In addressing any one and in general conversation, it will be well to bear in mind the advice of Polonius to his son Laertes: "Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar;" but unless you have special reason, do not too closely adhere to his precept, "Give every man thine ear, but not thy tongue." This will only serve to make you appear reserved and reticent, when to be so would be not only out of place, but ill-bred. In society, a man should make himself as agreeable as he can, doing his best to assist conversation, as well by talking gracefully and easily, as by listening patiently, even though it be to a twice-told tale.

Do not whistle, loll about, scratch your head, or fidget with any portion of your dress while speaking. 'Tis excessively awkward, and indicative of low-breeding.

Strictly avoid anything approaching to absence of mind. There can be nothing more offensive than a pre-occupied vacant expression, an evident abstraction of self at the very time you are supposed to be listening attentively to all that is being said to you. Lord Chesterfield said: "When I see a man absent in mind. I choose to be absent in body." And there was really much reason in the remark.

Whispering is atrocious, and cannot be tolerated. It is almost as bad to endeavor to draw one person from a general conversation into a tete-a-tete discussion. Private affairs must be delayed for private interviews.

If, however, you find others have been guilty of this breach of etiquette, and you are so placed as to overhear what is intended to be a secret communication, you may with perfect propriety change your seat, or if this is not practicable, inform the persons so conversing, that their voices are audible to you.

Unless you are actually afflicted with deafness, never ask to have a sentence repeated. It implies a wandering attention. If your hearing is defective, say so, and your companion will raise his voice.

Never interrupt a speaker. It is equally rude to supply words over which your companion may hesitate a moment. Do not be guilty of a rough comment on what has been said, by such remarks as, "Yes, you mean so-and-so." If you understand such to be the meaning of a remark, act or answer accordingly; if you are uncertain, try to find out in some way that will not wound the feelings of the speaker.

In general conversation avoid argument. It is too engrossing of attention, and is moreover apt to break in upon the harmony of the company. If obliged to discuss a point, do so with suavity, contradicting, if necessary, with extreme courtesy, and if you see no prospect of agreement, finishing off with some happy good- natured remark to prove that you are not hurt or offended.

When addressing a person, look in his or her face, not staringly, but frankly, never fixing your eyes on the carpet or your boots.

Speak clearly and distinctly, never mumbling your words, and while avoiding a shouting tone, speak loudly enough to ensure your remarks being heard. A very low tone of voice will be heard if the words are clearly articulated and spoken slowly enough for perfect distinctness, and is much more agreeable than hurried, garbled speech loudly uttered.

Do not sit too close to your companion in conversation, and avoid any appearance of wishing secrecy.

Loud laughing and giggling are in excessively bad taste. Do not interrupt yourself by laughing at what you are about to say.

Eschew scandal, for "in scandal as in robbery, the receiver is always thought as bad as the thief." Mimicry is the lowest and most ill-bred of all buffoonery.

Swearing, sneering, private affairs either of yourself or any other, have long ago been banished out of the conversation of well-mannered people.

Never suppose, or never appear to suppose yourself the subject of the conversation or laugh of the company.

Bashfulness is an inconvenient quality, which a great authority has stated to be "the distinguishing character of a booby." Nicknames are abominable, and are never allowed in good society. Call people and things by their right names, and avoid affectations of all kinds.

If your friends become the subject of conversation, never compare one with another, or mention the vices of one to add to the lustre of virtue of the other. Find something pleasant to say of each, that you may not earn the reputation of a backbiter.

In conversing with a foreigner, betray no impatience if he hesitates for a word to express himself, nor any ridicule if his language is faulty. If you speak his own tongue, say so when you begin the conversation, as this is never a mere display of an accomplishment, but a true kindness to "a stranger in a strange land." You are almost certain to give pleasure by so doing.

To speak constantly of public characters or distinguished people as your intimate friends, even if they are so, is a certain mark of low-breeding. Boasting of your own position, wealth, luxuries or possessions of any kind is in equally bad taste.

Never speak to a literary person of his works. You may by an apt quotation or pleasant remark show that you are familiar with them, but to question an author about his profession is ill bred. It is equally so to speak of business matters to any man in general society. Business men do not go into the world of polite society to carry their shop, and they will not thank you for reminding them of work in their hours of relaxation.

Do not commence any conversation by the suggestion of painful or disagreeable topics. To ask a friend abruptly, "For whom are you in mourning?" may be tearing open anew a wound that was covered for the time by intercourse with society. Take other steps to satisfy yourself on this point. By the same token, do not say to a man, "That was an unfortunate affair, that failure of yours." Never, directly or indirectly, rub a sore.

Do not ask questions which relate to the private affairs of the person spoken to, and be guarded against conduct which may look like an attempt to force confidence. If too persevering in your inquiries you may be treated, and very properly, as one might treat a highwayman who sought to rob one of any other property. A man's thoughts are certainly his own most private possession, and you must be very intimate to seek to be admitted to a share in them. Even if you are so, it is far more delicate to wait until confidence is offered to you. A man has a perfect right to defend himself from cross-examination by any means, except positive falsehood.

In conversing with foreigners do not disparage any of their national customs, even if they are rude enough to attack yours. You may, pleasantly and frankly, defend the institutions of your native land, but not by comparison with the customs of other countries. If your companion is well-bred, he will admit that you possibly understand American customs better than a foreigner can do; if he is a low-bred man, no rudeness on your part will correct his manners or views.

Subjects or incidents calculated to disgust the hearers, are to be avoided in polite conversation. There is a positive fascination to some people in describing sickening or revolting scenes, but well- bred people will remember that some are sensitive upon such subjects, and all would prefer more agreeable topics.

Do not use surnames alone, even if speaking of intimate friends. For a lady to speak of her husband as "Smith" or "Jones," is vulgar in the extreme, and it is low-bred also to say "my husband," "my wife" or, except amongst relatives, to use the Christian name only, in speaking of husband or wife. Speak of your own husband or wife as, "Mr." or "Mrs. B—-," and of your friends also by the surname prefix as, "Remember me to Mr. or Mrs. D."

Let no more than one person be speaking at one time.

Ridicule and personal joking cannot be too severely censured.

Avoid an officious offer of advice or your own opinion, and if you do give an opinion, be sure it is given as such and not as a fact.

If you would preserve a character for truthfulness, avoid the too common fault of exaggeration.

When visiting, be careful that you do not appear to undervalue anything around you by comparing it with what you have at home.

Beware of personal abuse or invective. Remember what Shakespeare put into the month of Cardinal Wolsey, when the Earl of Surrey said to him on his disgrace:

"Now if you can blush and cry 'guilty' Cardinal, You'll show a little honesty."

Mark the proud dignity of the prelate's reply:

"Speak on, sir; I dare your worst objections: If I blush It is to see a nobleman want manners."

