The tendency to _materialism_, so strongly characterizing the age in which we live, produces, among its pernicious collateral effects, a disposition to reduce "Heaven's last, best gift to man" to the same practical standard by which we judge of all matters of the outer life,--of _each other_ especially. Well might Burke deplore the departure of the Age of Chivalry! But not even the prophetic eye of genius could discern the degeneracy that was to increase so rapidly, from the day in which he wrote, to this. As a mere matter of personal gratification, I would cherish the inclination to _idealize_ in regard to the fairer part of creation! There is enough that is stern, hard, baldly utilitarian, in life; we have no need to rob this "one fair spirit" of every poetic attribute, by system! Few habits have so much the effect to elevate us above the clods we tread ploddingly over in the dreary highway of mortal existence, as that of investing woman with the purest, highest attributes of our common nature, and bearing ourselves towards her in accordance with these elevated sentiments. And when compelled, in individual instances, to set aside these cherished impressions, let nothing induce us to forget that _pa.s.sive, silent forbearance_ is our only resource. True manhood can never become the active antagonist of _defencelessness_.

I am almost ashamed to remind you of the gross impropriety of speaking loosely and loudly of ladies of your acquaintance in the hearing of strangers, of desecrating their names by mouthing them in bar-rooms and similar public places, scribbling them upon windows, recording them, without their permission, in the registers kept at places visited from curiosity, etc., etc. _You have no moral right to take such liberties in this respect, as you would not tolerate in the relation of brother, son, or husband._

_Think_, then, and _speak_, ever, with due reverence of those guardian angels,

"Into whose hands from first to last, This world with all its destinies, Devotedly by Heaven seems cast!"

If you determine to conform yourselves, as far as in you lies, to the model presented for your imitation by Him who said--"Be ye, therefore, perfect, even as I am perfect," you will not disregard the cultivation of a _ready sympathy_ with the sufferings and trials of your fellow beings. In place of adopting a system that will not only steel your heart, but infuse into your whole nature distrust and suspicion, you will, like Him who went about doing good, quickly discern suffering, in whatever form it presents itself, and minister, at least, the balm of a kind word, when naught else may be offered. You will thus learn not only to pity the erring, but, perchance, sometimes to ask yourselves in profound humility--"_who hath made me to differ_?"

Young men sometimes fall into the impression that a mocking insensibility to human woe is manly--something grand and distinguished.

So they turn with lofty scorn from a starving child, make the embarra.s.sment and distress of a poor mother with a wailing infant the subject of audible mirth in a rail-car, or stage-coach, ridicule the peevishness of illness, the tears of wounded sensibility, or the confessions of the penitent! Now, it seems to me, that all this is super-human in its sublime elevation! My small knowledge of the history of the greatly good, affords no parallels for the adoption of such a creed. I have read of a Howard who terminated a life devoted to the benefit of his race, in a noisome dungeon, where he sought to minister to human suffering; of a Fenelon, and a Cheverus whose _Catholic_ spirit broke the thralling restrains of sectarianism, in favor of general humanity; of the graceful chivalry and large benevolence of Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Philip Sidney; of triumphant soldiers who bound up the wounds and preserved the lives of a fallen foe; of a Wilberforce, a Pease, and a Father Mathew; of Leigh Richmond, Reginald Heber, and Robert Hall; of the parable of the good Samaritan, and of its Divine Author--and I believe the ma.s.s of mankind agree with me in, at least, an abstract admiration for the characters of each! And though no great achievements in the cause of Philanthropy may be in our power, though no mighty deeds may embalm our memories amid the imperishable records of Time, let us not overlook those small acts of kindness, those trifling proofs of sympathy, which all have at command. A look, a word, a smile--what talismanic power do even these sometimes possess! Remember, then, that,

"----Heaven decrees To all the _gift of ministering to ease_!"

In close a.s.sociation with the wish to minister to the happiness of others, as far as in us lies, is that of avoiding every self-indulgence that may interfere with the comfort or the rights of others. Hence the cultivation of _good-humor_, and of habits of _neatness_, _order_, and _regularity_. Prompted by this rule, we will not _smoke_ in the streets, in rail-cars, on the decks of steamers, at the entrance of concert and lecture rooms, or in parlors frequented by ladies. We will not even forget that neglect of _matters of the toilet_, in the nicest details, may render us unpleasant companions for those accustomed to fastidiousness upon these points.

