WE have ridiculed our newly-rich woman’s fads, pretensions and failures so sharply and for so long that we find it hard to do justice to the solid virtues she often possesses. The average specimen is fair game, and we—one and all, from the gentlest to the most sarcastic—unite in “setting her down.”

Except perhaps the mother-in-law, no other woman supplies fun-makers with such abundant—and cheap—material. She might retaliate on her persecutors more frequently than she does by attributing much of the ridicule, fine and coarse, heaped on her, to envy, far meaner than the meanest of her pretensions.

Thus much for the average specimen at her worst. The exceptions to the ignoble parvenu are numerous enough to form a class by themselves. It is not a disgrace in this country of dizzying down-sittings and bewildering uprisings, for miner, mechanic, merchant or manufacturer to make money fast. It is to his credit when he insists that the girl who was poorer than himself when they were married, and who has kept him at his best physical and mental estate ever since by wise management of their modest household—making every dollar do the work of a dollar-and-a-quarter while feeding and clothing her family—should get the full benefit of his changed fortunes. In house, furniture, clothing, company, and what he names vaguely “a good time generally,” he means that she shall ruffle it with the bravest of her associates. He means also that these associates shall be in accord with his means. And the intention need not be in vain. A woman who is by instinct a lady, and who is at all clever in observing the little things she lacks and acquiring them, will find herself “received” by as many delightful people as she has time for. And inwardly she may take courage from a witty woman’s remark, “I’d as soon be the newly-rich as the always-poor.”

However, the odds are all against the chances that our worthy money-maker himself will conform his personal behavior to the new conditions. Husbands of his type leave “all that sort of thing” to wives and daughters, and make the social advancement of these women harder thereby. Not the least formidable obstacle in their upward journey is the stubborn fact that “your father is quite impossible.”

Men, as a whole, do not take polish readily. As John Newlyrich did not wear a dress coat before he was twenty-one he is seldom quite at ease in a “swallow-tail” at forty. As a millionaire of fifty, he rebels against the obligation to wear it to the family dinner every evening in the week. If he has read Dickens, which is hardly likely, he echoes Mrs. Boffin’s “Lor’! let us be comfortable!” He butters a whole slice of bread, using his knife trowel-wise, and if busy talking of something that interests him particularly, he lays the slice upon the cloth during the troweling. He cuts up his salad, and makes the knife a good second to a fork while eating fish. Loyal to the memories of early life, he never gets over the habit of speaking of dinner as “supper,” and observes in conversation at a fashionable reception, “As I was eating my dinner at noon to-day.” In like absent-mindedness, he tucks his napkin into his collar to protect the expanse of shirt-front exposed by the low-cut waistcoat of his dress suit. He says “sir,” to his equals, and addresses facetious remarks to the butler, or draws the waitress into conversation while meals are going on. Anxious wife and despairing daughters are grateful if he does not put his knife into his mouth when off-guard.

Trifles—are they? Not to the climbers who are exercised thereby. They are gravel between the teeth, and pebbles in the dainty foot-wear of Mrs. Newlyrich. The history of her social struggles would be incomplete without the mention of this drawback. She has learned the by-laws of social usage by heart, and, loving and loyal wife though she is, she sometimes loses patience with John for not doing the same.

In this, and in many another perplexity, more or less grievous, our heroine has our sympathy and deserves our respect. We use the word “heroine” advisedly. We have put the wealthy pushing vulgarian, who is part of the stock company of caricature and joke-wright, entirely out of the question. She has her sphere and her reward. Our business is with the woman of worthy aspirations and innate refinement, raised by a whirl of fortune’s wheel from decent poverty to actual wealth. She has a natural desire to mingle on equal terms with the better sort of rich people. She is glad of her wealth, but not purse-proud. It has introduced her to another world. Of her social life it may be truly said that old things have passed away and all things have become new. It would be phenomenal if she fitted at once and easily into it. Money has bought her fine house, and for money the artistic upholsterer has furnished it. Money has hired a staff of servants, whereas up to now, a maid-of-all-work was her sole “help.”

Money does not enable her to master the “shibboleth” that would be her passport to the land she would possess. And to mangle it into “sibboleth”—as the least sophisticated of us know—means social slaughter at the passages of Jordan. One’s speech and manner of speaking are of the first importance socially, and fortunately it is not difficult to improve them if one earnestly determines to do so. One may frankly take private lessons, or one may learn much by listening closely to the talk of people of high social finish. One should not, however, imitate slavishly or attempt the impossible. To use the “broad a” gracefully one must either have been born to it or assiduously trained in one’s younger days. Otherwise it is bound to seem an affectation. An error heard with surprising frequency even from well-educated people is the use of “don’t” for “doesn’t.”

In Sesame and Lilies Ruskin remarks, “A false accent or a mistaken syllable is enough in the parliament of any civilized nation, to assign a man to a certain degree of inferior standing forever.” This is an extreme statement, of course, but there is much truth in it.