Punning is a vulgarism that should be scrupulously avoided. An inveterate punster, though his play upon words may rise to the keenest wit, is yet an insufferable bore. No one feels secure in his society, or can guess what word may be torn out of a serious or brilliant remark to be tortured into a vulgar witticism, out of place and uncalled for.

Proverbs are not in good taste when introduced into conversation.

Scriptural phrases are apt to subject the speaker to a suspicion of insincerity, and should be used very seldom, and with the utmost reverence.

Cant is simply detestable.

Religion is a subject too apt to lead to long arguments if not to positive altercation to be the subject of general conversation.

Repartee is not a weapon for every-day use. There are few who can wield this polished blade skillfully, and when clumsy hands grasp it, it will wound both speaker and hearer.

The talented author of "Good Society," says:

"The great secret of talking well is to adapt your conversation as skillfully as may be to your company. Some men make a point of talking commonplace to all ladies alike, as if a woman could only be a trifler. Others, on the contrary, seem to forget in what respects the education of a lady differs from that of a gentleman, and commit the opposite error of conversing on topics with which ladies are seldom acquainted. A woman of sense has as much right to be annoyed by the one, as a lady of ordinary education by the other. You cannot pay a finer compliment to a woman of refinement and esprit, than by leading the conversation into such a channel as may mark your appreciation of her superior attainments.

"It should be remembered that people take more interest in their own affairs than in anything else which you can name. In tete-a- tete conversations, therefore, lead a mother to talk of her children, a young lady of her last ball, an author of his forthcoming book, or an artist of his exhibition picture. Having furnished the topic, you need only listen; and you are thought not only agreeable, but thoroughly sensible, amiable and well- informed.

"Be careful, on the other hand, not always to make a point of talking to persons upon general matters relating to their professions. To show an interest in their immediate concerns is flattering, but to converse with them too much about their own art or profession, looks as if you thought them ignorant of other topics.

"Remember in conversation that a voice 'gentle and low' is, above all other extraneous accomplishments, an excellent thing in woman. There is a certain distinct but subdued tone of voice which is peculiar to persons only of the best breeding. It is better to err by the use of too low than too loud a tone. Loud laughter is extremely objectionable in society.

"Conversation is a reflex of character. The pretentious, the illiterate, the impatient, the curious, will as inevitably betray their idiosyncrasies as the modest, the even tempered and the generous. Strive as we may, we cannot always be acting. Let us, therefore, cultivate a tone of mind, and a habit of life, the betrayal of which need not put us to shame in the company of the pure and wise, and the rest will be easy. If we make ourselves worthy of refined and intelligent society, we shall not be rejected from it; and in such society we shall acquire by example all that we have failed to learn from precept."

If you are conversing, when interrupted by a visitor, and, after the customary greetings, resume the conversation, you must recapitulate the substance of it for the benefit of the new comer.

To invariably commence a conversation by remarks on the weather shows a poverty of ideas that is truly pitiable.

Do not constantly repeat the name of a person with whom you are conversing.

A person who has travelled will probably be severely ridiculed if constantly referring to "the winter I spent in Florence," or "when I was in London."

If conversation takes a tone that is offensive to good taste, charity or justice, be silent.

Do not be too ready to correct any statement you may deem untrue. You may be yourself mistaken.

INVITATIONS.

ALL invitations, excepting dinner invitations, are issued in the name of the lady of the house alone. Dinner invitations are issued in the name of the gentleman and lady of the house, or when extended to gentlemen only, in the name of the host alone. Answers to invitations, excepting such dinner invitations as are issued in the name of the gentleman only, must be addressed to the lady of the house.

When invitations are issued in the height of a fashionable season, it is best to send them out at least a fortnight beforehand. For a small company, and when gayety is not at its height, a week's notice is sufficient. For a costume ball, private theatricals or any occasion when elaborate dresses or preparations are needed, a month should be given.

Printed cards of invitation are not en regle, excepting for public occasions. A small note paper is the only appropriate one, and may have the initial letter or monogram stamped upon it, and the envelope. Any more fanciful decoration is in excessively bad taste.

The proper form for a dinner invitation is:

"Mr. and Mrs. G—- request the favor of Mr. and Mrs. L—-'s company at dinner, on Tuesday, the 8th of January, at 5 o'clock."

Or,

"Mr. G—- requests the pleasure of Mr. L —-'s company at dinner, on Tuesday, the 8th of January, at 5 o'clock."

The answer accepting the invitation should run as follows:

"Mr. and Mrs. L—- have much pleasure in accepting Mr. and Mrs. G- —'s kind invitation to dinner on the 8th of January."

If declined, the following form must be used:

"Mr. and Mrs. L—- regret that a prior engagement (or other reason stated) will prevent their accepting Mr. and Mrs. G—-'s kind invitation to dinner on the 8th of January."

Should the invitation be declined, some reason for the refusal must be given, and, unless an excuse (which always savors more or less of the untruthful) be wanted, it is the truest politeness to assign the cause which actually is the preventive. Whatever the cause—sickness, domestic trouble, business or any other—it should be stated as concisely as possible in the answer, which in any case should be dispatched as soon as possible (certainly the next day) after the receipt of the invitation, that the hostess may have time to summon other guests in the stead of those declining her first invitations.

After an invitation is once accepted, it should be scrupulously observed. Nothing but the most absolute necessity should prevent you from going, and when such necessity arises, it should be communicated directly, with a full explanation of the preventing cause even if it is within half an hour of the appointed dinner time. If earlier, send the explanation as soon as possible.

Invitations to dinner and the answers must be sent by a special messenger. The post is proverbially uncertain, and the non-arrival of an expected invitation or its answer, may cause lasting offence.

It is a breach of etiquette, to say nothing of practical inconvenience, to bring an unassorted company together at dinner. Great people, public characters, literary celebrities or distinguished guests from any cause should not be invited merely because they are such. They will be uncomfortable if the guests summoned to meet them are not congenial, and the remainder of your company equally so. No one guest should be too conspicuous. A harmonious blending of tastes and qualities should be the object in view. Persons moving in one circle of society should not, as a general rule, be invited to meet those who move in another circle. A man of strong political bias in one direction, should not be invited to meet a party opposed to his views; persons of known and marked differences in religious matters should not be invited to meet each other, and above all, avoid the social collision of those whom you know to be personal enemies. The best guide in such matters is common sense, coupled with a little judicious forethought.

Invitations to large balls should be sent out at least a fortnight before the time appointed, and are worded thus:

"Mrs. L—-'s compliments to Miss G—-, and requests the pleasure of her company at a ball, on Wednesday, the 7th of March, at 9 o'clock."

