MANNER, CONTINUED.

RULES FOR VISITING, AND FOR MANNER IN SOCIETY GENERALLY.

My dear Nephews:

Having attempted, in my last two letters, with what success you will best judge, to give you some practical hints respecting manner at home and in the street, suppose we take up, next, the consideration of the conduct proper in Visiting, and on public occasions, generally.

Among the minor obligations of social life, perhaps few things are regarded as more formidable by the unpractised, than ceremonious morning visits to ladies. And perhaps, among the simple occurrences of ordinary existence, few serve more fully to illustrate individual tact, self-possession, and conversational skill.

Without aiming at much method in so doing, I will endeavor to furnish you with a few directions of general applicability.

Hours for making morning calls are somewhat varied by place and circumstance; but, as a rule, twelve o'clock is the earliest hour at which it is admissible to make a visit of ceremony. From that time until near the prevailing dinner-hour, in a small town, or that known to be such in particular instances, one may suit one's convenience.

It is obviously unsuitable, usually, to prolong an interview of this kind beyond a very moderate length, and hence, as well as for other reasons, the conversation should be light, varied, and appropriate to outward circumstances.

It is proper to send your card, not only to announce yourself to strangers to whom you may wish to pay your respects, but to all ladies with whom you are not upon very intimate terms, and at a private house, to designate intelligibly to the servant who receives your card, the individual, or the several persons, whom you wish to see.

If you go to a hotel, etc., for this purpose, write the name of the lady or ladies, for whom your visit is designed, upon your card, above your own name, in a legible manner, and await the return of the messenger, to whom you intrust it, where you part from him. If, upon his return, you are to remain for your friends, and there be a choice of apartments for that purpose, unless you choose to station yourself within sight of the stairs they must of need descend, or the corridor through which they must pass, let the porter in attendance distinctly understand not only your name, but where you are to be found, and if possible, give him some clue to the identification of the friends you wish to see. After a few vexatious mistakes and misapprehensions, you will admit the wisdom of these precautionary measures, I have no doubt. When you are shown into the drawing-room of a private residence, if the mistress of the mansion is present, at once advance towards her. Should she offer her hand, be prompt to receive it, and for this purpose, take your hat, stick, and right-hand glove (unless an occasion of extreme ceremony demands your wearing the latter), in your left hand, as you enter. If your hostess does not offer her hand, when she rises to receive you, simply bow, as you pay your compliments, and take the seat she designates, or that the servant places for you. When there are other ladies of the same family present, speak to each, in succession, according to age, or other proper precedence, before you seat yourself. If there are ladies in the room whom you do not know, bow slightly to them, also, and if you are introduced, after you have assumed a seat, rise and bow to them. When men are introduced, they usually mutually advance and shake hands; but the intimation that this will be agreeable to her, should always be the test when you are presented to a lady, or when you address a lady acquaintance.

Some tact is necessary in deciding your movements when you find yourself preceded by other visitors, in making a morning call. If you have no special reason, as a message to deliver, or an appointment to make, for lingering, and discover that you are interrupting a circle, or when you are in the midst of strangers, where the conversation does not at once become general, upon your making one of them, address a few polite phrases to your hostess, if you can do so with ease and propriety from your position with regard to her, and take leave, approaching her nearly enough, when you rise to go, to make your adieu audible, or to receive her hand, should she offer it. To strangers, even when you have been introduced, you, ordinarily, only bow passingly, as you are about to quit the room.

