Margaret C. Conkling

LETTER-WRITING.

My dear Nephews:

There is, perhaps, no form of composition with which it is as desirable to be practically familiar, and in which all educated persons should be accomplished, as that of letter-writing; yet no branch of an elegant education is more frequently neglected. Consequently, the grossest errors, and the utmost carelessness, are tolerated in regard to it. Rhetorical faults, and even ungrammatical expressions, are constantly overlooked, and illegibility has almost come to be regarded as an essential characteristic.

Following the homely rule of the lightning-tamer, that "nothing is worth doing at all that is not worth doing well," you will not need argument to convince you of the propriety of attention to this subject, while forming habits of life.

Different occasions and subjects require, of course, as various styles of epistolary composition. Thus the laconic language adapted to a formal business letter, would be wholly unsuited to one of friendship; and the playfulness that might be appropriate in a congratulatory communication, would be quite out of place in a letter of condolence.

While it is impossible that any general rules can be laid down that will be always applicable in individual cases, a few directions of universal application may, not inappropriately, be introduced in connection with our present purpose.

The principal requisites of Letters of Business are, intelligibility, legibility, and brevity. To secure the first of these essentials, a clear, concise, expressive selection of language is required. Each word and sentence should express exactly and unequivocally the idea intended to be conveyed, and in characters that will not obscure the sense by doubtful legibility. A legible hand should certainly be as essential as intelligible utterance. We pity the man who by stammering, or stuttering, not only taxes the time and patience of his hearers, but leaves them, at times, uncertain of his meaning, despite their efforts to comprehend him. What, then, is the misfortune of those who, like the most genial of wits, 'decline to read their own writing, after it is twenty-four hours old!' Do not, I pray you, let any absurd impression respecting the excusableness of this defect, on the score that genius is superior to the trifles of detail, etc., lead you either into carelessness or indifference on the subject. Few men have the excuse of possessing the dangerous gift of genius, and to affect the weaknesses by which it is sometimes accompanied, is equally silly and contemptible. A man of sense will aim at attaining a true standard of right, not at caricaturing a defective model. Depend upon it, a good business-hand is no small recommendation to young men seeking employment in any of the occupations of life. The propriety of brevity in letters of business, will at once commend itself to your attention. Time—the wealth of the busy—is thus saved for two parties. But remember, I repeat, that, while this precious treasure is best secured by expressing what you wish to communicate in as few words as possible, nothing is gained by leaving your precise meaning doubtful, by unauthorized abbreviations, confused sentences, or the omission of any essential—as a date, address, proper signature, important question, or item of information. Let me add, that rapidity of mechanical execution is of no mean importance in this regard.

Letters of Introduction should be so expressed as to afford the reader a clue to the particular purpose of the bearer in desiring his acquaintance, if any such there be. This will prevent the awkwardness of a personal explanation, and furnish a convenient theme for the commencement of a conversation between strangers. Thus, if it be simply a friend, travelling in search of pleasure and general information, whom you wish to commend to the general civilities of another friend, some such form as the following will suffice:

——————

My dear Sir:

Allow me the pleasure of introducing to you my friend, Mr.————, a gentleman whose intelligence and acquirements render his acquaintance an acquisition to all who are favored with his society. Mr.—— visits your city [or town, or part of the country, or, your celebrated city, or, your enterprising town, or your far-famed State, etc.] merely as an observant traveller. Such attentions as it may be agreeable to you to render him will oblige

Your sincere friend,
and obedient servant,
————.

To Hon. ————

When you wish to write a letter of introduction for a person seeking a situation in business, a place of residence, scientific information, or the like; briefly, but distinctly, state this to your correspondent, together with any circumstance creditable to the bearer, or which it will be advantageous to him to have known, which you can safely venture to avouch. (No one is in any degree bound by individual regard to impair his reputation for probity or veracity in this, or any other respect.)

A letter introducing an Artist, a Lecturer, etc., should contain some allusion to the professional reputation of the bearer—thus:

——————

My dear Williamson:

This will be presented to you by our distinguished countryman, Mr.——, who proposes a brief visit to your enterprising city, chiefly for professional purposes. It affords me great pleasure to be the means of securing to friends whom I so highly value, the gratification I feel assured you and Mr.—— will derive from knowing each other.

With the best wishes for your mutual success and happiness, I am, my dear sir,

Very truly yours,
————.

To ————, Esq.

In the instance of a celebrity, occupying at the time a space in the world's eye, something like this will suffice:

Boston, August 1st, 1863.

My dear Friend:

It gives me pleasure to present to your acquaintance a gentleman from whose society you cannot fail to derive high enjoyment. Mr.—— [or the Hon. ——, or Gen.——][8] needs no eulogy of mine to render his reputation familiar to you, identified as it is with the literature of our country [or the scientific fame, or the eloquence of the pulpit, etc.] Commending my friend to your courtesy, believe me, my dear Jones,

Truly your friend and servant,
————.

Rev. ————.

Letters of introduction should always be unsealed, and, as a rule, should relate only to the affairs of the bearer, not even passingly to those of the writer or his correspondent. When it is desirable to write what cannot, for any reason, be properly introduced into the open letter, a separate and sealed communication may be written and sent, with a polite apology, or brief explanation, with the other.

When letters of introduction are delivered in person, they should be sent by the servant who admits you, together with your card, to the lady or gentleman to whom they are addressed, as the most convenient mode of announcing yourself, and the object of your visit.

When you do not find the person you wish to see, write your temporary address upon your card, as "At the American Hotel"—"With Mrs.Henry, 22 Washington-st."—"At Hon. John Berkley's," etc. Should you send your letter, accompany it by your card and present address, and inclose both together in an envelope directed to the person for whom they are designed. When your stay is limited and brief, it is suitable to add upon your card, together with an accurate date—"For to-day," or, "To remain but two or three days." And in case of any explanation, or apology, or request being requisite, such as you would have made in a personal interview, write a note, to be inclosed with the letter of presentation. Every omission of these courtesies that may occasion trouble, or inconvenience to others, is ill-bred, and may easily serve to prejudice strangers against you.

