We all judge one another, and very properly, too, by externals. Most men appear like what they are, and there are those that are so experienced in judging their fellows by their appearance and bearing, that they rarely err. It is quite as true that the surest way to appear like a gentleman is to be one, as it is that the surest way to appear like an honest man is to be one. Life is made up of little things, and attention to them is evidence of a great rather than of a little mind. To a large understanding everything is important, and he that most readily descends to little things is also the most competent to compass great ones. In another chapter the subject of appearance is treated of; in this I purpose to treat more especially of bearing.

If a man would appear like a gentleman, he must walk, stand, and sit like one. In walking he should, above all, avoid everything that is unnatural or that smacks of self-consciousness. How often do we see men in the street whose every movement tells us their minds are chiefly on themselves! One throws his chest out À la dindon, while another walks with an abnormal stoop; but both delight in a kind of rolling, swaggering gait and an unnatural swing of the arms. We all know, when we see such a man, no matter what his appearance in other respects may be, that he is a person of low breeding. Not only is a man’s walk an index of his character and of the grade of his culture, but it is also an index of the frame of mind he is in. There is the thoughtful walk and the thoughtless walk, the responsible walk and the careless walk, the worker’s walk and the idler’s walk, the ingenuous walk and the insidious walk, and so on. In a word, what there is in us we all carry in essentially the same way; hence the surest way to have the carriage of gentility is to have gentility to carry.

It is also necessary that a man should pay attention to the manner in which he stands, when he is in the presence of others, and especially when he is in conversation with any one toward whom he would be at all respectful. Dropping in the hip, spreading the feet wide apart, putting the hands behind the back, putting the thumbs into the arm-holes of the vest—in short, standing in a nonchalant, take-it-easy manner is not permissible. One should stand still and erect—somewhat À la militaire—and the best place for the hands is where the attraction of gravitation takes them, when the muscles of the arms are relaxed. This position, to the tyro, seems unnatural, stiff, and ungraceful, while, in fact, it is natural, graceful, and respectful. This is one of the first things a dancing master should teach his pupils, and it always is one of the first things taught the learner for the stage.

Nor is the manner in which a man sits of less importance than the manner in which he walks or stands. The well-bred man does not loll and lounge in his chair, unless he is in the society of familiars, where one’s society strait-jacket may, according to circumstances, be more or less loosened. In short, that kind of comfort that is found in lolling and lounging and rocking and tipping back one’s chair is incompatible with a respectful bearing. Among thoroughly well-bred people the world over, usage herein is very exacting.

In public, the bow is the proper mode of salutation, also under certain circumstances in private; and, according to circumstances, it should be familiar, cordial, respectful, or formal. An inclination of the head or a gesture with the hand or cane suffices between men, except when one would be specially deferential to age or position; but in saluting a lady, the hat should be removed. A very common mode of doing this in New York, at present, particularly by the younger men, is to jerk the hat off and sling it on as hastily as possible. As haste is incompatible with grace, and as there is an old pantomimic law that “every picture must be held” for a longer or shorter time, the jerk-and-sling manner of removing the hat, in salutation, is not to be commended. The empressement a man puts into his salutations is graduated by circumstances, the most deferential manner being to carry the hat down the full length of the arm, keeping it there until the person saluted has passed. If a man stops to speak to a lady in the street he should remain uncovered, unless the conversation should be protracted, which it is sure not to be, if either of the parties knows and cares to observe the proprieties.

A well-bred man, meeting a lady in a public place, though she is a near relative—wife, mother, or sister—and though he may have parted from her but half an hour before, will salute her as deferentially as he would salute a mere acquaintance. The passers-by are ignorant of the relationship, and to them his deferential manner says: “She is a lady.”

Well-bred men often remove their hats when ill-bred men keep them on; for example, in second-class restaurants and especially in oyster saloons. Again, the ill-bred man, though he may perhaps remove his hat in such places, will wear it the entire length of the room on entering and leaving, whereas the well-bred man carries his hat as he passes the other guests. So, too, the ill-bred man often wears his hat until he reaches his seat at a place of amusement, though his seat is one of those that are farthest from the entrance.

The well-bred man raises his hat if he passes a lady, though a stranger, in the hall of a hotel, on the stairs, if he does her any little service, as the restoring of her fan, her glove, or anything, or if she makes an inquiry of him or he of her. He will not, however, as some would have us do, raise his hat if he passes a lady’s fare in a street car or an omnibus. A lady’s fare sometimes passes through the hands of several men before it reaches the cash-box. Should they all raise their hats, or only the first one, or only the last one, or should no one?

The following defence of my lovely countrywomen will not be wholly out of place here. It is from “Social Etiquette,” and I fully agree with the writer—cash-box excepted. She says: “A gentleman lifts his hat when offering a service to a strange lady. It may be the restoration of her kerchief or fan, the receiving of her change to pass it to the cash-box of a stage, the opening of her umbrella as she descends from a carriage—all the same; he lifts it before he offers his service, or during the courtesy, if possible. She bows, and, if she choose, she also smiles her acknowledgment; but she does the latter faintly, and she does not speak. To say ‘Thank you!’ is not an excess of acknowledgment, but it has ceased to be etiquette. A bow may convey more gratitude than speech.”

“This last information is more especially furnished to foreigners, who consider our ladies ungracious in some of these customs, and indelicately forward in others. In the matter of thanks to strangers for any little attentions they bestow upon ladies, we beg leave to establish our own methods, and no one finds it necessary to imitate the German, the French, the English, or the Spanish in these delicate matters.”