One thing Mrs. Newlyrich sometimes mistakenly permits is the correcting of her grammatical blunders and her husband’s by their better-educated children. To allow this shows a wrong sense of proportion. It is infinitely more important for a child to respect his parents and to show them respect than that the laws of Lindley Murray be observed.

Seldom use a foreign phrase even if you have perfectly mastered its meaning and pronunciation. The “well of English undefiled” is usually sufficient for all needs. People who constantly sprinkle their conversation and letters with “dictionary” French or Latin lay themselves open to the charge of affectation. Certain foreign words once accorded their original pronunciation are now habitually Anglicized. One of the commonest of these is “valet,” which is now spoken as if it were an ordinary English word.

Engage no servant who patronizes you. Give your maids to understand at the outset that you are the head of the house, and know perfectly well what you want each one to do, and how your household is to be run. Be kind with all—familiar with none. They are your severest critics. Never speak to them of your husband by his Christian name. Your daughter should be “Miss Mary” and your son “Master John” in this connection.

“Breakfast is on,” “Luncheon is ready,” “Dinner is served” are the correct formulas that you should require at the announcement of a meal. Assert yourself with dignity, never defiantly. Your servants have nothing to do with your past, or with anything connected with your personal history beyond the present relation existing between you and them. They will discuss and criticize you below-stairs and on “evenings out,” and, in the event of “changing their place,” to the next mistress who will stoop to listen to them. They would do the same were you a princess with a thousand-year-old pedigree. Stand in your lot and be philosophical.

You can not be too punctilious in not questioning them about how “things” were done in other houses in which they have been employed. Every such query will be construed into ignorance and diffidence. Be a law unto yourself and unto them.

Learn to speak of your “maid” or “maids,” not of your “girl.” If you have two, call one the cook and the other the housemaid. “Girl” is in itself a perfectly good word but it has, like some other good words as “genteel,” become debased by getting into indifferent company. In referring to your family avoid the word “folks” which has been decreed inelegant. Substitute “folk” or “people.” Do not overwork the word “lady,”—never speak of a “saleslady,” though this does not mean that any particular girl or woman serving behind a shop counter may not be a lady in every essential of the word. Train yourself in the nice distinctions that dictate when one shall say “woman” or “lady,” when “man” and when “gentleman.” The terms “lady friend” or “gentleman friend” are never to be used. Never say “Excuse me!” Leave that to the person who calls herself a “saleslady.”

Yet you must learn how the people live whom you would meet upon common ground as old to them as it is new to you. You blush in confessing that you are bewildered as to the order in which the various forks are to be used that lie beside your plate at the few state dinners you attend. EntrÉes are many, and some appallingly unfamiliar. You wonder mutely what these people would think of you if they knew that you were never “taken in” to dinner by a man until to-night, and how narrowly you watch the hostess, or the woman across the way before you dare advance upon the course set before you. Dreading awkward stiffness that would betray preoccupation, you attract attention by a show of gaiety unlike your usual behavior and unsuited to time and place. Should you make a mistake—such as using a spoon instead of the ice-cream fork—you are abashed to misery. Don’t apologize, however gross the solecism! In eighteen times out of twenty, nobody has noticed the misadventure. In twenty cases out of a score, if it were observed you are the one person who would care a picayune about it, or ever think of it again.

Another cardinal principle is to learn to consider yourself as a minute fractional part of society. When your name is bawled out by usher or footman at a large party, it sounds like the trump of doom in your unaccustomed ears. To your excited imagination all eyes are riveted upon you. In point of fact, you are of no more consequence to the eyes, ears and minds of your fellow guests than the carpet that seems to rise to meet your uncertain feet. Stubborn conviction of your insignificance is the first step that counts in the acquisition of well-mannered composure among your fellows.

In forming new acquaintances, be courteous in the reception of advances, and slow in making them until you have reason to think that you are liked for yourself, and not because your husband represents six, or it may be seven numerals. There are sure to be dozens of critics who will accuse you of parading these figures, as vessels fly bunting in entering a strange harbor. Stamp on your mind that adventitious circumstance has nothing to do with the worth of YOU, YOURSELF!

For a long while after you embark upon your new life, be watchful and studious—yet covertly, lest your study be noted. Return calls promptly, sending in the right number of cards, and bearing yourself in conversation with gentle self-possession. Never be flattered by any attention into a flutter of pleasure. Above all, do not be obsequious, be the person who honors you by social notice a multi-millionaire, or the Chief Magistrate of these United States. Servility is invariably vulgarity. Familiarity is, if possible, a half-degree more repulsive. Self-respect and a wholesome oblivion of dollars and cents are a catholicon amid the temptations of your novel sphere.

If you chance to entertain some one who is still as obscure as you were once yourself, avoid all temptation to make a display or to be patronizing. “I am so glad you could come to-night,” effusively commented such a hostess to one of her guests. “I know you go out so seldom!” The guest in question showed by her silence that she did not relish being publicly reminded that she was of limited social opportunities.