Sometimes it is well to make an appointment through the card you leave, or send, with a letter, or for a stranger whom you wish to meet, as—"At the Globe Hotel, this evening," with a date, or thus—"Will pay his respects to Mrs.——, to-morrow morning, with her permission."

A letter introducing a young man, still "unknown to fame," to a lady of fashion, or of distinguished social position, may be expressed somewhat in this manner:

To

Mrs.Modish,[9]

No. 14 Belgrave Place

Charleston, S.C.

Astor House, New York, Jan. 27th, 1863.

Dear Madam:

Permit me to present to you my friend, Mr.James Stuart—a gentleman whose polished manners and irreproachable character embolden me to request for him the honor of an acquaintance with even so fastidious and accomplished an arbiter of fashion as yourself.

Mr.Stuart will be able to give you all the information you may desire respecting our mutual friends and acquaintances in society here.

Do me the honor to make my very respectful compliments to the Misses Modish, and to believe me, dear madam,

Most respectfully,
Your friend and servant,
Robert B. Hawks.

Mrs.Modish.

Letters presenting foreigners, should designate the country and particular locality to which they belong, as well as the purpose of their tour, as—"The Chevalier BonnÉ, of Berne, Switzerland whose object in visiting our young Republic is not only the wish to compare our social and political institutions with those of his own country, but the collection of specimens and information respecting the Natural History of the United States. Such assistance as you may be able to render my learned friend, in facilitating his particular researches, will confer a favor upon me, my dear sir, which I shall ever gratefully remember," etc., etc.

The subject of letters of introduction naturally suggests that of personal introductions, in relation to which the grossest mistakes and the greatest carelessness are prevalent, even among well-bred people.

In making persons acquainted with each other, the form of words may vary almost with every different occasion, but there are certain rules that should never be overlooked, since they refer to considerations of abstract propriety.

Younger persons and inferiors in social rank, should, almost invariably, be presented to their seniors and superiors. Thus, one should not say—"Mr. Smith, let me introduce Mr.Washington Irving to you," but "Mr.Irving, will you allow me to introduce Mr.John Smith to you?" Or, "Permit me to present Mr.Smith to you, sir," presupposing that Mr.Smith does not need to be informed to whom he is about to be introduced. It is difficult to express upon paper the difference of signification conveyed by the mode of intonating a sentence. "General Scott, Mr.Jones," may be so pronounced as to present the latter gentlemen to our distinguished countryman, in a simple, but admissible manner, or it may illustrate the impropriety of naming a man of mark to a person who makes no pretensions to social equality with him.

Usually, men should be introduced to women, upon the principle that precedence is always yielded to the latter; but, even in this case, an exception may properly be made in the instance of an introduction between a very young, or, otherwise, wholly unindividualized woman, and a man of high position, or of venerable age. A half-playful variation from the ordinary phraseology of this ceremony, may sometimes be adopted, under such circumstances, with good taste, as—"This young lady desires the pleasure of knowing you, sir—MissWilliams," or, "Mr.Prescott, this is my niece, MissAda Byron Robinson."

When there is a "distinction without a difference" between two persons, or when hospitality interdicts your assuming to decide a nice point in this regard, it may be waived by merely naming the parties in such a way as to give precedence to neither—thus: "Gentlemen, allow me—Mr.W——, Mr.V——," or, "Gentlemen, allow me the pleasure of making you known to each other," and then simply pronounce the names of the two persons.

By the way, let me call your attention to the importance of an audible and distinct enunciation of names, when assuming to make an introduction. A quiet, self-possessed manner, and intelligibility should be regarded as essential at such times.

When introducing persons who are necessarily wholly unacquainted with each other's antecedents of station or circumstance, it is eminently proper to add a brief explanation, as—"Mr.Preudhomne, let me introduce my brother-in-law, General Peters,—Mr. Preudhomne, of Paris," or; "Mrs.Blandon, with your permission, I will present to you SeÑor Abenno, a Spanish gentleman. SeÑor A. speaks French perfectly, but is unacquainted with our language;" or, "Mr.Smithson, this is my friend Mr.Brown, of Philadelphia—like ourselves, a merchant;" or, "My dear, this is Captain Blevin, of the good ship Neversink,—Mrs. Nephews, sir."

Never say "My wife," or "My daughter," or "My sister," "My father-in-law," or the like, without giving each their proper ceremonious title. How should a stranger know whether your "daughter" is—

"Sole daughter of your house and heart,"

or Miss"Lucy," or "Belinda," the third or fourth in the order of time, and, consequently, of precedence, or what may chance to be the name of your father-in-law, or half-sister, etc., etc.

Well-bred people address each other by name, when conversing, and hence the awkwardness occasioned by this vulgar habit, which is only equalled by that of speaking of your wife as "My wife,"[10] or worse still, "my lady!" Is it not enough, when your friends know that you are married, and are perfectly familiar with your own name, to speak of "Mrs.——," and to introduce them to the mistress of your house by that designation?

It is a solecism in good manners to suppose it unsuitable to designate the members of your own family by their proper titles under all circumstances that would render it suitable and convenient to do so in the instance of other persons. Never fall into the American peculiarity on this point, I entreat you. Say—"My father, Dr. V——," or "My sister, Miss V——," "Mrs.Col. V——, my sister-in-law," or, "My sister, Mrs.John Jenkins," with as scrupulous a regard for rank and precedence, as though dealing with strangers. Indeed, you virtually ignore all personal considerations, while acting in a social relation merely.

