When we attend a lecture, concert, or other entertainment, we should go in season: to enter after the performance begins is a discourtesy to the performers and an annoyance to every person in the audience. If we are obliged to be late, we should wait for a favorable time, and then be seated quickly and quietly.

When there is a choice of seats we have a right to take the best that remain when we arrive; but this right offers no excuse for us to push and elbow other people, or to obtain such seats by crowding others aside. It is better to have the poorest seat in the house or none at all than to sacrifice good manners and self-respect. We often see disgraceful exhibitions of selfishness at entertainments on the part of people who pride themselves at home and in company on their politeness.

If we are too early, or if there is delay in commencing, we should wait with well-bred quietness. Nothing marks more surely the ill-bred person than noisy demonstrations of impatience at waiting. This is one of the occasions to practise the graceful sitting still which has been spoken of in the lesson on manners in society.

It is not polite to gaze at those around us, still less to make remarks about them or their dress.

Loud talking and laughing, and all conduct calculated to make ourselves conspicuous, should be avoided. The people who attract attention in these ways will be likely to eat candy, nuts, and popped corn while the exercises are going on, and to violate propriety in other ways.

Whispering during a performance is an offence against good manners; yet it is surprising how common the offence is. School children know how the visitors on examination days often talk to each other throughout the exercises, to the great disturbance of the whole school as well as the teacher, and this recollection ought to make them more careful to avoid the impoliteness themselves. Many people seem to attend places of amusement for the sole purpose of talking with their friends. They will hold long discussions upon dress, cooking, and family matters, as if no music or speaking were in progress, and as if no one else cared to hear more than they. If we do not go to a concert to hear the music, we have no right there; and the same is true at all public entertainments.

It is related of Margaret Fuller that at one of Jenny Lind's concerts her evening's enjoyment was destroyed by some rude young people who whispered incessantly, laughed at each other's foolish jokes, and paid no attention to the wonderful music. At the close of the concert she sent for the young girl whose behavior had been most noticeable to come to her. The girl was much flattered by the request from so distinguished a person, though she was at a loss to account for it. As she appeared with an air of pleased curiosity, Margaret Fuller said to her, "I hope that never again in your life will you be the cause of so much annoyance and pain to any one as you have been to me this evening."

It is to be hoped that this rebuke, with the good advice given with it to this thoughtless girl, was a lesson in good manners which she and her companions never forgot.

To take out one's watch or to turn the head to look at the clock is like saying we are impatient to go, and must be disturbing to the speaker. If it is necessary for us to look at a watch, we should do so without its being seen, and should stifle in our pockets the click of shutting it.

It is rude to applaud noisily: we can be enthusiastic in applause without being boisterous.

Some ladies have a habit of carrying fancy work to places of amusement. If they knit or crochet before the performance begins, it is a foolish parade of industry which is probably not carried out at home; but if they continue the occupation after one begins to sing or speak or read, it is impertinent, and extremely annoying to the speaker. It seems like saying that his words are not worthy of undivided attention, but are of so little consequence that one can take in their meaning and beauty while counting stitches and studying patterns.

We should be mindful of little courtesies to those near us, such as handing our programme or opera-glass to one who has none. If a question is asked about the performance, we should answer with cordial politeness and cheerfully give any information we can.

We should never leave the hall while the performance is going on. It is, like coming in late, an affront to the performers and to the audience. Usually, if we cannot stay until the close, we should stay away. If there is any urgent reason, such as taking a train, for our leaving before the close, we should do so between the parts of a performance, and as noiselessly as possible. When we stay to the end we should remain seated and give our attention until the last word is uttered. The speaker usually keeps his best effort for the close, and he should not be embarrassed, or those listening be disturbed, by the confusion of preparations for departure. To reach the door a minute or two sooner, or to get the best seats in a car, is not worth the rudeness it requires. We shall never be guilty of it if we only apply the Golden Rule and consider how we should feel in the speaker's place.