When you begin to entertain in your turn avoid, scrupulously, startling effects and novelties of all kinds. Until you are used to the task, be strictly conventional in arrangements for your guests’ reception and pleasure. Let floral decorations and “souvenirs” be modest and tasteful. Mantels banked with orchids, boutonniÈres of hothouse roses at a dollar apiece, and cases of expensive jewelry as favors, may express a generous hospitality on your part and a desire to gratify the acquaintances you would convert into friends. They will surely be set down to ostentatious display of means that few of the guests possess.

There are manuals of etiquette which will keep you from open solecisms in social usages. Follow their rules obediently, curbing all disposition to originality—for a while, at least. If possible, keep the greedy society reporter at a distance, without angering her. Do not give away the list of those invited, much less the menu. As Dick Fanshawe’s eulogist said of men who “jump upon their mothers,”—“Some does, you know!” Some even send in to the newspapers unsolicited descriptions of their entertainments with lists of guests, to the amusement of the editorial office.

These mistakes give occasion to the aforementioned cartoonists and joke-venders to deride the name of hospitality dispensed by the Newlyrich clan. Let the aforesaid manual of etiquette be followed with obedience, but not with servile and unthinking obedience. Unfortunately, it is true that the person unaccustomed to precise social regulations and to a formal manner of living, is inclined to consider the rules governing such life as arbitrary, inexplicable and mysterious. If the uninitiated woman will disabuse herself of this idea, she has taken a long step in the right direction. Once you accept the fact that there is reason behind the forms employed by society, it will not be long before you will be searching for the reason itself. The laws governing the conventional world will then acquire for you a meaning that will make adherence to them simple and natural, instead of stiff and mechanical.

The matter of discriminating properly in questions of taste is a thing much more difficult to learn than the set and definite rules governing definite exigencies of social life. Yet taste,—taste in clothes, taste in the objects surrounding one, taste in all matters with which expenditure is concerned,—this is a necessity in the attainment of any social position worthy of the name. In this direction something may be gained by observation, though not until the eye is sufficiently trained to make it a trustworthy guide. The sense of beauty is somewhat a matter of cultivation, and its application to every-day life is the result of experience and judgment. Do not imagine that a color is becoming to you merely because you happen to like it. Do not buy a chair or a couch simply because the one or the other may happen to please your fancy. The color you wear, the furniture you buy must have reference, the one to your appearance, the other to its surroundings.

When one is unversed in these matters it is best to submit problems to an authority. It is wiser to allow a clever modiste to select the color, style and material of one’s gown than to do it one’s self. It is better to put the scheme of decoration for your house into the hands of some accomplished person, educated to that end, than to attempt it yourself. In large cities persons competent in this matter of household decoration may easily be found, people whose business it is to act as paid agents of the more beautiful and esthetic way. Many architects have in their employ persons who are capable of advising as to interior decoration and of superintending the work. If one is resident in a small place, the difficulty is obviated by the intelligent aid offered to the questioner through the columns of the better magazines devoted to esthetics as applied to every-day living. The advice given in the best of these publications is conscientious, careful, expert advice.

One especial point in house-furnishing is worth noting. Do not crowd your beautiful Oriental rugs together, but leave a surface of polished floor about each. Rugs are floor pictures and should have frames as well as wall pictures do. The effect of putting them close upon one another, though seen in many houses otherwise well ordered, is inartistic.

Mrs. Newlyrich is frequently criticized for her frequent fondness for lion-hunting. This is not always fair. If she hunt because of the glory she hopes to heap on herself, she deserves ridicule, but if she do it in the spirit of genuine appreciation and a desire to give rare pleasure to her friends she performs a real service to art and to society and merits praise for her courage and kindness, not censure.

If the woman who is now wealthy was once a trained nurse or a stenographer, do not let her be ashamed of the fact now. If she is frank and simple about the matter, sensible people will respect her for having been honorably employed. If she tries to hide the truth, every one will despise her for it. If she avoid the phrase—and the thought back of it—so often heard, “getting into society,” and will remember that all gentle aspiring persons are already members of the best society, she will be helped to steer her bark aright.

Beware of any person who attempts to exploit you “for revenue only.” On the other hand, if you find some one who for reasons of sincere liking undertakes to show you the social ropes, you will be fortunate.

I have said that it is not your fault that you were not born in the purple. Neither is it of your merit and to your honor that you now walk in silk attire, and may freely gratify dreams you would once have considered wildly impossible. A certain steadiness of attitude should be striven for. Don’t be like a bell, answering helplessly to every contact. Imitate in your manner that large nobility of Horatio of whom Hamlet said,

The best of all books enjoins on the suddenly-exalted to be mindful of the pit from whence they were digged. Purse-pride is contemptible in its meanness and folly. You are safe from ridicule if you keep this fact in mind. Set up “me” and “mine” in “pearl” type, and not in capitals.

A final injunction: do not assume knowledge of what you are really ignorant. To do this is to lay traps for yourself and to multiply embarrassments. Try to forestall the situation by private questioning; if you can not do this say frankly that you do not know.