If you are invited to drink with a friend, and do not drink wine, bow, raise your gla.s.s of water and drink with him.

Do not propose to take wine with your host; it is his privilege to invite you.

Do not put your gla.s.s upside down on the table to signify that you do not wish to drink any more; it is sufficient to refuse firmly. Do not be persuaded to touch another drop of wine after your own prudence warns you that you have taken enough.

Avoid any air of mystery when speaking to those next you; it is ill-bred and in excessively bad taste.

If you wish to speak of any one, or to any one at the table, call them by name, but never point or make a signal when at table.

When taking coffee, never pour it into your saucer, but let it cool in the cup, and drink from that.

If at a gentleman's party, never ask any one to sing or tell a story; your host alone has the right thus to call upon his guests.

If invited yourself to sing, and you feel sufficiently sure that you will give pleasure, comply immediately with the request.

If, however, you refuse, remain firm in your refusal, as to yield after once refusing is a breach of etiquette.

When the finger-gla.s.ses are pa.s.sed, dip your fingers into them and then wipe them upon your napkin.

Never leave the table till the mistress of the house gives the signal.

On leaving the table put your napkin on the table, but do not fold it.

Offer your arm to the lady whom you escorted to the table.

It is excessively rude to leave the house as soon as dinner is over. Respect to your hostess obliges you to stay in the drawing-room at least an hour.

If the ladies withdraw, leaving the gentlemen, after dinner, rise when they leave the table, and remain standing until they have left the room.

I give, from a recent English work, some humorously written directions for table etiquette, and, although they are some of them repet.i.tions of what I have already given, they will be found to contain many useful hints: "We now come to habits at table, which are very important. However agreeable a man may be in society, if he offends or disgusts by his table traits, he will soon be scouted from it, and justly so. There are some broad rules for behavior at table. Whenever there is a servant to help you, never help yourself. Never put a knife into your mouth, not even with cheese, which should be eaten with a fork. Never use a spoon for anything but liquids. Never touch anything edible with your fingers.

"Forks were, undoubtedly, a later invention than fingers, but, as we are not cannibals, I am inclined to think they were a good one. There are some few things which you may take up with your fingers. Thus an epicure will eat even macaroni with his fingers; and as sucking asparagus is more pleasant than chewing it, you may, as an epicure, take it up au naturel. But both these things are generally eaten with a fork. Bread is, of course, eaten with the fingers, and it would be absurd to carve it with your knife and fork. It must, on the contrary, always be broken when not b.u.t.tered, and you should never put a slice of dry bread to your mouth to bite a piece off. Most fresh fruit, too, is eaten with the natural p.r.o.ngs, but when you have peeled an orange or apple, you should cut it with the aid of the fork, unless you can succeed in breaking it. Apropos of which, I may hint that no epicure ever yet put a knife to an apple, and that an orange should be peeled with a spoon. But the art of peeling an orange so as to hold its own juice, and its own sugar too, is one that can scarcely be taught in a book.

"However, let us go to dinner, and I will soon tell you whether you are a well-bred man or not; and here let me premise that what is good manners for a small dinner is good manners for a large one, and vice versa. Now, the first thing you do is to sit down. Stop, sir! pray do not cram yourself into the table in that way; no, nor sit a yard from it, like that. How graceless, inconvenient, and in the way of conversation! Why, dear me! you are positively putting your elbows on the table, and now you have got your hands fumbling about with the spoons and forks, and now you are nearly knocking my new hock gla.s.ses over. Can't you take your hands down, sir? Didn't you learn that in the nursery? Didn't your mamma say to you, 'Never put your hands above the table except to carve or eat?' Oh! but come, no nonsense, sit up, if you please. I can't have your fine head of hair forming a side dish on my table; you must not bury your face in the plate, you came to show it, and it ought to be alive. Well, but there is no occasion to throw your head back like that, you look like an alderman, sir, after dinner. Pray, don't lounge in that sleepy way. You are here to eat, drink, and be merry. You can sleep when you get home.