The best usage demands that the hat be removed in entering offices where the occupants are found uncovered.

It is the custom to remove the hats in hotel elevators, when there are ladies in them; but it is so inconvenient to do so when the elevator is full, that it would be well if the custom were abandoned. It is a surplusage de politesse, at the best.

Good usage does not demand that a man shall remove his hat when he has both hands occupied. It is better, however, for a man to remove his hat, when the occasion demands it, if he can do so at all easily, as the lady that he salutes may not be aware that, having both hands occupied, he should not be expected to do so. If a man is driving, he salutes with a flourish of the whip, if he is carrying it; if not, the right hand being free, he removes his hat.

A gentleman walking with an acquaintance, lady or gentleman, raises his hat to those persons that his acquaintance salutes; he does not, however, do more than simply raise it.

“There may be circumstances,” says the author of “Social Etiquette,” “when a gentleman may lift his hat to a passing lady, even though he cannot bow to her. She may be offended with him, and yet he may respect and feel kindly toward her. He may deserve her disregard, and it is permitted him to express his continued reverence by uncovering his head in her presence; but he has no right to look at her as she passes him. He must drop his eyes.”

If a man meets a lady with whom he is but slightly acquainted, he should wait for a look of recognition from her before he salutes her.

“A great deal of nonsense,” says Louise Chandler Moulton, “has been talked about the question of whose place it is to bow first when a lady and gentleman meet in the street or in any public assembly. It is very absurd to say that a man should always wait until a lady has recognized him. In this, as in most other matters, common-sense and mutual convenience are the only guides. Many ladies are near-sighted, many others find great difficulty in remembering faces. Are they, because of these drawbacks, to be always debarred of the pleasure of a chance meeting with some agreeable man? The important thing of course is that a man should not presume.”

“When two people meet who are really acquainted, it is not the man who should necessarily bow first, or the lady—it is simply whichever of them is the first to perceive and recognize the other. If a lady is walking and meets a man whom she knows well, and who desires to speak with her, he will of course not commit the awkwardness of keeping her standing in the street, but if he has time will beg permission to join her for a few moments, and walk beside her long enough for a brief chat.”

In our wide streets, the custom of giving the lady the wall-side of the pavement is not rigidly observed, but it should be in the narrow ones, unless the street is one very much frequented, like some of our down-town streets, when it is better for the lady to be always on the gentleman’s right, where she will be less jostled by the passers-by. When two men walk together, it is usual for the shorter one to take the upper side of the pavement, which renders the difference in height less observable.

In public conveyances the well-bred, considerate man offers his seat to any one that seems to need it more than he does—to the aged and infirm, for example, no matter what social stratum they may appear to belong to, to women with bundles or babies in their arms. Such as these should always take precedence over youth, beauty, or social position.

In a carriage a gentleman always gives the back seat to ladies accompanying him. If a gentleman drives out with one lady, he always places her on his right, which is the seat of honor; unless, of course, it is a one-seated vehicle, when he drives.

Neither in a carriage nor anywhere else should a man put his arm over the back of the lady’s seat. If a man were to do so, many ladies would request him to withdraw it.

If men stop in the street to converse, they should be careful not to stop where they will be in the way of the passers-by. We often see the thoughtless and inconsiderate stop directly opposite a crossing.

In carrying an umbrella or a cane under your arm, do not publish your awkwardness by carrying it in such a way as to make a cross of yourself, with the lance end sticking out behind you, endangering the eyes of others. Place the handle end under your arm, and let the lance end point forward and downward.

Unless you have something of importance to communicate, do not stop an acquaintance in the street during business hours, or, perhaps, it would be better to say at any time.

If an acquaintance should stop you in the street when your time is limited, you may with perfect propriety courteously excuse yourself and hasten forward.

When walking with an acquaintance, do not leave him to speak to another acquaintance without a word of apology. Should you be walking with a lady, do not leave her alone if you can well avoid it.

If you see an acquaintance to whom you have something to say in conversation with some one else, do not go up and take possession of him after the fashion of the unbred. Let him know that you would speak with him and wait his leisure. If he is a man of any breeding, he will not keep you waiting long.

One salutation to a person passing on a promenade or drive is all that usage requires.

Good usage does not allow a man to smoke when driving or walking with ladies.

As a rule, a man should not offer to shake hands with a lady when they meet on neutral ground. In his own house, yes; in hers, certainly not. “There is a right and a wrong way to shake hands,” says an English writer. “It is horrible when your unoffending digits are seized in the sharp compass of a kind of vise, and wrung and squeezed until you feel as if they were reduced to a jelly. It is not less horrible when you find them lying in a limp, nerveless clasp that makes no response to your hearty greeting, but chills you like a lump of ice. Shake hands as if you meant it—swiftly, strenuously, and courteously, neither using an undue pressure nor falling wholly supine. You may judge of the character of a man from the way in which he shakes hands. As for the cold-blooded creatures who austerely offer you one or two fingers, I recommend you to ignore them; look loftily over them, as if unconscious of their existence and—their fingers. But if a lady does you the honor to offer you her hand, take it with an air of grateful deference that will show how you appreciate the honor; do not drop it instantly as if the touch scared you, nor hold it so long as to cause her a feeling of uneasiness.”