To the importance of well-regulated habits of Exercise, Temperance, and Relaxation, I have already called your attention in a previous Letter.

Nothing tends more effectually to the production of genuine independence, than personal _Economy_. No habit will more fully enable you to be generous as well as just, and to gratify your better impulses and more refined tastes, than the exercise of this unostentatious art.

Remember that _meanness_ is not economy, any more than it is integrity.

To be wisely economical requires the exercise of the reflective faculties united with practical experience, self-denial, and moral dignity. Rightly viewed, there is nothing in it degrading to the n.o.blest nature.

_Punctuality_ both in pleasure and in business engagements, is alike due to others, and essential to personal convenience. You will, perhaps, have observed that this was one of the distinguishing traits of Washington.

Somebody says--"Ceremony is the Paradise of Fools." The same may be said with equal truth, of _system_. To be truly _free_, one should not be the slave of any one rule, nor of many combined. _System_, like other agencies, if judiciously regulated, materially aids the establishment of good habits generally, and thus places us beyond the dominion of

"_Circ.u.mstance, that unspiritual G.o.d._"

Sir Joshua Reynolds used to remark that "Nothing is denied to well-directed effort." Let _Perseverance_ then, be united with _Excelsior_ in your practical creed.

I think I have made some allusion to the _Art of Conversation_. Let me "make a.s.surance doubly sure," by the emphatic recommendation of _practice_ in this elegant accomplishment. All mental acquisitions are the better secured by the habit of _putting ideas into words_. By this process, thought becomes clearer, more _tangible_, so to speak, and new ideas are actually engendered, while we are giving expression to those previously in our possession.

In addition to the individual advantage accruing from this excellent mode of training yourselves for easy and effective _extemporaneous public speaking_, it should not be overlooked, as affording the means of conferring both pleasure and benefit upon others. Taciturnity and self-engrossment, you may remark, are not the prominent characteristics of the favorites of society.

Nor does the practice of ready speaking necessarily interfere with habits of _Reflection_ and _Observation_. On the contrary, the mental activity thus promoted, naturally leads to the acc.u.mulation of intellectual material by every available means. Discrimination in judging of character, and true _knowledge of the world_, without which all abstract knowledge is comparatively of little avail, can never be attained except through the persevering exercise of these powers.

Shall I venture to remind you, my dear young friends, that the manifestation of _respect for misfortune, suffering, and age_, may become one of your attributes by the force of habit strengthening good impulses.

Will you think me deficient in utilitarianism if I recommend to you a cultivation of the _power to discern the Beautiful_, as a perpetual source of pure and exalted enjoyment? Hard, grinding, soul-trammelling, is the dominion of real life; will we be less worthy of our immortal destinies, that we cherish an _inner sense_, by which we readily perceive moral beauty, shining as a ray from the very altar of Divinity, or the tokens of the presence of that Divinity afforded by the wonders of the natural world? Let us not be mere beasts of burden, so laden with the cares, the anxieties, or even the duties of life, as to have no eye for the un.o.btrusive, but often fragrant and lovely flowers, that bloom along the most neglected of our daily paths.

Speaking of the Beautiful, reminds me that ours is the only civilized land where the aesthetical perceptions of the people are not a sufficient safeguard to the preservation of _Works of Art_, in their humblest as well as most magnificent exhibitions. Nothing short of the brutalizing influence of a Reign of Terror will tempt a Parisian populace to the desecration of these expressions of refinement, taste, and beauty; while among us, not even an ornamental paling, inclosing a private residence, or the colonnade of a public edifice, escapes staring tokens of the presence of this gothic barbarism in our midst.

You will scarcely need to be cautioned against confounding mere _curiosity_ with a liberal and enlightened observation of life and manners. All those indications of undue curiosity respecting the private affairs of others, expressed by listening to conversation not intended for the general ear, watching the _asides_ of society, glancing at letters addressed to another, or asking direct questions of a personal nature, are unmistakable proofs of ignorance of the rules of polished life, though they are not as reprehensible as _evil-speaking_, a love of _scandal_, or the practice of violating either the _confidence_ of friends or the _sacredness of private conversation_.

Though a vast difference is created in this respect by difference of temperament, yet no man can hope to acquire the degree of _self-possession_ that shall fit him for a successful encounter with the ever-varying emergencies demanding its ill.u.s.tration, without repeated and re-repeated struggles and discomfitures. But so invaluable is the treasure, so essential to the legitimate exercise of every faculty of our being, that defeat should only render more indomitable the "will to do, the soul to dare," in persevering endeavors to secure its permanent acquisition.