Should you have a special object in calling upon a lady, keep it carefully in view, that you may accomplish it before you leave her presence. When other visitors, or some similar circumstance, interfere with the accomplishment of your purpose, you may write what you wish upon a card in the hall, as you go out, and intrust it to a servant, or leave a message with him, or in case of there being objections to either of those methods of communication, resort to an appointment requested through him, or subsequently write a note to that effect, or containing an explanation of the object of your visit. When you determine to outstay others at a morning reception, upon the rising of ladies to depart, you rise also, under all circumstances; and when they are acquaintances, and unattended by a gentleman, accompany them to the street-door, and to their carriage, if they are driving, and then return to your hostess. Unacquainted, you simply stand until ladies leave the room, politely returning their parting salutation, if they make one. Any appearance of a wish on the part of those whom you chance to meet thus, for an aside conversation, will, of course, suggest the propriety of occupying yourself until your hostess is at leisure, with some subject of interest in the room—turn to a picture, open a book, examine some article of bijouterie, and, thus civilly unobtrusive, observe only when it is proper for you to notice the separation of the company.

As I have before said, in making a visit of mere politeness, some passing topic of interest should succeed the courteous inquiries, etc., that naturally commence the conversation. Visiting a lady practised in the usages of society, relieves one, very naturally, from any necessity for leading the conversation.

When your object is to make an appointment, give an invitation, etc., repeat the arrangement finally agreed upon, distinctly and deliberately, upon rising to go away, that both parties may distinctly understand it, beyond the possibility of mistake.

In attending ladies who are making morning visits, it is proper to assist them up the steps, ring the bell, write cards, etc. Entering, always follow them into the house and into the drawing-room, and wait until they have finished their salutations, unless you have to perform the part of presenting them. In that case, you enter with them, or stand within the door until they have entered, and advance beside them into the apartment.

Ladies should always be the first to rise, in terminating a visit, and when they have made their adieux, their cavaliers repeat the ceremony, and follow them out.

When gentlemen call together, the younger, or least in rank, gives careful precedence to others, rendering them courtesies similar to those due to ladies.

Soiled over-shoes, or wet over-garments, should, on no account, be worn into an apartment devoted to the use of ladies, unless they cannot be safely left outside—as in the passage of a public house. In such case, by no means omit an apology for the necessary discourtesy.

When ladies are not in the apartment where you are to pay your respects to them, advance to meet them upon their entrance; and in the public room of a hotel, meet them as near the door as possible, especially if there is no gentleman with them, or the room be previously occupied, and conduct them to seats.

Never remain seated in the company of ladies with whom you are ceremoniously associated, while they are standing. Follow them to any object of interest to which they direct your attention; place a seat for them, if much time will be required for such a purpose; ring the bell, bring a book; in short, courteously relieve them from whatever may be supposed to involve effort, fatigue, or discomfort of any kind. It is, for this reason, eminently suitable to offer the arm to ladies when ascending stairs. Nothing is more absurd than the habit of preceding them adopted by some men—as if by following just behind, as one should, if the arm is disengaged, there can be any violation of propriety. Soiled frills or unmended hose must have originated this vulgarity! Tender the arm on the wall side of a lady, mounting a stairs, that she may have the benefit of the railing, and the fewer steps upon a landing; and in assisting an invalid, or aged person, it is often well to keep one step in advance. It is always decorous to suit your pace to those you would assist.

It is also a proper courtesy, always to relieve ladies of their parcels, parasols, shawls, etc., when ever this will conduce to their convenience, which is especially the case, of course, when they are occupied with the care of their dresses in ascending steps, entering a carriage, or passing through a crowd.

The rules of etiquette properly observable in making ordinary ceremonious morning-visits, are also applicable to Morning Wedding-Receptions with slight variations. Of course, you do not then announce yourself by a card. When previously acquainted with her, you advance immediately to the bride, and offer your wishes for her future happiness. Never congratulate a lady upon her marriage; such felicitations are, with good taste, tendered to the bridegroom, not to the bride.

Having paid your compliments to the bride, you shake hands with the groom, and bow to the bride-maids, when you know them. The mother of the bride should then be sought. Here, again refinement dictates the avoidance of too eager congratulations. While expressing a cordial hope that the parents have added to their prospects of future pleasure in receiving a new member into their family, do not insinuate, by your manner, the conviction that they have no natural regret at resigning their daughter

It is not usual to sit down on such occasions; and it is as obviously unsuitable to remain long, as it is to engage the attention of those whom others may be waiting to approach, beyond the utterance of a few brief, well-chosen sentences.