Tight-fitting gloves—kid and dogskin, for example—should never be removed to shake hands with any one, nor should a man ever say, “Excuse my glove.” There is less handshaking done now than formerly.

If you meet an acquaintance in the street when you are walking with a friend, do not introduce them; nor should you ever introduce people in public places, unless you have good reason to believe that the introduction will be agreeable—nay more, is desired by both parties. The universal introducer is a very unpleasant person to associate with. In introducing persons, it is the lower that is introduced to the higher, and, as a rule, the younger to the older, the gentleman to the lady. No one would think of introducing an octogenarian to a girl of sixteen.

“The introduction that entitles to recognition having been once made,” says Mrs. Ward, “it is the duty of the younger person to recall himself or herself to the recollection of the older person, if there is much difference in age, by bowing each time of meeting, until the recognition becomes mutual. As persons advance in life they look for these attentions on the part of the young, and it may be, in some instances, that it is the only way the young have of showing their appreciation of courtesies extended to them by the old or middle-aged.”

The author of “Social Etiquette” says: “Ladies who entertain hospitably and possess hosts of friends are likely to invite many young gentlemen with whose families they are familiar; but as they seldom have an opportunity of seeing their young friends except for a moment or two during an evening party, it would be strange if sometimes these ladies should not fail to recognize a recent guest when they meet on the promenade. Young gentlemen are over-sensitive about these matters, and imagine that there must be a reason for the apparent indifference. That the lady invites him to her house is an evidence of her regard, but she cannot charge her memory with the features of her multitude of young acquaintances, much as she would like to show this courtesy to them all.”

“Should any one,” says an authority in such matters, “wish to avoid a bowing acquaintance with a person who has once been properly introduced, he may do so by looking aside, or dropping the eyes as the person approaches; for if the eyes meet there is no alternative, bow he must.”

If a gentleman meets a lady acquaintance in the street, it is optional with her whether she will stop or not. If the gentleman has anything to say to her, he should turn and walk with her until he has said what he has to say. When he takes leave of her he will bow and raise his hat.

There is no one thing, perhaps, in which the difference between the well-bred man and the ill-bred man more appears than in the manner in which, the place where, and the time when they smoke. The well-bred man does not smoke, nor does he seem to smoke, to show off, whereas the ill-bred man very often smokes in a self-conscious manner that seems to say: “Look at me! see how skilfully my lips hold this cigar; how I can shift it from one side of my mouth to the other without touching it with my fingers, and how well I can articulate with it in my mouth; in short, look you what perfect control I have over my labial muscles, and, having seen, admire!” In short, there are many low-bred young men—very many—that appear to smoke only to display their—imagined—grace and skill, when, in fact, in smoking as they do, where they do, and when they do, they but publish their vulgarity. Such men are certainly not of the sort that Shakespeare accuses of having a “vaulting ambition.” As they smoke chiefly for show, a poor cigar answers their purpose as well as a good one; consequently, they usually buy of the kind that are sold at the rate of two for a cent.

The well-bred man, on the contrary, the gentleman, the man that smokes only for the love of it, puts but as much of his cigar in his mouth as is necessary in order to draw it, keeps it in his mouth no longer than is necessary, and never fails to remove it when he talks, or passes any one toward whom he would be respectful, especially a lady. Further, our best-bred men never smoke in any street at an hour when it is much frequented, nor in any public place where smoking is likely to be offensive to others.

Fortunately, neither “young America” nor “old” is much given to smoking a pipe outside of his own domicile. When we see a pipe in our streets or in public places it is generally in the mouth of either an Englishman, a Canadian, or an Irish hodcarrier.

“Give up to ‘cads’ and ‘snobs’ the practice of smoking in the streets or in a theatre,” says the author of “The Glass of Fashion.”

“Gentlemen never smoke in the streets, except at night,” says another.

“A well-bred man will never pass a lady with a cigar in his mouth, whether he knows her or not, not even in a desert,” says yet another.

From another writer we have: “In the eyes of persons of the best culture, a cigar or a cigarette in a man’s mouth, in public places, vulgarizes his appearance; hence men of the best fashion never smoke in the street, except at night.”

“In England,” says Mrs. Duffey, “a well-bred man never smokes in the street. Are we obliged to say that this rule does not hold in this country, or shall we repeat it with an emphasis on the well bred? At all events, no gentleman will ever insult a lady by smoking in the streets in her company; and in meeting and saluting a lady he will always remove his cigar from his mouth.”

Spitting is one of those things that no man should do, if he can avoid it. If in the street, common decency, it would seem, should prompt a man to go to the gutter if he finds it necessary to spit; and if anywhere else, it should prompt him not to spit on the floor, be the floor carpeted or not. We often see men spit on a carpet, especially in our theatres, but we never see any man spit on a carpet of his own.

Another disagreeable habit is that of going about singing, humming, or whistling. The man that habitually does any one of these things, either in the street—no matter what the hour—in the halls of hotels, as he goes up and down stairs, or in his own apartments, when there is any one within hearing, has the manners of a boor, and deserves the calaboose for disorderly conduct.

Pointing, too, as a habit should be avoided, especially pointing with the thumb over the shoulder, which is a very inelegant action.

Another vulgar habit to be avoided is that of going about with a toothpick in the mouth.