"Well, then, I suppose you can see your napkin. Got none, indeed! Very likely, in my house. You may be sure that I never sit down to a meal without napkins. I don't want to make my tablecloths unfit for use, and I don't want to make my trousers unwearable. Well, now, we are all seated, you can unfold it on your knees; no, no; don't tuck it into your waistcoat like an alderman; and what! what on earth do you mean by wiping your forehead with it? Do you take it for a towel? Well, never mind, I am consoled that you did not go farther, and use it as a pocket-handkerchief. So talk away to the lady on your right, and wait till soup is handed to you. By the way, that waiting is the most important part of table manners, and, as much as possible, you should avoid asking for anything or helping yourself from the table. Your soup you eat with a spoon--I don't know what else you could eat it with--but then it must be one of good size. Yes, that will do, but I beg you will not make that odious noise in drinking your soup. It is louder than a dog lapping water, and a cat would be quite genteel to it. Then you need not sc.r.a.pe up the plate in that way, nor even tilt it to get the last drop. I shall be happy to send you some more; but I must just remark, that it is not the custom to take two helpings of soup, and it is liable to keep other people waiting, which, once for all, is a selfish and intolerable habit. But don't you hear the servant offering you sherry? I wish you would attend, for my servants have quite enough to do, and can't wait all the evening while you finish that very mild story to Miss Goggles. Come, leave that decanter alone. I had the wine put on the table to fill up; the servants will hand it directly, or, as we are a small party, I will tell you to help yourself; but, pray, do not be so officious. (There, I have sent him some turbot to keep him quiet. I declare he cannot make up his mind.) You are keeping my servant again, sir. Will you, or will you not, do turbot? Don't examine it in that way; it is quite fresh, I a.s.sure you; take or decline it. Ah, you take it, but that is no reason why you should take up a knife too. Fish, I repeat must never be touched with a knife. Take a fork in the right and a small piece of bread in the left hand. Good, but--? Oh! that is atrocious; of course you must not swallow the bones, but you should rather do so than spit them out in that way. Put up your napkin like this, and land the said bone on your plate. Don't rub your head in the sauce, my good man, nor go progging about after the shrimps or oysters therein. Oh! how horrid! I declare your mouth was wide open and full of fish. Small pieces, I beseech you; and once for all, whatever you eat, keep your mouth shut, and never attempt to talk with it full.

"So now you have got a pate. Surely you are not taking two on your plate. There is plenty of dinner to come, and one is quite enough. Oh! dear me, you are incorrigible. What! a knife to cut that light, brittle pastry? No, nor fingers, never. Nor a spoon--almost as bad. Take your fork, sir, your fork; and, now you have eaten, oblige me by wiping your mouth and moustache with your napkin, for there is a bit of the pastry hanging to the latter, and looking very disagreeable. Well, you can refuse a dish if you like. There is no positive necessity for you to take venison if you don't want it. But, at any rate, do not be in that terrific hurry. You are not going off by the next train. Wait for the sauce and wait for vegetables; but whether you eat them or not, do not begin before everybody else. Surely you must take my table for that of a railway refreshment-room, for you have finished before the person I helped first. Fast eating is bad for the digestion, my good sir, and not very good manners either. What! are you trying to eat meat with a fork alone? Oh! it is sweetbread, I beg your pardon, you are quite right. Let me give you a rule,--Everything that can be cut without a knife, should be cut with a fork alone. Eat your vegetables, therefore, with a fork. No, there is no necessity to take a spoon for peas; a fork in the right hand will do. What! did I really see you put your knife into your mouth? Then I must give you up. Once for all, and ever, the knife is to cut, not to help with. Pray, do not munch in that noisy manner; chew your food well, but softly. Eat slowly. Have you not heard that Napoleon lost the battle of Leipsic by eating too fast? It is a fact though. His haste caused indigestion, which made him incapable of attending to the details of the battle. You see you are the last person eating at table. Sir, I will not allow you to speak to my servants in that way. If they are so remiss as to oblige you to ask for anything, do it gently, and in a low tone, and thank a servant just as much as you would his master. Ten to one he is as good a man; and because he is your inferior in position, is the very reason you should treat him courteously. Oh! it is of no use to ask me to take wine; far from pacifying me, it will only make me more angry, for I tell you the custom is quite gone out, except in a few country villages, and at a mess-table. Nor need you ask the lady to do so. However, there is this consolation, if you should ask any one to take wine with you, he or she cannot refuse, so you have your own way. Perhaps next you will be asking me to hob and n.o.b, or trinquer in the French fashion with arms encircled. Ah! you don't know, perhaps, that when a lady trinques in that way with you, you have a right to finish off with a kiss. Very likely, indeed! But it is the custom in familiar circles in France, but then we are not Frenchmen. Will you attend to your lady, sir? You did not come merely to eat, but to make yourself agreeable. Don't sit as glum as the Memnon at Thebes; talk and be pleasant. Now, you have some pudding. No knife--no, no. A spoon if you like, but better still, a fork. Yes, ice requires a spoon; there is a small one handed you, take that.

