Dress should be suited, in some measure, to our condition. A surgeon or physician need not dress exactly like a carpenter; but, there is no reason why any body should dress in a very _expensive_ manner. It is a great mistake to suppose, that they derive any _advantage_ from exterior decoration.

For after all, men are estimated by other _men_ according to their capacity and willingness to be in some way or other _useful_; and, though, with the foolish and vain part of _women_, fine clothes frequently do something, yet the greater part of the s.e.x are much too penetrating to draw their conclusions solely from the outside appearance. They look deeper, and find other criterions whereby to judge. Even if fine clothes should obtain you a wife, will they bring you, in that wife, _frugality_, _good sense_, and that kind of attachment which is likely to be lasting?

Natural beauty of person is quite another thing: this always has, it always will and must have, some weight even with men, and great weight with women. But, this does not need to be set off by expensive clothes.

Female eyes are, in such cases, discerning; they can discover beauty though surrounded by rags: and, take this as a secret worth half a fortune to you, that women, however vain they may be themselves, _despise vanity in men_.

SECTION XII. _Bashfulness and Modesty._

Dr. Young says, 'The man that blushes is not quite a brute.' This is undoubtedly true; yet nothing is more clear, as Addison has shown us, than that a person may be both bashful and impudent.

I know the world commend the former quality, and condemn the latter; but I deem them both evils. Perhaps the latter is the greater of the two. The proper medium is true modesty. This is always commendable.

We are compelled to take the world, in a great measure, as it is. We can hardly expect men to come and buy our wares, unless we advertise or expose them for sale. So if we would commend ourselves to the notice of our fellow men, we must set ourselves up,--not for something which we are not;--but for what, upon a careful examination, we find reason to think we are. Many a good and valuable man has gone through _this_ life, without being properly estimated; from the vain belief that true merit could not always escape unnoticed. This belief, after all, is little else but a species of fatalism.

By setting ourselves up, I do not mean puffing and pretending, or putting on airs of haughtiness or arrogance; or any affectation whatever. But there are those--and some of them are persons of good sense, in many respects, who can scarcely answer properly, when addressed, or look the person with whom they are conversing in the face; and who often render themselves ridiculous _for fear they shall be so_. I have seen a man of respectable talents, who, in conversation never raised his eyes higher than the ta.s.sels of his friend's boots; and another who could never converse without turning half or three quarters round, so as to present his shoulder or the backside of his head, instead of a plain, honest face.

I have known young men _injured_ by bashfulness. It is vain to say that it should not be so. The world is not what it should be, in many respects; _and I must insist_ that it is our duty, to take it as it is, in order to make it better, or even in order to live in it with comfort. He that _thinks_ he _shall_ not, most surely _will_ not, please. A man of sense, and knowledge of the world, will a.s.sert his own rights, and pursue his own purposes as steadily and uninterruptedly as the most impudent man living; but then there is at the same time an air of modesty in all he does; while an overbearing or impudent _manner_ of doing the same things, would undoubtedly have given offence. Hence a certain wise man has said; 'He who knows the world will not be too bashful; and he who knows himself will never be impudent.'

Perpetual embarra.s.sment in company or in conversation, is sometimes even construed into meanness. Avoid,--if you can do it, without too great a sacrifice--every appearance of deserving a charge so weighty.

SECTION XIII. _Politeness and Good-Breeding._

Awkwardness is scarcely more tolerable than bashfulness. It must proceed from one of two things; either from not having kept good company, or from not having derived any benefit from it. Many very worthy people have certain odd tricks, and ill habits, that excite a prejudice against them, which it is not easy to overcome. Hence the importance of _good-breeding_.

Now there are not a few who despise all these _little things_ of life, as they call them; and yet much of their lives is taken up with them, small as they are. And since these self same little things cannot be dispensed with, is it not better that they should be done in the easiest, and at the same time the pleasantest manner possible?

There is no habit more difficult to attain, and few so necessary to possess, as perfect good-breeding. It is equally inconsistent with a stiff formality, an impertinent forwardness, and an awkward bashfulness. True Christian education would seem to include it; and yet unfortunately, Christians are not always polite.

Is it not surprising that we may sometimes observe, in mere men of the world, that kind of carriage which should naturally be expected from an individual thoroughly imbued with the spirit of Christianity, while his very neighbors, who are professing Christians, appear, by their conduct, to be dest.i.tute of such a spirit? Which, then, in practice (I mean so far as this fact is concerned) are the best Christians? But I know what will be the answer; and I know that these things ought not so to be.