“The ball is the paradise of love,” says an English writer. “In the happy spring-time of life, when the brain is fertile in pleasant fancies, and the heart throbs with unexpressed hopes—when every day brings with it a new pleasure, and every night a new reason for looking forward with joyous anticipation to the morrow—when our energies are as exhaustless as our spirits, and no sense of fatigue or weariness can oppress us, the ball-room becomes an enchanted world of light and music and perfume, into which that ubiquitous ‘black care’ of the Roman poet durst not intrude, where sorrow is never seen, and past and future are forgotten in the innocent intoxications of the present.

“To the young ear, what so delightful as merry music? To the youthful eye, what so attractive as the spectacle of fair forms gracefully revolving in the soft, sweet mazes of the mystic dance? And if we know that ‘at the ball’ we shall meet that ‘other half’ of one’s self—Romeo or Juliet, as the case may be, but Romeo without his melancholy, and Juliet without her tragedy—can it be wondered at that it draws us thither with an irresistible attraction?

“Ah, when the noontide comes, and already the shadows of evening gather over our downward path, how will remembrance bring back to us the days when it was bliss to touch one beloved hand, to take one trusting form in our reverent embrace—when it was joy untold for Romeo and Juliet to tread the painted floor together, and, side by side, to circle round and round to the strains of Strauss or Gung’l! And then, in the pauses of the dance, the brief whisper on the cool balcony or beneath the broad palms of the conservatory! And last of all, the privilege of draping those graceful shoulders with the protecting shawl, and the last sweet pressure of clinging fingers as Juliet passed into the carriage that was to bear her from our wistful gaze!”

If a young man would go into society—and every young man should go into society—and if he learn to dance, as most young men do, he should learn to dance properly. To compass this end, it is of the first importance that he select a good teacher. There are not a few of the dancing-masters nowadays—some of the more fashionable ones, too—that are quite ignorant of the art they pretend to teach. As a natural consequence, their pupils dance badly, if they can be really said to dance at all. They are ungraceful, and do not mark the time, nor make any perceptible distinction between the different round dances, whereas each round dance properly has a distinctive step and movement. In dancing the round dances, in order to dance gracefully, never bend forward, but carry yourself erect, and do not bend in the knees; never put your arm around your partner’s waist farther than is necessary to hold her securely; never extend your left arm À la pump-handle, but keep your left hand, firmly holding the lady’s right, opposite and a little below your left shoulder, and put it nowhere else; never pass around the hall more rapidly than the measure compels you to pass—rapidity is incompatible with grace—and always point with the toe to the floor when the foot is raised. Take short steps, and take them with as little evident muscular exertion as possible. Grace and ease, or seeming ease, are inseparable.

The most popular of the round dances nowadays is a dance that is called a waltz, though it is no more like what we called a waltz twenty-five years ago, nor any more like the only dance the Europeans call a waltz now, than a minuet is like a country break-down. Its popularity is largely, if not wholly, due to the comparative ease with which it is learned. The dancing-masters say that the “old-fashioned” waltz, as it is now called, is too hard to learn; that there are few that can learn to dance it well; that the dancers nowadays care little for grace of movement; that if they are amused they are content, and so on. If the waltz—the genuine waltz—is the most difficult of all the round dances to learn, it is also the most fascinating of them all for the accomplished dancer, and the most pleasing to the looker-on, because of all the round dances its movements are made with the most grace, dignity, precision, and biensÉance.

If for no other reason, the waltz—so called—of to-day cannot be danced gracefully on account of the backward movement it demands. He that has never had any Æsthetic training in the movements of the body, and especially he that has no innate sense of the graceful may think differently, but this is true nevertheless. Another reason, and a very important one too, that the movements of this dance cannot be made gracefully is because they compel the dancer to carry himself with his shoulders thrown somewhat forward and with the knees a good deal bent—two things that are incompatible with graceful physical action. But perhaps the most serious objection to the waltz of nowadays is the habit of “reversing” that is indulged in by those that dance it. Reversing is simply a barbarism, as those that indulge in it do not and cannot avoid bumping against the other dancers. A man that dances the round dances well, and does not reverse, never runs against anybody; he goes just where he wants to go, and goes nowhere else, and he always wants to go straight around the sides of the hall. The plea of the reverser is that if he turns one way all the time, he gets dizzy. Nonsense! In the days when there was no reversing done, nobody complained of dizziness. If, at first, there is a tendency that way, it soon wears off. There is surely no pleasure in dancing, if one is continually jostled, and as long as reversing is practised, dancers will continue to jostle one another.

No man, of course, can dance the round dances well and gracefully, unless he has a good partner. If he makes the attempt with a lady that does not know the steps, or that seems desirous to rest her head on his shoulder, he will be quite certain not to succeed. Dancers of the round dances should always keep as far apart as the length of the gentleman’s arm will permit, and both should stand erect, with the shoulders well back. To dance otherwise is vulgar in the extreme.

In the round dances, good usage demands that you make frequent pauses, and that you do not race round and round until the music ceases. If you would exhibit your powers of endurance, enter the field as a champion runner.

“I could rave,” says a high English authority, “through three pages about the innocent enjoyment of a good waltz, its grace and beauty, but I will be practical instead, and give you a few hints on the subject.

“The position is the most important point. The lady and gentleman before starting should stand exactly opposite each other, quite upright, and not, as is so common in England, painfully close to each other. If the man’s hand be placed where it should be, at the centre of the lady’s waist, and not all round it, he will have as firm a hold and not be obliged to stoop, or bend to his right. The lady’s head should then be turned a little toward her left shoulder, and her partner’s somewhat less toward his left, in order to preserve the balance. Nothing can be more atrocious than to see a lady lay her head on her partner’s shoulder; she should throw her head and shoulders a little back.

