Her voice must be uppermost; conversation becomes a contest who can speak the most rapidly. The timid and modest retire from the encounter--she has the field to herself. She goes on, without mercy; the voice of a syren would fatigue, if heard continually. Others revolt at the injustice of the monopoly, and the words fall on ears that would be deaf if they could.

These are extreme cases; there are many other minor errors. The higher qualities of conversation must undoubtedly be based upon the higher qualities of the mind; then it is, indeed, a privilege to commune with others.

To acquire the power of thus imparting the highest pleasure by conversational powers, attention must be paid to literature. I am supposing the solid foundation of a good education already laid, but by literature, I do not mean only that cla.s.s of it which is taught at school.

Reading, at the present day, is too much confined to light literature. I would not speak against this. The modern novels, and the poets of all ages, are good reading, but let them be taken in moderation, and varied by something more solid. Let them be the dessert to the more substantial _dinner_ of history, travels, and works of a like nature.

Independent of the strength and polish given to the mind by a thorough course of reading, there is another reason why a lady should devote some portion of her time to it; she cannot do without it. She may, lacking this, pa.s.s through life respectably, even elegantly; but she cannot take her part in a communing with superior minds; she may enjoy, in wondering, the radiance of their intelligence; but the wondering must be composed, in part, of amazement at her own folly, in not having herself sought out the treasure concealed in the fathomless depths of books. She cannot truly enjoy society, with this art neglected. She may, for a few brief years, be the ornament of the drawing-room; but it must be, like many other ornaments there, in still life; she can never be the companion of the intellectual; and the time is gone by, when women, with all their energies excited, will be contented to be the mere plaything of brother, husband, or father.

Still it is not to the erudite, nor to the imaginative only, that it is given to please in conversation.

The art of imparting our ideas easily and elegantly to others, may be improved by ourselves, if there are opportunities of mingling in good society, with little study. The mind must first be cultivated; but it should not abash those who are conscious of moderate talents, or imperfect cultivation, from taking a due part in conversation, on account of their inferiority. It is a very different thing to shine and to please; to shine in society is more frequently attempted than compa.s.sed: to please is in the power of all. The effort to shine, when fruitless, brings a certain disgrace, and engenders mortification; all good people are inclined to take the will for the deed, when they see a desire to please. A gentle, deferential, kind manner, will disarm even the most discerning from criticising too severely the deficiencies of the inexperienced; confidence, disrespect of others, volubility, eagerness to dispute, must irritate the self-love of others, and produce an averseness to acknowledge talent or information, where they may even happen to exist.

It is wiser and safer for a young lady, in general, to observe the good, old-fashioned rule of being addressed first; but then she must receive the address readily, meeting it half way, repaying it by enlarging a little upon the topic thus selected, and not sinking into a dull silence, the moment after a reply is given. Some young ladies start, as if thunderstruck, when spoken to, and stare as if the person who pays them that attention, had no right to awaken them from their reverie.

Others look affronted, possibly from shyness, and begin a derogatory attack upon the beauty of their dress by twitching the front breadth--or move from side to side, in evident distress and consternation. Time remedies these defects; but there is one less curable and less endurable--that of pertness and flippancy--the loud remarks and exclamations--the look of self-sufficiency and confidence. But these offensive manifestations spring from some previous and deep-seated defects of character, and are only to be repelled by what, I fear, they will frequently encounter--the mortification of inspiring disgust.

Neither is the lengthy, prosy, didactic reply, consistent with the submission and simplicity of youth; egotism, and egotism once removed, that is, the bringing into the topic one's own family and relations, are also antidotes to the true spirit of conversation. In general, it is wiser, more in good taste, safer, more becoming, certainly more in accordance with good breeding, to avoid talking of persons. There are many snares in such topics; not merely the danger of calumniating, but that of engendering a slippery conscience in matters of fact. A young girl, shy and inexpert, states a circ.u.mstance; she feels her deficiency as a narrator, for the power of telling a story, is a power to be acquired only by practice. She is sometimes tempted to heighten a little the incidents, in order to get on a little better, and to make more impression. She must of course defend her positions, and then she perils the sanct.i.ty of truth. Besides, few things narrow the intellect more than dwelling on the peculiarities, natural or incidental, of that small coterie of persons who const.i.tute our world.

It is, in general, a wise rule, and one which will tend much to insure your comfort through life, to avoid disclosures to others of family affairs. I do not mean to recommend reserve, or art; to friends and relations, too great frankness can hardly be practised; but, with acquaintance, the less our own circ.u.mstances are discussed, the happier, and the more dignified will our commerce with them continue. On the same principle, let the concerns of others be touched upon with delicacy, or, if possible, pa.s.sed over in silence; more especially those details which relate to strictly personal or family affairs. Public deeds are, of course, public property. But personal affairs are private; and there is a want of true good breeding, a want of consideration and deference, in speaking freely of them, even if your friend is unconscious of the liberty taken.

