must imitate him judiciously, ind in conformity with your own manner. Just as, hough you may imitate the cut of a personas clothes vhich you may consider will become you, yet you do lot take his precise measurements, nor the arrange- nents to meet his personal peculiarities. So though ^ou imitate, yet you judiciously adapt, so as to say almost, you originate the excellence for yourself. We ^nust all imitate, something or somebody. Originality s the power to adapt and conform. There is no orig- nation in the sense of creation from nothing. I Show neither a cringing nor an overbearing spirit. 70 PRUDENCE IN CONVERSATION. All are upon a level in conversation. He who bears himself over the heads of those whom he deems his in feriors is the very man to cringe to those whom he deems his superiors. Both are unmanly and impolitic. Evenness of temper and serenity of manner are ever indicative of the true gentleman. It is the mood o1 happiness, and affords the utmost enjoyment. Steei equally clear of excitement and indifference ; of frolic, fun, and gloomy melancholy. The even tenor of life and converse is the happiest and the most profitable. There are many minor considerations that enter intc prudence in conversation, which may be enumeratec with advantage. Do not spend your power to the utmost. Use it sc that you may appear to have more than you spend. Praise your friends, and leave it to your friends tc praise you. It never can come gracefully from your self. You need not tell all the truth, but it is absolutel} necessary that all you tell be true. Some, however, may have a right to know all the truth. And again, il withholding part of the truth discolor the rest, give i\ all or none at all. Despise not another for not possessing talent which you may happen to have. All have not the same tal ents. He may have one you yourself do not own. If you risk breaking jests upon others, you must be prepared to have them showered upon yourself. Do not talk too fast, else you outrun your hearerh" understanding. Neither talk too slow, else you frei your hearers into impatience and disgust. Never let your praise degenerate into flattery. I' PRUDENCE IN CONVERSATION. /I would only please a fool, and will vitiate your own manliness. Be not too lavish of your time in company. Men are apt to despise what they can have easily, and to put a value on what is to be had with some difficulty. Remember how often you have changed your opin- ion, and do not be too dogmatic ; nor be angry with those who seem to you to be dogmatically obstinate. You may talk about things without confessing your- self bound to certain opinions. You may profess safely being in search of the truth, but confessing your opinion so frequently as to identify yourself with them tends to nail you down to their profession, and lessens your inclination to be open to conviction. We mean of course the unnecessarily putting of them forward, for there are certain times and occasions when it would be unmanly and a want of duty to conceal them. Your opinions, remember, are ever liable to be shaken until you arrive at the absolute truth, which no man can truly say he has attained for certain. It has been well said that men repent speaking ten times for once that they repent keeping silence. When discussing do not argue for the subject, but let the subject argue for itself. Put it thus — so much may be said for it ; or thus — it commends itself to our notice. If it cannot vindicate itself, you need not try to do it by mere asseveration. If you are desirous of gaining the good opinion of any one, take care how you behave towards him the first time you meet him. First impressions form the seed whence springs his future opinion of you. Ladies abhor anything that looks like discussion ; 72 USEP^UL HINTS FOR CONVERSATION. they are the creatures of sentiment more than reason. They feel what is true and proper in minor matters without the pain or difficulty of thinking them out. Let every one tell his own story his own way. • It is rude and unmannerly to interrupt him and begin to teach him a better. This is ever the best mode with illiterate people, for they are generally put out when trying any other method than their own. Be more anxious to find in what you agree with your company, than in what you differ. You may retain your own individuality, and yet contrive to chime in agreeably enough with the others. Individuality as- sumes the appearance of singularity when carried too far. Should you find yourself in company which socially may be considered above you, do not show your con- sciousness of it otherwise than by a modest, dignified reserve. If you are received into the conversation on terms of equality, do not take it as a remarkable con- descension. If you are slighted by any one, break off from his converse with you ; if you are slighted gener- ally by the company, retire. In both cases the advan- tage rests with you. USEFUL HINTS FOR CONVERSATION. If you are familiar with your inferiors, do not be sur- prised if your inferiors are familiar with you. Show respect to your superiors. Never attempt familiarity with them, whatever familiarity they may exhibit tow- ards you. USEFUL HINTS FOR CONVERSATION. 73 Unkindly witticism leaves bitterness behind it, that will poison the most genial intercourse. Learning paraded without judgment and prudence will make you shine as a solemn pedantic fool. If you are compelled to reprove, do it kindly, so as to convey the least possible offence. Never volunteer your advice, and even when it is asked give it carefully and cautiously. It is easier to give advice than to follow it, with a prospect of success. He who gives it generally knows not all the special conditions of the case. Do not hazard crude conjectures regarding results. Things seldom turn out as they are expected. Wise men know this and hold their peace. Never talk of things in which the company have no interest. They may force attention, but it is sadly at your expense in their estimate of you. Never trumpet forth your own merit by recounting ictions in which you may have gained some credit. It vill detract from your desert and from your character IS a disinterested and well meaning person. Do not ‘‘ pronounce ” your sentiments before com- Dany. It will make you appear arrogant and self-con- :eited. Despise noman^s conversation. The meanest may each you something if you know what is intrinsically ^ood, -and if you can approve and appraise it for your- ;elf. Speak your sentiments in as few words as possible. Tedious conversation is about the most unbearable hat can be inflicted on a company. The current of alk ought to be brisk and not sluggish. 74 USEFUL HINTS FOR CONVERSATION. If any person attempts to (what is vulgarly but very expressively termed) '' pump ’’ you with impertinent questions, you may politely foil him by counter ques- tions as answers ; you may also adroitly turn the cur- rent in another direction. Some think themselves justi- fied in mystifying such a questioner with overwhelming exaggeration, but this, though the person deserves it for his impertinence, is hardly consistent with your own dignity. Never think you are justified in meeting his question with a lie. That would be most unmanly. If people rail at you, never show that you are stung, you thereby help the railers against yourself. A good method of disarming them is to seem to join them against yourself, carrying the raillery into the absurd and the ridiculous. Never set up for a critic. It is simply electing your- self into being a bully of opinion. Those who are weak will fear and hate you; those who are strong will resist and despise you. Remember that few are capable of judging of talents or genius, but all feel the difference between good and bad behavior. You may think as wisely as you can, but don’t talk wisdom like an oracle. There is a great difference between talking wisely and well, and the moral exhibi- tion of yourself as a retailer of oracular nostrums. Do not talk too much, nor yet be dumb. An empty barrel gives forth most sound.; but the fullest one is of’ no use unless it is tapped and runs. Do not form your opinion of others from isolated facts. A man may misbehave once and again, and yeti be in the main a well behaved person. Remember how USEFUL HINTS FOR CONVERSATION. 75 often you have forfeited your own esteem, and let your charity cover a multitude of sins in behavior, as in Other things. If you fall into an argument, the only safe way to find your road out of it is by endeavoring to come at the truth, not by attempting to defeat your opponent. He who is modest and retiring, and waits judiciously for an opportunity to shine, has a less chance of failure than he who is eager to avail himself of every opportu- nity, calculating a greater chance the oftener he makes the cast. If you happen to find yourself on the wrong side of an argument, turn away from it without coming to a conclusion, or say handsomely that you consider your- self wrong. You may often do this without compromis- ing your judgment, as in the case of new facts being presented, or of facts having been falsely represented to you, and now seen in their true light. But never persevere obstinately and fight for your subject as true when you have reason to believe it wrong. Do not introduce the name of God and the devil in a glib, flippant manner. Do not misapply Scripture al- lusions, as in jests and avoid the use of all cant terms, by-words, and oath-words. These last are foolishly sup- posed to strengthen speech. They are simply disgust- ing and contemptible. Send people from your company well pleased with themselves, and they will be well pleased with you. Try and get rid of any little oddities you may have in your behavior, but do not despise another though he may have some. We see those of others more readily than we see our own. 76 GOOD TASTE. Avoid the conduct of those persons who, no mattei how serious the conversation, are ever striving to dart in some foolish quirk or drollery. A jest to be relished should be thrown in naturally. Do not provoke any man. Weapons that cut do not tend to make you shine. Be not easily provoked. The calmer you keep yourself the greater advantage you have over your opponent. Be prudent in the kind of company you keep. By such will you be judged, and rightly so, for the constant contact will polish you to the level of their lustre. GOOD TASTE. Thus far the latter part of our method has been to give a detail of personal quality and manner, in a series’ of miscellaneously arranged topics; but these will not form the power that is necessary to produce them. That power is the working of a principle, and this prin- ciple is to be found in the self-moving power of the mind to guide itself along the road of life, in obedience to the laws made by its Maker. We do not want you to be made up of patchwork, or of clockwork, or of any- thing artificial — we wish you to be the power in your mind that acts in your manner as the law of true polite- ness demands. All that you are in your mind passes off into the world through your acts, the manner of which is found to have as much positive influence as the matter — from which, however, it derives originally all its force. Look at the difference between an elegant and powerful, and a blundering, impotent speaker. 1 he former can polish falsehood into a seeming truth, GOOD TASTE. 77 whilst the latter bedims and bedarkens fne clearest ax- ioms until they become as opaque as a mill-stone. In fact, we would wish you to be what you would seem to be, and then you will have little trouble and much pleasure in seeming to be. It is not only the true thing, but the most effective and the most pleasant thing. We take you to be young, and ambitious of showing that you are worth something. You are desirous not only of a standing in society, but ambitious of influencing that society in a manner, creditable and pleasant to yourself ; but would scorn to stoop to unworthy means to attain your end. In all probability, then, you have re- ceived a good average education, that will form a good ground-work for your endeavor. As thinking, with its processes and its modes, though in itself the process of education so far as the mind is concerned, is seldom or never taken into account at school, except in so far as it cannot be done without, even to have done what is done, you will have to begin, if you have not done so before, to study this the great instrument of life in all its adapta- tions. The best thinkers are the best workmen of life. These are the men who carve time into money — not the best use of it however, but a use very potent with some. This, however, has to do with the morality of thought, and at present we have to do with the power. In all probability the real solid power of your education is now about to be formed and directed to legitimate issues. Energy and perseverance are required, and a good deal of self-denial. Set your face steadily against the small pleasures of the world that entice the precious time from you bit by bit. Set about your endeavor with the con- sciousness of an unavoidable responsibility. The busi- 78 GOOD TASTE. ness of life now in all likelihood claims the greater part of your time. This is the time you are compelled by your necessities to convert into money , but you may at the ^ same time convert it into something more — something that will last when your money is gone. Contact with the world in transacting your business will sharpen your powers and polish your manner, if you submit yourself to the process with proper aims and discriminating judg- ment. Th reisa worry in business, however, which merely grinds without polishing, which ought to be avoided if possible. Otherwise the cheerful intercourse of business should fit a man more and more to “ shine ” substantially and decidedly. If truth be your ideal, as it ought to be, the veracity of your conversation and the honesty of your dealings will win you respect and atten- tion ; but in addition it is necessary that you cultivate elegance of taste in order to win you favor. This elegance of taste, or the appreciation of what is beautiful in matter or manner, is the polishing principle that will enable you to shine truly. You may be a dia- mond of the first water, yet if you do not cut and polish and set yourself with this aesthetic instrument, you may coruscate, scintillate, or flash forth light at any rate, but it will be fitful, temporary, and unsustained, and ever out of keeping and proportion with itself. Now what do you do with your leisure hours > Here is an opportunity for you to spend them pleasantly, profita- bly, and dutifully in the highest sense of the term. A love for the beautiful is natural to man, so there is a natural pleasure in the pursuit of it, and all culti- vate an acquaintance with it more or less. Conversa- tion glowing with it is sure to fascinate in proportion to GOOD TASTE. 79 he amount and power of the quality. This indeed is he true beautifier of. all conversation. A memory eeming with knowledge and an intellect beaming with bought may arrest and impress with respect, but it is he genial fancy that beautifies with light, warmth, and ;olor, which charms and captivates. Now the best drill or attaining this power in conversation is the culture )f it. It takes a deal of practice to attain a power, so lo not be discouraged if the power does not come so .oon as desired. Besides, this one original power, if ^ou acquire it, will help to form originality in all other ac- [uirements you may have. Originality is the soul of ill power. Originality does not mean that you create L power yourself unlike any other in creation. It neans that you have formed for yourself a power in lature, in conformity with the laws of nature in and iround you. You have thus a power to produce for ^ourself, which, if you have it not, you will be forced to lerive, not in itself but in its effects, from others. Try o attain original not derivative ornament, and so avoid he imputation of the jackdaw in the peacock’s feathers*. This is not the place to give an analysis of the process )f drill. We have space only to point out the great mportance and the influence of the power. It may lot be out of place, however, to give a few hints as to he method by which it may be acquired. This power is but the refinement of the other powers >f the mind, and will be weak or strong in proportion o them. This is the power that makes the other pow- :rs shine, or rather it is the power of thought and the ense of feeling polished so that they shine. In the vords of the old Greek critic, it is the image reflected 8o GOOD TASTE. from the inward beauty of the soul.’’ The mind you form by your education stamps the character of youi soul, and what your soul is, that only can your mannei be. Nor need you lament want of education. If* you can read, and set yourself seriously to think, a world of teachers may be had for a very little money. Remember that self-education is the only real education, and at the best universities if the students do not educate them- selves they are not really educated. The best part of those institutions is the routine and method and disci- pline enforced. We do not desire, however, to depre- ciate those conservatories of learning, we only wish to impress you who have not the means nor the opportu- nity, that you can do very well without them. There is a university for the million in literature, and the “humanities are now freed from the Greek and Latin tongues. The best teachers will instruct you, the best lecturers will read to you by your own fireside, but you, on your part, must cultivate the power of thinking and the habit of study. The living voice, to be sure, is no longer there to thrill with enthusiasm, and undoubtedly if you have the means and opportunity you should get a living instructor whose soul will come into living contact with your own. In this wonderful world there are many fields of in- quiry open to you wherein you may gather for yourself materials for exercising your powers of thought, but there is one in which every one must adopt a sphere of labor, and wherein he may gather ample materials for the purposes of thought, and that is humanity. What we term pure literature is the record of it, and it is ever GOOD TASTE. 8l living round about us, and continually coming into con- tact with us. Useful knowledge may now be gleaned under the mo*st favorable circumstances in consequence of the vast harvests that are continually being gathered in. A cheap printing press — cheap on account of the extent of the demand for its treasures — sends the wisest and most learned teachers to instruct the poorest respectable man. It rests with himself to make his knowledge and wis dom not only useful but ornamental. There is more true knowledge at the present day in our shops and, counting-houses than there was of old in the most learned universities. Facts are infinitely more useful than the subtlest distinctions of imputed qualities, labored disquisitions on possible entities, and intermi- nable logomachies. Classic Latin and scholastic logic “ are nowhere,’’ compared with our own simple vernac- ular English and common sense. Make physical sci- ence or the knowledge of facts the whetstone of your mind, and polish it into refinement with literature. Physics may be studied at any of our mechanics’ insti- tutions for a fee merely nominal, so that none who have any pretensions at all to the improvement of their minds labor under difficulties of means and opportuni ties which they cannot surmount. The finest results have been attained by the simplest means. Nothing makes a greater difference between people engaged in conversation than different degrees and methods of knowledge. An ignorant person, if he knows his own ignorance, can at least begin to learn, and so be in the way of improving, but often his great*' est ignorance is that he does not know his own igno- 0 82 GOOD TASTE. ranee, and this is a hopeless case indeed. Of course, if a man, however learned, takes himself to task about his own positive knowledge, he will find himself not so learned as he thought, and after such an ordeal he is apt to say that he is really but an ignorant person at the best, but still he knows something, however little that be, and that little is a great deal compared with the knowledge of a person who has bestowed no attention at all upon the subject. We should always hold ourselves capable of learning by cultivating the disposition to do so, and then we shall feel aston- ished at our ability to understand the most difficult questions that may come before us. Wrono:-headedness is a worse state of mind than ab solute ignorance. It may almost be called a modified type of madness. A chaos of ideas must result in com fusion of thought and unwise action. This arises from slovenliness and want of method in thinking. A per- son who allows himself to fall into such a state, and to contract so idle and hurtful a habit, can never meet with respect in the interchange of social converse. This is what the poet Burns called an in-kneed son of a soul.’’ The man of learning, whose knowledge has beer arranged by systematic method so that he can produce it at will when required, produces a current of conver- sation that flows clearly and pleasantly, especially wher that knowledge is made to bear the precious burden of wise and beautiful thoughts. Of course the end we aim at here — to be a tolerabl> well informed gentleman so that one may occupy a noi undignified position in the social circle — is not the onl) GOOD TASTE. 83 nor the highest aim achieved, though the one more im- mediately sought for at present. The higher aim we have throughout kept in view is one never to be relin- quished for a present and merely transient good. With regard to advice as to what should form spe- :ially the subject of our studies, the following words of Thomas Carlyle are much to the point, A young friend nad written to him for advice on the subject, and was inswered thus : — It would give me true satisfaction :ould any advice of mine contribute to forward you in 70ur honorable course of self-improvement, but a long experience has taught me that advice can profit but iltle ; that there is a good reason why advice is so sel- lom followed ; this reason, namely, that it is so seldom ind can almost never be rightly given. No man knows he state of another ; it is always to some more or less maginary man that the wisest and most honest adviser s speaking. As to the books which you — whom I know so little )f — should read, there is hardly anything definite that ’:an be said. For one thing, you may be strenuously idvised to keep reading. Any good book, any book hat is wiser than yourself, will teach you something — i great many things, indirectly and directly, if your nind be open to learn. This old counsel of Johnson^s s also good, and universally applicable : ‘ Read the )ook that you do honestly feel a wish and curiosity to ead.’ The very wish and curiosity indicate that you, hen and there^ are the person likely to get good of it. Our wishes are presentiments of our capabilities;’ hat is a noble saying, of deep encouragement to all rue men ; applicable to our wishes and efforts in re- 84 GOOD TASTE. gard to reading, as to other things. Among all the ob- jects that look wonderful or beautiful to you, follow with fresh hope the one that looks wonderfullest, beau- tifullest. You will gradually find, by various trials — which trials see that you make honest, manful ones, not silly, short, fitful ones — what is for you the wonder- fullest, beautifullest, what is your true element and province, and be able to profit by that. “All books are properly the record of the histo'ry of past men, what thoughts past men had in them, what ac- tions past men did ; the summary of all books whatso- ever lies there. It is on this ground that the class of books specifically named History, can be safely recom- mended as the basis of all study of books — the prelim- inary to all right and full understanding of anything we can expect to find in books. Past history, and espe- cially the past history of one’s native country, everybody may be advised to begin with that. Let him study that faithfully ; innumerable inquiries will branch out from it. He has a broad beaten highway, from which all the country is more or less visible ; there travelling, let him choose where he will dwell. “ Neither let mistakes and wrong directions — of which every man, in his studies and elsewhere falls into many — discourage you. There is precious instruction to be got by finding that we are wrong. Let a man try faithfully, manfully to be right ; he will grow daily more and more right. It is, at bottom, the condition on which all men have to cultivate themselves. Our very walking is an incessant falling ; a falling and a catching of ourselves before we come actually to the pavement I ” It is em- blematic of all things a man does. GOOD TASTE. 