“Russian men undertake to perform in waltzing the same feat as the Austrians in riding, and will dance round the room with a glass of wine in the left hand without spilling a drop. This evenness in waltzing is certainly very graceful, but it can only be obtained by a sliding step that is little practised in England. The pace, again, should not be so rapid as to endanger other couples. The knees should be very little bent in dancing, and the body still less so. I do not know whether it is worse to see a man ‘sit down’ in a waltz, or to find him with his head poked forward over your young wife’s shoulder, hot, red, wild, and in far too close proximity to the partner of your bosom, whom he makes literally the partner of his own.

“The remarks as to the position in waltzing apply to all round dances. The calm ease that marks the man of good taste makes even the swiftest dances graceful and agreeable. Vehemence may be excused at an election but not in a ball-room.

“Dancing, if it is a mere trifle, is one to which great minds have not been ashamed to stoop. Locke, for instance, speaks of it as manly, Plato recommended it, and Socrates learned the Athenian polka of the day, when he was quite an old man, and liked it very much. Some one has even gone so far as to call it ‘the logic of the body;’ and Addison defends himself for making it the subject of a disquisition.”

“Nothing,” says Mr. Cecil B. Hartley, “will give ease of manner and a graceful carriage to a man more surely than the knowledge of dancing. He will, in its practice, acquire easy motion, a light step, and learn to use both hands and feet well. Some people being bashful and afraid of attracting attention in a ball-room or evening party, do not take lessons in dancing, overlooking the fact that it is those who do not take part in the amusement on such occasions, not those who do, that attract attention. To all such men I would say, Learn to dance! You will find dancing one of the very best means for correcting bashfulness.”

This is all very well and very sensible, but the most weighty reason why a man should learn to dance lies in the fact that every man that goes into society should be qualified to take part in society amusements—in short, to do what others do, and to do it well.

Here are some injunctions I find in “The Glass of Fashion:”

“Bear yourself with moderation in the liveliest measure. Some couples go through a waltz as if they were dancing dervishes, and indulge in an abandon that, to say the least, is indecorous.

“Lead your partner through a quadrille; do not haul her. A lady’s waist should be sacred, and there can be no excuse for clasping it as if you wanted to steady yourself by it.

“Dance quietly. Do not go through your steps as if you were a dancing-master; nor move your limbs wildly, as if you were executing an Indian war-dance.

“I am not sure that a man in a dress-coat and black trousers, going through a quadrille or cotillon, can be considered either a noble or a beautiful sight; but I am sure that it is better he should dance as if he knew something about it, than like a country clown who mistakes muscular activity for grace.

“Above all, do not be prone to quarrel in a ball-room; it disturbs the harmony of the company, and should be avoided, if possible. Recollect that a thousand little derelictions from strict propriety may occur through the ignorance or stupidity of the aggressor, and not from any intention to annoy; remember, also, that really well-bred women will not thank you for making them conspicuous by over-officiousness in their defence, unless, indeed, there is a serious violation of decorum. In small matters, ladies are both able and willing to take care of themselves, and would prefer being allowed to overwhelm the unlucky offender in their own way.

“You go to a ball to dance, and not to stand against the wall, or by the door, with the smirk of priggishness on your foolish face, as if the whole thing were a baw, and everybody in the room unworthy of your august notice. If Heaven only ‘gave you to see yourself as others see you,’ rest assured you would adopt no such idiotic conduct.”

“A man who can dance, and will not dance,” says Mrs. Ward, “ought to stay away from a ball. Who has not encountered that especial type of ill-bred man who lounges around doorways or strolls through a suite of rooms, looking as if there were not a creature present worth dancing with!”

“A gentleman of genuine politeness,” says Mrs. Duffey, “will not give all his time and attention to the belles of the evening, but will at least devote a little thought to the wall-flowers who sit forlorn and unattended, and who but for him might have no opportunity to dance.” The wall-flower is a plant found in every ball-room, yet no young lady, no matter how plain and uninteresting she may be, need ever be one. Let her learn to dance well and she will always have partners.

At balls, the right of introducing rests mainly with the ladies and gentlemen of the house, but a chaperone may introduce a gentleman to her charge, and if a man is intimate with a young lady he may ask her permission to introduce a friend.

An invitation to a private ball, like other invitations, should be answered immediately.

The ball demands the fullest of toilets: dress suit, white necktie, stand-up collar, and straw-colored gloves, which look white at night. The gloves should be worn the whole evening, except at supper, after which men that can afford it often put on a fresh pair.

If alone, go from the dressing-room to the ball-room and pay your respects to the host and hostess. If there are young ladies in the family, take the earliest opportunity to speak to them and to ask one of them to dance the first set with you. If she is engaged, you may ask her to dance with you later in the evening, and then you are at liberty to look for a partner among the guests.

In asking a lady to dance with you, if you know her but slightly, or if you have but just been introduced to her, it is sufficient to say: “Shall I, or may I, have the honor, or the pleasure, of dancing the next set with you?” or “Will you honor me with your hand for the next set?” “An applicant for this honor is always careful to recognize the office and authority of the chaperone when making his request. This is considered no more respect than is due to the lady who has kindly undertaken the care of the young lady at a ball.”