When you require an introduction to the bride, but are acquainted with her husband, you may speak first to him, and so secure a presentation. Usually a groomsman, or some other gentleman, is in readiness to present unknown visitors. In that case, should he, too, be a stranger to you, mention your name to him, and any little circumstance by which he may afford a passing theme or explanation, when he introduces you—as, that you are a friend of her father—promised your particular friend, her sister, to pay your respects, etc.

On this, as in the instance of all similar occasions, tact and good-taste must suggest the variations of manner required by the greater or less degree of ceremony prevailing, and your individual relations to those you visit.

In this connection I will add that a card may sometimes be properly made a substitute for paying one's respects in person—with a pencilled phrase of politeness, or accompanied by a note. In either case, an envelope of the most unexceptionable kind should be used, and a note written with equal attention to ceremony.

A Visit of Condolence is often most tastefully made by going in person to the residence of your friend, and leaving a courteous message, and your card, with a servant. Much politeness is sometimes expressed by the earliest possible call upon friends just arrived from a journey, etc., or by leaving or sending a card, with a pencilled expression of pleasure, and of the intention of availing yourself of the first suitable moment for paying your compliments in person.

Visits upon New-Year's Day should be short, as a rule, for the reasons before suggested, and it is not usual to sit down, except when old friends urge it, or when the presence of an elderly person, or an invalid, demands the appearance of peculiar consideration.

On all occasions of ceremonious intercourse with superiors in age and station, one or both, manner should be regulated, as respects familiarity, or even cordiality, by them. "He approached me with familiarity, I repulsed him with ceremony," said a man of rank, alluding to an impertinence of this kind. Never be the first, under such circumstances, to violate the strict rules of convention. Their observance is often the safeguard of sensibility, as well as of self-respect.

Simple good-taste will dictate the most quiet, unnoticeable bearing at Church. The saying of the celebrated Mrs.Chapone, that "it was part of her religion not to disturb the religion of others," is all inclusive. To enter early enough to be fully established in one's seat before the service commences, to attend politely, but very unostentatiously, to the little courtesies that may render others comfortable, to avoid all rude staring, and all appearance of inattention to the proper occupations of the occasion, as well as every semblance of irreverence, will occur to all well-bred persons as obviously required by decorum. When necessitated to go late to church, one should, as on all similar occasions, endeavor to disturb others as little as possible; but with equal studiousness avoid the vulgar exhibition of discomposure, of over-diffidence, or of any consciousness, indeed, of being observed, which so unmistakably savors of low-breeding. I cannot too frequently remind you that self-possession is one of the grand distinctive attributes of a gentleman, and that it is often best illustrated by a simple, quiet, successful manner of meeting the exigencies and peculiarities of circumstances.

Never wear your hat into church. Remove it in the vestibule, and on no account resume it until you return thither, unless health imperatively demands your doing so just before reaching the door opening into it.

All nodding, whispering, and exchanging of glances in church, is in bad taste. Even the latter should not be indulged in, unless a very charming woman is the provoking cause of the peccadillo, and then very stealthily and circumspectly!

Salutations, even with intimate friends, should always be very quietly exchanged, while one is still within the body of the sacred edifice, and the "outer court" of the house of God were better not the scene of boisterous mirth, or rude jostling. Let me add, here, that it is always proper, when compelled to hurry past those of right before you, at church, or elsewhere in a crowd, to apologize, briefly, but politely, for discommoding any one.