Let me impress upon you the truth that self-possession is the legitimate result of a _well-disciplined mind_, and that it is properly expressed by a _quiet_ and _modest bearing_.

In conclusion, let me earnestly and affectionately a.s.sure you that the formation of right habits, though necessarily attended, for a time, by failures, difficulties, or discouragements, will eventually prove its own all-sufficient reward. Habitude of thought, language, appointment, and manner that shall ent.i.tle you to claim

"The good old name of _Gentleman_,"

once yours, and you will be armed, point of proof, against the exacting capriciousness of fashion, and forever exempted from the tortures often inflicted upon the sensitive, by the insidious invasions of self-distrust!

Strolling through the Crystal Palace at London, soon after it was opened, with a young fellow-countryman, he suddenly broke out with--"Will you just look at that fellow, colonel?" Turning and following the direction indicated by his eye (not his finger or walking-stick, he was too well-bred _to point_!) I discerned, in a different part of the building, Queen Victoria, accompanied by Prince Albert and two of the royal children, examining some articles in the American Department. Very near the stopping-place of this distinguished party, a representative of the "universal Yankee nation," had stationed himself--perhaps in a semi-official capacity--upon the apex of some elevation, with his hat on, and his long legs dangling down in front, nearly on a level with the heads of pa.s.sers-by.

We could not hear the words of her Majesty, but it was apparent that she addressed some inquiry to him of the legs. First ejecting a torrent of tobacco-juice from his mouth, and rolling away the huge quid that obstructed his utterance, he deliberately proceeded to give the explanation desired, retaining not only his position, but his hat, the while!

Meantime, as soon as the Queen commenced addressing this person, her Royal Consort removed his hat, and remained uncovered until she again moved on. I shall not soon forget the face of my companion. Shame and indignation contended for the mastery on his burning cheek!

"Good G----, Colonel!" he exclaimed, "to think of such a mere brute as that being regarded as a fair specimen of the advance of civilization among us! 'Tis enough to make a decent man disclaim his birthright here!

And yet, I have little enough to boast of myself! Only think of my taking some English gentlemen who were in New-York a month or two ago, to see our _parks_ (heaven save the mark!) among other objects of interest in the city! Yesterday, Sir John ----, who was one of the party, drove about London with me, and took me also to Kensington Garden, St. James' and Regent's Parks! I don't know what would tempt me again to undergo the thing! I rather think I am effectually cured, henceforth and for ever, of any inclination to _boast of anything whatever, personal or national_!"

"As you are the only 'gentleman of elegant leisure' in the family, at present, Harry, suppose you take these girls to New York for a week or two. For my part, it's as much as I can do to provide money for the expedition," said your uncle William to me, one evening.

"Oh, do, dear uncle Hal!" exclaimed Ida, with great vivacity, sitting down on a low stool at my feet, and clasping her hands upon my knee, "we always love dearly to go with you anywhere, you are so good to us."

"Yes!" broke in William junior, "uncle Harry spoils you so completely by indulgence that I can do nothing with you. You're a most unruly set, at home and abroad."

A sudden twitch at the end of his cravat effectually demolished the elegant tie upon which the young gentleman prides himself, as little Jule, who was close beside him, pretending to get her French lesson, and had perpetrated the mischief, cried out--"What's the reason, then, that you always take us all along, when you go out in the woods, and off to the sh.o.r.e--hey, Mr. Willie?"

"Do be quiet, children," interrupted Ida, reprovingly; "now, uncle dear, won't you take us? I want some new traps badly."

"What kind of traps?--mouse traps?"

"_Man traps_, to be sure!"

"Well, that's honest, at least, Puss."

"My purposes are more murderous than Ida's," said Cornelia, laughing; "I want to buy a new _mankiller_, as Willie calls them."

"It's too late in the season for mantillas," remarked Ida, profoundly.

"A fashionable cloak will serve Cornelia's purpose equally well,"

returned her father, quietly.

"And, like the mantle of charity, it will hide a mult.i.tude of sins,"

chimed in her brother.

"Your running commentaries are highly edifying, my dear nephew," said I, and at the same moment a large red rose hit him full on the nose.

It was soon arranged that your fair cousins should accompany me to the Empire City in a few days, and I, accordingly, sat down at once, and wrote to the "Metropolitan" for rooms.