85 In conclusion, I will remind you that it is not by )ooks alone, or by books chiefly, that a man becomes in ill points a man. Study to do faithfully whatsoever hing in your actual situation, there and now, you find ither expressly or tacitly laid to your charge ; that is our post ; stand in it like a true soldier. Silently de- our the many chagrins of it, as all human situations ave many ; and see you aim not to quit it without do- ng all that it, at least, required of you, A man perfects imself by work much more than by reading. They re a growing kind of men that can wisely combine the wo things — wisely, valiantly, can do what is laid to [leir hand in their present sphere, and prepare them- elves withal for doing other wider things, if such lie efore them.’’ All this advice is sterling wisdom, and of infinite value n the man who wishes to form the power we are desir- us he should form within himself. A man who moulds imself so, will have force and energy of his own hich will make itself felt in whatever sphere he may nd himself. But attend more specially in the mean me to that part of the advice in which he says,: Among all the objects that look wonderful or beauti- il to you, follow with fresh hope, the one that looks onderfullest, beautifullest.” “ Walk with the beautiful and with the grand, Let nothing on the earth thy feet deter ; Sorrow may lead thee moping by the hand, Lut give not all thy bosom thoughts to her. £ Walk with the beautiful. ‘T hear thee say ‘ The beautiful ! What is it? ’ i. Oh, thou art darkly ignorant — be sure 86 GOOD tastp:. *Tis no long weary road its form to visit, For thou can’st make it smile beside thy door. Then love the beautiful. “ Thy bosom is its mint, the workmen are Thy thoughts, and they must coin for thee ; The beautiful is master of a star. Thou mak’st it so, but art thyself deceiving If otherwise thy faith.’* Yes; the beautiful is coin that shining fresh fron the mint of your thoughts in conversation will dazzh and fascinate the receivers, and will win favor anc reputation for the coiner and distributor. ^The cultun of the beautiful in thought and expression, is the fin ishing polish to all the other solid acquirements anc abilities of your mind and manner. The beautiful i the irresistible and the invincible. We now proceec to give a few hints on the acquirement of this valuabh state of thought and feeling. We do not mean that you are to get up the power o talking the beautiful so as to shine amidst your com peers, and eclipse them by your beautiful talk. Wt mean you so to steep your powers in an ever presen consciousness of the beautiful, so that it may pervadi your entire being, and settle down into the habitua exercise of a good and elegant taste. For this purpose it is not necessary that you ente into a metaphysical study of the beautiful, wherein yo^ may get bewildered and lost in attempting to find som ideal standard. Study it as you would the true aTi< the good — study it along with these, and your percep tion will not readily fail to see it when it is present. GOOD TASTE. 87 This faculty extends to such a variety of subjects that there is hardly a phase of your conduct not af- fected by it. Take the example of color. How much does a due appreciation of fitness in harmony or con- trast affect your personal appearance in the matter of dress. By that alone will your claim to elegant taste be judged by society. See what a difference between the uncultured taste of the country bumpkin, the fash- ionable taste of the city swell, and the cultured refine- ment of the thorough gentleman. Again, in the matter of sound, what a vast difference between the ungov- erned, because untrained, voice of the blustering talker, and the obedient, pliant, mellow bell-tone of the elegant speaker. The former rends the air with disso- nance, and our hearts with discord ; the latter with per- suasive pathos floats through our charmed ears into our assenting and consenting hearts. With regard to beauty of form, we presume much need not be said, as all are aware how powerful it is in its effects. We have little control over the form that nature has given us except by modifying its appear- ance, but even that is a good deal under our control. We do not appear in society as nature has turned us out of her hands. We pass through the hands of the barber, the tailor, the shoemaker, the hatter, etc., and we pass a good deal through our own hands daily. In all these modifications of nature there is wide room for the exercise of an elegant taste, or the contrary. As a matter of course all the several possible modi- fications of what is elegant and tasteful come under the common term of what is elegant in thought and in feeling. The several manifestations of taste are but 88 GOOD TASTE. the expression of these outwardly, and derive all their truth and beauty and propriety of effect from the genu- ine power and quality of these as they exist and are developed in the mind. The power and the habit are best obtained by the formal pursuit of some art-study, as the composition and expression of thought in prose or verse, the art of drawing or painting, or some study which takes you into the habitual presence of the beautiful — in fact, any pursuit that makes you think continuously regard- ing that wonderful beautiful arrangement of things which made the old Greeks call the world by the same term they had to express beauty. There is one sphere of good taste more suited to those for whom we are writing than any other, and that is the culture of good taste in thought and feeling through the habitual culture of it in our literature, and even the literary culture of it in written expression. ‘‘ Reading,’’ says Bacon, maketh a full man, confer ence a ready man, and writing an exact man.” By pe- rusing the elegant in literature, the fine taste will im- pregnate your thoughts till you become full of it. By talking the elegance over with your associates you will the more readily make them subservient to your own refinement ; but only by bringing them to a strict scrutiny and account with your own pen will you make their influence felt and their nature and effects definite and exact. You have not at all times friends willing and ready enough to talk matters over, but whenever you please you may take up your pen or your pencil, and bring yourself or your thoughts to book. Think- ing or even talking a matter over is vapory in its results GOOD TASTE. 89 compared with writing it over. And then writing'' comprehends all other particular modes, for it compre- hends all that is in thought. There is no pursuit that will react on your conversation like writing. Remem- ber, however, it is not writing for others, but for your- self. There is a mawkish sentimentality about writing which is most pernicious. No sooner does one men- tion writing than there rises up the absurd notion of “ turning author.” As well link the idea of ‘‘turning spouter ” with the art of speech. In these days every- body should possess the art of writing as well as the arts of reading, and speaking, and of doing it well too. Ay — and even the art of versifying should not be neg- lected with supercillious scorn and contempt as it is by cotton-hearted money-makers, for as by learning to dance, we gain grace to the motion as we walk, so by causing our words to move in numbers, we gain elasticity and elegance to the rhythm of our prose. This repro- ducing of the elegant in our own words tends to consol- idate and establish our habit of thinking in good taste, and acting in good taste is only one step farther, and the former must be had before the latter can be taken. Thought and behavior are so intimately related that : you can hardly cultivate elegance in the former, with- out a corresponding result in the latter. There is no reason for a hypocrisy in this, and so the thought will naturally reveal itself in the manner. Again, behavior I; can only sustain itself consistently when it flows from an ever-springing fount of thought. That fount derives its spring from the depths of a large experience, on j which have fallen the dews and showers of many read- 90 GOOD TASTE. ings and studyings and thinkings. Tennyson finely and truly says, ‘‘For who can always act but he To whom a thousand memories call ? ’’ A man’s memories shower upon him inducements that compel him to act ; the remembered thoughts are the potent ones, and the earnestly acted ones. You see that conversation is not limited to talking merely — it embraces your general conduct as well. The tongue indeed has a wonderful empire of its own, but it merely produces the echo of the thought, on which it depends for its force and its beauty. But the be- havior is the expression of the man, and the impres- sion made comes from the more effective stamp of the entire earnest character. To be able to surround yourself and others in the social circle with delight and happiness is surely to have the power of shining to advantage in a most legitimate and most delightful way. But this will de- pend in a great measure on the associates of your thoughts. Are you content to choose these from those of common-place quality, or from those which are ever found in the highest places — the palaces of thought ? Observe then that the transmutation of your coarser metal into liner, and the refinement of that into finer still, is done within the laboratory of your brain, and here it is that you must work out the process of know- ing “ how to shine ” with a true and becoming lustre. You have, moreover, every inducement to make your- self at home in this, haj)py and contented, for it is about tfie i)leasaMtest occupation a man can be engaged in, GOOD TASTE. 91 and deepens and broadens and brightens, day after day spent upon it, our personal pleasure and happiness. Real and imaginary pleasures are very often con- founded. In the testing laboratory of real thought, what is supposed to be real pleasure often changes into a solution of vanity with a pale precipitate of sorrow ; and what appears to be purely imaginary becomes a dur- able and lasting — sometimes everlasting — solid. There is a misnamed elegant taste in the world, which is a vitiated and corrupted one. A man may have what is really capable of yielding a result, and yet may not be able to make it yield it to him ; he may not have the wisdom to extract or distil, though he may have the ma- terial. Of course he must have the material to be able to perform the process ; but the process is quite a dis- tinct thing from the material, and you may buy the ma- terial but you cannot buy your own act of the process — that is entirely a personal thing. But the rights of property in this matter of taste are vested only in those who can use them, not merely in those who possess them, so that this beautiful little world is ever open to those who choose to enter in and possess it. Hazlitt humorously and somewhat truly describes this in the following racy description : — ‘‘ When I am in the coun- try, all the fine seats near the place of my residence, and to which I have access, I regard as mine. The same I think of the groves and fields where I walk, and muse on the folly of the civil landlord in London, who has the fantastical pleasure of draining dry rents into his coffers, but is a stranger to the fresh air and rural enjoyments. By these principles I am possessed of half- a-dozen of the finest seats in England, which, in the eye 92 GOOD TASTE. of the law, belong to certain of my acquaintances, who, being men of business, choose to live near the courtl' Is not this true and real enjoyment without the troubles and anxieties that detract from the pleasure, which the possessor necessarily has in the owning, and the main- tenance of the ownership 'i ‘‘ In some great families,’’ naively continues Hazlitt, “ where I choose to pass my time, a stranger would be apt to rank me with the other domestics ; but, in my own thoughts and natural judgment, I am master of the house, and he who goes by that name is my steward, who eases me of the care of providing for myself the conveniences and pleasures of life.” Though quiet, what satire could be more pungent on the folly of think- ing we are happy and enjoying life, if we are master of a splendid establishment, ornamented to the full with magnificent display. To those born in, and born to, high life, what splendid misery to be born to such as mere necessities of existence ; and to those born in humble life, but to whose unremitting exertions, high life, the beacon of all their toiling hopes, has at length come as the crowning reward, what splendid disappointment and sorrow to attempt, with daily failure? to crush some sweet out of the daily glitter and the show ! What is not in them cannot be taken out of them. What is sought after is in the refinement of the mind, and may be had without them — at least without paying for them in false circumstance or a lifetime of slavery. How exquisitely does he continue his good humored satire in the following, and notice that he speaks from a conscious possession of the very power we wish you GOOD TASTE. 93 to have : — “ When I walk the streets I use the foregoing natural maxim, — that he is the true possessor of a thing who enjoys it, and not he that owns it, without the ^en- joyment, — to convince myself that I have a property in the gay part of all the gilt chariots that I meet, which I regard as amusements designed to delight my eyes, and the imagination of those kind people who sit in them gayly attired only to please me.’^ And so he goes on with a wonderful sense of pleasure and contentment, without the least feeling of envy, and without allowing the slightest room for it to exist. How grandly he does his casting of the account between real and imaginary pleasures. But the pleasure which naturally affects a human mind with the most lively and transporting touches, I take to be the sense that we act in the eye of infinite wisdom, power, and goodness that will crown our virtuous endeavors here, with a happiness here- after, large as our desires, and lasting as our immortal souls This is a perpetual spring of gladness in the mind. This lessens our calamities, and doubles our joys. Without this, the highest state of life is insipid, and with it the lowest is a paradise.’^ When a road leads to such a grand conclusion, you are pretty safe in travelling along it. It is along this one we desire you • to go in your search for the pleasing refinement, that is to make you a pleasing companion on the way of life, and in those little gatherings by the wayside, which we denominate social. Along this road are the wayside flowers we desire you to pluck, and over its May- laden hedges are to be seen those beautiful pictures, which we desire you to cover the walls of your memory with. You will thrill and bound with the impulse of 94 the topics of conversation. gladness, or be socially companionable with the quiet serenity of pleasant contentment. . You will be sure to attain the minor purpose we have more immediately in view— you will begin in the spirit of not offending, and, as you gradually gain power, you will continue to gain favor for yourself, until your companionship is sought after for the profit and pleasure it imparts. There are various little matters of tact and taste which are only to be acquired by the observation of ex- ample and the teaching of experience, but the great faculty and the disposition lie in such pursuits and as- sociations. The elements of the conduct of life must be learned in some school wherein the actual conduct is but comparatively practical — where it is in a great measure merely ideal ; and so the elements of good taste and the ideal of good breeding must be derived from the teachings of those eloquent instructors that catch the living manners as they rise, test them by the ideal of what is correct and becoming, and impress them on our minds with a quietness and a beauty, that make them pleasing for the time, and leave a happiness behind them forever. So intimately knit in themselves and their consequences are the true, the good and the beautiful. THE TOPICS OF CONVERSATION. The topics of conversation are not often of our own suggesting at the outset, but we should be rationally well informed so as to meet the exigencies of the con- versation, whatever direction its current may take. The wider your range of information, the more of THE TOPICS OF CONVERSATION. 95 JouKse have you the means of taking a part in it. You have the whole circle of the sciences and the arts to y\ean from. You need not enter into them like a pro- iessional scholar, but you may take from them gradu- ally materials for thinking like a thinking man. You aeed not be an omnivorous swallower of encyclopae- dic description, but you must be an honest and care- ful digester of whatever you take into your mental stom- ach, else it will deaden the finer energies of your nind. The memory in some is but a great lumber cel- lar of odds and ends, that can never be conveniently jot at to be of any practical use — a want of method in ;he storing has so confused and mixed them altogether. vVhatever you do learn, learn it methodically. We do lot mean the method of mere rote, but the method of lature and of reason. This reasonable method will '<.eep you correct and accurate. You will never feel vrong or confused. Above all, see that you have defi- lite notions, and definite terms for those notions. A oose desultory habit of reading, a loose unmethodical labit of thinking, and a loose indefinite manner of jpeaking, will make but a sorry conversable member of ;ociety. He shines to advantage who is decided and lefinite through all. No conversation can go on for any length of time vithout opportunities for you to add your quota to the general stock. Indeed, the opportunities occur so fre- iuently that the danger lies in contributing without dis- :rimination and judgment, simply because you know iomething that will just fit. How irresistible is the in- :li nation of two or three to speak at the same time, vith ill-concealed impatience for him who is speaking 96 THE TOPICS OF CONVERSATION. to be finished as quickly as possible. Topics are likely rather to crowd in upon you than to fail you, and must be put under judicious restraint. | We have already referred to scandal as a pet topic in i social parties, but as one to be deliberately discounte- nanced and avoided. Anything that partakes of an im- 1 mediately personal character is sure to breed spleen ; and envy and ill-will. Leave out of account your sorry | little selves, and introduce things that are useful and 1 noble and beautiful, so that you may be lifted out of I yourselves into an atmosphere of higher elevation and i superior refinement. Anything is better to talk about 1 than self, and the comparison, manifested or implied, 1 of that sorry little wretch with others, which all scandal 1 basis its abominable existence on. Scandal mongers poison the airiest and the sunniest atmosphere of talk with their black breath-clouds of evil report. Every one should be interested in making them collapse. The news of the day is a topic that rarely fails to come upon the carpet. The daily newspaper supplies the daily fresh material, with a varied miscellany of subjects to gratify every kind of taste. Beware, how- ever, of rushing into the extreme of being a quidfiimc^ who bores every one he meets with, “Well, what’s up now ? ” the modern qiiidnunc' s favorite slang expression. Of course the bore is just as offensive, though couched in a more elegant phrase. There is a topic that no one of the least pretension to refinement would ever think of taking part in, and that is dilating with zest on the grosser appetites and passions of our nature. These, though as necessary, and in their place as useful as the higher attributes of THE TOPICS OF CONVERSATION. 97 >ur nature, are judiciously kept out of sight in unobtru- ive retirement. Even 3,t dinner, where you cannot .void talking a little gout,’’ it must be done in an asy passing manner, and must not be much dwelt on. With regard to the more solid topics of conversation, areful reading will certainly supply you with as large . stock as you desire to have, but these will be apt to )e indefinite and intangible, unless you reason them mt in your own process of thought, and condense them nto your own words in writing. It is wonderful what L power and mastery this simple habit of writing down ^our thoughts gives you. Feeble and crude at first, ike everything else in its beginning, by and by it gains itrength and power, until the words come as readily rom the pen as from the tongue. It is just taking ac. :ount of your thoughts in a daybook of topics, or as it s generally termed, a common-place book. It is just labituating yourself to talking on paper, with the defi- liteness and precision which is thereby inexorably de- nanded, in order that you may the more easily dis- course on those subjects when the restraint of the Daper is withdrawn, as a precise and exacting drill con- ers ease and elasticity on the deportment, when the 'igidity of the fcurm is withdrawn, and gives place to a nore chastened relaxation. When you enter social converse you are going to ‘‘ trade,” as the Americans ;ay. Well, the merchant who has a methodical invoice ^ )f his goods has in the “trading” the advantage of lim that has none. The very writing of it out fixes the irticles on his memoiy; and he can the more readily, ind the more accurately, condescend on particulars. He is more the master of his subject, and of course the 7 98 the topics of conversation. subject is more his servant, being tlierefore mon^ obedient to his bidding. Remember, however, that the absolute truth of a subject can rarely be made evident, and that variety ol opinion is infinite. Each one speculates according UJ the circle of his vision, and no two see things exactl}' alike. Every one loves his own opinion dearly — it is the fondly nursed child of his brain, and there are no children like our own. Do not be afraid of being looked upon as foolish, because you have no opinion to give on a subject. Those are the foolish persons] who risk a random opinion rather than have nothing to! say. If you have anything at all to say, it is better to| say it than say nothing, but see that you say it at the] proper time and in a proper way. Prudence and cir-i cumspection will make your little tell more than a great deal pronounced without judgment and discrimination- And do you. Sir Oracle, think that because you have the assurance to decide upon every matter for the en-' tire company, you shine the one lone star of the even-i ing? Your voice is loud and strong, your eye bold and confident, and your manner emphatic and decisive. You overawe the weak and you impose on the foolish, but you irritate the strong and disgust the wise. If you are not pulled down from your supercilious pedes tal, it is because you are despised as not being worth Mie trouble. It is the careful reflective mind that ultimately gives direction and tone to opinion. This is most apparent in the wider range of the entire social system, wherein public opinion directs all the vital and effective move- THE TOPICS OF CONVERSATION. 99 ments. This is generated by that common sense which in the main is the root of all true growth of opinion. Though you have selected carefully and discrimin- ately the commonplaces of your talk, that does not aiean that your conversation is to be what is generally neant by the epithet commonplace. A commonplace :alker is a decided bore of society, and a most weari- some one too. In him there is nothing fresh, nothing lew. He has the same old topics you have heard rimes without number; and these have become to you ‘stale, flat, and unprofitable.’’ His limited and stereo- :yped commonplaces have conferred an equivocal dis- Inctive degradation upon the term which its original rignification did not imply. But he degrades all sub- ects by his insipid “ hacking ” of them to death. His Darrotry seems to emanate from his tongue merely as rounds that, though they have entered through his ear, lave never thrilled the rational* nerves of his brain, but lave been merely echoed back as they happened to :ome. Nothing distinctive has been added. Any )ody might have uttered them. They bear no interest hat anybody can have the slightest feeling for. They ;trike with the monotony that magnetizes our senses vith indifference, and we feel ourselves condemned to lulness, and plunged in the misery of cimui. The weather is a favorite subject with such, and it 5 about the best one they have, as it, at least in this and, is continually changing itself and keeping itself lew and fresh. It is but a prelude, however, to the ame old stories you know so well already, familiarity /ith which has bred in you so much contempt and dis- ust. Given the subject, you know exactly what they lOO THE TOPICS OF CONVERSATION. will say — nay, you can imitate their very speech anc| manner from, alas, a too frequently refreshed memory^ You feel the spring of your mind relaxed as soon you come in contact with them. There is no use try-| ing to force them, for they are thorough imbeciles, no^ having the least spark of that glorious fire of thought; which spreads with a blaze of suggestiveness wher mind meets mind quick with power. To have the| words that burn, we must have the thoughts that glow The shallow rills of mere language which flow from the| commonplace talker, are deep enough to damp anc drown out of you the expression of all but the mos^ trivial thoughts and feelings. You are dragged dowri necessarily to his miserable level, for you cannot pul him up to yours. But you know better than to mak(| yourself miserable ; you sedulously avoid him and leavtj him to herd with others like himself who are not buri dened with much weight of thought. As great a bore as the commonplace talker is the everlasting story-teller. Whatever the topic of con^ versation, he manages to link himself to it with, ‘‘ Oh| that reminds me of a story,’’ etc., or, ‘‘ Oh, that remindii me of what happened on a similar occasion,” and so ht lugs himself and his story into the conversation, anc runs away with the talk and the patience of the whoh company. The remotest association is enough for hin to embark on his interminable story-telling, or ever t^ be remembered reminiscences, and frequently the cut rent is turned deplorably awry ere he has done with hi; misappropriation of the general talk. 'Phe trenial and consistent flow of conversation I often sadly interriipled by the random and the impu THE TOPICS OF CONVERSATION. lOI ive talkers. The random speakers have no judgment -r discretion either with regard to the topics under dis- ussion or to the persons discussing. They may dis- oncert for a short time, and if persistent may annoy xtremely, but in the end the diverted attention recoils 1 anger and contempt upon their own empty heads, "he impulsive speakers running on ahead or dragging ,^ofully in the rear, annoy chiefly by their unsteady ace. Nobody can bear the constantly varying attenbon emanded by the attempt to place one’s self alongside f their thoughts. There is nothing contributes more 3 harmony of conversation than the being in tune as it ^ere with the company. You may blend harmoniously ,nd yet retain your own distinctive contrast of individ- ality. This adapting of yourself and your topic to the 3 ne of the company is indeed one of the primary and rincipal requisites to please. All this theory which we have laid down will be of no se to you without practice. Don’t imagine that im- lediately after cramming all this into your head, you an go and act it in the first company you enter. No uch a thing. If you have not already begun, you must egin ; and that beginning will in all likelihood be full f blunders ; but you need not be discouraged, for every ne blunders more or less into success, and success wipes ul most effectually the remembrance of all blunders , ut only through the blundering, more or less, lies your ^ay. A wise prudence and a circumspect watchfulness ill save you from many mistakes, and recover you from lore. Whatever ground you loose, never loose your resence of mind or your patience. The most marked eternal aspect of a true gentleman is that self-contained 102 THE Tones OF CONVERSATION. manner which impresses with a sense of conscious worlj without suspicion of pretension attached, except wh;! can be fully laid claim to. This firm composure fixe; itself more and more surely, until it kindly commane respect. This manner is the best basis for all convej sational excellence to stand on. It amply admits th: calm consideration which is a condition of the humble;, attempt to please. ; Our parting advice shall be a recapitulatory on< Remember that our subject is an art, and as such mu be dependent on science for its principles, and is in i| self a habitual acting. What you have learned, rehears as quietly as you can in some comparatively unimpo: tant theatre. of talk. You can never go wrong by mai ing your debut in the humblest style. Take your se.i at the lowest end of the table, and win your way to tli highest. It is the natural and the healthiest mode i everything. Never dream of bursting full blaze upci the public stage, thinking that because you have th conception in your head, you have the complete person i tion at your finger-ends. That would be sure to brin you defeat and shame. The ground is slippery at tl first tread ; proceed cautiously, and step by step. Gra< ually it will become more familiar and more under co: trol. Then you will find yourself under less restraiii but through all strive to retain confidence in yoursel The moment that is gone, disasters begin. Shou accidents happen to disturb your equanimity, igno: them yourself, and everybody will soon forget thei All that you have really to do with them is to profit 1 them. Don’t suffer yourself, above all things, to I re-tortured by them in the recollection. If you tre THE TOPICS OF CONVERSATION. IO3 ihem good-naturedly they will be forgotten ; if you show :hat they annoy you they will be sure to be fetched again Torn oblivion by some ill-natured tormentor. Do not ■ormally prepare yourself by dressing your mind and rour tongue, as you would your body before going into jelect company, but be always in the way of preparation, md always hold yourself prepared — it is your natural nood as a man. The same preparation serves you in icquiring one of the most-useful qualities in life — ad- Iress. You should, however, take care to be “ posted ip ’’ to the latest in all your topics, so far as your neans enable you. This imparts to your conversation hat freshness which is so acceptable in all circles, ^ome professed ‘‘ diners out ’’ and ‘‘ hangers on may hink it worth while to con their intended conversa- ional programme by heart in set witticisms and pretty ittle speeches and stories, but that is pretty acting, lot gentlemanly behavior. It is a dignified preparation /e would recommend to you, not one of such fussy mall-talk ambition. Your quiet self-possessed manner dll then gracefully become your method of well-weighed eflective thought, and will impress with a feeling of espect and pleasure. But nothing ever required more formal and more 10 rough habitual preparation — nay, positive training — ■ lan the organ which gives expression to your thoughts nd feelings. This physical instrument with its me- chanical effect must be kept in constant working order y habitual and judicious practice. The voice in fact as to be ground down to power and sweetness, and it [ways requires grinding to keep- it strong and mellow, t has been a cause for complaint that our church bells 104 the topics of conversation. are not constant with each other in harmony. They too often wrangle like sectaries of differing creeds. There is cause for much greater complaint that people do not tune their voices to please each other in daily ringing their thoughts into each other’s hearts. Our conversation and the mood it induces would be all the pleasanter for the improvement. Thought that comes chiming into our heart makes us glad. What comes jarring through our ears makes us nervously uncom- fortable. The human voice can be made so rich and sweet at the smallest expense of attention and judgment that harshness is quite inexcusable. A harsh squeak- ing voice will assuredly destroy all other excellences of thought and behavior. The sweet subtle penetration of a tone thrilling with the pathos of persuasion is irre- sistible. It is the heart that listens, not merely the eai and the brain. Remember too that the fascinating power of the soul is poured through the eye as well as the tongue. Let the eye and the tongue not only corrobo- rate but intensify each other in expressing the full meam ing of the thought. The tongue may deceive, the eye^ never. Not the particular thought, of course, but the general and the ruling passions print themselves legibly in the eye, and can be read — nay, felt, even by a very sun perficial observer. So do not distract the impression, nor destroy it by making them talk to cross purposes. Let them mutually aid each other to make the impres- sion intenser and stronger. At the same time that youi are ever ready to step into the full pace of the conver- sation, have the reins of your tongue and your sense well in hand, that you may be able to pull up at once when required in favor of another, and resume at once THE TOPICS OF CONVERSATION. 105 when your own turn comes round. Restraint within your natural power makes a more effective impression than running out to the full extent of your pace, and at length pulling up from exhaustion. These are the principal points in the mode, and now let us briefly sum up the chief points of the morale. Begin by not giving offence ; that is the only way to end by pleasing. Avoid flattering people to their face, and stabbing them behind their back ; or blessing them with the one hand while you strike a deadly blow with the other. It is very bad to be a person capable of such conduct, but fre- quently the person who conducts himself so is not a bad fellow at heart — he has merely donned a bad moral hab- it, because it is a little fashionable, and looks a little smartish. Take care of being considered either a know^ nothing or a know-everything. The being a ‘‘ perfect ignoramus is not more to be avoided than the being au fait in regard to every person or occurrence that comes upon the carpet. It is an ostentation of impos- sibilities, and though you may consider yourself very knowing, or rather that you are impressing others with the belief that you are very knowing, you are simply mak- ing game of yourself for others in company where you are lot invited to shine. You are sure to be hanged upon /our own gallows. The only means of information the ‘ know-everything ’’ generally has is grounded on trust Tom the newsmongers, yet by his assurance and confi- lent assertion you would, if you did not know him, lelieve that he had been behind the curtain and seen he whole with his own eyes. The direction taken by ;uch a speaker is generally the wonderful in matters of )ccurrence, or the sarcastically bitter in matters of I 06 TRAVELLING. character. Yet positive falsehood or malice prepense ma^ not be in the talker’s heart, only the vain desire to h considered up to everything,” or not to be considerec '' sentimental. Avoid all false glitter and that whicl gleams only to pierce. Dare not only to have feeling but to show it. Sensibility is the characteristic tha forms the most truly attractive behavior. Enter wit! delicacy into the feelings of others, consult their in clinations, respect their opinions, and relieve them fron all embarrassment and anxiety, and you will shim not only before their eyes, but into their very hearts which result is not only the greatest intellectual bu the greatest moral triumph that can grace your be havior in attempting ‘‘how to shine.” In conclusion, let us remind you of what we insistec on at the beginning, — that a dignified and pleasing manner can only fit truthfully and gracefully a worth} and manly nature. The ease and dignity of the trm gentleman can only flow from real native worth. Re member that the beauty and brilliancy of the polish ir more due to the grain of the substance than to an) solid virtue in the burnish. Consider too of how muci; importance it is for even the brightest diamond to be properly cut, and judiciously set, to shine to the great- est advantage. TRAVELLING. When travelling, a gentleman may say as many civil and complimentary things to a lady as can be intro-, duced, in an easy, graceful and unconstrained mannerjj free from all appearance of low gallantry : it casts an TRAVELLING. 107 r of friendly feeling around you. Listen to the pros- g of Ciceroni and Custode^ but never expose their ig. »rance, when you detect it : it vexes them, and does u no good. Look at the people, the sights, scenery d monuments with your own eyes ; form your own >inions, aided by the best information you can obtain ; d do not follow servilely the track of the would-be )eral tourists of the modern school, who admire every ing in proportion as it deviates from what is foreign, you have travelled in a frank and cheerful mood, then will be delightful to discuss your adventures with the telligent and instructed ; again to laugh at what was liculous, and grieve over scenes that awakened oughts of sorrow. It will be profitable also to com- ire notes with the judicious and observing, and try e value of your own opinions, by those which others ay have formed on similar subjects. Travelling may prove agreeable and beneficial ; but may become injurious also. Persons of talents and ucation, w^ho have travelled much, have invariably turned to their native land confirmed in patriotism, id, I may add, grateful also for the many advantages assessed by this country over all the other nations of e world. The secondary class, on the contrary — and ey are of course the most numerous — think it neces- ry, in order to be looked upon as persons of taste, to scover something vastly fine in everything that is for- gn ; and always return in perfect rapture with contb :ntal cooking, dancing, fiddling and singing ; extoll- g the languages, literature and manners of foreign -untries far above those of their native land. Some travellers would import not only foreign man- I 08 LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION. ners, but foreign languages also, and compose their dis course of an endless mixture of French and Italiai phrases. This is the height of puerile affectation, fo there is no modern language equal to our own. A1 English conversation must therefore be carried on ii pure idiomatic English. And if you are even allowec to quote a verse, line, or appropriate saying from a for eign language, it is the utmost extension of latitud< that can be granted; and then only under the expres.^ condition, that all the parties to the conversation are to your knowledge, perfectly familiar with the language from which the quotation is taken. There can be nc exception to this rule ; for all pedantry, all attempts U display learning in society, evince only bad taste There are both in Scottish and Irish very expressive terms, which cannot exactly be termed alien, and mav be permitted occasionally, when introduced with .skilj and good taste. If foreign phrases are objectionable, slang phrase^ are even worse, for they are mostly vulgar, and marl- the man who adopts them as unacquainted with the us| ages of the polite world; even as odd and extravagan phrases, or the practice of applying words in a manne never dreamed of by earthly lexicographers, show tl.* vacant mind, resorting to empty sound in the absence] of good sense. LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION — CARDS — INVITATIONS, ETC Do not lightly give or promise letters of introduction Always remember that when you give letters of intro- duction you lay youfself under an obligation to those LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION. lOQ friends to whom they may be addressed. If they live in a great city like New York, Paris or London, you in a measure compel them to undergo the penalty of es- corting the strangers whom you introduce to some of those places of public entertainment in which the cap- ital abounds. In any case, you put your friends to the expense of inviting them to their table. We cannot be too cautious how we tax the time and purse of a friend, or weigh too seriously the question of mutual advantage in the introduction. Always ask yourself whether the person introduced will be an ac- ceptable acquaintance to the one to whom you present him and whether the pleasure of knowing him will compensate for the time or money which it may cost to entertain him. If the stranger is in any way unsuitable in habits or temperament, you inflict an annoyance upon your friend instead of a pleasure. In questions of introduction, never oblige one friend to the discom- fort of another. Letters of introduction are necessary in the country, particularly where new comers enter a new abode, and wish to enter the best society of the place. In the last case the inhabitants should call first, unless the new comer brings a letter of introduction, when he is the first to call. Instead, however, of going in, he sends his letter and card, and waits till this formal visit is re- turned. Never deliver a letter of introduction in per- son. It places you in the most undignified position imaginable, and compels you to wait while it is being read, like a footman. There is also another reason why you should not be yourself the bearer of your in- troduction ; you compel those to whom you are in- no LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION, troduced to receive you, whether they choose or not. It may be that they are sufficiently ill-bred to take no notice of the letter when sent ; and in such case, if you , presented yourself with it, they would most probably receive you with rudeness. It is at all events more polite on your part to give them the option, and, perhaps, more pleasant. If the receivers of the letter be really well-bred, they will call upon you or leave cards the next day, and you should return their attentions within the week. If, on the other hand, a stranger sends you a letter of introduction, and his or her card (for the law of eti- quette here holds good for both sexes), you are bound, not only to call next day, but to follow up that attention by others. If you are in a position to do so, the next correct proceeding is to send an invitation to dinner. Should this not be within your power, you can prob- ably escort the stranger to some exhibition, concert, public building, museum, or other place likely to prove interesting to a foreigner or provincial visitor. If you are but a clerk in a bank, remember that only to go over the Bank of England would be interesting to a stranger in London. In short, etiquette demands that you shall exert yourself to show kindness to the stran- ger, if only out of compliment to the friend who intro- duced him to you. If you invite strangers to dinner, it is a better com- pliment to ask some others, than to dine with them tctc-h-tete. You are thereby affording them an oppor- tunity of making other acquaintances, and are assisting your friend in still further promoting the purpose for | which he gave the introduction to yourself. Be careful I VISITING CARDS. Ill at the same time only to ask such persons as you are quite sure are the stranger’s own social equals. A letter of introduction must be carefully worded, stating clearly the name of the person introduced, but vvith as few personal remarks as possible. It suffices, n most cases, to say that so-and-so is a friend of yours .vhom you trust your other friend will receive with ittention. In travelling, one cannot have too many etters of introduction. It is the custom in foreign .owns for the new comer to call on the residents irst, a hint that may prove acceptable to persons contemplating a long or short residence abroad. A letter of introduction should be given unsealed, lot only because your friend may wish to know what you lave said, but also as a guarantee of your own good faith. \s you should never give such a letter unless you can ;peak highly of the bearer, this rule of etiquette is easy o observe. By requesting your friend to fasten the envelope before forwarding the letter to its destination, ^ou tacitly give permission to inspect its contents. l,et your note-paper be of the best quality and of the iroper size. The fashion of cards is a variable one. The visiting :ard should be perfectly simple. Glazed cards are now vholly out of fashion. All merely honorary or official lesignations should be omitted, except in cards designed or purely official visits. Some gentlemen and un* narried ladies have adopted the custom of omitting he Mr. and Miss upon their cards ; as >r James Alfred Jones •, Agnes Farmington. VISITING CARDS. 1 12 And the fashion is a good one. Autographic fac-simile^ for visiting-cards are detestable affectations in any per sons but those remarkable for talent, whose auto graphs, or fac-similes of autographs, would be prized aj curiosities. A card bearing the autographic signature of H. W. Longfellow or May Agnes Fleming wouk possess a certain interest ; whereas the signature o John Smith or Mary Jones would be not only valueless but would render the owner ridiculous. Persons ir mourning must have cards bordered with black. Some married people, when visiting together, use n single card, engraved thus : — Mr. and Mrs. Charles Brown. We inform our friends and acquaintance of thfi death of any member of our family by a card. Thest cards should simply state the name, age, birthplace, residence, and place of interment. Wedding-cards should be as simple and unostenta tious as possible. MARRIAGE CEREMONY. II3 FORM OF MARRIAGE CEREMONY AND RECEPTION NOTE — FORM I. Mr, and Mrs, Charles B, Foulke request your presence at the marriage of their daughter Mable to Arnold C. Langdon on Thursday afternoon,, March fourth^ at three o'clock,, at Trinity Church, Reception from half-past three till* five. New York. 25 West 27 ,d St. SHORT FORM OF INTRODUCTION. Washington, May i, 1884. Oear Sir : I have the honor of introducing my friend, Mr. Jas. Sutliffe, to your acquaintance, for whom I ask your kind attentions. Very truly yours, J. B. Taylor. Mr. B. Stone, Rahway, N. J. 8 INTRODUCTIONS. i 14 ANOTHER FORM OF INTRODUCTION. Washington, May i, 1884. Dear Sir : Allow me the pleasure of introducing the bearer, Mr. rhos. P. Forbes, of this place : he is my most es- teemed friend. With the assurance that any attention shown him will be highly appreciated, I am yours, etc., ^ ^ B. Talbot. To Henry Vroomer, Otsego, N. Y. introducing to a friend and his family. Portland, May i, 18— My Dear Friend Belknap ; Will you allow me the very great pleasure of intro- ducing to you and your agreeable family my friend, Mr. Joseph Barrows, a resident of this city, who in- tends making his future home in your state. Our intimacy has been of the closest for years, and I am very anxious that you should know such a desirable acquaintance. I will not ask your friendly offices for him, as I think it quite unnecessary to do so. My family join me in sending our best love, and de- sire your kindest remembrance, Yours as ever, J. Staple Howe. To T. T. Belknap, New York. FAMILIAR NOTE. II5 CONGRATULATION ON A BIRTHDAY. New York, May i, 18 — . My Dear Charles : As it is natural that I should feel an interest in your welfare, I take this occasion to congratulate you upon reaching your 15th birthday. Another milestone in the journey of life passed, and happily without care or sor- row. May the same good fortune attend your future, and allow you many similar opportunities of accepting the good wishes of your friends. Invoking Heaven’s blessing upon you, I am sincerely yours, Randall Hatch. NOTE ACCOMPANYING A WEDDING PRESENT. Mr. Jerome Waltham sends his complirnents and best wishes to Miss Frances Poole, and begs that she will accept the accompanying trifle as a souvenir of his highest esteem and sincere desires for her future hap- piness. 