The rules of etiquette very properly interdict indiscriminate introductions in general society. No one has a right to thrust the acquaintance of persons upon each other without their permission, or, at least, without some assurance that it will be agreeable to them to know each other. Strangers meeting at the house of a mutual friend, in a morning visit, or the like, converse with each other, or join in the general conversation without an introduction, which it is not usual among fashionable people to give under such circumstances. If you wish to present a gentleman of your acquaintance to a lady, you first ask her permission, either in person or by note, to take him to her house, if she be married, or to do so at a party, etc., where you may chance to meet her. In the instance of a very young lady, propriety demands your obtaining the consent of one of her parents before adding to her list of male acquaintances, unless you are upon such terms of intimacy with her family and herself, as to render this superfluous; and so with all your friends. It is better, however, even where unceremoniousness is admissible, to err upon the safer side.

Among men, greater license may be taken; but, as a rule, I repeat, persons are not introduced in the street, in pump-rooms, in the public parlors of hotels, or watering-places, meeting incidentally at receptions or at morning visits, etc.; and not even when they are your guests at large dinners, or soirÉes, without their previous assent or request.

Of course, such rules, like all the laws of convention, are established and followed for convenience, and should not be regarded, like those of the Medes and Persians, as unchangeable. Good sense and good feeling will vary them with the changes of circumstance. No amiable person, for instance, will hesitate to set them aside for the observance of the more imperative law of kindness, when associated with those who are ignorant of their existence (as many really excellent persons are), and would be pained by their strict observance. Neither should the most punctilious sticklers for form think it necessary to make a parade of the mere letter of such rules, at any time. It is the spirit we want, for the promotion of social convenience and propriety.

Perhaps it may be as well in this connection as in any other, to say a word about the matter of visiting cards.

Fashion sanctions a variety of forms for this necessary appendage. In Europe, it is very common to affix the professional or political title to the name, as "—— ——, Professor in the University of Heidelburg," or, "—— ——, Conseiller d'Etat,"; and an Englishman in public life often has on his card the cabalistic characters—"In H.M.S."—(in Her Majesty's Service). Among the best-bred Americans, I think the prevalent usage is to adopt the simple signature, as "Henry Wise," or to prefix the title of Mr., as "Mr.Seward." Sometimes,—particularly for cards to be used away from home—the place of residence is also engraved in one corner below the name.[11]

Europeans occasionally adopt the practice of having the corners of the reverse side of their cards engraven across with such convenient words as "Pour dire Adieu" (to say good bye). "Congratulation" (to offer congratulations). "Pour affaire" (on an errand, or on business). "ArrivÉ" (tantamount to "in town"). The appropriate corner is turned over, as occasion requires, and the sentence is thus brought into notice on the same side with the name.

Business cards should never be used in social life, nor should flourishes, ornamental devices, or generally unintelligible characters be employed. A smooth, white card, of moderate size, with a plain, legible inscription of the name, is in unexceptionable taste and ton, suitable for all occasions, and sufficient for all purposes, with the addition, when circumstances require it, of a pencilled word or sentence. But to return to our main subject.

Letters of Recommendation partake of the general character of those of introduction. It is sufficient to add, in regard to them, that they should be conscientiously expressed. All that can be truthfully said for the advantage of the bearer, should be included; but, as I have before remarked, no one is obliged to compromise his own integrity to advance the interests of others in this manner, more than in any other.

Letters of Condolence require great care and delicacy of composition. They should relate chiefly, as a rule, to the subject by which they are elicited, and express sympathy rather than aim at administering consolation. No general directions can be made to embrace the peculiarities of circumstance in this regard. Suffice it to say that the inspiration of genuine feeling will dictate rather expressions of kindly interest for the sufferer you address, of respect and regard for a departed friend, or an appreciation of the magnitude of the misfortune you deplore, rather than coldly polished sentences and prolonged reference to one's self.

Letters of Congratulation should embody cheerfulness and cordiality of sentiment, and be at an equal remove from an exaggeration of style, suggesting the idea of insincerity or of covert ridicule, and from chilling politeness, or indications of indifference. To "rejoice with those who rejoice" is indeed a pleasing and easy task for those who are blessed with a genial nature, and enrich themselves by partaking in the good fortune of others. Letters expressing this pleasure admit of a little more egotism than is sanctioned by decorum in some other cases. One may be allowed to allude to one's own feelings when so pleasurably associated with those of one's correspondent.

Brevity is quite admissible in letters both of condolence and felicitation—referring, as they properly do, chiefly to one topic; it is in better taste not to introduce extraneous matter into them, especially when they are of a merely ceremonious nature.

Letters to Superiors in Station or Age demand a respectful and laconic style. No familiarity of address, no colloquialisms, pleasantries, or digressions, are admissible in them. They should be commenced with a ceremoniously-respectful address carefully and concisely expressed, and concluded with an elaborate formula, of established phraseology. The name of the person to whom they are written should be placed near the lower, left hand edge of the sheet, together with his ceremonious title, etc. No abbreviations of words—and none of titles, unsanctioned by established usage, should be introduced into such letters, and they should bear at the commencement, below the date, and on the left hand side of the paper, the name of the person addressed, thus:

Washington City, Feb. 2d, 1863.

Honorable Edward Everett:—

Sir,

........

..........

I am, sir,
Very respectfully,
Your humble servant,
J. F. Carpenter.

Hon. Edward Everett,

Secretary of State, for the U.S.

Be careful to remember that it is unsuitable to commence a communication to an entire stranger an official letter, or one of ceremony, in reply to a gentleman acting in the name of a committee, etc., etc., with "Dear Sir." This familiarity is wholly out of place under such circumstances, and it is matter of surprise that our public men so frequently fall into it, even in addressing public functionaries representing foreign countries here, etc. In this respect, as in many others, their "quality," as that most discerning satirist, Punch, has recently said of the style of one of our men in high office—is not "strained!" The veterans of Diplomatic or of Congressional life should let us see that practice has refined their style of speaking and writing, rather than remind us that they have come to the lees of intellect!