The answer is as follows:

"Miss G—-'s compliments to Mrs. L—-, and accepts with pleasure her kind invitation for Wednesday, March 7th."

Or,

"Miss G—- regrets a recent death in her family will prevent her accepting Mrs. L—-'s kind invitation for March 7th."

An invitation to an evening party is worded:

"Mrs. S—- compliments to Mr. and Mrs. T—-, and requests the pleasure of their company on March 9th, at 8 o'clock."

Such an invitation calls for full evening dress. The answer is the same as for a ball invitation.

Invitations to pic-nics, private theatricals, concerts, tea parties and other entertainments, generally state the nature of such entertainment, and are a little less formal than those already given.

For a musical party:

"Mrs. R— requests the pleasure of Mr. and Mrs. P—-'s company, on Thursday evening, Feb. 10th, at 8 o'clock, to meet the members of the Harmonia Musical Society."

And if you have a programme of the concert, enclose it.

Or,

"Mrs. F—- expects a few friends on Monday evening next, at 8 o'clock, to take part in some dramatic readings, and would be happy to have Miss B—- join the party."

Or,

"Mrs. S—-'s compliments to Miss P—-, and would be pleased to have her join a pic-nic party to Pine Grove, on Wednesday, June 14th. Carriages start from Mrs. S—-'s at 9 o'clock, and a place will be reserved for Miss P—-."

Notes of invitation must always be dated, and your address in full written in one corner, thus:

"Feb. 6th, 18—. "Miss M—-. requests the pleasure of Miss N—-'s company to a small evening party, on Friday evening next, at 8 o'clock. "No. 762 R—- Street."

The body of the invitation must be in the middle of the sheet, and date a little above to the right, the address a little below to the left.

The envelopes containing invitations must be directed always to the private residence of the person invited, never to a place of business or office.

When the officers of a regiment or a ship are invited to an entertainment, and it is not possible to invite them all, it is customary to send an invitation to the Colonel or Commander, accompanied by a certain number of blank tickets, if it be a public ball, or by an intimation that the host would be glad to see Colonel or Captain —- and so many of the officers of the regiment or ship.

Invitations by a regiment to a ball, to be given by the officers, are worded as follows:

"Col. and the officers of the —- Regiment, U. S. A. (or other branch of the service), request the pleasure of Mr. and Mrs. C—- 's company on the 7th of December, at 9 o'clock. "R—- Barracks, corner of —- and —- Streets."

Answers should be addressed to the Colonel of the regiment, and worded thus:

"Mr. and Mrs. C's compliments to Colonel — and the officers of the - Regiment, U. S. A., and accept with pleasure their polite invitation for the 7th of December."

In case an officer desires to invite his personal friends, he encloses his own card in the invitation, but these must all be issued in the form already given, the card explaining to which officer the compliment is to be attributed.

Invitations to a Naval ball are issued in the name of the "Captain and officers of the U. S. Ship —-," or simply in the name of "The Officers of the U. S. Ship —-."

On the corner of the card the name of the officer to whom the answers are to be sent, should be written.

An officer of higher rank, or a public official of high position, will signify on his card what aide-de-camp or clerk is to receive the answers to his invitations, and will issue them in the joint name of himself and wife, thus:

"General and Mrs. E—- request the pleasure of Mr. and Mrs. D—-'s company, on Thursday, the 6th of November, at 8 o'clock. "Direct answers to Capt. E. C—-."

Verbal invitations are given only when the occasion is a very informal one, and imply plain dress, early hours and a small company.

Invitations to concerts, theatre or opera, should be sent in time to secure good seats, if accepted, The usual style is:

"Mr. G would be much pleased to have Mrs. and Miss Hunt's company at the opera, on Wednesday evening, when La Trovatore will be performed by the Italian troupe at the Academy of Music."

Such an invitation calls for an immediate answer from the elder lady, and should be as follows:

"Mrs. and Miss Hunt accept with pleasure Mr. G—-'s polite invitation to listen to a favorite opera on Wednesday evening."

Or if declined:

"Mrs. Hunt regrets that a prior engagement will prevent her own and Miss Hunt's acceptance of Mr. G—-'s polite invitation for Wednesday evening."

For a general reception, invitations are printed upon cards, thus:

"Wednesday Evening, January 14th, No. 348 —- STREET."

Such cards do not require any answer.

DINNER COMPANY.

ON no occasion is a want of punctuality more ill-bred than at a dinner party, whether it is the guests who are late, or the hostess who allows dinner to be later than the time appointed. Belie remarks, with as much truth as sarcasm:

"I have always been punctual to the hour of dinner, for I know that those whom I kept waiting would employ those unpleasant moments to sum up all my faults."

To arrive too early is to annoy the lady of the house by disturbing her at her toilet.

To arrive too late is injurious to the dinner, to the temper of your host, of the other guests and of the servants.

It is really a sad breach of etiquette to be later than the hour named in your invitation for dinner, and from ten to fifteen minutes before it is quite soon enough for your arrival.

As regards the hour for dinner, etiquette, strictly so called, has not prescribed anything. Custom, the fashion, convenience, a score of things may control it. From five to eight o'clock, according somewhat to the season of the year, is the present fashionable limit. By that time the business of most men is over for the day, which can scarcely be said of an hour earlier than five.

The lady of the house should be in her drawing-room, ready to receive her guests, ten or fifteen minutes before the hour fixed for their arrival, and the daughters of the house should be with her, and not drop in one by one after the guests' arrival. The gentleman of the house should also be present, and in case it is a strictly gentleman's party, at which no hostess presides, he must be all ready before the appointed time to do the honors.

On guests being announced, the lady advances a few steps towards them, and should receive them cordially with some words of welcome.

The hostess must never betray any chagrin at the lateness of a guest, but try to place the unfortunate last arrival as much at ease as possible by her cordial welcome and unembarrassed manner.

Before all the guests have arrived the lady should have made her arrangements as to what gentleman and lady are to go in to dinner together, and before dinner is announced the gentlemen of the party should be informed what lady they are to escort to the table.

The gentleman of the house offers his arm to the lady most honored amongst the guests, the gentleman most distinguished offers his arm to the lady of the house.

Gentlemen give the left arm to a lady, excepting military officers in full dress, who give the right arm, as the sword is inconveniently worn for offering the left. In all other cases the right arm must be left free.

The order of procession being settled, the company move according to it from the drawing-room to the dining-room, as soon as dinner is announced.

The host sits at the bottom of the table, the hostess at the top. At the right of the host is placed the lady he escorted from the drawing-room, and at the right of the hostess her escort. The next place of honor is at the left of the hostess.

It is a good plan, and rapidly becoming an established custom, to have small cards with the names of the guests written upon them, laid upon the plate at each seat. Each one thus taking the place assigned prevents confusion, and gives the hostess the privilege of placing near to each other the guests who will prove mutually agreeable.