At the end of every dance, says an authority, a gentleman should offer his right arm to his partner, and at least take her once around the room before consigning her to her chaperone. Another authority says that a gentleman should return the lady directly to her chaperone as soon as the dance is finished. He may linger here to converse with her, but not elsewhere.

At a ball a gentleman is introduced to a lady only that he may ask her to dance with him—the acquaintance, therefore, rarely goes any farther. Whether it shall or not is entirely optional with the lady. Should they meet afterward, the gentleman will wait for a recognition before he speaks.

Nor should a gentleman that is introduced to a young lady at a ball ask her for more than two dances the same evening. Indeed, the showing of marked preferences in society is always in questionable taste. It is certain that it is in the best circles that we see least of it.

A gentleman taking a lady in to supper should reconduct her to the ball-room; the fact of friends joining her, in the supper-room, would not relieve him of the duty. “While the lady is supping you must stand by and talk to her,” says “The Man in the Club-Window,” “attending to every want, and the most you can take yourself is a glass of champagne when you help her. You then lead her up-stairs again, and if you are not wanted there any more, you may steal down and do a little quiet refreshment on your own account. As long, however, as there are many ladies at the table, you have no right to begin. Nothing marks a man here so much as gorging at supper. Balls are meant for dancing, not for eating.”

In an English work of high authority, entitled “Mixing in Good Society,” I find the following admonitions:

“Never enter a ball-room in other than full evening dress, and white or light kid gloves.

“A gentleman cannot be too careful not to injure a lady’s dress. This he is sure to do if he dances a round dance with her without gloves.”

“The young women of the country,” says Col. Donan, “send forth a huge, universal wail of indignant protest against the ungloved men who persist in leaving their finger-marks on the backs of delicately tinted dresses at fashionable germans, hops and balls. From Cape Cod to Corpus Christi, no dancing party ever takes place that is not followed by a day of lamentation and execration on the part of the unhappy girls who wake from dreams of waltz and galop and quadrille, to find their dainty costumes ruined by the bare-paw prints of men for whose ruthless crime against decency there is no excuse. The fashion of going without gloves originated in the vilest foreign flunkeyism. The Prince of Wales forgot his gloves one evening when he went to the opera, and consequently was compelled to appear with his hands uncovered. The next evening every asinine toady and swell in the theatre showed his hands in native nakedness, and the vulgar apery was promptly caught up on this side of the ocean. Let gentlemen remember that no ungloved man can pretend to be fully dressed.

“It is an affront to a lady to hold her hand behind you, or on your hip, when dancing a round dance.

“Never forget a ball-room engagement. It is the greatest neglect and slight that a gentleman can offer a lady.

“If a lady happens to forget a previous engagement, and stand up with another partner, the gentleman whom she has thus slighted is bound to believe that she has acted from 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 absurd. In a public room it is not less reprehensible.

“Always remember that good breeding and good temper—or the appearance of good temper—are inseparably connected.

“However much pleasure a man may take in a lady’s society, he must not ask her to dance too frequently. Engaged persons would do well to bear this in mind. A ball is too formal a place for any one to indulge in personal preferences of any kind.

“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 with the most beautiful; to take down an elderly chaperone to supper, instead of her lovely charge, with a good grace; to enter into the spirit of the dance, instead of hanging about the doorway; to abstain from immoderate eating, drinking, or talking; to submit to trifling annoyances with cheerfulness; in fact, to forget himself, and contribute as much as possible to the amusement of others.”

If a gentleman that is invited to a house on the occasion of an entertainment is not acquainted with all the members of the family, his first duty, after speaking to the host and hostess, is to ask some common friend to introduce him to those members that he does not know.

“Though not customary for married persons to dance together in society, those men who wish to show their wives the compliment of such an unusual attention, if they possess any independence, will not be deterred,” says Mrs. Ward, “from doing so by their fear of any comments from Mrs. Grundy.”

“The sooner we recover from the effects of the Puritanical idea that clergymen ought never to be seen at balls, the better for all who attend them,” says Mrs. Ward. “Where it is wrong for a clergyman to go, it is wrong for any member of his church to be seen.”

The sons of a house where an entertainment is given must for that evening refrain from engaging in any flirtations, or from showing in any way their preferences. Nothing is more at variance with good breeding than for them to do otherwise. It is their imperative duty to see that no one is neglected.

A gentleman should not take a vacant seat next to a lady that is a stranger to him, nor next to an acquaintance without first asking her permission.

Always give your partner your undivided attention. To let your eyes wander about the room, or to betray an interest in others, is the reverse of flattering to her.

When you conduct your partner back to her seat, do not remain too long in conversation with her. We go into society to take part in a general interchange of civilities, and not to engage in prolonged tÊte-À-tÊtes.

There is a very old injunction that says that you should never wait till the music begins to engage your partner.

Though a gentleman would naturally give special attention to a lady he escorted to a ball, he should leave her every opportunity to accept the attentions of others. Any attempt to monopolize her society, though she were his betrothed, would be thoroughly plebeian. He should call for her punctually, taking a bouquet for her if he chooses, or, better, if the spirit moves him, sending one in the afternoon with his card. Arrived, he leaves her at the door of the ladies’ dressing-room, and himself goes to the gentlemen’s. Having arranged his dress and put on his white kid gloves, he goes and waits at the ladies’ room till his companion appears, when he escorts her to the ball-room. Having exchanged salutations with the hostess, he leads her to a seat. He will dance the first set with her and also another set in the course of the evening. On no account will he dance two sets with her in succession. During the rest of the evening, it is his duty to see that she is not neglected, that she is provided with partners, and with an escort to supper. Finally, he will be ready to conduct her home when she expresses a wish to go, and will personally inquire after her health the next day.