I have, for several years past, remarked the published letters of one of the distinguished men of the Empire State, as models of graceful rhetoric and good taste. I refer now, not to the political opinions they may have expressed, but to their literary execution. They indicate the pen of genius—no matter what the occasion—whether declining to break ground for a canal, to lay the corner-stone of a university, acknowledging a public serenade, or expounding a political dogma, a certain indescribable something always redeems them alike from common-place ideas, and from inelegance of language. See if your newspaper profundity will enable you to "guess" the name of the individual to whom I refer.

Diplomatic Letters require a style peculiar to themselves, in relation to which it would be the height of temerity in me to adventure even a hint. The Public Documents of our own country and of England, afford models for those of you who shall have occasion for them, as members of the "Corps Diplomatique."

Letters of Friendship and Affection must, of course, vary in style with the occasions and the correspondents that elicit them. A light, easy, playful style is most appropriate. And one should aim rather at correctness of diction than at anything like an elaborate parade of language.

Grammatical inaccuracies and vulgarisms are never allowable among educated people, whether in speaking or writing; nor is defective spelling excusable.

Punctuation and attention to the general rules of composition should not be overlooked, as thus only can unmistakable intelligibleness be secured.

Avoid all ambitious pen-flourishes, and attempts at ornamental caligraphy, and aim at the acquisition of a legible, neat, gentleman-like hand, and a pure, manly, expressive style, in this most essential of all forms of composition.

The possession of excellence in this accomplishment will enable you to disseminate high social and domestic pleasure. Nothing affords so gratifying a solace to friends, when separated, as the reception of those tokens of remembrance and regard. They only who have wandered far, far away from the ties of country, friends, and home, can fully appreciate the delight afforded by the reception of letters of a satisfactory character. And the welcome assurances of the safety, health, and happiness of the absent and loved, is the best consolation of home-friends.

Practice, patience, and tact, are equally essential to the acquisition of ease and grace in this desirable art. Wit, humor, and playfulness are its proper embellishments, and variety should characterize its themes. A certain egotism, too, is not only pardonable, but absolutely requisite, and may even become delicately complimentary to the recipient of one's confidence.

Let me remind you, too, that—though "offence of spoken words" may be excused by the excitement of passing feeling—the deliberate commission of unkind, or, worse still, of unjust, untruthful, injurious language, to paper, argues an obliquity of moral vision little likely to secure the writer either

or the respect and regard of others.

Facility in writing familiar letters may be increased by the habit of mentally recording, before inditing them, as opportunity affords material, such incidents of travel, items of personal interest, or gossiping intelligence, etc., as may be thought best suited to the tastes of your correspondents. And it is well, before closing such communications, not only to glance over them to satisfy yourself of their freedom from mistakes, but by that means to recall any omission occasioned by forgetfulness.

Notes of Invitation, of Acceptance, and Regret, require, of course, brevity and simplicity of expression. The prevailing mode of the society you are connected with, is usually the proper guide in relation to these matters of form, for the time being. Thus the mere formula of social life at Washington, Boston, Charleston, Paris, or St. Petersburg, may be somewhat varied, as usage alone frequently determines these niceties, and all eccentricities and peculiarities in this respect, as in most others, are in bad taste. Cards, or Notes, of Invitation to Dinners and SoirÉes, are frequently printed, and merely names and dates supplied in writing. The example of the best society (in the most elevated sense of that much-abused phrase) everywhere, sanctions only the most unpretending mode of expression and general style, for such occasions. The utmost beauty and exquisiteness of finish in the mere material, but the absence of all pretentious ornament, is thought most unexceptionable.

Invitations to Dinner should be acknowledged at your earliest convenience, and—whether accepted or declined—in courteously ceremonious phraseology. In the instance of invitations[12] to Balls and Evening-Parties, Weddings, etc., haste is not so essential; but a seasonable reply to such civilities should by no means be neglected.

When you wish to take a friend—who is a stranger to the hostess—with you to an evening entertainment, and are upon sufficiently established terms with her to make it quite proper to do so, acknowledge your invitation at once, and request permission to take your friend—thus affording an opportunity, if it is requisite, for the return of an invitation enclosed to you for your proposed companion. Some form like the following will answer the purpose:

Among intimate friends, it is sometimes most courteous, when declining an invitation, in place of a mere formal "regret" to indite a less ceremonious note, briefly explanatory, or apologetic. Essential good-breeding is the best guide in these occasional deviations from ceremonious rules.

Formal notes of invitation, and the like, should not be addressed to several persons inclusively. Of course, a gentleman and his wife are invited in this inclusive way, as are the unmarried sisters of a family, when residing in the same house; but visitors to one's friends, a married lady and her daughters, as well as the younger gentlemen of a family, should, severally, have separate notes, directed to them individually, where ceremony is requisite, though all may, for convenience, be enclosed in the same envelope, with a general direction to the elder lady of the house.

Letters, or notes, commenced in the third person, should be continued throughout in the same form. It is obviously incorrect (though of frequent occurrence), to adopt such phraseology as—"Mr.Small presents his compliments to MissJones," etc., and to conclude with "Yours respectfully, G.Small." This mode of expression (the third person), is only adapted to brief communications of a formal nature. No address and signature are required when the names of the recipient and of the writer are introduced into the body of the note, as they necessarily are. The place of residence (if written), and the date, are placed at the left hand side of the paper, below the principal contents.

Letters designed to be mailed—such as are written to persons living at a distance from your own place of residence—should have your proper mail address legibly written on the right hand side of your sheet, above the rest of the communication, together with the date.

Notes addressed to persons residing in the same place with yourself, require only the name of the street you reside in, and your number, with the day of the week—as "Clinton Place, Thursday P.M.," or, "No. 6 Great Jones St., Monday morning"—which is usually placed below the other portions of the missive. It is usual to write short notes of ceremony so as to have the few lines composing them in the middle of the small sheet used.