27s Ave., Oct. s, 1883. FAMILIAR NOTE — FORM I. (Among intimates a more pleasing and genial style is required, as follows :) Friend Will: Oblige me by your presence here at a dinner to be given to a few friends on next Thursday afternoon at 5, sharp. Sincerely yours, T. B. Thorp. Il6 RECEPTIONS. CEREMONY AND RECEPTION — FORM 2. Ceremony St.John^s Churchy Varick Street^ On Wednesday^ May 4, at 2 o'clock, AT HOME Tuesdays and Fridays in May^ At the residence of Mr. E. B. Keeler., 42 Place. Albert P. Kirk. Mary Keeler. CEREMONY WITH RECEPTION CARD — FORM 3o Mr. and Mrs. James Sparkhill request the pleasure of your company at the marriage ceremony of their daughter Caroline to Trotwood Belcher on Monday Evening, March 14, 1884, At Eight O'clock. New York. 1 2 East St MARRIAGE ANNOUNCEMENT. II7 RECEPTION WITH PERSONAL CARDS FORM 4. Mr. and Mrs. Constant Bowers request the pleasure of Mr. C. P. Wood’s company at the wedding reception of their daughter, on Wednesday evening, May sixth, from 8 until ii o’clock. 750 St., Tuesday^ April 28. For written invitations this form is the best. ceremony with personal cards and cards for V reception FORM 5. Mrs. Mary B. Coolidge requests the pleasure of your company at the marriage of her daughter on Friday afternoon, October tenth, at Four O’clock. 375 This form requires a reception card only. MARRIAGE ANNOUNCEMENT. Mr. Thomas W. Johnson, Miss Frances L. Maine, Married Monday^ Jan. i6, 1884. (Enclose Reception Card if desired.) Or the notice is given by transmitting two cards with :he combined names, residence, and hour of reception mgraved thereon; and a smaller one with the bride’s naiden name. Ii8 GOLDEN WEDDING. WOODEN WEDDING. Mr. a7id Mrs. Wm. P, Bancroft Request the pleasure of your company oh Thursday evening^ May 20, at Eight O'clock, New York, 52 St. (Enclosing a wooden card.) GOLDEN WEDDING, 1825—1875, Mr. and Mrs. M. B. Macklin Will receive their friends at their residence on Monday evening^ October 5, From seven until twelve o'* clock, 2$ St. R. S. V. P, INVITATION TO A DRIVE. II9 INVITATION TO DINNER FORM I. Mrs. Henry Perkins requests the pleasure of Mrs. Wm. Sloan's company at dinner on Thursday even- ing, September 3, at eight o'clock. R. S. V. P. 25 Ave, Be very precise as to the date and hour. Each invi- tation should contain the name of the individual for whom it is intended. Always answer a dinner invitation, whether you in- tend being present or not. ANNIVERSARY WEDDINGS. First, paper wedding ; fifth, wooden wedding ; tenth, tin wedding ; fifteenth, crystal or glass wedding ; twen- tieth, floral wedding ; twenty-fifth, silver wedding ; thir- tieth, pearl wedding ; thirty-fifth, china wedding ; for- tieth, coral wedding ; forty-fifth, bronze wedding ; fifti- eth, golden wedding; seventy-fifth, diamond wedding. INVITATION TO A DRIVE. Will Miss Hattie Haskins do Mr. Gerald the honor of accompanying him in a drive to the Park this after- noon ? If so, will Miss Haskins please state what hour will be most convenient. Wednesday fofenoon^ Sept. 4. The favor of an answer is requested by bearer. 20 INVITATIONS. A GIFT WITH A NOTE. Will Miss Osborn please accept the accompanying package, as a slight token of the high esteem and re* gard of her sincere friend, William P. Holliwell. New York, Dec. 25. children’s style. Master James Cross requests the pleasure of your company on Saturday evening, January 7, from four to ten o’clock. INVITATION TO A PICNIC. Mr. Jones presents his kind regards to Miss Rowe, and solicits the pleasure of her company, to join a small party intending to pass the day at Millbrae on Wednesday next (7th). Carriages will be in waiting at eight o’clock a.m., Wednesday. July 1st. INVITATION TO DINNER FORM 2. Mr. and Mrs. Win. P. Jerrardieu request the pleasure of Mr. and Mrs. W. T. Poe’s company at dinner on 'I'hursday evening, Oct. 17, at eight o’clock. 323 * 5 */. 'rhe favor of an answer is requested. CELEBRATION OF A BIRTHDAY. I2I PARTY INVITATIONS FORM I, GENERAL STYLE. Mr. znd Mrs. A. B. Compton request the pleasure of your company on Tuesday evening, February fifth, from eight to twelve o’clock. R. S. V. P. 75 “S'/. Written notes should contain the name of the party. The word your ” in printed ones. PRESIDENTIAL RECEPTION — FORM 4. The President of the United States requests the company of at the Reception in honor of His Majesty the King of Brazil, on Wednes- day evening, December 5, at nine o’clock. Executive Mansion, * (It is customary to regard an invitation from the President as a command, and is never declined except for imperative reasons.) CELEBRATION OF BIRTHDAY FORM 5. Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson request the honor of company to celebrate their son’s majority, on Friday evening, January 5, 18 — . R. S. V. P. No, — West ^^th St, 122 REGRET. PARTY INVITATION — FORM 2. Mr. and Mrs. Austin request the pleasure of company on Wednesday evening, Nov. 20, at eight o’clock. Soir/e Dansante, Answer to be sent to 250 Fourth St. TO MEET FRIENDS — FORM 4. Mr. and Mrs. B. Talbot request the pleasure of company Tuesday evening, Sept. 8, from eight to eleven o’clock, to meet Monsieur and Madame Chappelle. No, — Madison Ave, ACCEPTING AN INVITATION TO DINNER. Mr. Charles Howell has much pleasure in accepting Mr. Waltham’s kind invitation for Wednesday evening, September 15. Windsor Hotel, Monday^ September 6. REGRET. Mr. Howell regrets that, owing to his absence from the city, he will be unable to accept Mr. Waltham’s kind invitation for Wednesday evening, Sept. 15. Windsor Hotel, Monday^ Sept, 6. INFORMAL INVITATIONS. 123 children’s parties FORM I. Master Henry Cammeron requests the pleasure of company on Wednesday next, from twelve until four o’clock. Lexington Ave., Oct, 2. FORM 2. Miss Hattie Hallet requests the pleasure of company on Thursday evening, December 12, from five to ten o’clock. Boorman Place, Informal invitations for an afternoon or evening en- tertainment, or reception, are issued on cards, and are becoming popular. FORM I. The pleasure of your company is requested at a HOP on Wednesday evening^ Dec, 10, 18 — , at 9 o'* clock. MANSION HOUSE, 124 VISITING — MORNING CALLS. pfixE CHAMpfexRE FORM 2. The honor of company is requested at the “ Elms on Monday, August 5, at one o’clock. (Signatures of the Committee of Arrangements.) R. S. V. P. If it rain the Fete will be postponed until Wednes- day. VISITING — MORNING CALLS. A morning visit should be paid between the hours of 3 and 5 p.M. By observing this rule you avoid intrud- ing before the luncheon is removed, and leave in suffi- cient time for the lady of the house to have an hour or two of leisure for her drive and dinner toilette. Never pay a visit before noon ; and be careful always to avoid the luncheon hours of your friends. Some ladies dine with their children at one or half-past one o’clock, and are consequently unprepared for the early reception of visitors. When you have once ascertained this to be the case, be careful never to intrude again at the same hour. A good memory for these trifles is one of the hall- marks of good-breeding. A first visit should be returned the next day ; at latest within three days. A visit of ceremony — and, indeed, a visit of friendship — should always be brief. If even the conversation becomes animated, beware of letting your call exceed half an hour in length. It is better to let your friends regret rather than desire your withdrawal. VISITING — MORNING CALLS. 125 When returning visits of ceremony, you may, without impoliteness, leave your card at the door, without going in. Do not, however, fail to inquire if the family be well. Should there be daughters or sisters residing with the lady upon whom you call, leave a card for each. If there are visitors staying in the house, it is better to distinguish the cards intended for them by writing their names above your own. A married lady, calling upon a married lady, leaves her husband’s card for the hus- band of her friend. Unless when returning thanks for “ kind inquiries,’’ and announcing your arrival in, or departure from, town, it is not considered respectful to send round cards by a servant. Visits of condolence are paid within the week after the event which occasions them. Personal visits of this kind are made only by relations and very intimate friends, who should be careful to make the conversa- tion as little painful as possible. In paying visits of congratulation, you should aWays go in, and be hearty in your congratulations. Wedding- cards are generally sent round to such people as one wishes to keep up acquaintance with, and these will call first on the newly-married pair. A visit is also due to the parents who have invited you to the wedding- breakfast. A call should invariably be made within a week upon friends or acquaintances at whose house you have dined, or from whom you have received an invitation to dine. A. well-bred person will endeavor to receive visitors at any time. If you are occupied and cannot afford to 126 VISITING — MORNING CALLS. be interrupted, it is better to instruct your servant to say that you are never ‘‘ at home,^’ except upon certain days and at certain hours. If a servant once admits a visitor within the hall, receive him at any inconven- ience : but take care that the circumstance does not occur again. A lady should never keep a visitor wait- ing. Some ladies only receive visitors on a stated afternoon in each week ; but this is a somewhat preten- tious custom, only to be justified by the exigencies of a very lofty position. Umbrellas and overcoats should always be left in the hall. When a gentleman makes a morning call, he should never leave his hat or riding-whip in the hall, but should take both into the room. To do otherwise would be to make himself too much at home. The hat should never be laid on a table, pianoforte, or any arti- cle of furniture, but must be held properly in the hand. If you are compelled to lay it aside, put it on the floor. Never take favorite dogs into a drawing-room when you make a morning call. Their feet may be dusty, or they may bark at strangers, or, being of toa friendly a disposition, may take the liberty of lying on a lady’s gown, or jumping upon a velvet sofa or an easy chair. Besides, your friend may have a favorite cat already established before the fire, and in that case a battle may ensue. Many persons, too, have a constitutional antip- athy to dogs, and others never allow their own to be seen in the reception-rooms. For all or any of these reasons, a visitor has no right to inflict upon his friend the society of his dog as well as of himself. Neither is it well for a mother to take young children with her when she pays morning visits ; their presence, VISITING — MORNING CALLS. 1 27 unless they are unusually well-trained, can only be pro- ductive of anxiety to yourself and your hostess. She, while striving to amuse them, or to appear interested in them, is secretly anxious for the fate of her album, or the ornaments xxponhex ^tagere ; while the mother is trembling lest her children should say or do something objectionable. If you do not keep a close carriage, you should never pay visits of ceremony in wet weather. To enter a drawing-room with mud-bespattered boots and damp clothes is a faux pas that no lady or gentleman will commit. It has of late become customary to offer tea to those visitors who make their calls between the hours of four and five o’clock. Tea should be sent round, already poured out, with sugar basin and cream ewer, on a small waiter. Biscuits or bread-and-butter may accom- pany it. On entering a crowded drawing-room, go at once to pay your respects to the lady of the house, and take the seat she indicates to you. A gentleman should take any vacant chair he may find, without troubling his hostess to think for him. A gentleman ought to rise upon the entrance of la- dies. A lady does not rise. It is not permissible to leave one’s chair in order to get nearer the fire. As a general rule, an introduction is only followed by a bow, unless the persons to whom your hostess introduces you are her relations or very old friends, and for some special reason she desires that you should make their acquaintance. In this case you give your hand. A man has no right to take a lady’s hand till it is of- 128 VISITING — MORNING CALLS. fered. Two ladies shake hands gently and softly. A lady gives her hand to a gentleman, but does not shake his hand in return. Young ladies only bow to unmarried men. It is the privilege of a superior to offer or withhold his hand ; an inferior should never be the first to extend the hand. Foreigners rarely shake hands, and then only with intimate friends. If other visitors are announced, and you have already remained as long as courtesy requires, wait till they are seated ; then take leave of your hostess ; bow politely to the newly-arrived guests ; and retire. You will, per- haps, be urged to remain ; but having once arisen, it is best to go. There is always a certain air of gaucherie in resuming your seat, and repeating the ceremony of leave-taking. If you have occasion to look at your watch during a call, ask permission to do so, and apolo- gize for it on the plea of other appointments. A gentleman should rise when any lady takes her leave, and, if in his own house, should escort her to her carriage. In receiving morning visits, it is not necessary that a lady should lay aside the employment in which she may be engaged, particularly if it consist of light or orna- mental needle-work. Politeness, however, requires that music, drawing, or any absorbing occupation, be at once abandoned. A well-bred lady pays equal atten- tion to all her visitors, and endeavors to make conver- ; sation as general as possible. It is allowable to pay i extra attention to any person of distinguished rank, I extreme age, or world-wide reputation. No one would resent a little exclusive politeness to a duke, a nonage- narian, or a Victor Hugo. To do homage to the rich. VISITING — MORNING CALLS. 1 29 tnply because they are rich, is a piece of snobbism hich even the most amiable find it difficult to forgive. A lady need not advance to receive visitors when mounced, unless they are persons to whom she is de- rous of testifying particular respect. It is sufficient she rises, moves forward a single step to shake hands ith them, and remains standing till they are seated. When her visitors rise to take leave, she should rise so, and remain standing till they have quite left the lom. It is not necessary to accompany them to the rawing-room door, but the bell should be rung in good me, that the servant may be ready in the hall to let lem out. A lady can never call upon a gentleman unless pro- :ssionally or officially. To do so would be, not only a reach of good manners, but of strict propriety. A lady should dress well, though not too richly, when le pays or receives morning visits. If she has a car- age at command, she may dress more elegantly than she were on foot. A gentleman should always be ell dressed. No one in the present day can afford to ress badly. Trifling as many of these little rules may at first ight appear, they are by no means unimportant. Tri- es in the aggregate become great social forces. It has been well said that “ attention to the punc- lios of politeness is a proof at once of self-respect, and f respect for your friend.” Though irksome at first, lese trifles soon cease to be matters for memory, and ecome things of mere habit. To the thoroughly well- red they are a second nature. Let no one neglect them 'ho is desirous of pleasing in society ; and, above all, 9 130 THE BALL. let no one deem them unworthy of attention. Tht are precisely the trifles which do most to make soci; intercourse agreeable, and a knowlege of which di: tinguishes the gentleman and gentlewoman from th parvenu. THE BALL. Invitations to a ball should be sent out three week or a month beforehand, and should be answered imme diately. The first requisites for a pleasant ball are gooc rooms, good music, and plenty of good company. ^ very small ball is almost sure to be dull. No on« should attempt to give this sort of entertainment with out being fully prepared for a considerable expenditure of time, money, and patience. Nothing is so unsatis- factory as “ a carpet dance with the dear girls to play.’^ If you wish your friends to enjoy the dancing, you must give them a good floor and professional music i if you wish them to enjoy the supper, you must let it be well served and in great abundance ; lastly, if you wish them to enjoy the company, you must provide! your visitors with suitable partners. The preparation for a ball begins with the reception rooms, which must be made as light and airy as possi- ble. Nothing produces a happier effect than an abund-i ance of shrubs, plants, and flowers used freely on the stairs, in the recesses, landing-places, etc. The fire- places, should be screened by flowers in summer, and be provided with guards in winter or spring. It is easy, by the help of screens and evergreens, to arrange THE BALL. I3I a small gallery for the musicians, so that they shall be heard and not seen. A refreshment-room should, if possible, be on the same floor as the ball-room, in order that the ladies may be spared all risk from draughty staircases. A lobby for the ladies’ cloak-room, and a hat-room for the gentlemen, are both indispensable. As the number of guests at a dinner party is regu- lated by the size of the table, so should the number of invitations to a ball be limited by the proportions of the ball-room. A prudent hostess will, however, al- ways invite more guests than she really desires to en- tertain, in the certainty that there will be some desert- ers when the appointed evening comes round ; but she will at the same time remember that to overcrowd her room is to spoil the pleasure of those who love dancing, and that a party of this kind, when too numerously at- tended, is as great a failure as one at which too few are present. A room which is nearly square, yet a little longer than it is broad, will be found the most favorable for a ball. It admits of two quadrille parties, or two round dances, at the same time. In a perfectly square room this arrangement is not so practicable or pleasant. A*very*long and narrow room is obviously of the worst shape for dancing, and is fit only for quadrilles and country dances. The top of the ball-room is the part nearest the or- chestra. In a private room, the top is where it would be if the room were a dining-room. It is generally at the farthest point from the door. Dancers should be careful to ascertain the top of the room before tak- 132 THE BALL. ing their places, as the top couples always lead th( dances. A good floor is of the utmost importance in a ball room. In a private house, nothing can be better thai a smooth, well-stretched holland, with the carpet be neath. Abundance of light and free ventilation are indis pensable to the spirits and comfort of the dancers. Good music is as necessary to the prosperity of c ball as good wine to the excellence of a dinner No hostess should tax her friends for this part o the entertainment. It is the most injudicious econ omy imaginable. Ladies who would prefer to dance are tied to the pianoforte ; and as few amateurs have been trained in the art of playing dance music with that strict attention to time and accent which is abso lutely necessary to the comfort of the dancers, a tota and general discontent is sure to result. To pla} dance music thoroughly well is a branch of the an which requires considerable practice. It is as differ ent from every other kind of playing as whale fishing is from fly fishing. Those who give private balls wil do well ever to bear this in mind, and to provide skilled musicians for the evening. For a small party a piano and cornopean make a very pleasant combina tion. Unless where several instruments are engaged we do not recommend the introduction of the violin Although in some respects the finest of all solo instru ments, it is apt to sound thin and shrill when em ployed on mere inexpressive dance tunes, and playec by a mere dance player. The room provided for the accommodation of the THE BALL. 133 aclies should have several looking-glasses ; attendants o assist the fair visitors in the arrangement of their lair and dresses ; and rows of hooks for the cloaks md shawls. It is well to affix tickets to the cloaks, jiving a duplicate to each lady. Needles and thread hould be always at hand to repair any little accident ncurred in dancing. The refreshment-room should be :ept amply supplied with coffee, lemonade, ices, wine, ind biscuits during the evening. Where this cannot )e arranged, the refreshments should be handed round )etween the dances. The question of supper is one which so entirely de- )ends on the means of those who give a ball or even- ng party, that very little can be said upon it in a trea- ise of this description. Where money is no object, it s of course always preferable to have the whole sup- )er, ^‘with all appliances and means to boot,’’ sent in rom some first-rate house. It spares all trouble, vhether to the entertainers or their servants, and re- ieves the hostess of every anxiety. Where circum- tances render such a course imprudent, we would only )bserve that a home-provided supper, however simple, hould be good of its kind, and abundant in quantity. Dancers are generally hungry people, and feel them- elves much aggrieved if the supply of sandwiches )roves unequal to the demand. Perhaps the very best plan is the French one, of laving supper arranged on long buffets with servants *ehind to attend to all comers. No one sits down to •all suppers, or if seats are arranged by the wall for he ladies, the gentlemen stand. In the hot season of lie year, iced things should be had in plenty. Cold 134 THE BALL. chickens, game, etc., should be carved in readiness and trifle, tipsy cake, and mayonnaise are indispensj able. j Great incon ^enience is often experienced througll the difficulty of procuring cabs at the close of an ever’ ing party. Unless more men servants than one an kept, it is better to engage a policeman with a lanten to attend on the pavement during the evening, and t give notice in the course of the day at a neighboring cab stand, so as to secure plenty of vehicles at the tim when they are likely to be required. Visitors will d well to engage a brougham for the evening, as cleane and more respectable than the ordinary cab. Carpt should be laid down on the door-steps; and if th weather prove wet, a temporary covering from the gat to the door should be hired. No gentleman should accept an invitation to a ba? if he does not dance. When ladies are present wh would be pleased to receive an invitation, those gentle men who hold themselves aloof are guilty, not only of negative, but a positive, act of neglect. To attempt to dance without a knowledge of dancin is not only to make one’s self ridiculous, but one partner also. No lady or gentleman has the right t place a partner in this absurd position. On entering the ball-room, the visitor should at one seek the lady of the house, and pay her respects to he Having done this, she may exchange salutations wit such friends and acquaintances as may be in the roon No lady should accept an invitation to dance from gentleman to whom she has not been introduced. I case any gentleman should commit the error of so ii THE BALL. 135 viting her, she should not excuse herself on the plea of 1 previous engagement, or of fatigue, as to do so would mply that she did not herself attach due importance to :he necessary cererhony of introduction. Her best re- jly would be to the effect that she would have much Measure in accepting his invitation, if he would procure in introduction to her. This observation may be taken is applying only to public balls. No lady should ac- :ept refreshments from a stranger at a public ball ; for hese she must rely on her father, brother, or old friend. Vt a private party the host and hostess are sufficient guarantees for the respectability of their guests ; and .Ithough a gentleman would show a singular want of inowledge of the laws of society in acting as we have upposed, the lady who should reply to him as if he were aerely an impertinent stranger in a public assembly- 00m would be implying an affront to her entertainers, ^he mere fact of