The author of “Social Etiquette of New York” settles a question of some moment, quite to her satisfaction, and also, I am willing to believe, to the satisfaction of the ladies generally, in this wise: “Now, just at this point arises a question that has long been in dispute, and it may as well be settled at once: ‘Which side of the stairway, the rail or the wall, should be accorded to a lady?’

“It has been discussed by gentlemen, as if it were a matter for them to decide, which it is not, by any means. Such ladies as have been given their choice have invariably said: ‘Permit me to take your left arm with my right hand, and it does not matter whether it is wall or rail that I am nearest in going up or down stairs. I can better care for myself than you can care for me.’

“Sometimes the turning or curving of the staircase so narrows the steps on the rail side as to make them dangerous to heedless feet. In such a case a lady must cling to the arm of her escort, or else clasp the rail with her fresh and tightly-fitting gloves, which last she is never willing to do if she can avoid it.

“Of course a gentleman cannot always wait to examine the architectural peculiarities of a staircase before he decides which arm will best satisfy the lady whom he desires to benefit. He is safe in offering her his left. If she declines assistance, she will choose which part of the stairs she likes best to ascend, and the gentleman will precede her by two or three steps. On going down, he is always slightly in advance of her. This arrangement settles the question satisfactorily to the ladies, and gentlemen have really no right to a choice in this matter.”

“Oftener than otherwise,” says “Social Etiquette,” “the lady of to-day does not lean upon the arm of her escort, but advances into the salon unassisted. Indeed, the ancient custom is falling into disuse in our fashionable society.

“The lady precedes the gentleman by a step or two, when entering or passing out from an apartment, provided she does not retain his arm. In the highest circles of France, the lady enters several steps in advance of the gentleman at a formal reception. Our custom of precedence is not quite so pronounced as that.”

If you leave a ball, or party of any kind, before the music ceases, do it as quietly as possible, in order that your going may not be observed by others and so break up the party. If you meet the hostess on your way out take leave of her in such a manner that other guests may not observe you. As for looking for her it is quite unnecessary.

Party calls, as they are termed—i.e., calls to recognize the obligation for having been honored with an invitation—are made on the hostess on her first regular reception day after the entertainment, whether you were at it or not. If she has no regular reception day, then a call should be made, or cards left, within, at the farthest, ten days.

Though a man may take no great pleasure in card-playing, it is very desirable that he should be able to play those games that are most played in society—in this country, whist and euchre for example. A man should go into society as much to make himself useful as in search of amusement. If a fourth hand is wanted at a rubber, he should be able not only to take it, but to acquit himself fairly well.

In general society, the card-table is generally reserved for elderly people, who always take precedence over the young.

Husband and wife should not play in the same table, except where the company is so small that it cannot be avoided. The supposition is that they are so well acquainted with each other’s mode of playing that they would have an unfair advantage. Then again, married people go into society to exchange civilities with others and not with themselves.

Never, under any circumstances, cheat or wilfully violate the rules of the game. To do either is to be guilty of a species of buffoonery.

Never lose your temper at the card-table. You should not play unless you can bear ill-luck with composure, and can pass over any blunders your partner may make with serenity.

Unless you are playing with familiars, do not urge any one to play faster. The patient man is never uncivil.

Some ungallant monster has said that women have only two passions, love and avarice, and that, though the latter ill-becomes them, yet it is so strong that they can rarely conceal it at the card-table. For this reason, he adds, it is always painful to see them play when there is any stake.

As a rule in good society, in this country, no stake is played for, and when there is—here as elsewhere—it is understood that though one does play with money one does not play for money.

When the cards are being dealt by another, keep your hands out of the way, and do not touch your cards until all have been dealt.

In playing, throw your cards down quietly, and not violently, after the fashion of the card-players one sees in lager-beer saloons.

“The new etiquette regarding costume at places of amusement began only lately to shape itself into formality in New York. It is now considered quite proper for a gentleman to attend an opera in a matinÉe suit, provided seats have been taken elsewhere than in a box, but he is limited in his visits between the acts to such of his acquaintances as are also in demi-toilet, unless he goes to the foyer to chat with promenaders.

“If a gentleman is in full dress, he may visit everywhere in the house, but he will not seat himself in the orchestra or in the dress circle, because his toilet will appear out of harmony with the soberer garments about him.”

Thus wrote the author of “Social Etiquette of New York,” in 1878, and yet the fact is that there are many men in New York that are in the habit of wearing full dress at all our better theatres on all “first nights,” no matter where their seats may be, and always when they go to the theatre accompanied by ladies. Thus we see that opinions in this matter differ materially. To the writer it seems that a morning suit—black frock coat and dark trousers—is fully as appropriate as full dress on all occasions where the ladies are not expected to be in full dress, which they are not in any of our parquets or dress circles. There is something sorely incongruous in the picture presented by a lady in a sober, high-necked gown and an extensive hat seated beside a man in a swallow-tailed coat, a low-cut waistcoat and a white necktie. And then does it not look very much as though he had no demi-toilet suit with which to make his appearance correspond with that of the lady?

“Social Etiquette” says further: “He may properly wear gloves when he is not in full dress, as this slight formality of attire is in keeping with the style of his costume. If he wears a dress coat and an evening necktie, it is permissible for him to appear without gloves.”