"Say 'no.' This is the fourth time wine has been handed to you, and I am sure you have had enough. Decline this time if you please. Decline that dish too. Are you going to eat of everything that is handed? I pity you if you do. No, you must not ask for more cheese, and you must eat it with your fork. Break the rusk with your fingers. Good. You are drinking a gla.s.s of old port. Do not quaff it down at a gulp in that way. Never drink a whole gla.s.sful of anything at once.

"Well, here is the wine and dessert. Take whichever wine you like, but remember you must keep to that, and not change about. Before you go up stairs I will allow you a gla.s.s of sherry after your claret, but otherwise drink of one wine only. You don't mean to say you are helping yourself to wine before the ladies. At least, offer it to the one next to you, and then pa.s.s it on, gently, not with a push like that. Do not drink so fast; you will hurry me in pa.s.sing the decanters, if I see that your gla.s.s is empty. You need not eat dessert till the ladies are gone, but offer them whatever is nearest to you. And now they are gone, draw your chair near mine, and I will try and talk more pleasantly to you. You will come out admirably at your next dinner with all my teaching. What! you are excited, you are talking loud to the colonel. Nonsense. Come and talk easily to me or to your nearest neighbor. There, don't drink any more wine, for I see you are getting romantic. You oblige me to make a move. You have had enough of those walnuts; you are keeping me, my dear sir. So now to coffee [one cup] and tea, which I beg you will not pour into your saucer to cool. Well, the dinner has done you good, and me too. Let us be amiable to the ladies, but not too much so."

"Champ, champ; Smack, smack; Smack, smack; Champ, champ;--It is one thing to know how to make a pudding, and another to know how to eat it when made. Unmerciful and monstrous are the noises with which some persons accompany the eating--no, the devouring of the food for which, we trust, they are thankful. To sit down with a company of such masticators is like joining 'a herd of swine feeding.' Soberly, at no time, probably, are the rules of good breeding less regarded than at 'feeding time,' and at no place is a departure from these rules more noticeable than at table. Some persons gnaw at a crust as dogs gnaw a bone, rattle knives and spoons against their teeth as though anxious to prove which is the harder, and sc.r.a.pe their plates with an energy and perseverance which would be very commendable if bestowed upon any object worth the trouble. Others, in defiance of the old nursery rhyme-- 'I must not dip, howe'er I wish, My spoon or finger in the dish;'

are perpetually helping themselves in this very straightforward and unsophisticated manner. Another, with a mouth full of food contrives to make his teeth and tongue perform the double duty of chewing and talking at the same time. Another, quite in military style, in the intervals of cramming, makes his knife and fork keep guard over the jealously watched plate, being held upright on either side in the clenched fist, like the musket of a raw recruit. And another, as often as leisure serves, fidgets his plate from left to right, and from right to left, or round and round, until the painful operation of feeding is over.

"There is, we know, such a thing as being 'too nice'--'more nice than wise.' It is quite possible to be fastidious. But there are also such inconsiderable matters as decency and good order; and it surely is better to err on the right than on the wrong side of good breeding."

CHAPTER IV.