being assembled together under the oof of a mutual friend is in itself a kind of general itroduction of the guests to each other. An introduction given for the mere purpose of ena- ling a lady and gentleman to go through a dance to- ether does not constitute an acquaintanceship. The idy is at liberty to pass the gentleman in the parjc the ext day without recognition. It is not necessary that a lady should be acquainted ith the steps, in order to walk gracefully or easily irough a quadrille. An easy carriage and a knowl- Ige of figures are all that is necessary. No walking about the rooms after a dance is permitted good society. The young lady is instantly handed ick so the care of her chaperone. THE BALL. 136 We now pass to that part of ball-room etiquette which chiefly concerns gentlemen. A gentleman cannot ask a lady to dance without be ing first introduced to her by some member of the host ess’s family. Never enter a ball-room in other than full eveninj^ dress, and white or light kid gloves. A gentleman cannot be too careful not to injure ; lady’s dress. The young men of the present day arc inconceivably thoughtless in this respect, and oftei seem to think the mischief which they do scarceh worth an apology. Cavalry officers should neve wear spurs in a ball-room. Bear in mind that all casino habits are to be scrupu lously avoided in a private ball-room. It is an affron to a highly-bred lady to hold her hand behind you or 01 your hip, when dancing a round dance. We hav> seen even aristocratic young men of the “ fast” genu commit these unpardonable offences against taste an. decorum. Never forget a ball-room engagement. It is th greatest neglect and slight that a gentleman can offe to a lady. At the beginning and end of a quadrille the gentk man bows to his partner, and bows again on handin her to a seat. After dancing, the gentleman may offer to conduc the lady to the refreshment-room. Kngagements for one dance should not be mad while the present dance is yet in progress. If a lady happens to forget a previous engagemet and stand up with another partner, the gentlema THE BALL. 137 whom she has thus slighted is bound to believe that she has acted from mere inadvertence, and should by no means suffer his pride to master his good temper. To cause a disagreeable scene in a private ball-room is to affront your host and hostess, and to make yourself ab- surd. In a public room it is no less reprehensible. Always remember that good breeding and good temper (or the appearance of good temper) are in- separably connected. Young gentlemen are earnestly advised not to limit their conversation to remarks on the weather and the heat of the room. It is, to a certain extent, incumberft on them to do something more than dance when they invite a lady to join a quadrille. If it be only upon the news of the day, a gentleman should be able to of- fer at least three or four observations to his partner in the course of a long half-hour. - Never be seen without gloves in a ball-room, though it were only for a few moments. Those who dance much, md are particularly soigne in matters relating to the :oilette, take a second pair of gloves to replace the irst when soiled. A thoughtful hostess will never introduce a bad dancer o a good one, because she has no right to punish one riend in order to oblige another. It is not customary for married persons I:o dance to- gether in society. A gentleman conducts his last partner to supper; /aits upon her till she has had as much refreshment as he wishes, and then takes her back to the ball-room or .er chaperone. However much pleasure he may take in a lady's 138 DINNER PARTIES. society, he must not ask her to dance too frequently. Engaged persons would do well to bear this in mind. Withdraw from a ball-room as quietly as possible, so that your departure may not be observed by others, and so cause the party to break up. If you meet the lady of the house on your way out, take your leave in such a manner that the other guests may not observe it ; but by no means seek her out for that purpose. No person who has not a good ear for time and tune need hope to dance well. At the conclusion of a dance, the gentleman bows to his partner, and conducts her to her chaperone. Where a room is set apart for refreshments, he offers to conduct her thither. Lastly, a gentleman should not go to a ball unless he has previously made up his mind to be agreeable : that is, to dance with the plainest as well as the most beautiful ; to take down an elderly chaperone to supper, instead of her lovely charge, with a good grace ; to en- ter into the spirit of the dance, instead of hanging about the doorway ; to abstain from immoderate eating, drink- ing, or talking ; to submit to trifling annoyances with cheerfulness ; in fact, to forget himself, and contribute as niuch as possible to the amusement of others. DINJ^ER PARTIES. “ IvCS animaux sc rcpaiscent ; Phomme mange ; I’homme d’espri scul sait manger.” — E rillat-Savarin. It is impossible to over-estimate the importance o dinners. ‘‘Providence,’’ says Dr. Prout, “has giftec man with reason : to his reason, therefore, is left the DINNER PARTIES. 139 choice of his food and drin-k, and not to instinct, as among the lower animals. It thus becomes his duty to apply his reason to the regulation of his diet ; to shun excess in quantity, and what is obnoxious in quality ; to adhere, in short, to the simple and the natural, among which the bounty of his Maker has afforded him an ample selection ; and beyond which, if he deviates, sooner or later he will pay the penalty.’^ There is no denying the fact that the wise as well as the foolish must perforce be a slave to his cook and his stomach. Napoleon is said to have lost the battles of Borodino and Leipsic because he had dined in too ^reat a hurry. What a warning ! History could doubtless supply hundreds of instances in which a badly-used digestion has wreaked no less important revenges. It should be the first duty of every house- holder to obtain the best possible dinners for her family her purse can afford. Let no false sentiment lead her to consider indifference to food as an heroic virtue, or he due appreciation of it as a despicable goiit'mandise, Man is what he eats, and woman is the caterer. Let her perform her duties well, and she will reap an ample reward. ‘‘ The life of man,’’ says Dr. Lankestcr, is like a fire. Just as the fire must have fuel in order that it may burn, so we must have food in order that we may live : and the analogy is in many respects quite cor- rect ; for we find that man really produces in his body a certain amount of heat, just as the fire does; and the result of the combustion of the materials of his food is the same as the result of burning fuel in a fire. Man exists, in fact, in consequence of the physical and chcm- 140 DINNER PARTIES. ical changes that go on in his body as the result of tak- ing food.’’ Further on he says : ‘‘ Cooks in the kitchen, and ladies who superintend cooks and order dinners for large families, never think of asking whether food contains the right proportions of those ingredients which secure health; yet, without these, babies get rickets, young ladies acquire crooked spines, fathers get gouty, mothers have palpitations ; and they do not think of ascribing these things to the food which has deprived them of the proper constituents of their food.” It is, however, obviously impossible that we should, in a work like the present, enter upon the scientific side of the food question. We have only to do with dinners and dinner-givers. The etiquette of the din- ner-table should be mastered by all who aspire to the entree of good society. Ease, savoir-faire^ and good breeding are nowhere more indispensable than at the dinner-table, and the absence of them is nowhere more apparent. How to eat soup and what to do with a cherry-stone are weighty considerations when taken as the index of social status ; and it is not too much to say, that a young woman who elected to take claret with her fish or eat peas with her knife would justly risk the punishment of being banished from good so- ciety. As this subject is one of the most important of which we have to treat, we may be pardoned for intro- ducing an appropriate anecdote related by the French poet I )elille. Delille and Marmontel were dining together in the month of April, 1786, and the conversation happened to turn upon dinner-table customs. Marmontel observed how many little things a well-bred man was obliged to DINNER PARTIES. I4I know, if he would avoid being ridiculous at the table of his friends. ‘‘ They are, indeed, innumerable,’’ said Delille ; “ and the most annoying fact of all is, that not all the wit and good sense in the world can help one to divine them untaught. A little while ago, for instance, the Abbe Cosson, who is Professor of Literature at the College Mazarin, was describing to me a grand dinner to which he had been invited at Versailles, and to which he had sat down in the company of peers, princes, and marshals of France. “ ‘ I’ll wager, now,’ said I, ‘ that you committed a hundred blunders in the etiquette of the table.’ “ ‘ How so ? ’ replied the Abbe, somewhat nettled. ‘What blunders could I make ? It seems to me that I did precisely as others did.’ “ ‘ And I, on the contrary, would stake my life that you did nothing as others did. But let us begin at the beginning, and see which is right. In the first place, there was your table-napkin — what did you do with that when you sat down at table ? ’ “‘What did I do with my table-napkin? Why, I did like the rest of the guests : I shook it out of the folds, 'spread it before me, and fastened one corner to my button-hole.’ “ ‘ Very well, mon cher^ you were the only person who did so. No one shakes, spreads, and fastens a table napkin in that manner. You should have only laid it across your knees. What soup had you ? ’ “ ‘ Turtle.’ “ ‘ And how did you eat it ? ’ 142 DINNER PARTIES. “ ‘ Like every one else, I suppose. I took my spoon in one hand and my fork in the other.’ “ Your fork ! Good heavens ! None but a savage eats soup with a fork. But go on. What did you take next } ’ “ ‘ A boiled egg.’ “ ‘ Good ; and what did you do with the shell ? ’ “ ‘ Not eat it, certainly. I left it, of course, in the egg-cup.’ “ ‘ Without breaking it through with your spoon ? ’ “ ‘ Without breaking it.’ “ ‘ Then, my dear fellow, permit me to tell you that no one eats an egg without breaking the shell and leaving the spoon standing in it. And after your egg?’ “ ‘ I asked for some bouilU.^ “ ‘ For bouilU ! It is a term that no one uses. You should have asked for beef — never for bouilU. Well, and after the bouilUV “‘I asked the Abbe de Badenvillais for some fowl.’ ‘“Wretched man! Fowl, indeed ! You should have asked for chicken or capon. The word “fowl” is never heard out of the kitchen. But all this applies only to what you ate ; tell me something of what you drank, and how you asked for it ? ’ “ ‘ I asked for champagne and bordeaux from those who had the bottles before them.’ “ ‘ Know then, my good friend, that only a waiter, who has no time or breath to spare, asks for cham- pagne or bordeaux. A gentleman asks for vin de Champagne and vin de Bordeaux. And now inform me how you ate your bread ? ’ DINNER PARTIES. 143 “ ‘ Undoubtedly like all the rest of the world. I cut it up into small square pieces with my knife.’ ‘‘ ‘ Then let me tell you that no one cuts bread ; you should always break it. Let us go on to the coffee. How did you drink yours ? ’ “ ‘ Pshaw ! at least I could make no mistake in that. It was boiling hot ; so I poured it, a little at a time, in the saucer, and drank it as it cooled.’ ^ Eh bien I then you assuredly acted as no other gentleman in the room. Nothing can be more vulgar than to pour tea or coffee into a saucer. You should have waited till it cooled, and then have drunk it from the cup. And now you see, my dear cousin, that so far from doing precisely as the others did, you acted in no one respect according to the laws prescribed by eti- quette.’ ” An invitation to dine should be replied to immedi- ately, and unequivocally accepted or declined. Once accepted, nothing but an event of the last importance should cause you to fail in your engagement. To be exactly punctual on these occasions is the only polite- ness. If you are too early, you are in the way ; if too late, you spoil the dinner, annoy the hostess, and are hated by the guests. Some authorities are even ot opinion that in the question of a dinner party ‘‘ never ” is better than “ late and one author has gone so far as to say, If you do not reach the house till dinner is served, you had better retire and send an apology, and not interrupt the harmony of the courses by awkward excuses and cold acceptance.” When the party is assembled, the mistress of the house will point out to each gentleman the lady whom 144 DINNER PARTIES. he is to conduct to table. The guests then go down according to precedence of rank. This order of prece- dence must be arranged by the host or hostess, as the guests are probably unacquainted, and cannot know each other’s social tank. If the society is of a distin- guished kind, she will do.well to consult Debrett or Burke, before arranging her visitors. The following rules should be remembered : — Persons of title take precedence according to rank and date of creation. Diplomatic foreigners of the first rank go first ; any foreign ambassador, as the rep- resentative of a crowned head, takes precedence even of a prince of the blood royal. Precedence by courtesy is usually given to a bishop, who ranks with an earl. The same courtesy is extended to all the dignified clergy ; wives of the clergy take precedence of the wives of barristers ; and the wives of esquires take precedence of clergymen’s and barristers’ wives ; whilst the latter, by right, take precedence of the untitled wives of mili- tary and naval men. Physicians rank next to barris- ters. When rank is not in question, other claims to prece- dence must be considered. The lady who is the great- est stranger should be taken down by the master of the house, and the gentleman who is the greatest stranger should conduct the hostess. Married ladies take precedence of single ladies, elder ladies of younger ones, and so on. A young bride takes prece- dence of all other ladies. When dinner is announced, the host offers his arm to the lady of most distinction, invites the rest to follow by a few words or a bow, and leads the way ; the visit- DINNER PARTIES. 145 ors follow in the order that the host and hostess have arranged. The lady of the house remains, however, till the last, that she may see her guests go down in their prescribed order ; but the plan is no-t a convenient one. It would be much better that the hostess should be in her place as the guests enter the dining-room, in order that she may indicate their seats to them as they enter, and not find them all crowded together in uncer- tainty when she arrives. The number of guests at a dinner party depends on the size of the room and the size of the table. The rule laid down by Brillat-Savarin, that the numbers at a dinner party should not be less than the Graces nor more than the Muses, is a good one. Even numbers, however, are always the most convenient, and the num- ber of thirteen should be avoided out of respect to any possible superstition on the part of the guests. The number of ladies and gentlemen should be equal. Great tact must be exercised in the distribution of your guests. If you have a wit, or a good talker, among your visitors, it is well to place him near the centre of the table, where he can be heard and talked to by all. It is obviously a bad plan to place two such persons together ; they extinguish each other. Nor should two gentlemen of the same profession be placed close together, as they are likely to fall into exclusive conversation, and amuse no one but themselves. A judicious host (or hostess) will consider the poli- tics, religious opinions, and tastes of his friends, thus avoiding many social quicksands, and making the party a vehicle of delightful social intercourse, 10 146 DINNER PARTIES. Very young ladies or gentlemen should not be asked to dinner parties. “ Young people/' says the clever author of “Miss Majoribanks/' “are the ruin of society." Young people certainly are the ruin of din- ner parties. The fashion of dinners is wholly unlike what it was fifty or even thirty years ago. Dishes are now never placed on the table at a dinner of ceremony, and rarely even at small friendly dinners. The dinner a la Russe is a great improvement on the old fashion ; it is more elegant and more agreeable to see only crystal, plate, flowers, fruit, and epergnes be- fore you ; and few people will resort to the old mode who have once begun ihe new. The dinner d la Russe is the poetry of dining. The shape of the table is an important point. Cir- cular and oval dining tables are beginning to super- sede the old-fashioned parallelogram. An expanding circular table of this form has been recently invented, the enlargement of the circle being effected by the insertion of wedge-shaped leaves radiating from a common centre. The horse-shoe table is adapted fof state banquets only. The oval table offers most ad- vantages for conversation ; . the host and hostess sit in the middle of each side, opposite to each other. The French fashion of the host and hostess sitting side by side in the middle of one side of the table is not a bad one. 'I’hc dining-room must be carpeted, even in the middle of summer, to deaden the noise of servants' feet, d'he chairs should have slanting backs, and each lady should be provided with a footstool. The tern- DINNER PARTIES. 147 perature of the dining-room must never be too low. Thirteen to sixteen degrees of Reaumur are fixed for it by the author of the “ Physiologic du Goht ; ” but it is easy to decide on this matter for oneself. In winter the fire should be lighted some hours before dinner, and the room being thoroughly warmed it may then burn low. A blazing fire is always objectionable. The appointments of the table may be as sumptuous on the one hand, or as delicately elegant on the other, as suits the tastes and means of the family. Persons of rank and family may at slight additional cost have this dinner-service and table-linen made expressly for them, with their arms or crest painted on the one and woven in the others. This is far more recherche than any mere design. The crest is also engraven on the silver; but it is perhaps pushing heraldic pretension too far to engrave it also on the wine and finger glasses. We now imitate the Romans and cover our tables with flowers — a happy innovation. Of flowers, the richest and choicest, one can hardly have too many. A small glass vase containing a “ button-hole ” bou- quet placed at every cover is very dainty ; the guests remove the bouquets on leaving the table. Glass flower vases are perhaps preferable to silver ones. Light is really needful for digestion, and should be supplied in profusion. Lamps are out of place on a dining table. Gas is simply intolerable. Lockhart describes in his life of Scott how the host introduced gas into the dining-room at Abbotsford. “ In sitting down to table in autumn,” he said, no one observed that in each of three chandeliers there lurked a tiny head of red light. Dinner passed off and the sun went 148 DINNER PARTIES. down, and suddenly, at the turning of a screw, the room was filled with a gush of splendor worthy of the palace of Aladdin ; but, as in the case of Aladdin, the old lamp would have been better in the upshot. Jewellery sparkled, but cheeks and lips look cold and wan in this fierce illumination ; and the eye was wearied, and the brow ached, if the sitting was at all protracted.” We must, therefore, have recourse to epergnes and wax candles. There should be more lights than guests. Hie candles should be of real wax, and of great size, not less than two to the pound. Too much light is almost as objectionable as too little, since among your guests may be persons whose eyes are weak, and to whom it is positive torture to face a brilliant light. The best plan is to have abundance of wax lights on the chimney-piece and walls, and not too many on the table. Plenty 'of attendance is indispensable. One servant to every two guests, or at least, one to every three are necessary. They should be well trained, silent, observ- ant, scrupulously dressed, and free from gaucherie. A good servant is never awkward. His boots never creak, he never breathes hard, has a cold, is obliged to cough, treads on a lady’s dress, or breaks a dish. If only two servants are in attendance, one should begin with the guest on his master’s right, ending with the lady of the house ; the other with the guest on his mistress’ right, ending with the master. If they do not wear gloves, their hands must be scrupulously clean. The clergyman of highest rank is asked to say grace ; but if the master of the house is himself in the Church, he is his own family chaplain, and pronounces the grace himself. DINNER PARTIES. 1 49 Written bills of fare should be laid to every two guests. The most elegant novelties for the appointment of the dinner table should be obtained. Among the latest of these we may mention silver fish-knives, semicircular salad plates, and glasses of any new shape lately intro- duced. In the case of small unceremonious dinners, where the dishes are brought to table, the gentleman sitting nearest the lady of the house should offer to carve for her. Every gentleman should therefore know how to carve well. The soup comes to table first, and then the fish. It is best to help both and send round to each guest without asking, as they can refuse if they choose. But the dinner d la Russe being now so universal, we must more especially confine our observations to that form. -Granted, then, that no dishes appear on the table, the rules of dining are few and easy. Both host and guest are relieved from every kind of responsibility. Dish after dish comes round, as if by magic ; and nothing remains but to eat and be happy. To eat and talk well at the same time is possible ; but the old-fashioned way of “ seeing your dinner before you,” and having to carve, as well as to talk and eat, involved a triple duty only within the compass of very few. We only remember one person who could carve a hare, turkey, or pheasant, as the case might be, enjoy his dinner, and enliven a very dull company by anec- dotes all the time. But he was a man of genius. It is not well to talk too much at a dinner party. One must observe a happy medium between dulness and brill- iancy, remembering that a dinner is not a conversa- 150 DTNPnFER parties. zione. In talking at dinner, or indeed at any time, gesticulation is objectionable. Nothing can well be more awkward than to overturn a Vvine-glass, or upset the sauce upon the dress of your nearest neighbor. Talking with the mouth full is an unpardonable sole- cism in good manners. All small preferences for different wines or dishes should be kept in subordination. The duty of satisfy- ing the tastes of the guests belongs to the mistress of the house ; and if she has failed to do so, the failure must not be exposed. Dishes and wines should not be mentioned unless on the table. The minor etiquette of the dinner table must he at all times remembered. As soon as you are seated, re- move your gloves, place your table-napkin across your knees, only partially unfolding it, and place your roll on the left side of your plate. As soon as you are helped, begin to eat : or if the viands are too hot, take up your knife and fork and appear to begin. To wait for others is not only old-fashioned but ill-bred. Never offer to pass on the plate to- which you have been helped. The lady of the house who sends your plate to you is the best judge of the precedence at her own table. In eat- ing soup, remember always to take it from the side of the spoon and to make no sound in doing so. Soup and fish should never be partaken of a second time. Whenever there is a servant to help you, never help yourself ; when he is near, catch his eye and ask for what you want. Eating and drinking should always be done noiselessly. To drink a whole glassful at once, or drain a glass to the last drop, is inexpressibly vulgar. Knife, fork, and spoon may be abused. It is need- DINNER PARTIES. 