Whenever you are in attendance upon ladies, as at the opera, concerts, lectures, etc., there is entire propriety in remaining with them in the seat you have paid for, or secured by early attendance. No gentleman should be expected to separate himself from a party to give his place to a lady under such circumstances, and in no country but ours would such a request or intimation be made. But while it is quite justifiable to retain the seat taken upon entering such a public place, nothing is more wholly inadmissible than crowding in and out of your place repeatedly, talking and laughing aloud, mistimed applauding, and the like. If you are not present for the simple purpose of witnessing the performance, whatever it may be, there are, doubtless, those who are; and it is not only exceedingly vulgar, but immoral, to invade their rights in this regard. Be careful, therefore, to secure your libretto, concert-bill, or programme, as the case may be, before assuming your seat; and when you have ladies with you, or are one of a party, especially, as then you cannot so readily accept the penalty of carelessness, by not returning to your first seat. Should any unforeseen necessity compel you to crowd past others, and afterwards resume your seat, presume as little as possible upon their polite forbearance, by great care of dresses, toes, etc., and each time politely apologize for the inconvenience you occasion. Let me repeat that no excuse exists for the too-frequent rudeness of disturbing others by fidgeting, whispering, laughing, or applauding out of time. And even when standing or moving about between the exercises, on any public occasion, or the acts at a play-house, or opera, well-bred people are never disregardful of the rights and comfort of others.

In a picture-gallery, at an exhibition of marbles, etc., nothing can be more indicative of a want of refinement sufficient to appreciate true art, than the impertinence exhibited in audible comments upon the subjects before you, and in interfering with the enjoyment of others by passing before them, moving seats noisily, talking and laughing aloud, etc. With persons of taste and refinement, there is an almost religious sacredness in the presence of the creations of genius, to desecrate which, is as vulgar as it is irreverential of the beautiful and the good. Always then, carry out the most scrupulous regard of the rights and feelings of others, when yourself a devotee at the shrine of Æsthetics, by attention to the minutest forms of courtesy. This will dictate leaving your place the moment you rise, carrying everything with you belonging to you, and never stopping to shawl ladies, don an overcoat, or dispose of an opera-glass, until you can do so without interrupting the comfort of those you leave behind you.

When you wish to take refreshments, or to offer them to ladies, at public entertainments, it is better to repair to the place where they are served, as a rule, unless it be in the instance of a single glass of water, or the like; except when a party occupy an opera-box, etc., exclusively.

Be careful never to attach yourself to a party of which you were not originally one, at any time, or place, unless fully assured of its being agreeable to the gentlemen previously associated with ladies; or if a gentleman's party only, attracts you, make yourself quite sure that no peccadillo be involved in your joining it, and in either case, let your manner indicate your remembrance of the circumstance of your properly standing in the relation of a recipient of the civilities due to the occasion.

Some men practically adopt the opinion that the courteous observances of social and domestic life are wholly inapplicable to business intercourse. A little consideration will prove this a solecism. Good breeding is not a thing to be put off and on with varying outward circumstance. If genuine, inherent, it will always exhibit itself as certainly as integrity, or any other unalienable quality of an individual. The manifestations of this characteristic by manner, will, of course, vary with occasion, but it will, nevertheless, be apparent at all times, and to all observers, when its legitimate influence is rightly understood and admitted.

Hence, then, though the observance of elaborate ceremony in the more practical associations of busy outer life would be absurdly inappropriate, that careful respect for the rights and feelings of others, which is the basis of all true politeness, should not, under these circumstances, be disregarded.

The secret of the superior popularity of some business men with their compeers and employÉs, lies often, rather in manner than in any other characteristic. You may observe, in one instance, a universal favorite, to whom all his associates extend a welcoming hand, as though there were magic in the ready smile and genial manner, and who is served by his inferiors in station with cheerfulness and alacrity, indicating that a little more than a mere business bond draws them to him; and again, an upright, but externally-repulsive man, though always commanding respect from his compeers, holds them aloof by his frigidity, and receives the service of fear rather than of love from those to whom he may be always just, and even humane, if never sympathizing and unbending.