ETIQUETTE IN THE STREET.

A gentleman will be always polite, in the parlor, dining-room, and in the street. This last clause will especially include courtesy towards ladies, no matter what may be their age or position. A man who will annoy or insult a woman in the street, lowers himself to a brute, no matter whether he offends by look, word, or gesture. There are several little forms of etiquette, given below, the observance of which will mark the gentleman in the street.

When walking with a lady, or with a gentleman who is older than yourself, give them the upper side of the pavement, that is, the side nearest the house.

When walking alone, and you see any one coming towards you on the same side of the street, give the upper part of the pavement, as you turn aside, to a man who may carry a heavy bundle, to a priest or clergyman, to a woman, or to any elderly person.

In a crowd never rudely push aside those who impede your progress, but wait patiently until the way is clear. If you are hurried by business of importance or an engagement, you will find that a few courteous words will open the way before you more quickly than the most violent pushing and loud talking.

If obliged to cross a plank, or narrow path, let any lady or old person who may also be pa.s.sing, precede you. In case the way is slippery or in any way unsafe, you may, with perfect propriety, offer to a.s.sist either a lady or elderly person in crossing it.

Do not smoke in the street until after dark, and then remove your cigar from your mouth, if you meet a lady.

Be careful about your dress. You can never know whom you may meet, so it is best to never leave the house otherwise than well-dressed. Bright colors, and much jewelry are both unbecoming to a gentleman in the street.

Avoid touching any one with your elbows in pa.s.sing, and do not swing your arms as you walk.

Be careful when walking with or near a lady, not to put your foot upon her dress.

In carrying an umbrella, hold it so that you can see the way clear before you; avoid striking your umbrella against those which pa.s.s you; if you are walking with a lady, let the umbrella cover her perfectly, but hold it so that you will not touch her bonnet. If you have the care of two ladies, let them carry the umbrella between them, and walk outside yourself. Nothing can be more absurd than for a gentleman to walk between two ladies, holding the umbrella himself; while, in this way, he is perfectly protected, the ladies receive upon their dresses and cloaks the little streams of water which run from the points of the umbrella.

In case of a sudden fall of rain, you may, with perfect propriety, offer your umbrella to a lady who is unprovided with one. If she accepts it, and asks your address to return it, leave it with her; if she hesitates, and does not wish to deprive you of the use of it, you may offer to accompany her to her destination, and then, do not open a conversation; let your manner be respectful, and when you leave her, let her thank you, a.s.sure her of the pleasure it has given you to be of service, bow, and leave her.

In meeting a lady friend, wait for her to bow to you, and in returning her salutation, remove your hat. To a gentleman you may bow, merely touching your hat, if he is alone or with another gentleman; but if he has a lady with him, raise your hat in bowing to him. If you stop to speak to a lady, hold your hat in your hand, until she leaves you, unless she requests you to replace it. With a gentleman you may replace it immediately.

Never join a lady whom you may meet, without first asking her permission to do so.

If you stop to converse with any one in the street, stand near the houses, that you may not interfere with others who are pa.s.sing.

You may bow to a lady who is seated at a window, if you are in the street; but you must not bow from a window to a lady in the street.

Do not stop to join a crowd who are collected round a street show, or street merchant, unless you wish to pa.s.s for a countryman taking a holiday in the city.

If you stop any one to enquire your own way, or if you are called upon to direct another, remove your hat while asking or answering the question.

If you see a lady leaving a carriage unattended, or hesitating at a bad crossing, you may, with propriety, offer your hand or arm to a.s.sist her, and having seen her safely upon the pavement, bow, and pa.s.s on.

In a car or omnibus, when a lady wishes to get out, stop the car for her, pa.s.s up her fare, and in an omnibus alight and a.s.sist her in getting out, bowing as you leave her.

Be gentle, courteous, and kind to children. There is no surer token of a low, vulgar mind, than unkindness to little ones whom you may meet in the streets.