151 less, perhaps, to hint that the knife must never be car- ried to the mouth. Cheese must be eaten with a fork, as also peas and most vegetables. Only puddings of a very soft kind, and liquids, require a spoon. Bread is broken, never cut. Mustard, salt, etc., should be put at the side of the plate, and one vegetable should never be heaped on the top of the other. Always remember that a wineglass is to be held by the stem and not the bowl, and that the plate must not be tilted on any occasion. In eating, one should not bend the head voraciously over the plate, extend the elbows, or rattle the knife and fork ; but transact all the business of the table quietly and gently. Anything like greediness or indecision are ill-bred. The choicest pieces are ignored ; and you must not .ake up one piece and lay it down, in favor of another, or lesitate whether you will partake of the dish at all. It is gauche m the extreme not to know one’s own mind about rifles. Silver fish-knives are found at the best dinner-tables ; )Ut where there are none, a piece of crust should be aken in the left hand, and the fork in the right. In eating asparagus, it is well to observe what others !o, and act accordingly. The best plan is to break off he heads with the fork, and thus convey them to the louth. In France every one takes up the asparagus nth his fingers. In eating stone-fruit, such as cher- ies, damsons, etc., the same diversity of fashion pre- ails. Some put the stones out of the mouth into the poon, and so convey them to the plate. Others cover le lips with the hand, drop the stones unseen into the 152 DINNER PARTIES. palm, and so deposit them on the side of the plate. Very dainty feeders press out the stone with the fork, in the first instance, and thus get rid of the difficulty. This is the safest way for ladies. Fruit is eaten with a silver knife and fork. A very expert fruit eater will so pare an orange as to lose none of the juice ; but anything must be sacrificed rather than one’s good manners. At dinner parties ladies seldom eat cheese, or drink liqueurs, or take wine at dessert. Finger glasses con- taining water slightly warmed and perfumed are placed to each person at dessert. In these you dip your fingers, wiping them afterwards on your table-napkin. If the finger-glass and d’oyley are placed on your dessert-plate you should immediately remove the d’oyley to the M hand and place the finger-glass upon it. The French supposed to be the politest of European nations, anc the leading authority in all matters relating to the table are guilty of what seems to us the disgusting and unpar donable innovation of introducing into the finger-bow a small glass cup filled with tepid lemon-water, witi which each guest rinses his mouth ! The servants retire after handing round the dessert. It is a foreign custom, and an excellent one, to serv. coffee in the dining-room before the ladies retire ; i puts an end to the prolonged wine-drinking, now S' universally condemned by well-bred persons. Whei the ladies retire, the gentlemen rise, and thegentlema nearest the door holds it open for them to pass througl Taking wine with people is now wholly out of fashioi Toasts have met with the same fate. To remain Ion in the dining-room after the ladies have left is a poc DINNER PARTIES. 153 compliment to both the hostess and her fair visitors. Still worse is it to rejoin them with a flushed face and impaired powers of thought. A refined gentleman is always temperate. The “ art of dining ” can hardly be taught in a book. Few perhaps will go to the length of a certain French- man, M. Henrion de Pensey, who said : — “ I regard the discovery of a dish as a far more interesting event than the discovery of a star; for we have already stars enough, but we can never have too many dishes ; and I shall not regard the sciences as sufficiently honored or adequately represented amongst us, until I see a cook in the first class of the Institute.'’ At the same time, no judicious and candid person will deny the impor- tance of a science which improves health, prolongs existence, and promotes geniality. That gastronomy deserves to be ranked among the sciences, who will deny, since its very etymology, yaari/p, stomach, vdpog, law, implies the rationale of digestion ? And on our digestion depends not only the life material, but the life intellectual. Tne history of gastronomy, however, is the history of manners ; and in its literature we find views of society of all kinds, and anecdotes of all the most celebrated men and women whose names have :ome down to us. At the dinner table have met, from fie earliest periods, the wit, the courtier, the beauty, ind the poet. At the dinner table, as Brillat-Savarin >ays, “ love, friendship, politics, intrigue, power, parti- ianship, ambition, and fame,” have all come into play ; ind elsewhere he adds, “The pleasures of the table )ring neither enchantments, nor ecstasies, nor trans- ports ; but they gain in duration what they lose in inten- 154 DINNER PARTIES. sity, and are, above all, distinguished by the particular quality of inclining us favorably towards all other pleas- ures, or at least consoling us for the loss of them.” Nothing is more unreasonable than to confuse the per- son who likes to dine,” as Dr. Johnson expresses it, with the regular gourmand. Why may we be allowed to criticise books, music, pictures, and yet be stigma- tized as gourmands if we discuss that meal upon which our health, our temper, and the preservation of our fac- ulties depends ? Away then with sham deprecations and Spartan indifference, and let us all promote “ the greatest happiness of the greatest number,” by promot- ing the doctrines of those benefactors of their kind — Soyer and Francatelli. The literature of the table supplies us with much in- struction and amusement. We are amazed at the great bounty of nature and the skill of those cooks who have turned that bounty to account. They have taught us to appreciate the turkey fattened on the olives of Mount Hymettus, the minestra del riso of Milan, the char of the Lake of Geneva, the red trout of Andernach, the crawfish of the Rhine, the white truffles of Piedmont, the wild boar of South Germany, che hecafico of the Pontine Marshes, the whitebait of the Thames, the Pulborough eel, and the canvas-backed duck of America. They have invented dishes and combinations to tempt the daintiest appetite, and have labored from morning till night to procure the satis- faction and enjoyment of others. Wonderful is the l^iograj)hy of these men of science. It is related of the Prince of Soubise (immortalized by the sauce named after him) that he one day announced to his DINNER PARTIES. 155 cook (a man of science, and gifted with princely notions of expenditure) that he was going to give a supper next day, and demanded a menu and an estimate. The estimate was presented, and the first item on which the prince cast his eyes stood thus Fifty hams.’’ “ What ! ” said he : ‘‘ you must be out of your senses ! Are you going to feast my whole regiment 'I ” “ No, monseigneur,” replied the cook : “ only one ham will appear on the table ; the rest are not the less necessary for my garniture^ my blonds^ my ” You are plun- dering me ! ” interrupted the prince, ‘‘ and this article shall not pass.” Oh ! my lord,” replied the indig- nant artist, you do not understand our resources ; give the word, and those fifty hams which confound you, I will put them all into a glass bottle no higher than my thumb.” The prince, of course, gave way. Every one knows the story of poor Vatel, the maWe d’hote! of Conde, as given by Madame de Sevigne. “ I wrote to you yesterday,” says Madame de Sevigne, “ that Vatel had killed himself ; I here give you the affair in detail. The king arrived on the evening of Thursday : the collation was served in a room hung with jonquils ; all was as could be wished. At supper there were some tables where the roast was wanting, in consequence of the arrival of more guests than had been expected. This affected Vatel. He said several times, ‘ I am dishonored ; this is a disgrace that I cannot endure.’ He said to Gourville, ‘ My head is dizzy, I have not slept for twelve nights ; assist me in giving orders.’ Gourville mentioned the matter to the prince : the prince went to the chamber of Vatel and said to him, Watel, all is going on well; nothing DINNER PARTIES. 156 could equal the supper of the king.’ He replied, ‘ Monseigneur, your goodness overpowers me. I know that the roast was wanting at two tables.’ ‘ Nothing of the sort,’ said the prince ; ‘ do not distress yourself ; all is going on well.’ ... He rose at four next morning, determined to attend to everything in person. He found everybody asleep. He met one of the inferior purveyors, who brought only two packages of sea-fish ; he asked, ‘ Is that all ? ’ ‘ Yes, sir.’ The man was not aware that Vatel had sent to all the sea-ports. The other purveyors did not arrive ; his brain began to turn ; he believed there would be no more fish. He sought Gourville and said to him, ‘ I shall never survive this disgrace.’ He went up to his room, placed his sword against the door, and stabbed himself to the heart. . . . The duke wept.” Cooks can no more bear indifference than disgrace. The Duke of Wellington once requested a connoisseur to recommend him a good chef de cuisine. Felix, with whom the late Lord Seafield was reluctantly about to part on economic grounds, was recommended and en- gaged. Some months afterwards this connoisseur was dining with Lord Seafield, and before the first course was over said, “ So I find you have got the duke s cook to dress your dinner ? ” “I have got Felix,” replied Lord Seafield, “ but he is no longer the duke’s cook. The poor fellow came to me with tears in his eyes, and begged to be taken back again at reduced wages, or at no wages at all, for he was determined to remain no longer at Apsley House. ‘ Has the duke been find- ing fault?’ 1 asked. ‘Oh no! my lord,’ replied Felix ; ‘ I would stay if he had. He is the kindest of DmNER PARTIES. 157 masters ; but I serve him a dinner that would make Ude or Francatelli burst with envy,, and he says noth- ing. I go out and leave him to dine on a dinner badly dressed by the cook-maid, and still he says nothing. Dat hurt my feelings, my lord.’ ” The taste for French cookery is fortunately becom- ing more general ; and Soyer, by means of his soup- kitchen, has done more good in his generation than many a vaunted philanthropist. There is a French proverb that says, La soupe fait le soldat ; ” and there is no doubt that if our working classes would introduce soup into their cuisine, the public physique would be immeasurably improved. There is no accounting for tastes in the matter of dishes. Dr. Johnson preferred ^‘a boiled leg of pork, with the meat hanging in rags about the bone, plum sauce with the pork, and a veal pie.” Lord Byron’s favorite dish was boiled eggs and bacon. The late Lord Dudley could not dine completely without an apple-pie ; and when dining at Prince Esterhazy’s, was terribly put out on finding that his favorite delicacy was wanting. God bless me ! ” he kept murmuring to himself, no apple-pie ! ” Mr. Pitt’s great recreation, after the fatigue of public and parliamentary business, was to steal into the coun- try, enter a clean cottage, and there eat bread and cheese like any ploughman. Givers of dinners should lose no time in making themselves acquainted with all that has been written by the great masters of gastronomy. The following golden rules of Brillat-Savarin should be committed to mem- ory : — 158 DINNER PARTIES. “ Let not the number of the guests exceed twelve, so that the conversation may be general. Let them be so selected that their occupations shall be varied, their tastes similar, their points of contact so numerous that to introduce them shall scarcely be necessary. Let the dining-room be superbly lighted, the cloth of exquisite fineness and gloss, the temperature of the room from 13° to 16° Reaumur (60^^ to 68° Fahren- heit). ‘‘ Let the men be cultivated, without pretensions ; and the ladies charming, without coquetry. “ Let the dishes be exceedingly choice, but not too numerous ; and every wine first-rate of its kind. “ Let the order of dishes be from the substantial to the light, and of wines from the simplest to those of richest bouquet. ‘‘Let the business of eating be very slow, the dinner being the last act of the day’s drama; and let the guests and host consider themselves as so many travel- lers journeying leisurely towards the same destination. “ Let the coffee be hot and the liqueur be chosen by the host. “ Let the drawing-room be large enough for a game of cards, if any of the guests cannot do without it, and yet have space enough remaining for after-dinner con- versation. “ Let the guests be retained by the attractions of the party, and animated with the hope of some evening meeting again under the same pleasant auspices. “ Let not the tea be too strong ; let the toast be buttered in the most scientific manner ; let the punch be prepared to perfection. DINNER PARTIES. 1 59 “ Let no one depart before eleven o'clock and no one be in bed later than twelve. ‘‘If any one has been present at a party fulfilling these conditions, he may boast of having been present at his own apotheosis." A dinner need not be costly to be attractive. Walker, in his celebrated Original," observes : Common soup made at home, fish of little cost, any joints, the cheapest vegetables, some happy and unex- pected introduction (as a finely-dressed crak, or a pud- ding) — provided everything is good in quality, and the dishes are well dressed, and served hot, and in succes- sion, with their adjuncts — will ensure a quantity of en- joyment which no one need be afraid to offer." Observe, however, these three little words, with their adjuncts. Herein lies the gist of the sentence ; here speaks the wisdom of the practised diner. On the prompt and quick serving of these same adjuncts " half the enjoyment of dinner depends. How often an excellent dinner is spoilt by the slow arrival, or non-ar- rival, of those necessary condiments without which neither meat nor vegetables have their proper flavors. Tke best beef is spoilt if it cools while we are waiting for the mustard ; veal is almost uneatable if the lemon has been forgotten, or the broiled bacon omitted ; as- paragus, though served in December, would cease to be a delicacy if sent up without melted butter and toast. The mistress of a house should never leave these small details to the memory or judgment of her cook ; but should order the accustomed ‘‘ adjuncts " with each dish. To know these things is not difficult, and not to know them is to shock the prejudices or disappoint the l6o DINNER PARTIES appetites of those who have been accustomed to the received routine of cookery. We have known an ex- cellent and accomplished lady so ignorant of these bye- laws of cookery as to order carrots with roast beef and roast pork, and omit them with boiled. Small stands of pepper, mustard, and salt should be placed to every two guests at a dinner party, that no one may be kept waiting for the means of seasoning, according to his taste, the food which has been placed before him. To permit one’s servants to serve the whole table with any one dish before they proceed to go round with the sauce or vegetables is simply to spoil the enjoyment of any guest at the table. Servants should make the round of the table in pairs, the sauce or vegetables being offered to each diner immediately after the meat. A wealthy man will study to give the best dinners that money and taste can provide. But money, let us ever remember, is not taste ; and though we may grudge no expense in order to please our guests, too great a display of wealth and profusion is bourgeois to the last degree. To provide everything that is out of season and nothing that is in season, savors of pretension. The common sense of a good dinner is to have things when they are early and really at their best. A very choice and not over sumptuous dinner is ever the most elegant. Rare delicacies from a distance are recherche\ such as canvas-backed ducks from America, ortolans, etc., etc. Wines should always be of the choicest. Certain wines arc taken with certain dishes, by old-established custom — as sherry, or sauterne, with soup and fish ; hock DINNER PARTIES. l6l ind claret with roast meat ; punch with turtle ; cham- Dagne with whitebait ; port with venison ; port, or bur- gundy, with game ; sparkling wines between, the roast ind the confectionery ; madeira with sweets ; port with :heese ; and for dessert, port, tokay, madeira, sherry, and :laret. Red wines should never be iced, even iii sum- ner. Claret and burgundy should always be slightly varmed. As a rule, very choice wines should not be ced at all. A decanter of wine or water may be readily cooled by folding a wet cloth about it and placing it in a cur- rent of air. An admirable kind of wine jug has lately been in- vented with an ice receptacle in the side, by means of which the wine is even more effectually iced than with an ice pail. For champagne cup, claret cup, or effer- vescing wines, this kind of jug is most desirable. Instead of cooling their wines in the ice pail, some hosts have of late years introduced clear ice upon the table, broken up in small lumps, to be put inside the glasses. This is an innovation that cannot be too strictly reprehended or too soon abolished. Melting ice can but weaken the quality and flavor of- the wine. Those who desire to drink wine and water can ask for iced water if they choose, but it savors too much of economy on the part of a host to insinuate the ice inside the glasses of his guests, when the wine could be more effectually iced outside the bottle. Great care is necessary in decanting wine, so as not to shake or cork it. Rare French wines should be brought to table in baskets, as decanting injures the flavor. Each wine at the best tables has its own distinctive V II DINNER PARTIES. 162 glass. Very broad and shallow glasses are used for sparkling wines ; large goblet-shaped glasses for bur- gundy and claret ; ordinary wine glasses for sherry and madeira ; green glasses for hocK ; and somewhat large bell-shaped glasses for port. While on the subject of wines, it may be observed, en passant, that it is considered very vulgar to sav “ port wine or “ sherry wine.” In England no well-bred person speaks oi either as anything but “port” or “sherry.” No well-bred Frenchman, on the other hand, would speak of wines except as “ vin de Champagne,” “ vin de Grave,” “ vin de Bordeaux.” This is one of the many instances in which the good manners of one country are the vulgarity of another. As there are, and probably ever will be, a certain number of persons who cling to old customs, who still challenge their friends to take wine, and persist in hav- ing their dinners served in the old-fashioned manner, we subjoin a few observations which would not be applica- ble to dinners and dinner customs where the table is dressed d, la Russe. The gentlemen who support the lady of the house should offer to relieve her of the duties of hostess. Many ladies are well pleased thus to delegate the dif- ficulties of carving, and all gentlemen who accept invi- tations to dinner should be prepared to render such as- sistance when called upon. To offer to carve a dish, and then perform the office unskilfully, is an unpar- donable Every gentleman should carve, and carve well. The soup should be placed on the table first. Some old- fashioned persons still place soup and fish together, but DINNER PARTIES. 163 “ it is a custom more honored in the breach than the observance.’’ Still more old-fashioned, and in still worse taste, is it to ask your guests if they will take ‘‘ soup or fish.” They are as much separate courses as the fish and the meat, and all experienced diners take both. In any case, it is inhospitable to appear to force a choice upon a visitor, when that visitor, in all proba- bility, will prefer to take his soup first and his fish after- wards, All well-ordered dinners begin with soup, wheth- er in summer or winter. The lady of the house should help it, and send it round without asking each individual in turn — it is as much an understood thing as the bread beside each plate • and those who do not choose it are always at liberty to leave it untasted. If the servants do not go round with wine, the gentle- men should help themselves to sherry or sauterne with the soup. As a general rule, it is better not to ask your guests if they will partake of the dishes, but to send the plates round, and let them accept or decline them as they please. At very large dinners it is sometimes customary to distribute little lists of the order of the dishes at in- tervals along the table. It must be confessed that this gives somewhat the air of a dinner at an hotel ; but it has the advantage of enabling the visitors to select their fare, and, as forewarned is forearmed,” to keep a cor ner, as the children say, for their favorite dishes. In helping soup, fish, or any other dish, remember that to overfill a plate is as bad as to supply it too scantily. Always help fish with a fish-slice, and tart and 164 DINNER PARTIES. puddings with a spoon, or, if necessary, a spoon and fork. Asparagus must be helped with the asparagus-tongs. In helping sauce, always pour it on the side of the plate. We have already said that the habit of challenging one’s friends to wine, and of drinking toasts, is entirely disused in the best society ; but, for those who at fam- ily parties still indulge in an old-fashioned toast or sen- timent, we subjoin a few hints on the bygone etiquette of the “ wine-taking ” school. If you arc asked to take wine, it is polite to select the same as that which your interlocutor is drinking. If you invite a lady to take wine, you should ask her which she will prefer, and then take the same yourself. Should you, however, for any reason prefer some other vintage, you can take it by courteously requesting her permission. Unless you are a total abstainer, it is extremely un- civil to decline taking wine if you are invited to do so. In accepting, you have only to pour a little fresh wine into your glass, look at the person who invites you, bow slightly, and take a sip from your glass. It is particularly ill-bred to empty your glass on these occasions. A few more general rules, and we have done. If you are asked to prepare fruit for a lady, be care- ful to do so by means of the silver knife and fork only, and never to touch it with your fingers. It is wise never to partake of any dish without know- ing of what ingredients it is composed. You can al- ways ask the servant who hands it to you, and you DINNER PARTIES. 165 thereby avoid all danger of having to commit the im- politeness of leaving it, and showing that you do not approve of it. Be careful never to taste soups or puddings till you are sure they are sufficiently cool ; as, by disregard- ing this caution, you may be compelled to swallow what is dangerously hot, or be driven to the unpardon- able alternative of returning it to your plate. Peas are eaten with the fork. Servants should not wait at table in white gloves, but with a white damask napkin in the hand, the end of which should be wrapped round the thumb. Glass wine-coolers, half filled with water, should be placed to each cover, and the sherry glass placed ' therein — inverted. The lady of the house should never send away her plate, or appear to have done eating, till all her guests iiave finished. If you should unfortunately overturn or break any- thing, do not apologize for it. You can show your re- gret in your face, but it is not well-bred to put it into words. To abstain from taking the last piece on the dish, or the last glass of wine in the decanter, only because it is the last, is highly ill-bred. It implies a fear on your part that the vacancy cannot be supplied, and almost conveys an affront to your host. To those ladies who have houses and servants at command we have one or two remarks to offer. Every housekeeper should be acquainted with the routine of a dinner and the etiquette of a dinner table. No lady should be utterly dependent on the taste and judgment DINNER PARTIES. 