Gentlemen should stand behind their respective chairs until all the ladies are seated, and then take their own seats, being careful that their chairs do not stand upon the dresses of the ladies beside them.

Seats having been apportioned to all, grace is said, by a clergyman if there is one present, if not, by the host. The clergyman should be invited to say grace by the host.

If the dinner is a la Russe, there will not be any carving done on the table itself.

If the party is small, mere en famille, the hostess will have a dish before her, the contents of which will have to be carved. The gentleman on her right hand should in that case offer to carve for her, but if she declines, should not press the offer. Many ladies are excellent carvers, and like to appear so.

There is no space in our little volume for directions upon carving, nor do they form any portion of the art of etiquette. All that etiquette has to say on the subject is that you must not stand up to carve; you must not pursue the bird, joint or whatever the meat may be, all round the dish; nor should you comment upon the age of the fowl, the toughness of the meat or your own awkwardness in carving. If you really do not understand it, do not attempt it; say so and let the waiter cut it up.

Never be helped twice to soup or fish, and indeed it appears low bred to be twice served to any one dish. You may refuse either soup or fish, but make no comment if you do, as to your liking or dislike for the dish, nor is it incumbent upon you to state that "soup does not agree with you," or that "fish always make you ill;" any such remarks are rude. Simply to say "no, thank you," in refusing a dish, is all the reply that strict etiquette will allow upon the subject.

No remarks should be made by the host or hostess on the refusal of a guest to partake of a proffered dish. Pressing the food upon a guest with "Oh, do take some," or "You must, it was made by so- and-so," or indeed any remark upon the repast, is not only annoying to the guest, but a proof of low-breeding in the entertainers. There is a sort of hospitality about it, but it is a rough barbarism. Who does not remember the description of Bridget Elias' hospitable gaucherie in Charles Lamb's "Poor Relation," when urging the poor relation to eat with the speech: "Do take some more; remember you do not get pudding every day."

Never should a host or hostess apologize for the fare set before their guest. Such apologies are generally a mere fishing for compliment, untrue and in entirely bad taste. In inviting his friends to dinner, the host binds himself to set before them the best his house and purse can afford, and if the fare is good the guest will soon find it out, if bad, no apologies will make it any better.

It is in bad taste to apologize to the waiters for the trouble given them, and betrays a lamentable ignorance of the customs of society. They are hired to wait upon the guests, and it is no affair of those guests how they feel, as long as they discharge their duty. To reprove a waiter is the height of ill-breeding.

Do not, when a dish is brought to you, say you prefer to be helped after some one else. Accept or refuse what is offered to you, and let the waiter pass the dish on. A gentleman, however, will see that the lady he has escorted to the table is helped as she wishes, before he attends to his own dinner, but to interfere with the lady on the other side of him is all insult to her escort. He may ask the lady under his care if she will be helped from any dish offered him, before he accepts or declines for himself, and will issue her orders for her to the waiter when she selects her dinner.

A gentleman or a lady will always say "Thank you" to a waiter, but nothing more.

A guest must never find fault with any dish placed before him, and to appear to question the quality or freshness of the viands by smelling or fastidiously tasting them, is a positive insult to the gentleman who has invited him to his table.

A host or hostess may never find fault before their guests, neither with the dinner, with the servants, nor with each other. Burnt soup, fish boiled to rags, underdone vegetables, heavy pastry, must be endured with smiling equanimity. No scowl must greet the crash that announces the fall of a tray of the finest glass, no word of remonstrance greet the deluge of a plate of soup over the tablecloth. If care has not been taken to secure first- rate cooks and well-trained waiters, the faults of omission and commission must be endured with placid serenity.

After the ladies have all been served, the guests to the right of the hostess must be attended to, then the guest on her left, and so on until all are served. Ten persons are all that one cook can properly prepare a dinner for, and three waiters will be amply employed in waiting upon that number. If more are invited the attempt to make the conversation general had better not be made, but the guests allowed to converse tete-a-tete.

Wine should be handed by the waiters after soup. To decline wine by covering the mouth of the wine-glass with the hand is an ill- bred gesture. Say simply "Not any, thank you," and the waiter will not fill your glass.

Fish follows next in order. A slice, neatly cut, not hashed up by bad carving, should be placed upon each plate, with a slice of egg, and fish sauce. If there be a silver knife, use it to cut the fish. If not, take your fork in your right hand and supply the place of the knife by a small piece of bread, which you should cut off, and when your fish is eaten, leave upon your plate.

Do not eat as if you had good fare for the first time in your life—that is to say, do not eat ravenously, and do not eat in a noticeable way.

Never smack the lips when eating.

Never take a long, deep breath after you finish eating, as if the exercise had fatigued you.

Never make noises in your mouth or throat.

Never suck your teeth, or pass your tongue round the outside of your gums.

Never, even with cheese, put your knife into your mouth.

Never pick your teeth, or put your finger into your mouth.

If you find you have a fish-bone in your mouth, cover your lips with a napkin to remove it. It is better to be very careful to remove all bones before putting fish into your mouth. On no account spit the bones out upon your plate.

Never take the bones of fowl or birds up in your fingers to gnaw or suck them. Remove the meat with your knife, and convey it to your mouth with your fork, never being too eager to clean off every particle of flesh.

Wipe your finger tips, if soiled, upon the table napkin, never upon your tongue or the table-cloth. An elegant eater will never have occasion to think of his fingers.

Never use the table-cloth to wipe your mouth, you might as well use it in place of your pocket handkerchief.

Never remark upon what is placed before you, either in praise or dispraise of it.

Neither drink nor speak when you have anything in your mouth.

When you are helped, begin to eat, without regard to those who have already, or have not yet, been helped.

Never watch the dishes as they are uncovered, nor make any exclamation when you see their contents.

Under no circumstances tuck your napkin, bib-fashion, into your shirt collar. Unfold it partially and put it in your lap, covering your knees. A lady may slip a corner under her belt if there is danger of its slipping upon her dress, but a gentleman must be awkward indeed if he lets his napkin fall upon the floor.

No gentleman will ever settle himself in his chair, pushing back his cuffs, as if for a "set-to," at the table.

If you make any general remark, do not look up at the waiters to see what effect it has upon them. If they are well-trained they will not move a muscle at hearing the most laughable story, nor will they give any sign whatever that they have not closed their ears like deaf adders to all that has been going on. In any case, however, you must refrain from noticing them.

If you want anything, take the occasion of a waiter being near to you, to ask for it in an undertone. To shout out "Waiter!" or order one about, as if you were in a restaurant, is a certain mark of ill-breeding.

Unless the party is a very small one, general conversation is impossible. In such a case, you must converse with those on either side of you, not confining your remarks exclusively to one.