A true gentleman never stops to consider what may be the position of any woman whom it is in his power to aid in the street. He will a.s.sist an Irish washerwoman with her large basket or bundle over a crossing, or carry over the little charges of a distressed negro nurse, with the same gentle courtesy which he would extend toward the lady who was stepping from her private carriage. The true spirit of chivalry makes the courtesy due to the s.e.x, not to the position of the individual.

When you are escorting a lady in the street, politeness does not absolutely require you to carry her bundle or parasol, but if you are gallant you will do so. You must regulate your walk by hers, and not force her to keep up with your ordinary pace.

Watch that you do not lead her into any bad places, and a.s.sist her carefully over each crossing, or wet place on the pavement.

If you are walking in the country, and pa.s.s any streamlet, offer your hand to a.s.sist your companion in crossing.

If you pa.s.s over a fence, and she refuses your a.s.sistance in crossing it, walk forward, and do not look back, until she joins you again. The best way to a.s.sist a lady over a fence, is to stand yourself upon the upper rail, and while using one hand to keep a steady position, stoop, offer her the other, and with a firm, steady grasp, hold her hand until she stands beside you; then let her go down on the other side first, and follow her when she is safe upon the ground.

In starting for a walk with a lady, unless she is a stranger in the place towards whom you act as guide, let her select your destination.

Where there are several ladies, and you are required to escort one of them, select the elderly, or those whose personal appearance will probably make them least likely to be sought by others. You will probably be repaid by finding them very intelligent, and with a fund of conversation. If there are more ladies than gentlemen, you may offer an arm to two, with some jest about the difficulty of choosing, or the double honor you enjoy.

Offer your seat in any public conveyance, to a lady who is standing. It is often quite as great a kindness and mark of courtesy to take a child in your lap.

When with a lady you must pay her expenses as well as your own; if she offers to share the expense, decline unless she insists upon it, in the latter case yield gracefully. Many ladies, who have no brother or father, and are dependent upon their gentlemen friends for escort, make it a rule to be under no pecuniary obligations to them, and you will, in such a case, offend more by insisting upon your right to take that expense, than by quietly pocketing your dignity and their cash together.

I know many gentlemen will cry out at my a.s.sertion; but I have observed this matter, and know many ladies who will sincerely agree with me in my opinion.

In a carriage always give the back seat to the lady or ladies accompanying you. If you have but one lady with you, take the seat opposite to her, unless she invites you to sit beside her, in which case accept her offer.

Never put your arm across the seat, or around her, as many do in riding. It is an impertinence, and if she is a lady of refinement, she will resent it as such.

If you offer a seat in your carriage to a lady, or another gentleman whom you may meet at a party or picnic, take them home, before you drive to your own destination, no matter how much you may have to drive out of your own way.

Be the last to enter the carriage, the first to leave it. If you have ladies with you, offer them your hand to a.s.sist them in entering and alighting, and you should take the arm of an old gentleman to a.s.sist him.

If offered a seat in the carriage of a gentleman friend, stand aside for him to get in first, but if he waits for you, bow and take your seat before he does.

When driving a lady in a two-seated vehicle, you should a.s.sist her to enter the carriage, see that her dress is not in danger of touching the wheels, and that her shawl, parasol, and fan, are where she can reach them, before you take your own seat. If she wishes to stop, and you remain with the horses, you should alight before she does, a.s.sist her in alighting, and again alight to help her to her seat when she returns, even if you keep your place on the seat whilst she is gone.

When attending a lady in a horse-back ride, never mount your horse until she is ready to start. Give her your hand to a.s.sist her in mounting, arrange the folds of her habit, hand her her reins and her whip, and then take your own seat on your saddle.

Let her pace be yours. Start when she does, and let her decide how fast or slowly she will ride. Never let the head of your horse pa.s.s the shoulders of hers, and be watchful and ready to render her any a.s.sistance she may require.

Never, by rapid riding, force her to ride faster than she may desire.

Never touch her bridle, reins, or whip, except she particularly requests your a.s.sistance, or an accident, or threatened danger, makes it necessary.

If there is dust or wind, ride so as to protect her from it as far as possible.