Forms of signature and address vary in accordance with the general tenor of letters. When they are of an entirely ceremonious character, or addressed to superiors, usage requires an elaborate address and subscription; but the style of familiar epistles permits throughout every variety of language that good taste and good feeling may invent or sanction. Only let there be a general harmony in your compositions. Do not fall into the inadvertency of the person who addressed a missive full of the most tender expressions of regard to his mistress, and signed it—"Yours respectfully, Clark, Smith & Co."

Legibility, Intelligibility, and Accuracy are requisite in the direction of all epistolary compositions.

Correct taste demands some attention to the subject of Writing-Materials. It is now becoming the practice to use small-sized paper for communications of ceremony and friendship, continuing the contents through several sheets, if necessary, and numbering each in proper succession. It is, also, usual to write ceremonious letters on but one side of a sheet, and to leave a wide margin upon the left hand side, and a narrower one on the opposite edge of the paper.

The finest, smoothest paper should always be used, except for mere business matters; and, though some passing fashion may sanction tinted paper, pure white is always unexceptionable. All fancy ornaments, colored designs, etc., etc., are in questionable taste. If ornamental bordering, or initial lettering is adopted, the most chaste and unpretending should be preferred.

Except for mailing, envelopes should correspond exactly with the sheet inclosed. Envelopes sent by post should be strong and large-sized. Sometimes it is well to re-enclose a small envelope, corresponding with the written sheet, in a large, firm cover, and to write the full direction upon that.

Sealing wax should always be used for closing all epistles, except those of an entirely business nature. Stamps and seals may vary with taste. A plain form with an unbroken face, suffices; or initials, a device and motto, one or both; or hereditary heraldic designs may be preferred.

Letters intended to go by mail on the continent of Europe, should be written on a single, large sheet of thin paper, and not enveloped.

It is as ill-bred not to reply to a communication requiring an acknowledgment, or to neglect proper attention to all the several matters of importance to which it relates, as it is not to answer a question directly and personally addressed to you.

Promptitude is also demanded by good-breeding, in this regard. Necessity only can excuse the impoliteness of subjecting a friend, or business-correspondent, to inconvenience or anxiety, occasioned by delay in replying to important letters.

Tyros in epistolary composition may derive advantage from noting the peculiar excellences of the published letters of celebrated authors and others; not for the purpose of servile imitation, but as affording useful general models, or guides. Miscellaneous readers may note the genial humor and patient elaborateness characterizing the letters of the "Great Unknown," the felicities of expression sometimes observable in the familiar missives of Byron, and of his friend Tom Moore (when the latter is not writing to his much-put-upon London publisher for table-supplies, etc.!) amuse himself with the gossiping capacity for details exhibited by those of Horace Walpole, and con, with wondering admiration, the epistolary illustrations of the well-disciplined, thoroughly-balanced character of the great American model, of whose writings it may always be said—whether an "order," written on a drum-head, or the draught of a document involving the interests of all humanity is the subject—that they are "well done."

Among the collections of letters I remember to have read, none now occur to me as offering more variety of style than those included in the "Memoirs of H.More." They are a little old-fashioned now, perhaps; but some of them, both for matter and manner, are, in their way, unsurpassed in English literature. Some of those of Sir W.W.Pepys, I recollect as peculiarly pleasing.

Several of the published letters of Dr. Johnson, and one or two of those of our own Franklin, are to be regarded as among the curiosities of literature, rather than as precedents which circumstances will ever render available, or desirable. Johnson's celebrated letter to Lord Chesterfield, declining his proffered patronage, for instance—and Franklin's, concluding with the witty sarcasm—

At some future time, perhaps, the literary treasures of our country will be enriched by specimens of the correspondence of such of our contemporaries as inspire the highest admiration for their general style of composition. Who could fail to peruse with interest, letters from the pen of Prescott, who never makes even such a physical infirmity as his, a plea for inaccuracy, or carelessness of expression? And who would not hail with delight any draught presented by the bounteous hand of Irving, from,

"The well of English undefiled,"

whence he himself has long quaffed the highest inspiration!

"There they are!" shouted James.

"Here they come!" exclaimed MissMary Marston.

"They have made good time, the lazy dogs, for once!" said I.

"Oh, I'm so glad!" echoed the silvery cadences of Nettie Brown, who seemed about to dance to the music of her own merry voice.

"I hope"——began the dove-like murmur of a fair invalid: she ceased, and her dewy eyes told all she would have said.

"God grant us good news!" said our venerable compagnon de voyage, fervently, a shade of anxiety clouding his usually benignant countenance.

"Ladies, excuse me! I beg you to remember that they may not bring anything—let me prepare you for a disappointment!" These words were uttered, with apparent reluctance, by a young man, whose pale face and dark melancholy eyes seemed to lend almost prophetic emphasis to his warning tones.

Nettie ceased to clap her little hands; "Jovial James" looked as grave as his usually rollicking, fun-twinkling eyes permitted; the stately Mary could only look fixedly towards the approaching Arabs, the serenity of our patriarchal friend was more than ever disturbed; sweet Isidore grew marble pale, and leaned heavily back upon the sculptured pillar against which we had secured her camp-seat, and your uncle Hal—well! he is a "proverbial philosopher," you know!

There we were, amid the solemn magnificence of the ruined palaces and temples of once-mighty Thebes.

Our little party was gathered in front of the great Propylon of the famous Temple of Luxor, whose mysterious grandeur we had come many thousands of miles to behold. Massive pillars, covered with minutely-finished picture-writing and mystic hieroglyphics, sufficient for the life-long study of the curious student; enormous architraves, half-buried colossi, far-reaching colonnades, "grand, gloomy and peculiar;" the world-famed Memnon; the grim, tomb-hallowed mountains—all the wonders of the Nile, of El Uksorein, of Karnac, surrounded us!