1 66 of her cook. Though she need not know how to dress a dish, she should be able to judge of it when served. The mistress of a house, in short, should be to her cook what a publisher is to his authors — that is to say, com- petent to form a judgment upon their works, though himself incapable of writing even a magazine article. If you wish to give a good dinner, and do not know in what manner to set about it, you will do wisely to order it from Birch, Kiihn, or any other first-rate res- taurateur, By these means you ensure the best cook- ery and a faultless carte. Bear in mind that it is your duty to entertain your friends in the best manner that your means permit. This is the least you can do to recompense them for the expenditure of time and money which they incur in accepting your invitation. “ It was a very good din- ner,” said Dr. Johnson, one day, “but not a dinner to invite any one to.” “To invite a friend to dinner,” says Brillat-Savarin, “ is to become responsible for his happiness so long as he is under your roof.” Again, “ He who receives friends at his table, without having bestowed his per- sonal supervision upon the repast placed before them, is unworthy to have friends.” Never reprove your servants before guests. If a dish is not placed precisely where you would have wished it to stand, or the order of a course is reversed, let the error pass unnoticed by yourself, and you may depend that it will remain unnoticed by others. To ladies who have the happiness of being mothers we would say. Never let your children make their ap- txiarance at dessert when you entertain friends at din- DINNER PARTIES. 167 ner ; children are out of place on these occasions. Your guests only tolerate them through politeness; their presence interrupts the genial flow of after-dinner conversation ; and you may rely upon it that, with the exception of yourself and your husband, there is not a person at table who does riot wish them in the nursery. With respect to the general arrangements of a din- ner party, we may quote this dictum of Paulus ^milius, who was the most successful general and best enter- tainer of his time. He said that it required the same sort of spirit to manage a banquet as a battle, with this difference, — that the one should be made as pleasant to friends, and the other as formidable to enemies, as possible. The duties of hostess at a dinner party are not o-ner- ous ; but they demand tact and good breeding, grace of bearing, and self-possession in no ordinary degree. She does not often carve ; she has no active duties to perform ; but she must negleet nothing, forget nothing, put all her guests at their ease, and pay every possible attention to the requirements of each and all around her. No accident must ruffle her temper. No disap- pointment must embarrass her. She must see her old :hina broken without a sigh, and her best glass shat- :ered with a smile. The duties of a host are more difficult. Hear what i modern writer has to say on this important subject : — “ To perform faultlessly the honors of the table is )ne of the most difficult things in society. It might, ndeed, be asserted without much fear of contradiction; hat no man has as yet ever reached exact propriety in lis office as host, or has hit the mean between exerting i68 DINNER RARTIES. himself loo much and too little. His great business is to put every one entirely at his ease, to gratify all his desires, and make him, in a word, absolutely contented with men and things. To accomplish this, he must have the genius of tact to perceive, and the genius of linesse to execute ; ease and frankness of manner ; a knowl- edge of the world that nothing can surprise ; a calm- ness of temper that nothing can disturb ; and a kindness of disposition that can never be exhausted. When here- ceives others, he must be content to forget himself ; he must relinquish all desire to shine, and even all at- tempts to please his guests by conversation, and rather do all in hb power to let them please one another. He behaves to them without agitation, without affecta- tion ; he pays attention without an air of protection ; he encourages the timid, draws out the silent, and di- rects conversation without sustaining it himself. He who does not do all this is wanting in his duty as host , he who does is more than mortal,' ' In conclusion, we have a few words to offer on the subject of mmns in general. For an ordinary dinner the following mdnu is suffi- cient — One kind of soup, one -kind of fish, two entrees^ a roast, a boil, two sweets, game, cheese, ice, dessert, and coffee. For a more ceremonious dinner — two soups (one white, the other clear), two kinds of fish, and four e7i- trees are necessary. Bread should be cut for table not less than an inch thick, but rolls are preferable. Pea-soup, roast pork, and boiled beef are never seen upon good tables. DINNER PARTIES. 169 Of all animal food, venison is the most digestible. Entrees are those dishes which are served in the first course, after the fish. EntremHs are those dishes which are served in the second course, after the roast. The Earl of Dudley is reported to have said, that a good soup, a small turbot, a neck of venison, ducklings with green peas, a chicken with asparagus, and apricot tart, is a dinner fit for an emperor — when he cannot get a better.” A turkey will be much improved by roasting it cov- ered with bacon and paper. A Christmas turkey should be hung from a fortnight to three weeks. A guinea-fowl and pheasant are advantageously dressed together. The Almanach des Gourmands says, ‘‘ A delicious sauce will cause you to eat an elephant.” Currie powder consists of turmeric, black pepper, coriander seeds, cayenne, fenu*greek, cardamoms, cumin, ginger, allspice, and cloves. The ingredients may be bought of most seedsmen, and with a common pestle and mortar currie powder may be prepared at a cost of 2d, per ounce. The only secret of dressing vegetables, so as to pre- serve their fresh green color, is an open saucepan, plenty of water, a proper quantity of salt, and fast boiling. Boiled beetroot, white haricot beans, and fried pars- nips are excellent accompaniments to roast mutton. The Spanish proverb says, Four persons are wanted to make a good salad : a spendthrift for oil, a miser for vinegar, a counsellor for salt, and a madman to stir it all up.” DINNER PARTIES. 170 Cheese taken at the close of the dinner assists diges- tion. Nothing is more generally wholesome than good table-beer. Pears may be kept by tipping their stalks with seal- ing wax. Wines should vary with the season. Light wines are best in summer ; in winter generous wines are prefera- ble. The custom of taking coffee after a very late dinner is bad, since its stimulant properties exert a power destructive to sleep. Mr. Walker, in his ‘‘ Original,’’ says, One of the greatest luxuries, to my mind, in dining, is to be able to command plenty of good vegetables, well served. Excellent potatoes, smoking hot, accompanied by melted butter of the first quality, would alone stamp merit on any dinner ; but they are as rare on state occasions as if they were of the cost of pearls.” Menus of four choice dinners, adapted to each season of the year : — I. JANUARY. (For ten persons.) Consommd soup, with quenelles. Turbot, with Dutch sauce. Two Removes, Braized fillet of veal, larded h la Chateaubriand. Roast turkey, with purt^e of mushrooms. DINNER PARTIES. For Entrees, Oyster Kromeskys h la Russe. Pork cutlets, sauce Robert. Partridges k la Prince of Wales. Supreme of fowls k la Macedoine; Second Course. Pintail. Snipes. One Remove, Fonda of Parmesan cheese. Four EntremHs, Salad k la Rachel. Vol-au-vent of preserved greengages. Plombieres cream iced. Braized celery with brown sauce. II. APRIL. (For eight persons.) Cray-fish soup. Spey trout, parsley sauce. Two Removes, Boiled fowls, oyster sauce. Glazed tongue a la jardiniere Two Entries, Lamb cutlets, asparagus, peas. Boudins of rabbits k la Reine. Second Course. Lobster salad. Green goose. DINNER PARTIES. Four EntremHs» Orange fritters. Tapioca pudding. Wine jelly. Potatoes h la Lyonnaise, III. JUNE. (For twelve persons.) Puree of green peas^ soup. Stewed sturgeon, matelotte sauce. Fillets of mackerel h la maitre d’hotel. Two Removes, Rost forequarter of lamb. Spring ciiickens h la Montmorency Four Entrees, Fillets of ducklings, with green peas. Mutton cutlets a la Wyndham. Blanquette of chicken with cucumbers Timbale of macaroni k la Milanaise. Second Course. Pigeons. Leveret, Trao Removes, Flemish gauffres. Iced souffle. DTNNh:K PARTIES. 173 Six Entremets. French beans stewed. Mayonnaise of chicken. Peas a la Frangaise. Peach jelly with noyau. Love’s wells glace with chocolate. Flave of apricots and rice. IV. OCTOBER. (For eight persons.) Potage a la Julienne. Baked haddock, Italian sauce. Two Removes. Braized neck of mutton, en chevreuil. Roast pheasant h la Chipolata. Two Entrees. Pork cutlets, tomato sauce. Curried rabbit and rice. Second CoursEo Roast blackcock. Oyster omelette. Eour EntremHs. Potatoes ^ la Duchesse. Blanc mange. Apple tartlets. Semolina pudding. 174 DINNER PARTIES. To conclude, we give the menu of a first-rate Christ- mas dinner : — CHRISTMAS DINNER. Turtle soup. Turbot ^ la Vatel. Fillets of sole, k- la Tartare. Three Removes, Roast turkey, Perigueux sauce. Braized ham k la jardiniere. Spiced round of beef. Four Entries, Marrow patties. Salmi of pheasants k la financiere. Sweetbreads k la Saint Cloud. Mutton cutlets k la Vicomtesse. Second Course. Woodcocks. Grouse. Mince pies. Plum pudding. Six Entremets, Broccoli with Parmesan cheese. Italian creams. Croute k I’Ananas. Salad k la Rachel. Meringues k la Parisienne. Punch jelly. ENGAGEMENT AND MARRIAGE. 175 ENGAGEMENT AND MARRIAGE ETIQUETTE. Courtship is one of those crises in the course of life when to act by rule is impossible, and where feeling and good sense will prove one’s best and often one’s only counsellors. No wise man will weary a lady with too much of his presence, or risk being regarded as a bore. No well-bred woman will receive a man’s attentions — however acceptable — too eagerly ; nor will she carry reserve so far as to be altogether discouraging. It is quite possible for a lady to let it be seen that such and such a pretendant is not disagreeable to her without actually encouraging him. It is equally possible for a man to show attention, and even assiduity, up to a certain point, without becoming a lover. No man likes to be refused, and no man of tact will risk a refusal. Unless the lady is false, or a downright coquette, a man ought always to be able to judge whether he will be favorably heard, before he ventures upon his offer. With regard to the manner of the offer, it is impos- sible to offer advice ; all must depend on circumstances. Is the lover nervous or not nervous 't Has he a per- suasive tongue } Does he speak well under trying circumstances ? Has he a good manner ? an agreeable person } If he possesses these qualifications, he will do well to make his offer in person. If, on the contrary, he is bashful, or labors under any defect of speech, or is likely to break down, or is not prepared to take a refusal gracefully, or in any way mistrusts his own tact and presence of mind, he had far better entrust liis cause to his pen. 176 ENGAGEMENT AND MARRIAGE. The man who makes, an offer of marriage must always remember that he is a petitioner. Unequal marriages are most unadvisable ; but be the lady ever so inferior in birth, in fortune, or in position, the lover must still bear in mind that he is asking for her liberty, her obedience, her life-companionship, herself. He must ask with humility and receive with gratitude. We suppose him accepted. His conduct as a Jianci must be tender, assiduous, unobtrusive. He must evince the utmost respect towards every member of the lady’s family. He must by no means act as if he considered himself already a member of that family, or venture upon being in any way unduly familiar. He must for the present content himself with the position of a devoted friend only ; testifying interest in all that concerns the welfare of the family to which he hopes to unite himself, and losing no opportunity of rendering them any service that may lie in his power. All airs of mastership, all foolish display of jealousy, should be avoided. Lovers’ quarrels are as earnestly to be dreaded and deprecated as the quarrels of hus- bands and wives, or brothers and sisters. Quarrels cannot but impair mutual respect and diminish love. The lady, on the other hand, must not be exacting or capricious ; must not flirt with others ; must not be too demonstrative ; and must never find fault without a cause. Both should remember that they are in the first stage of what is to be a lifelong friendship, and should manifest the utmost degree of mutual candor, confidence and sympathy. It rnust surely be unnecessary to hint, that no ap- proach towards familiarity must ever be indulged in. ENGAGEMENT AND MARRIAGE. 1 77 The most perfect reserve in courtship, even in cases of the most ardent attachment, is indispensable to the happiness of the married life to come. All public displays of devotion should be avoided. They tend to lessen mutual respect, and make the actors ridiculous in the eyes of others. It is- quite possible for a man to show every conceivable attention to the lady to whom he is engaged, and yet to avoid committing the slightest offence against delicacy or good taste. Ladies should remember that nothing takes the bloom so completely off a man’s admiration, as untidi- ness in the woman he loves. A lady’s dress should be at all times exquisitely clean and neat. He, on his side, should be chivalrously conformable to her tastes, giv- ing up smoking or any other habits to which she may object; and, above all things, paying no undue at- tentions to other women. The gentleman presents the lady with a ring as soon as they are engaged. If her parents permit her to ac- cept many presents, the lover will not fail to surround her with tokens of his devotion : if, however, this habit is not encouraged, he can spend as much money as he pleases in offering her flowers of the rarest and cost- liest kinds. These she can always accept and he may always offer. A sensible man will not give more presents than he can justly afford. It is the lady’s privilege to fix the wedding day. The marriage settlement is an important point. No parent or guardian should allow his child or ward to marry without having a part of her fortune secured upon herself. The young lady may be over-generous, but her advisers will do well to act upon their own 178 ENGAGEMENT AND MARRIAGE. judgment in this matter. It is quite as advantageous to the husband as to herself, since, in case of unlooked- for loss or misfortune, there is a sure provision for his wife and children. Professional men, clerks, com mercial travellers, and all that numerous class of men who are dependent upon their health for the mainte nance of their family, are in duty bound to insure their lives for the benefit of their survivors. To return to the marriage settlement. An allow- ance for the lady^s dress and pocket money should always be made, and so administered that the wife will not have to ask for it in season and out of season, but receive it as promptly as if it were a dividend. Special licenses are no longer de rigueur. The cere- mony is generally performed by ordinary licence, either in the parish or some fashionable church. Ir country places, persons of the highest rank are ofter married by banns. The trousseau should be in accordance with the means of the bride. It is preposterous for ladies of middle-class rank and limited means to provide them- selves with showy, useless outfit ; and in all cases a bridal trousseau should consist less of dresses, bonnets, and things of ephemeral fashion, than of linen, laces. French, Indian, or Cashmere shawls, jewellery, and the like. The bridesmaids may be from two to twelve in number. The bride’s sisters, and the bridegroom’s nearest female relations, should be bridesmaids if pos- sible. A very young lady should have bridesmaids of her own age, ])ut a bride who is no longer in her girl- hood should chose bridesmaids who will not make hei ENGAGEMENT AND MARRIAGE. lyg look old and ugly by comparison. The bridesmaids may wear veils, and should always be dressed in white trimmed with delicate colors. Except at very large wed- ding breakfasts, it is customary to invite only relatives and very intimate friends to the dejeuner. In the former case, invitations on printed cards are sent out by the bride’s parents or guardians. The French bridal costume is much simpler and prettier than the English, and we should be glad to see :t imitated. It consists of a dress of white tulle over A'hite silk, a long veil of white tulle reaching to the feet, ind a wreath of maiden-blush roses interspersed with rrange blossoms. In England rich lace is worn over vhite satin or silk, and the veil is generally of costli- est lace. Widows and ladies of middle age are married in tonnets. The bridegroom wears elegant morning iress, light trousers, a dark blue frockcoat, and a ;olored neck-tie. Nothing black is admissible at a vedding. The order of going to church is as follows; — The )ridesmaids and members of the bride’s family set off irst ; the bride goes last with her father and mother, ir with her mother alone, and the relative who is to epresent her father if he be dead or absent. The iridegroom, bridesmaids, and “ best man,” ought to be waiting in the church. The father of the bride gives er his arm and leads her to the altar, where the clerk rranges the rest of the party. The “best man ’’should distribute the different fees D the clergyman, the clerk, and the pew-opener, before le arrival of the bride. The bride stands to the left l8o ENGAGEMEi.li AND MARRIAGE. of the bridegroom, and takes the glove off her left hand, whilst he takes the glove off his right hand. The bride gives her glove to her bridesmaids to hold. Perfect self-control should be exhibited by all parties during the ceremony : nothing is more undignified than exhi bitions of feeling in public. People who have no self- control had better remain at home. After the ceremony comes the signing of the register. There must be no kissing in the vestry, as in former days. The bride quits the church first with the bride- groom, and they drive away together in his carriage the rest follow in their own carriages. The bridegroom should be liberal in his fees, if he can afford to be so. A rich man may give any sum tc the officiating clergyman, from one hundred dollars to five hundred; the usual fee is fifteen dollars. For people of moderate means, from twenty-five to fifty dollars is ample. The breakfast should be supplied by a first-rate con fectioner, and the table should be as beautiful a^ flowers, plate, glass, and china can make it. The ordi nary menu of a wedding breakfast is as follows : — Tea coffee, wines, cold game and poultry, lobster salads chicken and fish a la Mayonnaise, hams, tongues, pot ted meats, game pies, savory jellies, Italian creams ices, and cold sweets of every description. Before the healths are drunk, the wedding cak( should be cut and handed round. The order of the healths is as follows : — The oldest friend of the family proposes the health o the bride and bridegroom. The bridegroom returns thanks for himself and wife and proposes the health of the bridesmaids. ENGAGEMENT AND MARRIAGE. l8l The best man returns thanks for the bridesmaids. The same old friend, or another, proposes the health of the bride’s parents. The father of the bride returns thanks, and proposes the health of the bridegroom’s parents. The bridegroom’s father returns thanks. Other toasts are optional : the health of the officiat- ing clergyman, however, if he be present, should not be forgotten. When the breakfast comes to an end, the bride re- tires, and the company repair to the drawing-room. At a wedding breakfast gentlemen do not remain behind to drink wine. The bride departs on her wedding trip in elegant morning dress. Fees to servants must depend upon circumstances. From a rich bridegroom large sums are expected, but from persons of moderate means extravagant fees would be out of place. The bridegroom usually pre- sents each bridesmaid with some elegant trinket, which should be the best of its kind. No distinction should be made ui these gifts. The bridegroom usually pre- sents the bride with some useful and costly article. Where the circle of friends on both sides is very ex- tensive, it has of late become customary to send invita- tions to such as are not called to the wedding feast, to attend the ceremony at church. This stands in place of issuing cards. When this rule is observed, it is usual, in notifying the marriage jn the newspapers, to add the words “ No cards.” 1 82 ETIQUETTE FOR FUNERALS. ETIQUETTE FOR FUNERALS. As the saddest of all events, death, calls for the sym- pathy of relatives and friends, there are certain forms to be observed out of consideration for the mourners and respect for the occasion. It is customary to intrust the details of the cere- . mony to some relative or near friend, who will proceed to make all the necessary arrangements, thus relieving the members of the family from many painful discussions and interviews. Should there be no one to attend to the matter, the whole arrangement should be placed in the hands of the undertaker. The expenses should depend upon the position in life of the deceased person,^ or the means of the sur- vivors. The arrangements for the funeral should be such as to show proper respect for the de^d, rather than a pompous display, denoting vulgarity and osten- tation ; on the other hand, illiberality or meanness in expenditure is to be avoided. If invitations are issued, the following form is cus- tomary, either written or printed on note paper, edged with black, the envelope to correspond : Yourself and family are respectfully requested to attend the funeral of Mr. Joseph L. Elliott, from the residence of his mother, Mrs. Mary Elliott, on Thursday 27th inst., at two o^clock. Interment at Greenwood. No. 27 Ave Oct, 24th. ETIQUETTE FOR FUNERALS. 1 83 The director of the ceremonies should have a list of the invited guests in the order in which they are to be placed in the carriages. Should no invitations be issued the notice in the newspapers should read ‘‘ without further invitation.’’ In this case no especial order is requisite for the plac- ing of the guests, who simply follow in the carriages after the members of the family. Guests should not present themselves at a funeral before the hour appointed, the family paying their last sad visit to the coffin previous to that hour, when all intrusion upon them is a breach of good manners. The remains are usually exposed in the parlor, while the family congregate in another room. As the period approaches for the last visit, the undertaker will notify the family, who, after paying the last respects to the remains, will immediately return to the apartment from which they issued, remaining there until the close of the ceremony. In case of the services being held in church, the re- mains are placed in front of the chancel, the lid re- moved, and the friends (at the end of the service) will pass from the feet to the head, up one aisle and down another. Should the funeral take place at the house, it is proper that some relative not immediately connected with the family of the deceased should receive the guests and do the honors of the occasion. As the ladies of the family are not expected to see the guests at such a time no one should take offence at being refused admittance to their privacy ; in fact it is not customary to see the family before the funeral, but 184 ETIQUETTE FOR FUNERALS. cards can be sent, and services offered by note. As to , the gentlemen of the family, it is optional with them. ^ Ladies attending a funeral, if not in mourning, should : dress in grave, quiet colors. Gentlemen should remove their hats on entering the house and not replace them while there, and should conversation ensue, let it be in low grave tones ; loud talking or laughing shows disrespect for the dead and slight consideration for the grieving family. All quarrels or ill feeling between individuals meet- ing at a funeral should be forgotten, and all such, more especially in the presence of death, are bound by the common usage of society, if not by feeling, to salute each other with a quiet gravity. The privilege of following the remains to the grave is denied the ladies of the house by strict etiquette. After the services the clergyman leaves the house first and enters the carriage (which must be sent in time for him to be at the house at the appointed hour) pre- ceding the hearse. Then follow the remains ; the next carriage is for the family and relations, and while the mourners are pass- ing the visitors should uncover. The undertaker must precede the family as they pass to their carriage, open the door, assist them in, then closing the door, motion to the driver to move forward, while the next carriage advances, and so on until all those guests who intend following the remains to the grave are seated. The same order is to be observed at the church, where the undertaker or director of ceremonies assists the ETIQUETTE FOR FUNERALS. 