Talk in a low, quiet tone, but never in a whisper.

To affect an air of mystery or secrecy at a dinner-table, is an insult to your companion and company assembled.

It is in bad taste to force the attention of the company upon yourself by loud talking or loud laughing.

Too many jokes or anecdotes are in bad taste, but the subjects for conversation should not be too serious.

Any gentleman propounding a conundrum at the dinner-table deserves to be taken away by the police.

To use one's own knife, spoon or fingers, instead of the butterknife, sugar-tongs or salt-spoons, is to persuade the company that you have never seen the latter articles before, and are unacquainted with their use.

Never eat all that is on your plate, and above all never be guilty of the gaucherie of scraping your plate, or passing your bread over it as if to clean it.

Never fill your mouth so full that you cannot converse; at the same time avoid the appearance of merely playing with your food. Eat in small mouthfuls, and rather slowly than rapidly.

If upon opening fruit you find it is not perfect, or there is a worm in it, pass your plate quietly and without remark to the waiter, who will bring you a clean one.

None but a low-bred clown will ever carry fruit or bon bons away from the table.

Drinking wine with people is an old custom, but it will now-adays be found to exist only among the past or passing generation. If you are, however, asked to take wine with any one, you should fill your glass with the same sort of wine your friend has, and raise it to your lips. You need only taste, not act upon the principle of "no heel-taps."

A man would be looked upon as a curiosity, nay, many would not understand what he meant, who should at the present day propose a "sentiment" before drinking wine.

Never spit from your mouth the skins of grapes, the stones or pips of fruits. Receive them upon the prongs of your fork, laid horizontally, and place them as conveniently as so inelegant a process will allow upon the edge of your plate.

Never play with your fingers upon the table.

Never play with your knife and fork, fidget with your salt-cellar, balance your spoon on your tumbler, make pills of your bread, or perform any of those vulgar antics unfortunately too often seen at table.

Never in conversation, illustrate your remarks by plans drawn upon the table-cloth with your nail, or built of your knife, fork and spoon.

Never stretch your feet out under the table, so as to touch those of your opposite neighbor. It is quite as bad to put them up under you upon the chair-bar, or curl them up under the chair itself.

Try to take an easy position at table, neither pressing closely up to it, nor yet so far away as to risk depositing your food upon the floor instead of conveying it to your mouth.

Never touch fruit with your fingers. If you wish to peel an apple, a pear or a peach, hold the fruit on a fork in your left hand, and peel with a silver knife in your right. Eat it in small slices cut from the whole fruit, but never bite it, or anything else at table. Need I say no fruit should ever be sucked at the table.

When the hostess thinks her lady friends have taken as much dessert as they wish, she catches the eye of the principal among them; an interchange of ocular telegraphing takes place, the hostess rises, and with her all the company rise; the gentlemen make a passage for the ladies to pass; the one who is nearest to the door opens it, and holds it open until all the ladies have passed out of the room.

As soon as the ladies have retired the gentlemen may resume their seats for more wine and conversation, but it is a very poor compliment to the lady guests to linger long in the dining-room.

The ladies upon leaving the dining-room, retire to the drawing- room, and occupy themselves until the gentlemen again join them. It is well for the hostess to have a reserve force for this interval, of photographic albums, stereoscopes, annuals, new music, in fact, all the ammunition she can provide to make this often tedious interval pass pleasantly.

If you dine in the French fashion, the gentlemen rise with the ladies, each offering his arm to the lady he escorted to dinner, and all proceed to the drawing-room together.

If the gentlemen remain to have coffee served in the dining-room, tea may be served in the drawing-room to the ladies.

Upon returning to the drawing-room the gentlemen should never cluster round the door, but join the ladies at once, striving to repay the hospitality of the hostess by making themselves as agreeable as possible to the guests.

From two to three hours after dinner is the proper time to leave the house.

If the dinner is for the gentlemen guests alone, and the lady of house presides, her duties are over when she rises after dessert. The gentlemen do not expect to find her in the drawing-room again. In this case cigars may be served with the coffee, and then the servants may retire, unless especially summoned to wait. If smoking is indulged in, have placed upon the table a number of small match boxes, ashes receivers, and between the chairs spittoons. And here let me add a few words upon smoking taken from an English authority, but which, with a few exceptions will apply equally well to lovers of the weed upon this side of the water. He says:

"But what shall I say of the fragrant weed which Raleigh taught our gallants to puff in capacious bowls; which a royal pedant denounced in a famous 'Counterblast,' which his flattering, laureate, Ben Jonson, ridiculed to please his master; which our wives and sisters protest gives rise to the dirtiest and most unsociable habit a man can indulge in; of which some fair flowers declare that they love the smell, and others that they will never marry an indulger (which, by the way, they generally end in doing); which has won a fame over more space and among better men than Noah's grape has ever done; which doctors still dispute about, and boys get sick over; but which is the solace of the weary laborer; the support of the ill-fed; the refresher of overwrought brains; the soother of angry fancies; the boast of the exquisite; the excuse of the idle; the companion of the philosopher; and the tenth muse of the poet. I will go neither into the the medical nor the moral questions about the dreamy calming cloud. I will content myself so far with saying what may be said for everything that can bless and curse mankind, that in moderation it is at least harmless; but what is moderate and what is not, must be determined in each individual case, according to the habits and constitution of the subjects. If it cures asthma, it may destroy digestion; if it soothes the nerves, it may, in excess, produce a chronic irritability.

"But I will regard it in a social point of view, and, first as a narcotic, notice its effects on the individual character. I believe then, that in moderation it diminishes the violence of the passions, and particularly that of the temper. Interested in the subject, I have taken care to seek instances of members of the same family having the same violent temper by inheritance, of whom the one has been calmed down by smoking, and the other gone on in his passionate course. I believe that it induces a habit of calm reflectiveness, which causes us to take less prejudiced, perhaps less zealous views of life, and to be therefore less irritable in our converse with our fellow-creatures. I am inclined to think that the clergy, the squirearchy and the peasantry, are the most prejudiced and most violent classes in this country (England); there may be other reasons for this, but it is noteworthy that these are the classes which smoke least. On the other hand, I confess that it induces a certain lassitude, and a lounging, easy mode of life, which is fatal both to the precision of manners and the vivacity of conversation. The mind of a smoker is contemplative rather than active, and if the weed cures our irritability, it kills our wit. I believe that it is a fallacy to suppose that it encourages drinking. There is more drinking and less smoking in England than in any other country of the the civilized world. There was more drinking among the gentry of last century, who never smoked at all. Smoke and wine do not go well together. Coffee and beer are its best accompaniments; and the one cannot intoxicate, the other must be largely imbibed to do so. I have observed among young bachelors that very little wine is drunk in their chambers, and that beer is gradually taking its place. The cigar, too, is an excuse for rising from the dinner-table, where there are no ladies to go to.