But humiliating reflections upon the mutability of human greatness and human power, the eager speculations of the disciples of Champollion, sarcophagi and sculptured ceilings, and scarabÆi and Sesostris, alike sunk into matters of insignificance and indifference when compared with the expectation of Letters from Home!

That most amiable and hospitable of Mussulmans, Mustapha Aga, the traveller's friend, had engaged the Sheik (heaven spare the mark!) of one of the squalid Arab villages, whose mud walls cluster upon the roofs of the grand halls and porticoes of ancient Thebes—reminding one of animalculoe by comparison—to accompany my servant and one or two of our dusky satellites to a point in the vicinity, to which the American and English consuls at Cairo had engaged to forward our letters, etc.

Our motley band of couriers was now seen advancing along the low bank of the river, and all was eager anticipation and impatience.

The ceremony of distribution was speedily accomplished, and an observer of the scene, like our calm, silent host, the kindly Mustapha, might almost read the contents of the different letters of the several members of our little group reflected in the faces of each.

"Jovial James" sunk down at once at the feet of the fair Nettie, who had sacrilegiously seated herself upon the edge of an open sarcophagus, with a lap full of treasures, before which her hoarded antiques—and she was the most indefatigable collector of our corps—relapsed again into the nothingness from which her admiration had, for a time, redeemed them. Something very much like a tear glistened in the bright eyes of the frolicksome youth as he murmured, half-unconsciously "Mother," and sunshine and shadow played in quick succession over the mirroring features of the fair girl.

The usually placid Mary Marston fairly turning her back upon us, beat a retreat towards a prostrate column and half-concealed herself among its crumbling fragments; and our sweet, fast-fading flower, for whose comfort each vied with the other, the beautiful Isidore, clasped her triple prizes between her slight palms, and folding them to her meek bosom, lifted her soft eyes toward the heaven that looked alike on Egypt and on her native land, and whispered "Home! Oh, father take me Home!"

"Not one word does Frank say about remittances—the most important of all subjects!" cried James, with his elbows on his knees, and a half-filled sheet held out before him in both hands. "He is the most provoking fellow!—just look, Nettie, how much blank paper, too, sent all the way from Manhattan Island to Upper Egypt," he added, with a serio-comic tap on the paper.

"Good enough for you!" retorted his frequent tormentor; "you wouldn't write from Rome to him, as I begged you to"——

"But, most amiable MissConsolation 'on a monument, smiling at grief,' don't you recollect that you favored him with three 'great big' sheets, crammed, crossed, and kissed"——

"Do go away, James Wilson! you are a regular squatter, as they say at home; really, if you are not established on my skirt!" laughed his merry companion, reddening, however, at his skillful sally.

James, well used to repulses, made not even a pretence of removing his quarters; but, tracing with his forefinger in the sand, began to tease his pretty neighbor for news from home, protesting that men were the poorest letter-writers, and that his correspondents in particular, never said anything!

But what had become of the thoughtful friend whose warning voice had checked too eager expectation in his companions, whilst

——"thou, oh Hope, with eyes so fair,"

made wild tumult in each eager breast? I marked his face, as he stood apart from the excited group gathered about the bearer of our dispatches. It was almost as immobile and coldly calm as those of the polished colossi around us, save for the burning eyes that seemed actually to devour the several directions that were glanced over, or read aloud by others. His hands, too, were tightly clutched, as though he were thus self-sustained.—Poor fellow! I had frequently noticed his manner before, where the happiness of others arrested attention; it indicated, to me, a serenity like that of the expiring hero who waved his life-draught to another, hiding, with a smile, the outward signs of tortured nature! Almost before the last package was unfolded, he was advancing with rapid strides along the majestic avenue leading from our stand-point towards the ruins of Karnac, and was soon lost to sight amid its massive ornaments. How easily might some friendly hand have shed balm upon his sad and solitary spirit, on that memorable day in far-off Nile-Land, when so many hearts were gladdened with the sweet sunlight enkindled by letters!—so many faces illumined with smiles reflected from the ever-glowing altars of Country and Home!

Sir Walter Scott, as his son-in-law informed me, despite the vast amount of intellectual labor he otherwise imposed upon himself, with as little flinching, apparently, as though his mind were a powerful self-regulating steam-engine, had the habit of always answering letters on the day of their reception! Mr.Lockhart told me that, during the researches he made among the private papers of his immortal friend, while preparing materials for his biography, he almost invariably remarked, from the careful notations upon them, that when any delay had occurred in replying to a letter, it arose from the necessity of some previous investigation, or the like. My astonishment upon perusing the long, elaborately-written epistles that Mr.Lockhart subsequently gave to the world, was augmented by my knowledge of this fact, and by my remembrance of the innumerable demands made upon his time by social and public duties. But "we ne'er shall look on his like again!" Well might his pen be styled the wand of the mighty Wizard of the North.

A gentle tap at the library-door interrupted the after-dinner chat of my old friend and myself. A fair young face presented itself in answer to the bidding of my host, and, upon seeing me was quickly withdrawn.

"Come in, my daughter, come—what will you have?"

I rose immediately to withdraw, as the young lady, thus encouraged, somewhat timidly advanced towards her father.

"Pray, do not disturb yourself, Colonel Lunettes," said she; "I only want to speak to pa one moment; don't think of going away, I beg"——

My host, too, interposed to prevent my leaving the room, and I, therefore, took up a book and re-seated myself.

"Excuse me for interrupting you, pa, but may I"—here a whisper, and then so audibly that I could not help overhearing—"do please, dear pa!"

"Well, we'll see about it—when is the concert?" rang out the clear voice of the father.