It seems paradoxical to observe that the art of listening well forms a part of the duty of conversation. To give up the whole of your attention to the person who addresses himself to you, is sometimes a heavy tax, but it is one which we must pay for the privileges of social life, and an early practice will render it an almost involuntary act of good breeding; whilst consideration for others will give this little sacrifice a merit and a charm.

To listen well is to make an unconscious advance in the power of conversing. In listening we perceive in what the interest, in what the failure of others consists; we become, too, aware of our own deficiencies, without having them taught through the medium of humiliation. We find ourselves often more ignorant than we could have supposed possible. We learn, by a very moderate attention to the sort of topics which please, to form a style of our own. The "art of conversation" is an unpleasant phrase. The power of conversing well is least agreeable when it a.s.sumes the character of an _art_.

In listening, a well-bred lady will gently sympathize with the speaker; or, if needs must be, differ, as gently. Much character is shown in the act of listening. Some people appear to be in a violent hurry whilst another speaks; they hasten on the person who addresses them, as one would urge on a horse--with incessant "Yes, yes, very good--indeed-- proceed!" Others sit, on the full stare, eyes fixed as those of an owl, upon the speaker. Others will receive every observation with a little hysterical giggle.

But all these vices of manner may be avoided by a gentle attention and a certain calm dignity of manner, based upon a reflective, cultivated mind.

Observation, reading, and study, will form the groundwork for good powers of conversation, and the more you read, study, and see, the more varied and interesting will be your topics.

A young lady should consider music as one branch of her education, inferior, in importance, to most of those studies which are pointed out to her, but attainable in a sufficient degree by the aid of time, perseverance, and a moderate degree of instruction. Begun early, and pursued steadily, there is ample leisure in youth for the attainment of a science, which confers more cheerfulness, and brings more pleasure than can readily be conceived.

A young lady should be able to play with taste, correctness, and readiness, upon the general principle that a well educated woman should do all things well. This, I should suppose, is in the power of most persons; and it may be attained without loss of health, of time, or any sacrifice of an important nature. She should consider it as an advantage, a power to be employed for the gratification of others, and to be indulged with moderation and good sense for her own resource, as a change of occupation.

Consider in this light, music is what Providence intended it to be--a social blessing. The whole creation is replete with music,--a benignant Power has made the language of the feathered tribe harmony; let us not suppose that He condemns his other creatures to silence in the song.

Music has an influence peculiar to itself. It can allay the irritation of the mind; it cements families, and makes a home, which might sometimes be monotonous, a scene of pleasant excitement. Pursued as a recreation, it is gentle, rational, lady-like. Followed as a sole object, it loses its charm, because we perceive it is then over-rated.

The young lady who comes modestly forward, when called upon as a performer, would cease to please, were she, for an instant, to a.s.sume the air and confidence of a professional musician. There is a certain style and manner--confined now to second-rate performers, for the highest and most esteemed dispense with it--there is an effort and a dash, which disgust in the lady who has bad taste enough to a.s.sume them.

And, whilst I am on this topic, let me remark that there is a great deal in the _choice_ of music, in the selection of its character, its suitability to your feelings, style, and taste, and this especially with respect to vocal music.

There is no doubt that a good Italian style is the best for instruction, and that it produces the most careful and accomplished singers. Suppose a case. Your parents, most fair reader, have paid a high price to some excellent professor, to instruct you--and, with a fair ear, and a sufficient voice, you have been taught some of those elaborate songs which are most popular at the opera. A party is a.s.sembled--music is one of the diversions. Forth you step, and, with a just apprehension of the difficulties of your task, select one of those immortal compositions which the most eminent have made their study; you execute it wonderfully, only just falling a _little_ short of all the song should be; only just provoking a comparison, in every mind, with a high standard, present in the memory of every cultivated musician near you. A cold approval, or a good-natured "bravo!" with, believe me, though you do not hear it, a thorough, and, often, expressed conviction that you had better have left the thing alone, follows the effort which has merely proclaimed the fact that, spite of time and money spent upon the cultivation of your voice, you are but a second-rate singer.