"In another point of view, I am inclined to think that smoking has conduced to make the society of men, when alone, less riotous, less quarrelsome and even less vicious than it was. Where young men now blow a common cloud, they were formerly driven to a fearful consumption of wine; and this in their heads, they were ready and roused to any iniquity. But the pipe is the bachelors wife. With it, he can endure solitude longer, and is not forced into low society in order to shun it. With it, too, the idle can pass many an hour, which otherwise he would have given, not to work, but to extravagant follies. With it, he is no longer restless, and impatient for excitement of any kind. We never hear now of young blades issuing in bands from their wine to beat the watch or disturb the slumbering citizens, as we did thirty or forty years ago, when smoking was still a rarity; they are all puffing harmlessly in their chambers now. But, on the other hand, I foresee with dread a too tender allegiance to the pipe, to the destruction of good society, and the abandonment of the ladies. No wonder they hate it, dear creatures! the pipe is the worst rival a woman can have, and it is one whose eyes she cannot scratch out; who improves with age, while she herself declines; who has an art which no woman possesses, that of never wearying her devotee; who is silent, yet a companion; costs little, yet gives much pleasure; who, lastly, never upbraids, and always yields the same joy. Ah! this is a powerful rival to wife or maid; and no wonder that at last the woman succumbs, consents, and, rather than lose her lord or master, even supplies the hated herb with her own fair hands.

"There are rules to limit this indulgence. One must never smoke, nor even ask to smoke, in the company of the fair. If they know that in a few minutes you will be running off to your cigar, the fair will do well—say it is in a garden, or so—to allow you to bring it out and smoke it there.

"One must never smoke, again, in the streets—that is, in daylight. The deadly crime may be committed, like burglary, after dark, but not before.

"One must never smoke in a room inhabited at times by the ladies; thus, a well-bred man, who has a wife or sister, will not offer to smoke in the dining-room after dinner.

"One must never smoke in a public place, where ladies are or might be; for instance, a flower-show or promenade.

"One may smoke in a railway-carriage, in spite of by-laws, if one has first obtained the consent of every one present; but if there be a lady there, though she give her consent, smoke not. In nine cases out of ten, she will give it from good nature.* *In America, cars are especially provided for smokers, and no gentleman will violate etiquette by smoking in any other.

"One must never smoke in a close carriage; one may ask and obtain leave to smoke, when returning from a pic-nic or expedition, in an open carriage.

"One must never smoke in a theatre, on a race-course, nor in church. This last is not, perhaps, a needless caution. In the Belgian churches you see a placard announcing: "Ici on ne mache pas du tabac.'

"One must never smoke when anybody shows an objection to it.

"One must never smoke a pipe in the streets.

"One must never smoke at all in the coffee-room of a hotel.

"One must never smoke, without asking permission, in the presence of a clergyman.

"But if you smoke, or if you are in the company of smokers, and are to appear afterwards in the presence of ladies, you must change your clothes to smoke in. A host who invites you to smoke will generally offer you an old coat for the purpose.

"You must also after smoking rinse the mouth well out, and if possible brush the teeth.

"You should never smoke in another person's house without leave, and you should not ask leave to do so, if there are ladies in the house.

"When you are going to smoke a cigar, you should offer one at the same time to anybody present.

"You should always smoke a cigar given to you whether good or bad, and never make any remark upon its quality."

At a gentleman's party it is the host alone who may call upon any of the company for a toast, a speech or a song. No matter how much others may desire it, they may never invite each other.

During the week following a dinner party, it is etiquette for each guest to call upon the hostess, and it is rude to delay the call more than a fortnight.

In concluding this chapter we give from a modern English work the following bills of fare for dinners suiting the different seasons of the year, which may be useful to young housekeepers:

MENUS OF FOUR CHOICE DINNERS, ADAPTED TO EACH SEASON OF THE YEAR.

JANUARY.—(FOR TEN PERSONS.) Consomme soup, with quenelles; Turbot, with Dutch sauce. TWO REMOVES.—Braized fillet of veal, larded a la Chateaubriand; Roast turkey, with puree of mushrooms. FOUR ENTREES.—Oyster Kromeskys, a la Russe; Pork cutlets, sauce Robert; Partridges, a la Prince of Wales; Supreme of fowls, a la Macedoine. SECOND COURSE.—Pintail; Snipes. ONE REMOVE.—Fondu of Parmesan cheese. FOUR ENTREMETS.-Salad, a la Rachel; Vol-au-vent of preserved greengages; Plombieres cream iced; Braized celery with brown sauce.

APRIL.-(FOR EIGHT PERSONS.) Cray-fish soup; Spey trout, parsley sauce. TWO REMOVES.—Boiled fowls, oyster sauce; Glazed tongue A la jardiniere. Two ENTREES.—Lamb cutlets, asparagus, peas; Boudins of rabbits, a la Reine. SECOND COURSE.—Lobster salad; Green goose. FOUR ENTREMETS.—Orange fritters; Tapioca pudding; Wine jelly; Potatoes a la Lyonnaise.

JUNE.—(FOR TWELVE PERSONS.) Puree of green peas, soup; Stewed sturgeon, matelotte sauce; Fillets of mackerel a la maitre d'hotel. TWO REMOVES.—Roast fore-quarter of lamb; Spring chickens A la Montmorency. FOUR ENTREES.—Fillets of ducklings, with green peas; Mutton cutlets a la Wyndham; Blanquette of chicken with cucumbers; Timbale of macaroni a la Milanaise. SECOND COURSE.—Pigeons; Leveret. TWO REMOVES.—Flemish gauffers; Iced Souffle. SIX ENTREMETS.-French beans, stewed; Mayonnaise of chicken; Peas a la Francaise; Peach jelly with noyau; Love's wells glace with chocolate; Flave of apricots and rice.

OCTOBER.—(FOR EIGHT PERSONS.) Potage a la Julienne; Baked haddock, Italian sauce. TWO REMOVES.—Braized neck of mutton, en cherveuil; Roast pheasant a la Chipolata. TWO ENTREES.—Pork cutlets, tomato sauce; Curried rabbit and rice. SECOND COURSE.—Roast black-cock; Oyster omelette. FOUR ENTREMETS.—Potatoes a la Duchesse; Blanc mange; Apple tartlets; Semolina pudding.