As I have before remarked, there is no occasion where we are associated with others, that does not demand the exhibition of a polite manner. Thus at a public table, no man should allow himself to feed like a mere animal, wholly disregardful of those about him, and, as too frequently happens, forgetful of the proprieties that are observed when eating in private. Only at the best conducted hotels are all things so well and liberally appointed as to render those who meet at public tables wholly independent of each in little matters of comfort and convenience, and a well-bred man may be recognized there, as everywhere else, by his manner to those who may chance to be near him. He will neither call loudly to a servant, nor monopolize the services that should be divided with others. His quick eye will discern a lady alone, or an invalid, and his ready courtesy supply a want, or proffer a civility, and he will not grudge a little self-denial, or a few minutes' time, in exchange for the consciousness of being true to himself, even in trifles. Nor will he ever eat as though running a race of life and death with Time! Health and decency will alike prompt him to abstain wholly from attempting to take a meal, rather than assimilate himself to a ravenous brute, to gratify his appetite. Let no plea of want of time ever induce you, I entreat, to acquire the American habit of thus eating in public. Even in the compulsatory haste of travelling, there is no valid excuse for this unhealthy and disgusting practice. And, with regard to daily life at one's hotel, or the like, the man who is habitually regardful of the value and right use of time, may well and wisely permit himself the simple indulgence and relaxation of eating like a gentleman!

While on this subject, permit me to remind you of the impropriety of staring at strangers, listening to conversation in which you have no part, commenting audibly upon others, laughing and talking boisterously, etc., etc. Let not even admiration tempt you to put a modest woman out of countenance, by a too fixed regard, nor let her even suspect that a nod, a shrug, a significant whisper or glance had her for their object. Good-breeding requires one to hear as little as possible of the conversation of strangers, near whom he may chance to be seated. We quietly ignore their presence (as they should ours), unless some exigency demands a courtesy; but we do not disturb our neighbors by vociferousness, even in the height of merriment, however harmless in itself.

Should a lady, even though an entire stranger, be entering an eating-hall alone, or attended by another gentleman, at the same moment with yourself, give precedence to her, with a slight bow; and so, when quitting the room, as well as to your acknowledged superiors in age or position generally, and carefully avoid such self-engrossment as shall engender inattention to their observances. So, too, when meeting a lady on a public stairs, or in a passage-way, give place sufficiently to allow her to pass readily, touching your hat at the same moment. In the same manner remove a chair, or other obstacle that obstructs the way of a lady in a hotel parlor, or on a piazza; avoid placing a seat so as to crowd a lady, encroach upon a party, or compel you to sit before others.

I admit that these are the minutiÆ of manners, my dear fellows; but attention to them will increase your self-respect, and give elevation to your general character, just in proportion as self is subdued, and the baser propensities of our nature kept habitually in subserviency to the nobler qualities illustrated by habitual good-breeding.

But to return. Though the circumstances must be peculiar that sanction your addressing a lady with whom you are unacquainted, in a public parlor, or the like, you are not required by convention to appear so wholly unconscious of her presence as to retain your seat just in front of the only fire in the room on a cold day, in the only comfortable chair, or a place so near the only airy window on a hot one, as to preclude her approach to it. Nor are you bound to sit in one seat and keep your legs across another, on the deck of a steamer, in a railroad car, in a tavern, at a public exhibition, while women stand near you, compelled by your not knowing them! Let me hope, too, that no kinsman of mine will ever feel an inclination, when appealed to for information in some practical emergency, by one of the dependent sex, to repulse her with laconic coldness, though the appeal should chance when he is hurrying along the public highway of life, or through the most secluded of its by-paths.

Few young men, I must believe, ever remember when in a large hotel, at night, with their companions, that—opening into the corridors through which they tramp like a body of mounted cavalry upon a foray, with appropriate musical accompaniments—may be the apartments of the weary and the sick; or, that, separated from the room in which they prolong their nocturnal revels, by only the thinnest of partitions, lies a timid and lonely woman, shrinking and trembling more and more nervously at each successive burst of mirth and song, or worse, that effectually robs her of repose. Yet Sir Walter Raleigh, or Sir Philip Sidney, might, perchance, have thought even such a trifling peccadillo not un-note-worthy.

The same general rules that are applicable to manner in public places, at hotels, etc., are almost equally so in travelling, modified only by circumstances and good sense.