But, choose a wiser, a less pretending, a less conspicuous path. Throw your knowledge into compositions of a less startling, less aspiring character. Try only what you can compa.s.s. Be wise enough not to proclaim your deficiencies, and the critics will go away disarmed, even if they are not charmed. But if there be _any_ voice, _any_ feeling, _any_ science, the touching melody, made vocal by youth and taste, will obtain even a far higher degree of encomium than, perhaps, it actually merits.

You will please--you will be asked to renew your efforts. People will not be afraid of cadenzas five minutes long, or of bravuras, every note of which makes one hope it may be the last.

It is true that, to a person who loves music, the performance of one of the incomparable songs of Bellini, Rosini, Flotow, or Mozart, is an actual delight--but; when attempted by a young amateur, it should be, like many other delights, confined to the private circle, and not visited upon society in general.

Do not suppose that I mean to recommend poor music, or feeble, ephemeral compositions. What is good need not, of necessity, be always difficult. Ballad music is rich in songs adapted for the private performer--and there are many, in Italian, of great beauty, which, though they would not be selected for a concert-room, or for brilliant display, are adapted for ladies.

Music is the greatest, best subst.i.tute for conversation. It has many merits, in this light. It can never provoke angry retort; it can never make enemies; it can injure no one's character by slander; and in playing and singing one can commit no indiscretion.

Music is a most excellent amus.e.m.e.nt, and, in society, an indispensable one. It aids conversation by occasionally interrupting it for a short period, to be renewed with a new impetus. It makes the most delightful recreation for the home circle, varying the toil and trouble of the father's or husband's working day, by the pleasures of the evening made by music's power to glide smoothly and swiftly.

There are but few persons who are entirely without a love for music, even if they do not understand it. They will be borne along upon the waves of a sweet melody to high, pure thoughts, often to delicious memories.

The piano is, at the present day, the most popular instrument in society. The harp has ceased to be fashionable, though it is sometimes heard. The latter is a most beautiful accompaniment for the voice, but requires a large room, as, in a small one, it will sound stringy and harsh.

The guitar, while it makes a very pleasant accompaniment for the voice, has also the advantage of being easily carried from place to place.

It requires as much judgment to select proper instrumental pieces for a parlor performance, as you would display in a choice of songs. Page after page of black, closely printed notes, will drive those who see them from the piano. They may be executed in the most finished style, but they are not suited to general society. In their place, for practice, or for a musical soiree, where every one puts forth her best musical powers, they are appropriate, and will give pleasure, but they are not suited for a mixed party. When asked to play, choose, if you will, a brilliant, showy piece, but let it be short. It is better still to make no attempt at display, but simply try to please, selecting the music your own judgment tells you is best suited to your audience.

Avoid the loud, thumping style, and also the over-solemn style.

Be sure, before you accept any invitation to play, that you know perfectly the piece you undertake. It is better to play the simplest airs in a finished, faultless manner, than to play imperfectly the most brilliant variations.

Avoid movement at the piano. Swinging the body to and fro, moving the head, rolling the eyes, raising the hands too much, are all bad tricks, and should be carefully abstained from.

With respect to drawing, modeling, or any pursuits of the same nature, so much depends on taste and opportunity, and they are so little the accomplishments of society that they require but few of those restrictions which music, in its use and abuse, demands. Drawing, like music, should be cultivated early. Its advantages are the habits of perseverance and occupation, which it induces; and the additional delight which it gives to the works, both of nature and of art. Like music, it gives independence--independence of society. The true lover of the arts has a superiority over the indifferent, and, if she be not better prepared for society, is much better fitted for retirement than those who are not so happily endowed with tastes, when in moderation, so innocent and beneficial.

There is no accomplishment more graceful, pleasing, healthy, and lady-like, than that of riding well. Avoiding, at the same time, timidity and the "fast" style, keeping within the bounds of elegant propriety, gracefully yielding to the guidance of your escort, and keeping your seat easily, yet steadily, are all points to be acquired.

To ride well is undoubtedly an admirable qualification for a lady, as she may be as feminine in the saddle as in the ball room or home circle.

It is a mistaken idea to suppose that to become an accomplished horse-woman a lady must uns.e.x herself. But she must have a reserve in her manner, that will prevent contamination from the intercourse which too much riding may lead to. To hunt, or follow the field sports, in a pursuit which is the track of blood, disgusts the true admirer of gentle breeding. And such diversions will certainly result in a coa.r.s.eness of manner and expression, growing upon the fair equestrian slowly but surely. A harsh voice, loud tone, expressions suited only to manly lips, but unconsciously copied, will follow her devotion to the unfeminine pursuit.