"But, pa, I ought to answer the note to-night or very early to-morrow morning—it would not be polite to keep Mr.Blakeman"——

"A note, eh?" interrupted the old gentleman, "let me see it—go bring it to me."

I thought I could not be mistaken in the indication of reluctance to obey this direction evinced by the slow step of my usually sprightly-motioned young favorite.

"Come, Fanny, come," said her father, when she re-entered, "you have no objection to showing me"——

"Oh, no, indeed, pa,—but you are so critical," the young lady began to protest.

"Critical! am I though!" exclaimed the parent, with some vivacity, "perhaps so—at least I judge somewhat, of a man's claims to the acquaintance of my daughter by these things." And, adjusting his spectacles, he opened the note his daughter offered. "Bless my soul!" he cried, at the first glance, "what bright-colored paper, and how many grand flourishes—really, my dear!" There was a brief silence and then the father said mildly, but firmly, "Fanny, I prefer that you should not accept this invitation."

"Will you tell me why, pa?"

"Because the writer is not a gentleman! No man of taste and refinement would write such a note as this to a lady, with whom he has only the ceremonious acquaintance that this young man has with you. He is evidently illiterate, too,—his note is not only inelegantly expressed, but it is mis-spelled"——

"Oh, pa"——

"I assure you it is so. Your own education is more defective than it should be with the advantages you have had, if you cannot perceive this—read it again, and tell me what word is mis-spelled," said her father, returning the production under discussion to Fanny.

The young lady sat down by the lamp to con the task assigned her, and my host said to me—"It is unpardonable, now-a-days, for a young man to be ignorant in such matters as these. When we were young, Hal, the means of acquiring knowledge generally, were limited by circumstances; but who that wishes, lacks them at present?—Well, my daughter"——

"Yes, pa, I see,—of course it was a mere slip of the pen"——

"A slip of the pen!" retorted the father, "and is that a sufficient excuse? Proper respect will teach a young man of right feelings towards your sex, to take good care that no such carelessness retains a place in his first billet to a lady—it is an indication of character, my child! Depend upon it, that the man who writes in this way,—encircling some of his words with a flourish, abbreviating others, mis-spelling, and all upon mottled paper, with a highly ornate border, does not understand himself, and will be guilty of other solecisms in good manners and good taste, that will be very likely to embarrass and shock a young lady accustomed to"——

"The society of gentlemen of the old school, like pa and Col. Lunettes!" exclaimed Fanny, in her usual laughing manner, snatching up the condemned missive, and flying out of the room.

In the course of the evening, my old friend and I joined the ladies in the drawing-room.

A merry group around a centre-table, attracted me, and as the fair Fanny made a place beside her agreeable little self for me, I was soon settled to my satisfaction in the midst of the fair bevy.

"What are you all so busy about?" I inquired, as I seated myself.

"Oh, criticising!" cried one.

"Acquiring knowledge under difficulties," replied another.

"Accomplishing ourselves in the Art Epistolary, by the study of models!" returned a third.

And sure enough,—the table was strewed with cards, and notes, and an empty fancy-basket told where these sportive critics had obtained their materials. I soon gathered that the scrutiny Fanny's note had undergone in the library, was the moving cause of this sudden resuscitation of defunct billet-doux and forgotten cards.

"Only look at this one, Col. Lunettes!" exclaimed a pretty girl opposite me, handing across a visiting card, with the name written with ink, in rather cramped characters, and surrounded with a variety of awkward attempts at ornamental flourishes. "Isn't that sufficient to condemn the perpetrator to 'durance vile' in the paradise of fools?"

"Well, here is a beautiful note, at any rate," exclaimed the eldest daughter of the house, "even papa would not find fault with this"—

"What are you saying about papa?" inquired the master of the mansion, pausing in his walk up and down the room, and leaning upon the back of his daughter's chair.

"Won't you join us, sir?" returned the young lady, making a motion to rise; "let me give you my seat."

"No, no, sit still, child—let us hear the note that you think unexceptionable."

"It is as simple as possible," said she, "but though it only relates to a matter of business, I remember noticing, when I opened it, the elegant writing and"——

"Well, let us hear it, my daughter."

Thus impelled, the fair reader began:

"I should have said," added MissCampbell, "that I had simply requested Mr.Wynkoop to send me word about some shawls, when any of the family happened in there, and did not think of troubling him to send a note."

"Let me see," said her father, taking the paper from her hand, "yes! just what one might expect from that young fellow—fine, handsome, plain paper [a glance at poor Fanny] and a neat modest seal—all because a lady was in question; and one can read the writing as if it were print. Look at it, Lunettes! A promising young merchant—a friend of ours, here. An educated merchant—what every man should be, who wishes to succeed in mercantile life in this country."

"Yes," returned I, "ours is destined, if I do not greatly mistake, to be a land of merchant princes, like Venice of old, and I quite agree with you that American merchants should be educated gentlemen!"

"This young Wynkoop," continued my friend, "is destined yet to fill some space in the world's eye, unless I have lost my power to judge of men. He seems to find time for everything—the other evening he was here—(the girls had some young friends)—and, happening to step into the library, I found him standing with one of the book-cases open, and just reaching down a volume—'I beg your pardon, sir, if I intrude,' said he, 'but I was going to look for a passage in the "Deserted Village," as I am not so fortunate as to possess a copy of Goldsmith.' Of course I assured him that the books were all at his service, and apologized for closing the door, and seating myself at my desk, saying that a rascally Canadian lawyer had sent me a letter so badly written that I could scarcely puzzle it out, and that his bad French was almost unintelligible at that. I confess I was surprised when he offered to assist me, saying very modestly, that nothing was more confusing than patois to the uninitiated, but that he had chanced to have some experience in it. So he helped me out very cleverly, in spite of my protestations at his losing so much time, and when he found he could not aid me farther, looked up his lines, put back my book, and quietly bowing, slipped out of the room. When I went back to the girls, later in the evening, I heard my young friend singing with some lady, in a fine clear voice, and, soon after, discovered him in another room dancing, 'money musk' with my own wife for his partner!"