A due consideration for the rights and feelings of others, will be a better guide to true politeness than a whole battery of conventionalisms. Courtesy to ladies, to age, to the suffering, will here, as ever, mark the true gentleman, as well as that habitual refinement which interdicts the offensive use of tobacco, where women sit or stand, or any other slovenliness or indecorum.

Under such circumstances, as many others in real life, never let cold ceremony deter you from rendering a real service to a fellow-being, though you readily avail yourself of its barriers to repel impertinence or vulgarity. It is authentically recorded of one of the loyal subjects of the little crowned lady over the ocean, that, as soon as he was restored to the privileges of civilization, after having been cast away upon a desert island with only one other person, he at once challenged his companion in misfortune for having spoken to him, during their mutual exile, without an introduction!

Should you indulge in any skepticism respecting the literal truthfulness of this historical record, I can personally vouch for the following: Our eccentric and unhappy countryman, the gifted poet, P——, was once, while travelling, roused from a moody and absorbing reverie, by the address of a stranger, who said: "Sir, I am Mr.W——, the author—you have no doubt heard of me." The dreamy eye of the contemplative solitaire lighted with a sudden fire, as he deliberately scrutinized the intruder, then quickly contracting each feature so that his physiognomy changed at once to a very respectable imitation of a spy-glass, he coolly inquired: "Who the devil did you say you are?"

Practice and tact combined, can alone give a man ease and grace of manner amid the varying demands of social life, but systematic attention to details will soon simplify whatever may seem formidable in regard to it. No one but a fool or a monomaniac goes on stumbling through his allotted portion of existence, when he may easily learn to go without stumbling at all, or only occasionally.

Thus, after experiencing the embarrassment of keeping ladies, with whom you have been driving in a hired carriage, standing in the rain, or sun, or in a jostling crowd, while you are waiting for change to pay your coach, or submitting to extortion, or searching for your purse, you will, perhaps, resolve, when you are next so circumstanced, to ascertain before-hand, if possible, exactly what you should lawfully pay, to have your money ready before reaching your final destination, and to leave the ladies seated in quiet while you alight, pay your fare and then secure shawls, etc., and make every other arrangement and inquiry that will facilitate their speedy and comfortable transit from the carriage.

Thus much for manner in public.

Now then, a few words relative to the bearing proper in social intercourse, and I will release you.

In the character of Host, much is requisite that would be unsuitable elsewhere, since the youngest and most modest man must, of necessity, then take the lead. Thus, when you have guests at dinner, some care and tact are required in the simple matter, even, of disposing of your visitors with due regard to proper precedents. Of course, when there are only men present, you desire him whom you wish to distinguish, to conduct the mistress of the mansion to the table, and are, yourself, the last to enter the dining-room. When there are ladies, the place of honor accorded to age, rank, or by some temporary relative circumstance, is designated as being at your right hand, and you precede your other guests, in attendance upon such a lady. A stranger lady, for whom an entertainment is given, should be met by her host before she enters the drawing-room, and conducted to the hostess. A gentleman, under similar circumstances, must be received at the door of the reception-room. In both instances, introductions should at once be given to those who are invited to meet such guests.

Persons living in large cities may, if they possess requisite pecuniary means, always procure servants so fully acquainted with the duties properly belonging to them as to relieve themselves, when they have visitors, from all attention to the details of the table. But it is only in the best appointed establishments that hospitality does not enjoin some regard to these matters. It may be unfashionable to keep an eye to the comfort of one's friends, when we are favored with their company, to consult their tastes, to humor their peculiarities, to convince them, by a thousand nameless acts of consideration and deference, that we have pleasure in rendering them honor due;—this may not be in strict accordance with the cold ceremony of modern fashion, but it, nevertheless, illustrates one of the most beautiful of characteristics—one ranked by the ancients as a virtue—Hospitality!