Nothing is more revolting than a woman who catches the tone and expressions of men. To hear the slang of jockeyism from female lips, is very offensive, yet ladies who mix in field sports are liable, nay, almost certain, to fall into a style of conversation which is ten times worse than the coa.r.s.est terms from the lips of a man. Instances there are, of the fairest of our s.e.x, from a fondness for such diversions, and a habitual partic.i.p.ation in such society, becoming hard, bold, and disgusting, even whilst retaining all their female loveliness of person.

A lady, unless she lives in the most retired parts of the country, should never ride alone, and even then she will be awkwardly placed, in case of accident, without an escort. In the cities, not only is it unfeminine, but positively dangerous, for a lady to ride unaccompanied by a gentleman, or a man servant.

Although it is impossible, within the limits of this little volume, to give many hints upon riding, a few may not be amiss. Like many other accomplishments, a teacher is necessary, if you wish to attain perfection, and no written directions can make you a finished horse-woman, unless you have had tuition and practice.

1. In mounting you are desired, gentle Amazon, to spring gracefully into your saddle, with the slight a.s.sistance of a hand placed beneath the sole of the shoe, instead of scrambling uncouthly to your "wandering throne," as Miss Fanshawe wittily calls it, from a high chair, as is frequently done by those who have not been properly instructed. To mount in the orthodox manner, you should stand nearly close to the horse, level with the front of the saddle, and taking the reins slackly in your right hand, you should place that hand on the nearest pommel, to secure your balance in rising, and with your left hand gather up the front of the habit, so as to leave the feet clear. The gentleman should place himself firmly, near, but not so near to you as to impede your rising, and with the same view must hold his head well back, as should he lose his hat from a whisk of your habit the effect produced is not good. You should then present your left foot, and the gentleman placing one hand beneath its sole, and the other above, so as to possess a safe hold, should, with nice judgment, give just such a.s.sistance as will enable you easily, with a spring, to vault gracefully into the saddle. You will then arrange your right leg comfortably over the pommel, your cavalier will then place your left foot in the stirrup and arrange the flow of the habit-skirt, and all is complete. All this, though so seemingly simple and easy, requires some little practice to effect neatly and gracefully.

2. Secondly, when riding with a gentleman, remember that you are best placed on the _left_ side; because in that position the graceful flow of your habit is seen to the greatest advantage, while it does not inconvenience the gentleman by getting entangled with his stirrup, nor does it receive the splashes of his horse.

3. But when you have a double attendance of cavaliers, if you be at all a timid rider, it may become discreet to "_pack_" you (forgive the homely phrase) between the two, since, in this position, you are the most thoroughly protected from your own horse's shying, or from other horses or vehicles approaching you too closely, being thus forced to take that part of the road to which the better judgment of your companions inevitably guides you. If you be an accomplished equestrian, you will prefer being outside, and (as has been said) to the left.

Sit erect in the middle of your saddle, turning your face full towards the head of your horse. Cling as closely as possible to the saddle, but avoid stooping forward, or using your hands to keep you in your seat.

Nervous motions on horseback are not only ungraceful, but dangerous, as your horse will not make any allowance for the delicacy of your nerves, and may prove his objections to a jerking hand, or a twitching rein, in a most decided and disagreeable manner.

The riding-dress, or habit, is best made to fit the figure tightly, with tight sleeves. It may be open in the front, over a neatly fitting chemisette, or b.u.t.toned close to the throat, with a neat linen collar and cuffs. The loose sacque is ungraceful, but a basque is most becoming on horseback. Gauntlet gloves, of leather, are the most suitable, and must be loose enough to give your hand perfect freedom, yet not so loose as to interfere with its motions. Do not wear the skirt too long; it will be dangerous in case of accident, and it may prove annoying to your horse. Your habit must be made of a material sufficiently heavy to hang gracefully, and not move too much with the wind. For a winter habit, a warmly-lined basque, trimmed at the throat and hands with fur, is an elegant and appropriate dress, and a round cap of the same cloth as the habit, with a band, and pieces to cover the ears, of fur to match the dress tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, makes a handsome and appropriate dress.

In summer, your hat should be of fine straw, and slouched to shade the face; in winter, of felt, or, if you prefer, a close cap of cloth. The hat may be trimmed with feathers or knots of ribbon, and the shape should be one to protect the complexion, at the same time graceful and becoming.

Avoid any display in a riding dress. Choose a material of some dark or neutral tint, and never use showy tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs.

Curls, or any flowing loose style of wearing the hair, will be found exceedingly troublesome on horseback. Arrange it neatly and compactly under your hat, for if a stray curl or lock annoys you, or is blown across your eyes by the wind, your hands will be too fully occupied to remedy the difficulty.

Your whip should be light and small, tasteful if you will, but not showy.