1 85 mourners to leave and re-enter the carriages, the visit- ors following after. It is left for the family decision as to flowers ; for children, pure white, and for adults, white and purple, ivy, pansies, etc. When arrived at the cemetery the clergyman walks in advance of the coffln, while the guests assemble around the grave. In returning from the funeral it is optional with the visitors as to returning to the house ; each may direct the driver where to convey him. Should the family physician attend the funeral he should be seated in the carriage immediately following that of the family. The nearest friends of the deceased are designated as pall-bearers, should such arrangement be determined upon. And for young people* the pall-bearers should be such of their young friends as they most associated with while living. People in deep mourning are not expected to pay visits of condolence, neither can they accept funeral or other invitations ; but all those out of mourning should never hesitate in responding by their presence to an in- vitation of this kind. In the purchase of the necessary mourning for the ladies of the family an intimate female friend or near relative is the proper person to attend to it, and for that of the gentlemen, a male friend or near relative. Cards for the family should be left during the week following the funeral, and calls can be made on mem- bers of the same a fortnight later. 1 86 ETIQUETTE FOR FUNERALS. In the interval of the death and burial no female member of the family should leave the house upon any pretext whatever. Should the deceased have belonged to a society, the members of such order should be invited through a note sent to the president of the order, who will arrange with the director of the ceremonies as to any special \forms the said society or order would like to have ob- served, if agreeable, always, to the family, and should the notice of such death be published in , the newspapers the name of the lodge, society, or other order to which the deceased may have belonged should be carefully specified. It is not customar}^, neither is it proper, to send invi- tations to attend the funeral of one who has died of a contagious disease ; a simple notice of the death, and the statement “ funeral private,” is all that is required, and will be readily understood. When visiting a cemetery never stand and stare at mourners assembled in a lot, neither in any way notice those who may be decorating the graves of friends. EXCELSIOR SELECTIONS. ▲ eollectioD of the most popular and successful Readings and Recitations adapted for Public or Parlor Entertainments. .besides the New and Original pieces never before published in permanent form, this volumo rinsB together many of the best selections of Humorous, Dramatie, Sentimental, Patriotie. illo> sent, Pathetic and Dialect pieces in prose and poetry. * * It is the Newest and Handsomest book of its kind ever published. ax Italient sleep at the Switch achelor’s Dream, The efore and After Taking' oy's Essay on Girls, A order Pimeral, A rother Bill rother Gardner on Liara ells of Shaudon Ishop of Ross, The ailding and Being attle of Waterloo, The enediction iddy Maginness at the Photog* rapher’s lily’s Rose lack Horse and His Rider, The ook Canvasser, The rier Rose ^ &ne-Bottomed Chair luntryman at the Show, The iown’s Baby, The )w, The. A Boy’s Composition. larity Dinner, The innor •azy Kate addle Doon tlifornian and ft New Tork Segar. A loch the Piper itaract of Lodore, Thft itawba Wine illdrcn We Keep, Thft linese Excelsior, The othing Business, Tho lals of Fire imo irfew Must Not Ring To-Night ; Cake Walk ;ath-Bed of Benedict Arnold •ummer’s Bride, The •ath of the Old Squire, The )t Baby off Mine am a of Three, The lel betwe»Mr. Shott and Mr. Nott !ath of Roneeplerre, Tho ffloulty in Rhyming igineers Making Lovo In’s Flag say on the Elephant ligrants, The ther Front’s Sermon re man ’8 Story, The iher’g Wife, The ee Seat, A eckled-Paced Girl, The enchman’s Version ef Yonng Jorval jward Duster, Tho rmor .John irlcss De Courcy, The ksh. (The Fireman's Storv) ' Cogitation, A mule’s Picture log to School COINTTEIVTS. Granger and the Gambler, The He Understood It Horse or Husband How We Fought the Fire His Last Court How “ Ruby ” Played How Sockery Set a Hen Her Rival How Girls Study How Jaue Conquest Rang the Bell In Der Shweed Long Ago Intensely Utter Inventor’s Wife, The Irrepressible Yankee, The Jim’s Kids Jiners, The Justice in Leadville Jack Kate Maloney Katrina’s Visit to NeW York Knight’s Toast, The Kitchen Clock, The Little Meg and I Lost Grave, The Legend of lunisfallen, The Loot and Found Left Life Boat, The Life’s Magnet Marriage Tour Mary’s Lamb Minor’s Protegee, The Modern Sermon, A Music Grinders, The Maniac, The Mr. Fisher’s Bereavement My Neighbor’s Baby Mary’s Lamb on a New Principle Maud Rosihue’s Choice Miss Maloney on the Chinese Question Moll Jarvis O’Marley Mrs. Smart Learns How to Skate My Garden My Lover Ninety-eight No. 5 Collect St« Not Opposed to Matrimony Nora Murphy and the Spirits Nancy Now and Then Old Actor’s Story, The Old Sergeant, The On the other Train Oratory and the Press Original Love Story, An Our First Cigars Occupant of Lower No. 8, The Old Man Goes to Town, The Oration on the Labor Question Over the Hill from the Poor House Over the Hill to the Poor House Old Man In the Palace Car, The Our Travelled Parson Paddy's Lament Parson Snow’s Broad HInft Philip Barton, Engineer Photograph Album, The Paddy’s Reflections on Clscpti* thera’s Needle Piece of Red Calico Pledge with Wine Providence Pulled him Througli Phryne’s Husband Poor House Nan Railway Matinee, A Religious Card Player Robert Emmet Romance ct a Hammock Rag-picker, The Revenge is Sweet Room Enough for All Shoemaker’s Daughter, The Smiting tho Rock Solomonism S’posin’ Stage Driver’s Story, The Supper of St. Gregory, The Shipwrecked Soft Guitar, The Song of the Shirt Spring House-cleaning Story of the Faithful Soul Street Cries Scandal, A Seedy One. A. (A tale of Prau( and Deception.) Sign Board, The Sister of Charity, The Smoker's Soliloquy, A Tale of the Tenth Hussars Test, A That Queen Trying to Lick the Teacher That Woman Played Despair Tirzah Ann’s Summer Trip To Draw or not to Draw Thread water Jim Two Glasses, The Tale of a Doig, Tho To a Skeleton Trouble in the Ames , Unknown Dead Uncle Ike’s Roosters Uncle Ned's Defensd Valentine, The Widder, The Widow’s Son, Tho Woman at Poker What Inteinpcranoe 0^88 What made him Glad Widow Cummiskey, Tho Wickedest Man in Memp!)^c Winnie's Welcome What is a Gentleman t When Witness, Tho Wounded Wrong Train, 'thO Containing 600 pag^es, bound in extra Clotb, Priee For sale by all Booksellers, or tent postpaid, on receipt of price. CCELSIOB PUBLISHING HOUSE. 29 & 31 Beekman St. New Ydle, :Pat’s Criticism. I Pat’s Letter. Pat and His Musket. Pat and the Oysters. Patrick O’Rouke and tb Frogs. Paudeen 0’R<^fforty’s Sa Voyage. Peter Mulrooney and th I Black Filly. iTim Murphy’s Irish Stev iThe Wake of Tim O’Har; The Widow Cummiskey, Price, 25 cents. BXJKIDE'X’T’S New Comic Recitations & Humorous Reading; CONTENTS. Add. Ryman’s Fourth of IHow She Managed It. [Pyrotechnic Polyglot. July Oration. [How They Plaj the Piano A Receipt for Actors. The Aged Stranger. j in New Orleans. She Meant Badness A Baby’s Soliloquy. IHow to Manage Carpets. |Sbe Was Too Fastidious Be-Yu-Ti-Ful Snow. How Tom Sawyer Got His [A Similar Case. The Blue Bottle Fly. Fence White-washed. ?he Book Agent Beats tbe'Iiow w^^ Hunted a Mouse. Bandit. An Idyl of the Period. The Brakeman at Church. The irrespressible Boy. Brigg’s Rash Bet. 'Ji’'ii Wolfe and the Cats. Buck Fanshawe’s Funeral ,Tohn Spiner’s Shirt. Butterwick’s Little Gai'lLove in Oyster Bay. Bill. Maidens, Beware ! The Captain’s Speech to Mr. Ephraim Muggins on ’ - Oilymargarine. r.. The Simple Story of G Washington. A Speech which ever; Congressman Could Ui' derstand. Spoopendyke’s Suspenoj ers. A Struggle with a Stov Pipe. That Bad Boy Again. That Emerson Boy. That Hired Girl. Toujours Jamais.** Mr. Potts’ Story. A. New Primer. Nobody’s Mule. One of Those Awful Chil- Travelling in a Mixe dren 1 Train. Only a Pin. | The Two Boot Blacks. i Tlie Parent with the Hoof The Villain Still Pursue lie a v 1/ w the Montgomery Guards The Car Conductor’s The Case of Young Bangs. Confessing their Faults., Faithless Sally Brown. Fast Freight. The Frenchman and the Flea Powder. Darius Green and Ills Fly- ing Machine. Trumpet. II« Had Been to Candahar The Puzzled Census How “ Ruby” Played. I Taker. Illustrated paper cover. ------ Price, 25 cents# F®r sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent, post-paid, on receipt of price. EXCELSIOR PUBLISHING HOUSE, t, o. Box 1144, 31 Beckman Street, Wew York, N. 1 A Plea for the Opera. - The Presentation of the Her. The Wrong Ashes. The Yarn of the “Nanc Bell.” W AND POPUI.A!? BOOKS SENT FREE O' POSTAGE AT PRICES ANNEXED XCELSIOR SELECTIOfiS. — A collect'ic ; of the most popular and successful Readings and Recitations adapted for Public or Parlor Entertainments. It is the newest and handsomest book of its kind ever published. Bound in elegant cloth, with gold back and side stamps, and red burnished edges, containing 500 pages. Price $1.00 lUNSMITH’S iVIANUAL. —This work covers de- scriptions of guns and pistols, fitting up a shop, general gunsmithing ; taking apart, cleaning, and putting together ; tools required ; how to make tools ; the work-bench ; working in iron, steel, copper, brass, silver, and wood ; gun-stocks, gun-barrels, tools for breeching guns, tools for chambering breech-loading barrels, etc., etc. A handsome volume of nearly 400 large pages, with numerous engravings, dia- grams, and plates. Cloth. Price $^.00 HE STANDARD SIGN WRITER. -This book is very generally recognized as the standard work on the subject. Its instructions are clear, precise, and practical, and cover just the ground desired by most of the profession. Price „ OPLEY’S PLAm AND ©RNAfi^ENTAL Alplial>etg». — With Examples in every style. Also, the Mechani- cal and Analytical Construction of Letters, Figures, and Titles. With Designs for Titles, Ciphers, Monograms, Borders, Compasses, Flour- ishes, etc., designed as a Text-Book for the use of Draughtsmen, Civil Engineers, Surveyors, Architects, Engravers, Designers, Sign Paint- ers, Schools, etc. Drawn and arranged by Frederick S. Copley. Large quarto, extra cloth. Price OOK OF JAPANESE ORNAN!EF4TA- tion. — A collection of Designs adapted to the use of Decorators, Designers, Sign Painters, Silversmiths, and others. It meets the want created by the prevailing fashion for “Jap,” and will be found highly useful for a variety of purposes. The designs are all practical, and range from the simplest styles to the most elaborate work. Price $2.00 URDETT’S WORLD OF HUMOk.-This novel compilation is rfiade to meet the wants of the many who are always searching for the latest and most popular gems of humor. It :omprises all the best pieces in the diferent dialects, as follows: Vankee, Irish, French, Dutch, and Negro. Containing 500 pages. Bound in cloth, with characteristic design in black and gold stamps. Price $1.50 HE STANDARD HOYLE.: —A new and reliable authority on all games now played in the United States. This book is, without question, the most complete on the subject, containing in ad- lition to all the games of skill and chance, thirty -five new games never .before published in any book. Every game in our Hoyle can be played ^rom the Rules and explanations there given, which is no^ the case with jvery Hoyle published. All the new games given are now popular in ,K)me portion of our conutry. In short, there is no book of its class that j#ntains so much matter ; so much that is new, or presents it so accepta- >ly to the reader. Containing 500 pp., large i2mo, extra cloth. EXCELSIOR PUBLISHING HOUSE, SO and 31 Beekman Street, New Xork, N. Tt NEW AND POPULAR BOOKS SENT FREE OF POSTAGE ATPRICES ANNEXEt BROWN’S RECITER , — ContaininjT 73 Selections popular recitations and Readings, rnaiiy of which have nevc before appeared in print. There are more funny selections i this book than serious ones, because the author has found thn people like fun better than sadness. It contains 202 page- Paper Cover, Price cents; cloth, 75 cents EXCELSIOR LUMBER LOG BOOK ANr Rapid Reckoner. — Containing tables of Board, Scant ling and Plank Measuie, Cubic Contents of Square and Roun- Timber, Cubic Contents of Round Timber when Squarec; Logs Reduced to inch Board Measure, Standard Contents o Logs, Wood Measure in Load and Pile, Cost of Wood, Cost t Lumber, Weight of Grains per Bushel, Contents of Granerie?^ Bins, etc., Capacity of Cisterns, Weight of Seasoned Lumbe per 1000 feet, Weight of Solids per Cubic Foot, Liquors pe Gallon, Wood per Cord, Length of Nails and Number in . Pound, and other Valuable Tables, besides Miscellaneous anr Useful Information, etc. Containing 200 pages. Boards Cloth Back, Price, Postpaid 30 cents NEW YARNS AND FUNNY JOKES.-Ail th. latest ‘‘ Good Things^* to tell your slower neighbor, to whih away the tedium of the railroad or steamboat travel; to hel| you through a rainy day in the country; to cheer you in ^ hundred situations which are dull or depressing. It has f thousand good stories, aphorisms, epigrams, dialogues, catches conundrums and sells ; and it has a hundred and seventy funn} pictures by the funniest men of the day — Chip Drake, Howarth Carleton, Sheppard, Peterson, Burns, Bisbee, Smith, Spedon etc., etc., in no large pages (quarto), in fancy cover. Post paid - ; 30 cents CASEY’S POPULAR RECITATIONS.-Fun ny Stories and Comic Songs. Containing 81 selections, man) of which have never before appeared in print. This is without question the best book for professional or amateur recitals. 200 pages, paper covers. Price, 1^5 cents; cloth, 75 ceilts* EXCELSIOR PUBLISHING HOUSE, 29 and 31 Bcekman Street, New York, N. Y. PRACTICAL ELECTRICAL WORKS. ELECTRICAL INSTRUMENT. MAKING for Amateurs. — By S. R. Bottone. Contains plain instruc- tions, by help of which any one with an ordinary knowledge oi English, and moderately handy with tools, can make for his own entertainment, or for use in the study of a great science, all the instruments now employed in theoretical or practical Electricity, from Torsion Balances, Holtz Machines and Induc- tion Coils to Dynamos, Electric Motors, Telephones, Phono-' graphs and Micrographs ; and all the experiments of the great leaders in these studies, Wheatstone, Bell, Price, Hughes and Edison, can, after an attentive perusal of this book, be under- stood and repeated. 200 pages, cloth, postpaid, 75 cents. SLECTRO-MOTORS; HOW MADE AND How Used. — A handbook for amateurs and practical men, by S. R. Bottone, author of The Dynamo,” Electrical Instru- ment Making for Amateurs,” ‘‘Electric Bells,” etc., etc., and A. M. A. Beale, author of Beale’s Calisthenics, etc. — A com- plete and simple explanation of the source of the power in a dynamo, and the method of applying the same, commencing with a Simple Motor, and proceeding to an exposition of the Siemen’s, Thompson’s, Walker’s, Orison, Edison and other motors. In addition three special chapters by an American author follow in which the information embraces all American improvements. The work is probably the most complete and easily understood of any of the many now in the field. 1 8o pages, cloth, Price, postpaid 75 cents. Electric Bells and All About^ Them.— S. R. Bottone. 196 pages. loo illustrations. In this volume the whole subject of Electric Bells is explained in simple language. Any one with an English education can master it in a few hours. The illustrations are great helps to understanding the descriptions. The work Tiegins by showing how the force applied to Electric Bells is produced, and goes on to tell how to arrange every kind of signal which can be given by electricity, as well as all needed information that belongs to the subject. It is just the book needed by mechanics who have occasional calls upon them to mount bells, and Bell-Hangers, Locksmiths, etc., who are not yet acquainted with all the uses of the Electric Bell. Cloth, price, postpaid 75 CClits. ^OW TO MAKE A DYNAMQ.-a practical treatise for amateurs. Containing numerous illustrations and detailed instructions for constructing a small dynamo, to pro- duce the electric light. By Alfred Crofts. Bound in cloth ; price, postpaid ...75 Ceilts. Any of the above works sent postpaid on receipt of price. EXCELSIOR PUBLISHING HOUSE, 29 and 31 Beekman Street, New York, N. Y. Practical Trade Manuals Copley’s Plain and Ornamental Alphabets,— Examples In every 8tyl<] Mechanical and Analytical Construction of Letters, Designs fbr Tides Ciphers, Monograms, Borders, Compasses, Flourishes, etc. New Edition Price Book of Alphabets.— For Painters, Draughtsmen, Designers, etc. A standard styles and many new and popular ones, German, French, 01 English, etc. Price 50 ctw Album of Fancy Alphabets— For Sign Painters, It gives the fashion able styles of the day. Price 75 cts Sig:n, Carriage and Decorative Painting.— Full of valuable point upon the several branches of the trade. It includes Fresco and Car Pain- ing, and other useful matters. Price 50 Xanda^s Fancy Alphabets.— These alphabets are the production of a Frenc’ artist, and have long been favorites with draughtsmen and others in Amei ica. 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Price 60 cts Bign Writing and Glass Embossing. — A standard work widely am favorably known : new edition, with newly engraved illustrations and at . greatly reduced price 75 eta Any of the above books sent postpaid on receipt of price. EXCELSIOR PUBLISHING HOUSE, 20 31 Bcokman St.» New Iforkt N* V Select Becitations and Beadings, IN PROSE AND POETRY. For the Use of Schools, Colleges, and Public Beaders. jLlisile a»d Wlllie’g Prayer, ibinie’a Ticket. Anthony’s Prayer, Ai'ab’s Farewell to his Steed, The. ^by’s Kies. Ballad of Roland Clare, The. Baron’s Last Banquet, The. Battle of Fontenoy, The. Battle o fivry , The. Battle ofMorgarten, The. Beau. Benediction, The. Beth Gelert. Bill Gibbon’s Delirerancew Bill Mason’s Bnde. Boat-Race, Tlie. Bridge o f Sighs, The. Burial of Little NelL Caldwel 1 of Springfield. Charge of the Light Brigade, The. Child’s Prayer, The. Confession of a Drunkard. Christian Maiden and the Lion, The. Cowardly Jim. Cuddle Doon. Curfew must not Ring To-Night. Death. Death-bed of Benedict Arnold. Death of King John. Death o f Murat. Death of' ‘ Old Braze.” Death of the Drunkard, The. Death of the Old Squire, The. Death of the Reveller, The. Defence of Lucknow, The. Dermot’s Parting. Diver, The. Downfall of Poland, The, Dream of Eugene Aram, The. Drowned. Dying Hebrew, Tha Eagle’s Rock, The Education. Evangelist, The, Execution of Montrose, The. Execution of (^ueen Mary. Face \gainRt the Pane, The. Fall of Pemberton Mill, The. Fanner Gray’s Photograph. Father John. Fearless De Courcy, The. Fireman, The. Rrst Settler’s Story, The. Flight for Life, The. Foreclosure of the Mortgage, The. Forgive, — No, Never. Forgotten Actor, The. Found Dead. Salley Slave, The. Same Knut Played, The. fllove and the Lions, i he. Bsart’s Charity, Tha OOTVTIHWTS. He Doeth his Alms to be Seen of Men. Henry of Navarre before Paria Her Last Dsok. Heroism. Herve Riel. How He Saved St. Michael’s. How J ane Conquest Rang the Bell In the TunneL Isabel’s Grave. Ivan, the Czar Jean Goello’s Yam. Jim Bludso, John Bartholomew’s Rida John Maynard. Kate Maloney. Karl the Martyr. King Robert of Sicily, Last Banquet, Tha Last Hymn, The. Last Redoubt, Tha Last Worda Leaguer of Lucknow, The. Leap of Roushan Beg, The. Legend of the Church of Los An- geles. Legend of a VdL Leper, The. Little Boy I Dreamed About, The. IJttle Golden Hair. Little Grave, Tha Little Hero, Tha Little Jim. Little Ned. Little PhiL Little Will Little Rocket’s Christmaa Lochinvar. Lost and Found. “ Lynch for Lynch.*' Maclaine’s Child, MainTr uck.The; or, A Leap forLife Maniac, The, Marco Bozzarla Marseillaise at Sebastopol, Tha Martyrs of Sandoniir, Tha Mary Queen of Scota Mary, the Maid of the Inn. Mask and Domino. Master Jonny’s Next-door Neigli- bor. Maud Muller. Mona’s Waters. Mother and her Dead Child, The. “ Mother’s Fool” My Bread on the Watera New Year’s Eve. Night Watch, The. Nobody’s Oiild. Nothing. Ode to Eloquence. Old Man’s Prayer, The, O Maria, Regina Miserioordiea O’Mnrtogh, One of King Charles’ Madcap Me* Only a Jew. Over the H ill from the Poorhoueft Over the H i il to the Pothouse. Over the River. Out in the Storm. Painter o f Florence, Th«k Papa’s Letter. Parrhasiua Pas^of Bl ander, The; Phil Blood's Leap. Polish Boy, The. Poor Little Joe. Portrait, The. Ramon. Red Jacket, The. Rescue, The. Ride of Jennie McNeal, The. Richelieu ; or. The Conspiracy. Sea Captain’s Story, The. Sergeant’s Story, The, of tili Light Brigade. Seventli Fusilewa. She is Dead. Ship on Fire, Tha Sim’s Little Girl Sister of Charity, Tha Somebody’s Darling. Somebody’s Mother. Spanish Armada, Tha Spanish Mother, Tha Spanish Page, The. Station Agent’s Story, Tha Story of the Faithfbl Soul, Tha Street Musicians, The. Street Organ-Player, Tha Sue’s Thanksgivings Suicide, The. Supporting the Guns. There’!! be Room in Heaven. Three Sons, The. Three Words (The); Arnold tbf Traitor Tiger Bay. Tim’s Kit. Told at the Falcon. Tom. To Mark Mother’s Grava Tramp, The. Trooper’s Story, Tha True Hero, A. Turn Mother’s Face to the 'WaA. Two Dives and a Life. Unfiiiislied Prayer, The We are Seven. What Ailed “ Ugly Sam. ” Wliere the Angels Lingered Will the New Year Night, Mamma ■Woolen Doll, '1 '•«. Yeoman s Story, Tha Young Tramp, Tha Containing 508 pages, bound in extra Cloth, Price Sl.OO* For sale by all Booksellers, or sent postpaid, on receipt of price. RXCELSIOK PUBLISHING HOUSE, 29 & 31 Beekman St., NewYork,log. -By Dinks, Mahew, and Hutchinson. Compiled and edited by Frank Forester. Containing fall instructions in all that relates to the Breeding, Rearing, Breaking, Kenneling, and Conditioning of Dogs, with valiia'Je Recipes for the treatment of all Diseases. Illustrated. 1 vol.,8vo. Price $3.00 Practical Trout Culture. —By J. H. Slack, M.D., Commissioner of Fisheries, New Jersey. Fully illustrated, and describing all that is requisite to successful Trout Culture. Price $1 ,00 Tlie Dead Skot: Tke Gun; or, Sportsman’s Complete Guide. — A Treatise on the Use of the Gun, with Rudimentary and Finishing Lessons in the art of Shooting Game. By “Marksman.” Price $1.25 flow to Train Dogs.— Varieties and merits of sporting dogs; pre- liminary training, lessons in the field ; water dogs. Performing Dogs. — Simple tricks and training, to teach him his name, to leap, to walk erect, to dance, etc., etc. Price 25 cts. Di •seases of Dogs. — Their pathology, diagnosis, and treatment, to \vliich is added a complete dictionary of canine materia medica. A prac- tical guide for every dog owner. It is thoroughly reliable, and simple and explicit in its language. Price 25 ct8« Ifow to Hunt and Trap, — By J. TI. Batty. Containing full in- structions for hunting the buffalo, elk, moose, deer, antelope. Dear, fox, grouse, quail, geese, ducks, woodcock, snipe, etc., etc. Also, the locali- tic where game abounds. In Trapping : Tells yon all about steel traps ; ho V to make home-made trai)s, and how to trap the bear, wolf, wolver- ^ • , fox, lynx, badger, otter, beaver, fisher, marten, mink, etc., etc. h’U'i;' illustrated $1.50 AN? or THE ABOVE BOOKS SENT POST-PAID ON RECEIPT OF PRICE. EXCELSIOR PUBLISHING HOUSE, 29 A 31 Ifockman St., New York, N. Y.