Permit me, also, to remind you that sometimes the most worthy people are not high-bred—not familiar with conventional proprieties; that they even have a dread of them, on account of this ignorance; and that they are, therefore, not fit subjects towards whom to display strict ceremony, or from whom to expect it. But always remember, that, though they may not understand conventionalisms, they will fully appreciate genuine kindness, the talismanic charm that will always place the humblest and most self distrustful guest at ease. And never let a vulgar, degrading fear of compromising your claims to gentility, tempt you to the inhumanity of wounding the feelings of the humblest of your humble friends!

If you have a large rout at your house, it will, necessarily, be impossible for you to render special attention to each guest; but you should, notwithstanding, quietly endeavor to promote the enjoyment of the company, by bringing such persons together as are best suited to the appreciation of each other's society, by drawing out the diffident, tendering some civility to an elderly, or particularly unassuming visitor, and, in short, by a manner that, without in any degree savoring of over-solicitude, or bustling self-importance, shall save you from a fate similar to that of a gentleman of whom I lately read the following anecdote:

A stranger at a large party, observing a gentleman leaning upon the corner of a mantel-piece, with a peculiarly melancholy expression of countenance, accosted him thus:—"Sir, as we both seem to be entire strangers to all here, suppose we both return home?" He addressed his host!

In general society, do not let your pleasure in the conversation of one person whom you may chance to meet, or your being attached to a pleasant party, tempt you to forget the respect due to other friends, who may be present. Married ladies, whose hospitalities you have shared, strangers who possess a claim upon you, through your relations with mutual friends, gentlemen whose politeness has been socially extended to you, should never be rudely overlooked, or discourteously neglected. Such a manner would indicate rather a vulgar eagerness for selfish enjoyment than the collected self-possession, the well-sustained good-breeding, of a man of the world. Do not let a sudden attack of the modesty suitable to youth and insignificance, induce you to regard those proprieties as of no importance in your particular case—exclaiming, "What's Hecuba to me, or I to Hecuba?" Believe me, no one is so unimportant as to be unable to give pleasure by politeness; and no one having a place in society, has a right to self-abnegation in this respect.

"Husband, do you know a young Mr.V——, in society here—a lawyer, I think?" inquired a lady-friend of mine, of a distinguished member of the Legislature of our State, with whom I was dining, at his hotel.

"V——? That I do! and a right clever fellow he is:—why, my dear?"

"Oh, nothing, I met him somewhere the other morning, and was struck with his pleasing manners. This morning I was really indebted to his politeness. You know how slippery it was—well, I had been at Mrs. S——'s reception, and was just hesitating on the top of the steps, on coming away, afraid to call the man from his horses, and fearful of venturing down alone, when Mr.V—— ran up, like a chamois-hunter, and offered his assistance. He not only escorted me to the sleigh, but tucked up the furs, gave me my muff, and inquired for your health with such good-humor and cordiality as really quite won my heart!"

"I should be exceedingly jealous, were it not that he made exactly the same impression upon me, a few evenings before you joined me here. It was at Miss T——'s wedding. Of course, I had a card of invitation to the reception, after the ceremony, but, disliking crowds as I do, and as you were not here, I decided not to go.—The truth is, Colonel, [turning to me] we backwoodsmen are a little shy of these grand state occasions of ceremony and parade."—

"Backwoodsmen, as you are pleased to term them, sometimes confer far more honor upon such occasions than they upon him," returned I.

"You are very polite, sir. Well, as I was saying, in the morning I met the bride's father, who was one of my early college friends, in the street, and he urged me, with such old-fashioned, hearty cordiality to come, that I began to think the homely charm of hospitality might not be wholly lacking, even at a fashionable entertainment, in this most fashionable city. So the upshot of the matter was my going, though with some misgivings about my court-costume, as my guardian-angel had deserted me." Really, boys, I wish you could have seen the chivalrous courtesy that lighted the fine eye and shone over the manner of the speaker, as, with these last words, he bowed to the fair companion of his life for something like half a century.