While this little sketch was in progress of narration, the inspection of the miscellaneous display upon the table had been silently progressing. And each pretty critic had made some discovery.

"Here is a 'regret' sent for the other night," said Fanny, "what do you think of that, Col. Lunettes?" And a large sheet of note paper was put into my hand, clumsily folded, and containing only the words "Mr.Augustus Simpkin regrets."

"A good deal is left for the imagination," I replied, "regrets what?"

"That he is a numskull, perhaps, but I fear there is not that encouragement for his improvement!" broke in the Chairman of this Committee of Investigation.

The general laugh that followed this spicy comment had no sooner subsided, than another note caught my eye, by its handsome penmanship. Glancing it over, I handed it to one of the young ladies without comment. She 'looked unutterable things,' as she quietly refolded the missive, and was about to slip it out of sight; but the dancing eyes of the lively Fanny had caught the whole movement, and she insisted upon what she called fair play. So the paper was again subjected to perusal—this time aloud.

"How did that get into the card-basket?" exclaimed MissCampbell, in consternation, "it ought to have been destroyed at the time"——

"It has risen up in judgment against the writer now," said Fanny, "but he is much improved since then. He knows better now than to say 'the Miss Campbells', or"——

"Or sign himself 'Yours affectionately,' to a document commenced in the third person. So he does, child, and he proved himself essentially polite by writing the note—the hand is really very commendable. I have no doubt the young man will yet acquire considerable note-ability!" And throwing the tell-tale paper into the fire, the charitable commentator proceeded in his walk.

"A propos"—"A propos" was echoed round the merry circle, as a servant handed a note to Miss Campbell.

"MissFanny Campbell," read her sister, and resigned the billet to its rightful owner.

Every one protested that it should be common property, unless its contents were a secret; and the blushing, half-pouting beauty was constrained to open and inspect her note where she sat.

"I insist upon fair play in MissFanny's case, also," said I, coming to the rescue, "and shall do myself the honor of acting as her champion." With that I spread out her gossamer handkerchief, and throwing it over the top of my cane, affected to screen the rosy face beside me. Taking advantage of my ruse, my pretty favorite opened her note, and, partly retreating behind my broad shoulder, soon possessed herself of its contents.

"There," said she, throwing it into the middle of the table, "you may all read it and welcome!"

Brown heads and black, sunny curls and chestnut "bands," were immediately clustered together over the prize, and Fanny, springing away, like a bird, was, in a moment, perched on an arm of the large chair in which her father was now ensconced, with her arm around his neck, and her beaming eyes glancing out from his snowy locks.

"Let Colonel Lunettes see it, you rude creatures!" exclaimed my lively favorite, from her retreat, and the note was immediately presented to me. Wiping my glasses with deliberation suitable to the occasion, I "pressed my hand upon my throbbing heart," and read as follows:

"That's another rival for you, Colonel Lunettes," exclaimed one of the girls.

"I fear my doom is sealed!" returned the old soldier thus addressed, with an air of mock resignation. "But who is this formidable youth, MissCampbell?"

"A Bostonian, I believe," replied the young lady; "cousin Charley introduced him to us at Mrs.Gay's ball the other evening, and asked us to call upon his mother and sister—they are friends of his. He was here this morning with cousin Charley, but we were out."

"How stylish!" said one of our critical circle, re-examining the elegant billet of the stranger.

"Quite au fait, too, you see, young ladies," I added, "he invites MissFanny to go with a proper chaperon to the concert, as he is so slightly acquainted with her."

As I limped across the room towards them, I heard my friend say to his daughter, who still retained her seat, "certainly, unless you prefer to go with Mr. Blakeman."

"Oh, pa!" protested the sweet girl, "but what excuse shall I make to Mr.Blakeman?"

"Tell him, in terms, that your father does not permit you to go anywhere, alone, with a young man with whom he has no acquaintance—Lunettes, you're not going?" rising as he spoke.

"It is high time—my carriage must be waiting. MissFanny, permit me the privilege of an old friend,"—kissing her glowing cheek—and, as she skipped out into the hall with her father and me, I whispered—"About this young Bostonian? Is it all over with him?"

"What, Hal—jealous?" exclaimed her father, laughing—"do you fear the flight of our gazelle, here?"

"No danger of my eloping! No, indeed! at least with any one except—Colonel Lunettes!" replied the charming little witch, as her nimble fingers fastened my wrappings.

"Bravo!" cried her father; "that would be glorious! Seventeen and"——

"Eighty-two," interrupted your old uncle; "May and December! But, happily for me, fair Fanny, my heart can never grow old while I have the happiness of knowing you."

I hope none of you will ever, even when writing in a foreign language, fall into the mistake made by a young Pole, with whom I once had a slight acquaintance. He was paying his addresses to a young lady, and, while most assiduously making his court to the fair object of his passion, was temporarily separated from her, by her leaving home on a pleasure excursion. At the first stopping-place of her party, the lady found a letter awaiting her, written in the neatest manner, and in excellent English—which her lover spoke in a very imperfect manner. It appeared to the recipient of this complimentary effusion, however, at the first glance, that its contents were not especially relevant to the occasion of a first billet-doux from her admirer. Reading it more deliberately, something familiar in the language struck her suddenly, and after pondering a moment, she turned over the leaves of a new book which was among the literary stores of our travelling-party, and soon came to the exact counterpart of passage after passage, as recorded in the letter of the gallant Pole!

The volume was, I think, "Hannah More's Memoirs," which had probably been recommended to the young student of our language by his teacher, or some friend, as containing good specimens of the epistolary style!

With the hope that you may all escape being the subjects of such merriment as was occasioned by the discovery of my fair friend, I remain, as ever,