If the road is muddy be careful that you do not ride so as to bespatter her habit. It is best to ride on the side away from that upon which her habit falls. Some ladies change their side in riding, from time to time, and you must watch and see upon which side the skirt falls, that, on a muddy day, you may avoid favoring the habit with the mud your horse's hoofs throw up.

If you ride with a gentleman older than yourself, or one who claims your respect, let him mount before you do. Extend the same courtesy towards any gentleman whom you have invited to accompany you, as he is, for the ride, your guest.

The honorable place is on the right. Give this to a lady, an elderly man, or your guest.

A modern writer says:--"If walking with a female relative or friend, a well-bred man will take the outer side of the pavement, not only because the wall-side is the most honorable side of a public walk, but also because it is generally the farthest point from danger in the street. If walking alone, he will be ready to offer a.s.sistance to any female whom he may see exposed to real peril from any source. Courtesy and manly courage will both incite him to this line of conduct. In general, this is a point of honor which almost all men are proud to achieve. It has frequently happened that even where the savage pa.s.sions of men have been excited, and when mobs have been in actual conflict, women have been gallantly escorted through the sanguinary crowd unharmed, and their presence has even been a protection to their protectors. This is as it should be; and such incidents have shown in a striking manner, not only the excellency of good breeding, but have also brought it out when and where it was least to be expected.

"In streets and all public walks, a well-bred person will be easily distinguished from another who sets at defiance the rules of good breeding. He will not, whatever be his station, hinder and annoy his fellow pedestrians, by loitering or standing still in the middle of the footway. He will, if walking in company, abstain from making impertinent remarks on those he meets; he will even be careful not to appear indelicately to notice them. He will not take 'the crown of the causeway' to himself, but readily fall in with the convenient custom which necessity has provided, and walk on the right side of the path, leaving the left side free for those who are walking in the opposite direction. Any departure from these plain rules of good breeding is downright rudeness and insult; or, at all events, it betrays great ignorance or disregard for propriety. And yet, how often are they departed from! It is, by no means, uncommon, especially in country places, for groups of working men to obstruct the pathway upon which they take a fancy to lounge, without any definite object, as far as appears, but that of making rude remarks upon pa.s.sers-by. But it is not only the laboring cla.s.ses of society who offend against good breeding in this way; too many others offend in the same, and by stopping to talk in the middle of the pavement put all who pa.s.s to great inconvenience."

In meeting a lady do not offer to shake hands with her, but accept her hand when she offers it for you to take.

"In France, where politeness is found in every cla.s.s, the people do not run against each other in the streets, nor brush rudely by each other, as they sometimes do in our cities. It adds much to the pleasure of walking, to be free from such annoyance; and this can only be brought about by the well-taught few setting a good example to the many. By having your wits about you, you can win your way through a thronged street without touching even the extreme circ.u.mference of a balloon sleeve; and, if each one strove to avoid all contact, it would be easily accomplished."

CHAPTER V.

ETIQUETTE FOR CALLING.

A gentleman in society must calculate to give a certain portion of his time to making calls upon his friends, both ladies and gentlemen. He may extend his visiting list to as large a number as his inclination and time will permit him to attend to, but he cannot contract it after pa.s.sing certain limits. His position as a man in society obliges him to call, Upon any stranger visiting his city, who brings a letter of introduction to him; Upon any friend from another city, to whose hospitality he has been at any time indebted; Upon any gentleman after receiving from his hands a favor or courtesy; Upon his host at any dinner or supper party, (such calls should be made very soon after the entertainment given); Upon any friend whose joy or grief calls for an expression of sympathy, whether it be congratulation or condolence; Upon any friend who has lately returned from a voyage or long journey; Upon any lady who has accepted his services as an escort, either for a journey or the return from a ball or evening party; this call must be made the day after he has thus escorted the lady; Upon his hostess after any party to which he has been invited, whether he has accepted or declined such invitation; Upon any lady who has accepted his escort for an evening, a walk or a drive; Upon any friend whom long or severe illness keeps confined to the house; Upon his lady friends on New Year's day, (if it is the custom of the city in which he resides;) Upon any of his friends when they receive bridal calls; Upon lady friends in any city you are visiting; if gentlemen friends reside in the same city, you may either call upon them or send your card with your address and the length of time you intend staying, written upon it; if a stranger or friend visiting your city sends such a card, you must call at the earliest opportunity; Upon any one of whom you wish to ask a favor; to make him, under such circ.u.mstances call upon you, is extremely rude; Upon any one who has asked a favor of you; you will add very much to the pleasure you confer, in granting a favor, by calling to express the gratification it affords you to be able to oblige your friend; you will soften the pain of a refusal, if, by calling, and expressing your regret, you show that you feel interested in the request, and consider it of importance.