"You forget, my dear," rejoined the lady, as a soft smile, and a softer blush stole over her still beautiful face, "that Mrs.M—— wrote me you were quite the lion of the occasion, and that half the young ladies present, including the bride herself, were"—

"My dear! I cry you mercy!—Bless my soul!—an old fellow like me!"——

"But K——, my dear friend," I exclaimed, "don't be personal"——

"Lunettes, you were always, and still are, irresistible with the ladies, but—you are an exception."

"I protest!" cried Mrs.K——, joining in our laughter, "Mr.Clay, to his latest day, was in high favor with ladies, young and old—there was no withstanding the charm of his manner. At Washington, one winter that I spent there, wherever I met him, he was encircled by the fairest and most distinguished of our sex, all seeming to vie with each other for his attentions—and this was not because of his political rank, for others in high position did not share his popularity;—it was his grace, his courtesy, his je ne sais quoi, as the French say."

"Mr.Clay was as remarkable for quiet self-possession and tact, in social as in public life," said I. "When I had the honor to be his colleague, I often had occasion to observe and admire both. I remember once being a good deal amused by a little scene between him and a Miss——, then a reigning belle at Washington, and a great favorite of Mr.Clay's. Returning late one night from the Capitol, excessively fatigued by a long and exciting debate, in which he had borne an active part, he dropped into the ladies' parlor of our hotel, on his way up stairs, hoping, I dare say, Mrs.K., to enjoy the soothing influence of gentler smiles and tones than those he had left. The room was almost deserted, but, ensconced in one corner of a long, old-fashioned sofa, sat Miss ——, reading. His keen eye detected his fair friend in a moment, and his lagging step quickened as he approached her. A younger and handsomer man might well have envied the warm welcome he received. After sitting a moment beside the lady, Mr.Clay said, abruptly:—"'Miss——, what is your definition of true politeness?'"'Perfect ease,' she replied."'I have the honor to agree with you, madam, and, with your entire permission, will take leave to assume the correctness of this position!' As he spoke, with a dextrous movement, the statesman disposed a large cushion near Miss——'s end of the sofa, and simultaneously, down went his head upon the cushion, and up went his heels at the other extreme of the sofa! But, my dear fellow, we are losing your adventures at the great wedding party, all this time"——

"Very true, my dear," added Mrs.K——, wiping her eyes, "you fell in love with Mr.V——, you know"—

"Oh, yes," returned my host, "I did, indeed; but I had no adventures, in particular. V—— was one of the aids-de-camp, on the occasion, as I knew by the white love-knot (what is the fashionable name, wife?) he wore on his breast. He was in the hall when I came down stairs, to act in his office of groomsman. Upon seeing me, he advanced, and asked whether he could be of any service to me. I explained, while I drew on my gloves, that I did not know the bride, and feared that even her mother might have forgotten an early friend. His young eyes found the button of my glove quicker than mine, and as he released my hand, he said, showing a sad rent in his own, "you are fortunate in not having split them, sir,—but you gentlemen of the old school," he added with a respectful bow, "always surpass us youngsters in matters of dress, as well as everything else." As he said this, the young rogue glanced politely over my plain black suit, and offered me his arm as deferentially as though I had been an Ex-President, at least; and so on, throughout the evening, with apparent unconsciousness of self. I should have thought him wholly devoted to my enjoyment of everything and everybody, had I not observed that others, equally, or more, in need of his attention than I, shared his courtesy—from an elderly lady in a huge church-tower of a cap, who seemed fearfully exercised less she should not secure her full share of the wedding-cake boxes, to one of the little sisters of the bride, who clung to her dress and sobbed as if her heart must break—all seemed to like him and depend on him."

"I have not the pleasure of Mr.V——'s acquaintance," said I, "but I prophesy that he will succeed in life!"

"Yes, and make friends at every step!" responded Mrs.K——, warmly. "After we parted this morning, I had an agreeable sort of half-consciousness that something pleasant had happened to me, and when I analised the feeling, Wordsworth's lines seemed to have been impersonated to me:—