MENU OF A FIRST RATE CHRISTMAS DINNER. Turtle soup; Turbot a la Vatel; Fillets of sole a la Tartare. THREE REMOVES.—Roast turkey, Perigueux sauce; Braized ham a la jardiniere; Spiced round of beef. FOUR ENTREES.—Marrow patties; Salmi of pheasants a la financiere; Sweet breads a la Saint Cloud; Mutton cutlets a la Vicomtesse. SECOND COURSE.—Woodcocks; Grouse; Mince pies; Plum pud ding. SIX ENTREMETS.—Broccoli with Parmesan cheese; Italian creams; Croute a l'Amanas; Salad a la Rachel; Meringues a la Parisienne; Punch jelly.

BALLS.

THE form of invitations will be found on page 49.

An invitation to a ball should be sent out from two to three weeks before the evening, and should be answered within a day or two of being received.

As to the number of guests to be invited, no precise rules can be laid down. The size of your room does not seem to be any guide. The custom is to ask rather more than twice as many as your rooms will hold; but one-third more will be enough, as it will allow of disappointments at the last moment, even if all have accepted the invitations. Besides, during the gayest of the season, the fashion of going to several balls in one night necessitates ensuring the presence of a sufficiently large number of guests all through the evening. If you really wish for dancing, do not exceed the last limits. If, however, your aim is to have the largest ball of the season, a crush and crowd, to make a sensation, then invite your entire visiting list, and endure the consequences.

A hundred guests constitute a "ball;" over that, a "large ball;" under that, merely a "dance."

One of the first requisites of a ball-room is thorough ventilation, especially if there is a prospect of a large number of guests.

One of the most desirable points in a ball is to have a beautifully arranged room. The floor must be well waxed, and perfectly even, and it is well to draw a cord across two-thirds of it, not admitting more than can dance inside the space so cut off at once. The French make their ball-rooms perfect flower-gardens. Every comer has its immense bouquet; the walls are gracefully wreathed; bouquets, baskets, and exquisitely decorated pots of growing plants are placed in every available place. The staircases, landings, and supper-room are all filled with floral treasures, harmonizing with fine effect with the brilliant lights and gay the dresses of the ladies. It adds to the effect to conceal the musicians behind a screen of evergreen and flowers.

The dressing-rooms should be provided with two servants apiece, and small cards, with the names of the invited guests upon them, should be in readiness to pin to the wraps of each one.

In each dressing-room, have plenty of water, soap, and towels upon the washstand, several brushes and combs, small hand-mirrors, pin- cushions well filled, and stick pomade upon the bureau. The ladies' room should also have hair-pins, a work-box in readiness to repair any accidental rip or tear; cologne, hartshorn, and salts, in case of faintness. The gentlemen's room should be provided with a boot-jack, a whisk, and a clothes-brush.

No one should accept an invitation to a ball who cannot or who will not dance. They are mere encumbrances. Nothing is more trying to the feelings of a hostess than to see a number of wallflowers ornamenting (?) her ball-room.

The hour at which one may go to a ball varies from ten o'clock in the evening until daybreak. Any one who attends several balls in one evening will, of course, find it impossible to appear at an early hour at each one.

The lady of the house—who should, if possible, know the name of everybody who enters the room—must stand near the door, so as to receive her guests, to each of whom she must find something to say, no matter how trifling. The host must also be near, to welcome arrivals, and the sons to introduce people. The young ladies must see that the dances are kept up, and should not dance themselves till they have found partners for all their friends. They may with perfect propriety ask any gentleman present to be introduced to a partner, and he is bound to accept the invitation; but the lady must be careful whom she asks. Many present may be entire strangers to her. Miss A. has brought her betrothed; Miss B. introduces her cousin, Captain —-, on a short leave of absence from his regiment in Texas; Miss C. presents her brother, just returned from California; Miss D. begs leave to introduce a cousin on a short visit to the city; Miss E., a belle, has informed a dozen or two of her admirers where they may bow to her on the evening of the ball. All these strangers bow to the hostess, and must be provided with partners. The "Man in the Club Window" says:

"I have known a case where a distinguished-looking young man, having declined the lady's invitation to dance, but being pressed by,' I can't make up the lancers without you,' somewhat reluctantly accepted, performed his part so well that his partner was quite eprise with him, and even ventured on a little flirtation. You can imagine her dismay when, a little later in the evening, she saw her charming acquaintance carrying up a pile of plates from the kitchen to the supper-room. For the first time in her life, she had danced with an occasional waiter."

If a gentleman act as escort to a lady, he must call at her house, at the hour she appoints, with a carriage, and he is expected to send a bouquet in the course of the afternoon. Upon reaching the house of the hostess for the evening, he must escort his fair charge to the dressing-room, leave her at the door, make his own toilet as rapidly as possibly, and return to meet the lady at the dressing-room door again, escort her to the ball-room, and at once to the hostess. She is obliged by etiquette to dance the first dance with him; but after that, he may with propriety allow her liberty to select other partners, always watching, however, to see that she is never neglected. He must be her escort to supper, and ready at any moment to leave the ball-room to escort her home again.

If a gentleman is unaccompanied by a lady, he must invite one of the ladies of the house for the first dance, and yield gracefully if she declines on the plea of want of room or partners for all her guests, consenting smilingly if she requests him to lead out the homeliest and most awkward of her wall-flowers.

The music must be first a march, then a quadrille, a polka, a waltz, a galop, and so on, with two or three round dances to each quadrille, until fourteen dances are completed, when another march announces supper. Seven to ten dances may follow supper. Each guest must be provided with a ball-card with a printed programme of the dances, and space for the engagements upon it, and a tiny pencil attached to it. Many ladies carry their own engagement- card; but they must depend upon the programme for the order of dances. The fashion of hanging a few printed programmes in the room is not considered en regle.

The supper-room must be thrown open at midnight, and remain open until the ball closes. It is, however, an extreme of bad taste and low breeding for gentlemen to cluster round the table in groups and remain there. It is one of the duties of the hostess to see that no young lady loses her supper for want of an escort to the slipper-room. If there are no young gentlemen in the family, she must request one of her guests to go to the rescue of the forlorn maiden.

No gentleman must wait until the music has commenced before selecting his partner.

A lady who declines dancing on the pretext of fatigue must dance no more, unless she has said she wished to rest for that dance alone.

If a lady decline dancing with a gentlemen, it is rude for him to turn from her to another lady who has heard the refusal, and invite her to dance. If the first lady has a prior engagement, he must seek another partner in another part of the room; if she refuses from fatigue or a disinclination to dance that set, it is a compliment to her for him to remain beside her, and endeavor to entertain her while the dance is in progress.

A lady should never give her bouquet, gloves, and fan to a gentleman to hold during a dance, unless he is her husband, brother, or escort for the evening.

A gentleman, in waltzing with a young lady, must never encircle her waist until the dance actually commences, and drop his arm from around her as soon as the music ceases. American gentlemen would do well to study the waltz with a German teacher, as they understand more perfectly than any others the most delicate way of dancing this objectionable dance, and, above all, how to hold a lady lightly and firmly without embracing her.

