It is necessary for every young man to have a supply of visiting-cards, and for these there is one fixed rule, any departure from which betokens want of knowledge of the customs of well-bred people.

The size must be exactly three inches by one and a half. The pasteboard must be pure white and glossy and the lettering must be in italic.

An idea prevails among young men of a certain class that it is incorrect to put the title “Mr.” before their own name on a visiting-card. This is a great mistake. Not to put it is to show oneself lacking in savoir faire.

The name must always be preceded by “Mr.” or “Sir,” or other title. The address must occupy the left-hand corner, and the name of one’s club or clubs must follow it.

When a young man has no permanent address, it is well to have only his name printed, filling in the address in pencil before leaving or presenting his card.

The hours for calling are from four to seven in the afternoon, but young men who are not on very intimate terms with the family should carefully abstain from calling after six o’clock, lest they should be the last and solitary caller.

When the door is opened, and the question, “Is Mrs. Blank at home?” answered in the affirmative, the visitor is invited to follow the servant. He may take off his overcoat if he wishes, but he must carry his hat and stick in his hand. The right-hand glove must be removed. The gloved hand is never given to a lady, certain exceptional circumstances proving the rule.

Arrived in the drawing-room, he holds his hat and glove in the left hand, greets hostess first, she shaking hands with him, and then he looks round the room and greets any acquaintance he may recognise, going up to them if he knows them well, bowing if his previous knowledge of them has been slight. Having taken his seat, he still holds his hat in his hand, and he must find small talk as best he can, for sitting silent is awkward for him and distressing to his hostess. She, by the way, will probably say, “Would you not like to put down your hat?” indicating some spot where he may lay it. The reason of carrying the hat to the drawing-room

is a somewhat subtle one. It is based on the supposition that the masculine caller feels himself privileged in being permitted to pay his respects, and feeling himself on sufferance, is ready to leave in a moment, hat in hand, should he not find his presence agreeable and acceptable.

I have a private theory that this custom is cherished and kept up by men from a conviction that their hats are much safer in their own sight in the drawing-room than they would be downstairs in the hall. New umbrellas have been taken instead of old, as we all know, and new hats are quite as tempting, if not more so.

Do not send your card up when making a call. This is reserved for business men. The servant asks your name, and it must be given very distinctly. It will then be announced in a loud, clear voice when the door is opened. Should the hostess show by her manner that she has not recognised the name, its owner must recall himself to her memory by saying, “I am Mr. So-and-so. I had the pleasure of,” &c., &c., explaining the circumstances that led to the call.

The visiting-card must be left on the hall table when the caller goes away, one card for the ladies of the house, and one for the gentleman or gentlemen, whether these latter have been present or absent during the call.

Should the lady called on be “Not at home” the cards are given to the servant.

When a man has rendered an unknown lady some really important service, as in the case of a street accident or some other disagreeable circumstance in which he has been able to avert from her some unpleasantness which she would have otherwise incurred, the lady will probably ask him to let her know to whom she is indebted for so much kindness. The proper course to pursue is to disclaim any special obligation, but if the lady persists, it is then good manners to give the name. Should the gentleman feel very much interested in the lady, he may say, “I should very much like to call to-morrow to find out if you are none the worse for your adventure.” She may then give him her address, and he would give her his card.

But this would all be very much out of place if the affair had been some mere matter of common courtesy, such as picking up some article dropped by a lady and restoring it to her. A gentleman in such circumstances raises his hat and retires as quickly as possible, lest the lady should imagine that he could base a claim to her acquaintance on the performance of so trivial a service.

It is only the “cad” who thus presumes, and the “cad-ess” who allows him to do so.

Visiting-cards are never sent by post. They denote a call in person.

The only exception to this rule is in sending out P.P.C. cards.

These are always sent by post. The letters denote pour prendre congÉ (“to take leave”), and are used when it is found impossible to call and say goodbye to all one’s circle of acquaintance.

A call after a ball or dinner-party must be made within the week, and cards left.

In calling to inquire after the welfare of an invalid, or after the family has suffered bereavement, cards are always left. If a man is on intimate terms with a family that has suffered bereavement, he sometimes uses cards with a slight line of black, and should he write a letter of condolence, notepaper and envelopes with the same slight indication of mourning on them. This expresses sympathy and a personal share in the sorrow felt.