No good reason can be given why a Christian should not be as well-bred as his neighbor. It is difficult to conceive how a person can follow the rules given in the Sermon on the Mount, without being, and showing himself to be, well-bred. I have even known men who were no friends to the bible, to declare it as their unequivocal belief that he whose life should conform to the principles of that sermon, could not avoid being _truly polite_.

There are not a few who _confound_ good-breeding with affectation, just as they confound a reasonable attention to dress with foppery. This calling things by wrong names is very common, how much soever it may be lamented.

_Good-breeding_, or true politeness, is the art of showing men, by external signs, the internal regard we have for them. It arises from good sense, improved by good company. Good-breeding is never to be learned, though it may be _improved_, by the study of books; and therefore they who attempt it, appear stiff and pedantic. The really well-bred, as they become so by use and observation, are not liable to affectation. You see good-breeding in all they do, without seeing the art of it. Like other habits, it is acquired by practice.

An engaging manner and genteel address may be out of our power, although it is a misfortune that it should be so. But it is in the power of every body to be kind, condescending, and affable. It is in the power of every person who has any thing to say to a fellow being, to say it with kind feelings, and with a sincere desire to please; and this, whenever it is done, will atone for much awkwardness in the manner of expression. Forced complaisance is foppery; and affected easiness is ridiculous.

Good-breeding is, and ought to be, an amiable and persuasive thing; it beautifies the actions and even the looks of men. But the _grimace_ of good-breeding is not less _odious_.

In short, good-breeding is a forgetting of ourselves so far as to seek what may be agreeable to others, but in so artless and delicate a manner as will scarcely allow them to _perceive_ that we are so employed; and the regarding of ourselves, not as the centre of motion on which every thing else is to revolve, but only as one of the wheels or parts, in a vast machine, embracing other wheels and parts of equal, and perhaps more than equal importance. It is hence utterly opposed to selfishness, vanity, or pride. Nor is it proportioned to the supposed riches and rank of him whose favor and patronage you would gladly cultivate; but extends to all. It knows how to contradict with respect; and to please, without adulation.

The following are a few plain directions for attaining the character of a well-bred man.

1. Never weary your company by talking too long, or too frequently.

2. Always look people in the face when you address them, and generally when they are speaking to you.

3. Attend to a person who is addressing you. Inattention marks a trifling mind, and is a most unpardonable piece of rudeness. It is even an _affront_; for it is the same thing as saying that his remarks are not _worth_ your attention.

4. Do not interrupt the person who is speaking by saying _yes_, or _no_, or _hem_, at every sentence; it is the most useless thing that can be. An occasional a.s.sent, either by word or action, may be well enough; but even a nod of a.s.sent is sometimes repeated till it becomes disgusting.

5. Remember that every person in a company likes to be the _hero_ of that company. Never, therefore, engross the whole conversation to yourself.

6. Learn to sit or stand still, while another is speaking to you. You will not of course be so rude as to dig in the earth with your feet, or take your penknife from your pocket and pair your nails; but there are a great many other little movements which are scarcely less clownish.

7. Never antic.i.p.ate for another, or _help him out_, as it is called.

This is quite a rude affair, and should ever be avoided. Let him conclude his story for himself. It is time enough for you to make corrections or additions afterward, if you deem his account defective.

It is also a piece of impoliteness to interrupt another in his remarks.

8. Say as little of _yourself_ and _your friends_ as possible.

9. Make it a rule never to accuse, without due consideration, any body or a.s.sociation of men.

10. Never try to appear more wise or learned than the rest of the company. Not that you should _affect_ ignorance; but endeavor to remain within your own proper sphere.

SECTION XIV. _Personal Habits._

I have elsewhere spoken of the importance of early rising. Let me merely request you, in this place, to form a _habit_ of this kind, from which no ordinary circ.u.mstances shall suffer you to depart. Your first object after rising and devotion, should be to take a survey of the business which lies before you during the day, making of course a suitable allowance for exigencies. I have seldom known a man in business thrive--and men of business we all ought to be, whatever may be our occupation--who did not rise early in the morning, and plan his work for the day. Some of those who have been most successful, made it a point to have this done before daylight. Indeed, I was intimately acquainted with one man who laid out the business of the day, attended family worship, and breakfasted before sunrise; and this too, at all seasons of the year.