For several years gloves were little worn by men, especially with full dress, even at dancing-parties and balls, but of late the wearing of gloves, particularly at parties and balls, is the rule rather than the exception. An ungloved man certainly never looks dressed. From present indications gloves will soon be as generally worn as they ever have been.

A gentleman inviting a lady to go with him to an entertainment, theatrical, musical, or whatever it may be, should take care to do so betimes, and also in case full dress will be necessary to let her know it. This is a consideration that often has great weight with a lady in deciding whether she shall accept or not.

Unless a lady is in full dress, or the weather is bad, it is not generally deemed necessary, in the cities at least, to provide a carriage. Women of the best sort do not like to see men put themselves to any expense that is not really demanded when they offer them a civility, no matter what their circumstances may be. It is economy and not lavishness that commands respect, among sensible people, the world over. The vulgar synonym for ostentation, remember, is splurge.

You should always try to be in your seat before an entertainment begins, and if, unavoidably, you are late, you should await a fitting time to go to it. There are many thoughtless, inconsiderate, stupid people that if they chance to arrive during the progress of the best scene in a play, or during the singing of the finest aria in an opera, will immediately go to their seats, though in doing so they disturb the whole house, artists and all. If you arrive late and there are any back seats unoccupied take them temporarily, and if there are none unoccupied remain standing until you can go to your seats without disturbing any one. You have no more right to disturb others at a place of amusement than you have to pick their pockets, for when you disturb them you rob them of a part of that for which they have paid their money.

In finding the way to seats, the gentleman should precede the lady, if there is no usher; if there is an usher, the lady should precede the gentleman. The lady always takes the inner seat.

If it is necessary to pass others to reach your seats, turn the face and not the back to those you pass.

If your seats are easy of access and your companion has gentlemen acquaintances in the audience, you need not fear that she will upbraid you for leaving her two or three times in the course of the evening, during the pauses, in order to give them an opportunity to visit her. Nothing delights the female heart more than to have a bevy of gentlemanly-looking men gather about her in public. If she has no acquaintances to visit her, she should not be left alone more than once during the evening, and then not for more than a few minutes.

At a place of amusement you should never relinquish your seat in favor of a lady, unless she is a friend of your companion, or is aged or infirm, and not then without first getting your companion’s consent.

Considerate persons never talk so loud at a place of amusement as to disturb others, and none but snobs ever make remarks about a performance in a tone that can be heard by those in their neighborhood. We sometimes encounter a kind of snobbishness in play-houses and concert-halls that is much given to talking to its companions and at those sitting near. It often belongs to persons that have “done” many lands, glancing at the outside of many houses and seeing the inside of a few.

If you would eat candy, oranges, apples, or nuts or anything else at the theatre, you would do well to go to the gallery. There the eating of fruit and sweetmeats is much less likely to attract attention than in other parts of the house, where you would generally find yourself surrounded by persons that are strongly opposed to munching at places of amusement.

There are many men in this country—but not in Europe—that seem to think it beneath their dignity to applaud at a place of amusement. It is never beneath any man’s dignity to recognize the obligation when another exerts himself to please him. Applause is the only way the auditor has of testifying his appreciation of a performer’s efforts and skill. Nor is this all. There is a selfish reason why the auditor should applaud: without this kind of encouragement no performer, no matter how great his experience, can do his best. Intelligent applause is no small part of the return an actor or singer gets for his exertions. Gratitude and recognition are two of the sweetest things in life, and the lack of them makes more misanthropes than everything else put together.

Finally, if you remain to the end of a performance, remain indeed to the end—remain in your seat and remain quiet until the last word has been spoken, or the last note has been sung. Be not one of those unbred persons that when the end approaches begin to make ready to go, or perhaps get up and push past others, disturbing everybody in the house, players as well as auditors, in their selfish haste to reach the door. I repeat: You have no more right to disturb others at a place of amusement than you have to pick their pockets, for when you disturb others you rob them of a part of that for which they have paid their money.

If you pass through a door that is closed, leave it closed.

If you pass through a door that has a spring on it, see that it does not slam.

If your feet are muddy, find some means of cleaning them before you pass through anybody’s door.

If you pretend to wash your hands, wash them; do not simply wet them, and then wipe the dirt off on the towel.

If you visit beer-saloons or oyster-saloons, do not copy the phraseology of the waiters; the men that do it are never men of refined instincts. Never cry out “eins,” after the fashion of the waiters in beer-saloons, nor “one,” or “a stew,” or “a fry,” as the waiters do in oyster-saloons.

If you would be worthy to live among well-bred, right-thinking people you will always consider the interest, respect the rights, and study the comfort of others. For example, if you visit a reading-room where the aim is so to keep the newspapers that any particular one can be easily found, you will always be careful to put those you read back in their proper places; you will never scratch a match on anybody’s wall or woodwork; you will never spit on anybody’s floor, whether carpeted or not; you will never walk over the upholstered seats of a place of amusement, and so on. The doing or the leaving undone of little things is a sure index of a man’s breeding or of his lack of it.

If you would preserve your health, never drink anything but water between meals.

If you would preserve your good name, keep away from bar-rooms.

If you would preserve your self-respect, keep away from bar-rooms.

If you would preserve your good manners, keep away from bar-rooms.

If you would preserve your good looks, keep away from bar-rooms.

If you would keep out of the clutches of the devil, keep away from bar-rooms.