In making a call after death has visited any family, the dress of the caller should be attuned to the occasion, and should be of a sombre order, though it need not be precisely mourning.

When a man is a frequent visitor to any house, he may leave his hat and stick in the hall.

The umbrella is never taken into a drawing-room.

Cards must be left after an invitation, whether the latter be accepted or not.

In case of not wishing to pursue the acquaintance of the person who sent the invitation, it is sufficient to leave the cards without inquiring whether the lady is at home.

If a man should wish, for any reason, to courteously end an acquaintanceship, he can do it without any of the intolerable “cutting,” a method resorted to only by the rough and uncultivated.

He may make a call that, in his own mind, he knows to be a final one, remaining only just the quarter of an hour that is the minimum length of such functions, and preserving a certain gravity of demeanour which is as free from “sulks” as it is from other forms of bad temper. After this, he may leave cards once more without asking if the ladies of the family are at home. In this way he can gradually and with perfect courtesy break off the intimacy.

In the street he raises his hat but does not stop to speak. It is quite possible to ignore the attempt to do so on the opposite side, but should circumstances be such as to make it difficult to do so without positive rudeness, he must stop, putting an end to the conversation at the earliest possible moment.

A call should never extend over half an hour unless the caller be expressly requested to prolong it.

A gentleman never looks at his watch during a call, at a dinner-party, afternoon reception or ball. This is prohibited because the inference would be that time was dragging with him and that he was anxious to get away. A man may feel such anxiety, but he must hide it if he would be deemed well-bred.

Young men who do not pay their duty call and leave a card after any entertainment, are likely to be omitted from the list of guests invited on some succeeding occasion.

Occasionally it happens that a young man finds himself “dropped” by some family with whom he has been on terms of intimacy. He is debarred by the rules of polite society from asking for an explanation, it being a canon of good breeding never to ask questions that are embarrassing to reply to. This has been embodied in a very outspoken and unceremonious phrase “you ask me no questions, I tell you no lies.” There is a deep truth in it, nevertheless, and even in family life it is well to observe it.

Sometimes the reason a young man is dropped in this way is that something to his disadvantage has been discovered.

But not unfrequently the true reason is that one of the daughters of the house has shown a preference for his society which the parents think should be checked. Girls of the present day do not always exercise the well-bred self-control that is the rule of good society in such matters. To love unsought is a misfortune for any girl, leading inevitably to much mortification and humiliation, but these may be minimised if she can only practice a dignified reticence about her feelings.

But should a young man thus capriciously (as it seems to him) be left out in the cold be on sufficiently good terms with a son of the house, it would be quite in rule for him to put out a feeler or two on the subject: “I say, old fellow, I wonder if I have been so unfortunate as to offend your people in any way?” He will soon discover, from the aspect of his interlocutor, whether he is likely to gain any information on the matter.

Calls of Inquiry.

In calling on friends who have suffered bereavement, after having received their card of thanks for kind inquiries, it is, of course, requisite that the dress should be of the quietest description. A red tie, for instance, would be horribly out of place. Only in case of very intimate friendships is the call prolonged beyond ten minutes or a quarter of an hour. The caller takes his tone from that of the family.

It is in the worst taste to refer to the loss sustained unless the initiative is taken by one of those bereaved. This is very seldom done, and the conversation is usually conducted on lines calculated to avert any disturbing remark. No one likes to break down or lose self-command except in seclusion; and, in fact, it is only necessary to look into one’s own consciousness in order to discover what is the best course to follow in such cases.

Should a young man be invited to attend the funeral, he must wear mourning, black gloves, and black hatband. Punctuality, important at all times, is particularly essential at this dreary ceremonial. The family usually provides carriages, but in the case of friends who possess equipages, they always take their own. It is the custom to assemble at the house, or to go by fixed train should the family reside in the country.

It is better not to accept any invitations to return to the house afterwards; for, as a rule, these are only given as a matter of form.

We often see in newspapers after the announcement of a death, a request that no flowers may be sent. Failure to comply with this would argue a want of perception, but when no such intimation is made a friend may send flowers, the only essential being that they should consist as a rule of pure white flowers or orchids, pansies, or violets. Occasionally an exception is made to these in the case of favourite flowers of the lost friend. An exquisite garland of pale tea-roses appeared among the scores of wreaths seen at the funeral of one of our greatest poets.