Morning gowns and slippers are very useful things, it is said. But the reasons given for their utility are equally in favor of _always_ wearing them. 'They are loose and comfortable.' Very well: Should not our dress always be loose? 'They save _other clothes_.' Then why not wear them all day long? The truth, after all, is, that they are _fashionable_, and as we usually give the _true_ reason for a thing _last_, this is probably the princ.i.p.al reason why they are so much in use. I am pretty well convinced, however, that they are of little real use to him who is determined to eat his bread 'in the sweat of his face,' according to the Divine appointment.

Looking-gla.s.ses are useful in their place, but like many other conveniences of life, by no means indispensable; and so much abused, that a man of sense would almost be tempted, for the sake of example, to lay them aside. Of all wasted time, none is more _foolishly_ wasted than that which is employed in _unnecessary_ looking at one's own pretty face.

This may seem a matter of small consequence; but nothing can be of small importance to which we are obliged to attend _every day_. If we dressed or shaved but once a year, or once a month, the case would be altered; but this is a piece of work that must be done once every day; and, as it may cost only about _five minutes_ of time, and may be, and frequently is, made to cost _thirty_, or even _fifty minutes_; and, as only fifteen minutes make about a fiftieth part of the hours of our average daylight; this being the case, it is a matter of real importance.

SIR JOHN SINCLAIR asked a friend whether he meant to have a son of his (then a little boy) taught Latin? 'No,' said he, 'but I mean to do something a great deal better for him.' 'What is that?' said Sir John.

'Why,' said the other, 'I mean to teach him _to shave with cold water, and without a gla.s.s_.'

My readers may smile, but I can a.s.sure them that Sir John is not alone.

There are many others who have adopted this practice, and found it highly beneficial. One individual, who had tried it for years, has the following spirited remarks on the subject.

'Only think of the inconvenience attending the common practice! There must be _hot water_; to have this there must be _a fire_, and, in some cases, a fire for that purpose alone; to have these, there must be a _servant_, or you must light a fire yourself. For the want of these, the job is put off until a later hour: this causes a stripping and another dressing bout: or, you go in a slovenly state all that day, and the next day the thing must be done, or cleanliness must be abandoned altogether. If you are on a journey, you must wait the pleasure of the servants at the inn before you can dress and set out in the morning; the pleasant time for travelling is gone before you can move from the spot: instead of being at the end of your day's journey in good time, you are benighted, and have to endure all the great inconveniences attendant on tardy movements. And all this from the apparently insignificant affair of shaving. How many a piece of important business has failed from a short delay! And how many thousand of such delays daily proceed from this unworthy cause!'

These remarks are especially important to those persons in boarding-houses and elsewhere, for whom hot water, if they use it, must be expressly prepared.

Let me urge you never to say I cannot go, or do such a thing, till I am shaved or dressed. Take care always to BE _shaved and dressed_, and then you will always be ready to act. But to this end the habit must be formed in early life, and pertinaciously adhered to.

There are those who can truly say that to the habit of adhering to the principles which have been laid down, they owe much of their success in life; that however sober, discreet, and abstinent they might have been, they never could have accomplished much without it. We should suppose by reasoning beforehand, that the _army_ could not be very favorable to steady habits of this or any other kind; yet the following is the testimony of one who had made the trial.

'To the habit of early rising and husbanding my time well, more than to any other thing, I owed my very extraordinary promotion in the army. I was _always ready_. If I had to mount guard at _ten_, I was ready at _nine_: never did any man, or any thing, wait one moment for me. Being, at an age _under twenty years_, raised from corporal to sergeant major _at once_, over the heads of thirty sergeants, I should naturally have been an object of envy and hatred; but this habit of early rising really subdued these pa.s.sions.

'Before my promotion, a clerk was wanted to make out the morning report of the regiment. I rendered the clerk unnecessary; and, long before any other man was dressed for the parade, my work for the morning was all done, and I myself was on the parade ground, walking, in fine weather, for an hour perhaps.

'My custom was this: to get up, in summer, at daylight, and in winter at four o'clock; shave, dress, even to the putting of my sword-belt over my shoulder, and having my sword lying on the table before me, ready to hang by my side. Then I ate a bit of cheese, or pork, and bread. Then I prepared my report, which was filled up as fast as the companies brought me in the materials. After this, I had an hour or two to read, before the time came for any duty out of doors, unless when the regiment, or part of it, went out to exercise in the morning. When this was the case, and the matter was left to me, I always had it on the ground in such time as that the bayonets glistened in the _rising sun_; a sight which gave me delight, of which I often think, but which I should in vain endeavor to describe.