Upon intimate friends, relatives, and ladies, you may call without waiting for any of the occasions given above.

Do not fall into the vulgar error of declaiming against the practice of making calls, declaring it a "bore," tiresome, or stupid. The custom is a good one.

An English writer says:-- "The visit or call is a much better inst.i.tution than is generally supposed. It has its drawbacks. It wastes much time; it necessitates much small talk. It obliges one to dress on the chance of finding a friend at home; but for all this it is almost the only means of making an acquaintance ripen into friendship. In the visit, all the strain, which general society somehow necessitates, is thrown off. A man receives you in his rooms cordially, and makes you welcome, not to a stiff dinner, but an easy chair and conversation. A lady, who in the ball room or party has been compelled to limit her conversation, can here speak more freely. The talk can descend from generalities to personal inquiries, and need I say, that if you wish to know a young lady truly, you must see her at home, and by day light.

"The main points to be observed about visits, are the proper occasions and the proper hours. Now, between actual friends there is little need of etiquette in these respects. A friendly visit may be made at any time, on any occasion. True, you are more welcome when the business of the day is over, in the afternoon rather than in the morning, and you must, even as a friend, avoid calling at meal times. But, on the other hand, many people receive visits in the evening, and certainly this is the best time to make them."

Any first call which you receive must be returned promptly. If you do not wish to continue the acquaintance any farther, you need not return a second call, but politeness imperatively demands a return of the first one.

A call may be made upon ladies in the morning or afternoon; but in this country, where almost every man has some business to occupy his day, the evening is the best time for paying calls. You will gain ground in easy intercourse and friendly acquaintance more rapidly in one evening, than in several morning calls.

Never make a call upon a lady before eleven o'clock in the morning, or after nine in the evening.

Avoid meal times. If you inadvertently call at dinner or tea time, and your host is thus forced to invite you to the table, it is best to decline the civility. If, however, you see that you will give pleasure by staying, accept the invitation, but be careful to avoid calling again at the same hour.

No man in the United States, excepting His Excellency, the President, can expect to receive calls unless he returns them.

"Visiting," says a French writer, "forms the cord which binds society together, and it is so firmly tied, that were the knot severed, society would perish."

A ceremonious call should never extend over more than fifteen minutes, and it should not be less than ten minutes.

If you see the master of the house take letters or a paper from his pocket, look at the clock, have an absent air, beat time with his fingers or hands, or in any other way show weariness or ennui, you may safely conclude that it is time for you to leave, though you may not have been five minutes in the house. If you are host to the most wearisome visitor in existence, if he stays hours, and converses only on subjects which do not interest you, in the least; unless he is keeping you from an important engagement, you must not show the least sign of weariness. Listen to him politely, endeavor to entertain him, and preserve a smiling composure, though you may long to show him the door. In case he is keeping you from business of importance, or an imperative engagement, you may, without any infringement upon the laws of politeness, inform him of the fact, and beg him to excuse you; you must, however, express polite regret at your enforced want of hospitality, and invite him to call again.

It is quite an art to make a graceful exit after a call. To know how to choose the moment when you will be regretted, and to retire leaving your friends anxious for a repet.i.tion of the call, is an accomplishment worth acquiring.

When you begin to tire of your visit, you may generally feel sure that your entertainers are tired of you, and if you do not want to remain printed upon their memory as "the man who makes such long, tiresome calls," you will retire.