When a lady expresses a desire to sit down before the close of a dance, it is exceedingly rude for a gentlemen to insist upon a continuation of the dance. He must escort her to a seat at once, and then express his regret at the interrupted pleasure. She may with propriety release him to seek another partner, but it is a poor compliment for him to accept the proposal.

A gentleman should never invite a lady to be his partner in a dance with which he is not perfectly familiar. It is tiresome in the extreme to guide a partner through a dance, and the ballroom is not a dancing-school for practice.

If a gentleman takes a lady's seat during a dance, he must rise from it as soon as the dance is over, not waiting for her to actually return to it, as she may hesitate to do if she sees that it is occupied.

No lady must enter or cross a ball-room unescorted.

No lady may refuse to be introduced to a gentleman at a private ball; but at a public ball she may with perfect propriety refuse any introduction made by the master of ceremonies, or by mere acquaintances.

Confidential conversation in a ball-room is in extreme bad taste.

Do not be too particular about dancing. Taking steps in a quadrille is out of date, all the figures being executed to a graceful walk.

To remain too late at a ball is not well-bred, and seems to imply that you are unaccustomed to such pleasures. Do not engage yourself, therefore, for the last two or three dances.

No gentleman should take the vacant seat next to a lady unless he is acquainted with her, and not then without first asking permission.

A gentleman must offer his arm, never his hand, to lead a lady to and from the dance.

A lady must be very careful not to engage herself to two gentlemen for the same dance, unless, for a round dance, she states: "I am engaged for the first half of the waltz, but will dance the second part with you." In that case, she must tell her first partner of her second engagement, that she may not offend him when she takes another partner after leaving him.

If a lady wishes to decline dancing, whether from dislike to the gentleman who invites her, or from whatever cause, she must make some excuse; but she must never refuse point blank, nor must she, after having refused to dance with one gentleman, consent to dance with another.

When introduced, it is sufficient for a gentleman to say to a lady, "May I have the pleasure of dancing this waltz with you, Miss C—-?" or if the lady be engaged for the first dance following the introduction, he may request the favor of putting his name upon her engagement card for another.

A young lady should not dance more than twice with the same gentleman, unless she wants to be noticed, or is indifferent whether she be so or not.

A lady may consult her own pleasure about recognizing a ballroom acquaintance at a future meeting.

Every gentleman must make a point of inviting the ladies of the house to dance; and if he be kind, he will certainly devote himself—for a portion of the evening, at least—to those ladies for whom the May of life has bloomed and passed away, and who generally sit round the room looking wistfully disconsolate.

After every dance following the announcement of supper, offer your partner your arm, and invite her to the supper-room (at a ball, refreshments are never handed round). Should she decline going, or has already been there, take her back to her chaperon, or party, and, procuring a seat for her, thank her for the pleasure the dance has afforded you.

No lady should detain her partner long in the supper-room; she may be thus forcing him to be guilty of the rudeness of breaking an engagement with another lady for the following dance.

No gentleman should linger round the supper-table. Your hostess invites you to a ball to dance, and be agreeable, not to haunt her supper-room, as if you were starving.

Avoid all absence of mind, staring, listlessness, and other eccentricities.

Never swing your arms about, and try to avoid being conspicuous in any way.

Take the partner with whom you may happen to be dancing when supper is announced to the supper-table, unless she has come with a gentleman, in which case you must not usurp his privilege. If she is disengaged, escort her to a seat in the supper-room, if possible, and see that she is served with the dishes she selects. Do not take your own supper at the same time; wait till the lady has finished; then take her back to the ball-room, and repeat the process, if necessary, with some other lonely damsel. When all the ladies have been once to the supper-room, the gentlemen may think of their own supper.

Gloves of white kid must be worn during the entire evening, and it is well to have a fresh pair in readiness to put on after supper.

On quitting a ball, it is not necessary to take a formal leave of the hostess. Indeed, it is preferable to make your departure as quietly as possible, in order to prevent the others from thinking it later than perhaps it is, and so breaking up the ball at an earlier hour than the hostess may desire.

If a gentleman escorts a lady home from a ball, she is not obliged to invite him to enter, and if she does so, he must decline the invitation. He must, however, request permission to call the following day or evening, and he must make that call.

A gentleman in a ball-room cannot be too careful not to injure the delicate fabric worn by the ladies around him. Spurs are in bad taste, even if a cavalry officer is otherwise in full uniform.

While one dance is in progress, it is not in good taste to make arrangements for another.

It is a gross breach of etiquette on the part of either a lady or a gentleman to forget a ball-room engagement.

It is not according, to etiquette for married people to dance together at either a private or a public ball.

MORNING AND EVENING PARTIES.

PARTIES in the city comprise conversaziones, private concerts, private theatricals, soirees, dramatic readings, tea-parties, matinees—fact, almost any in-door gathering together of people, exclusive of balls and dinner companies. In the country, small dancing-parties, tea-parties, and conversaziones are also comprised under the head of parties; but the outdoor occasions are of much greater number and variety: croquet parties, sailing parties, boating parties, pic-nics, private fetes, berrying parties, nutting parties, May festivals, Fourth of July festivals —in fact, anything that will give an excuse for a day spent in out-door frolicking.

For a conversazione, under which head are included "Receptions" and "At Homes," invitations should be sent out a week beforehand. Conversation is, as the name implies, the principal occupation for the time, and where literary people are gathered together, or those engrossed in scientific matters, the sole one. For parties of young people, however, the conversazione admits of music and impromptu dances.

For all small evening parties, the host and hostess remain near the door during the early part of the evening, to receive their guests. Late comers, however, must not expect to find them still nailed to this one spot, as, after the majority of the guests are assembled, their duty is to circulate round the room and entertain them. They should, however, be quick to observe any late arrivals, and advance to welcome them as soon as possible. As the guests enter the room, the hostess should advance a step or two towards them, speaking a few words of cordial welcome, to the elder ladies first, then to the younger ones, and finally to the gentlemen. If the new comers are strangers to the rest of the guests, she must introduce them at once to those present; if, however, there are mutual friends present, it is their duty to leave the hostess after a few minutes, that she may be free to receive her other friends.

The hostess must remain constantly amongst her guests. For her to fidget in and out constantly, as if cooking the supper, or training the waiters, is a mark of low breeding. The most perfectly well-bred hostess is the one who seems to have no thought beyond the circle of her guests.

As many rooms as possible should be thrown open and supplied with objects of interest in the arts and sciences. People of some public note, whether for travel, art, learning, science, or any attainment, are often placed upon exhibition at the conversazione. If such a lion is invited, it is well to have others, even if of lesser magnitude, to prevent too much attention being concentrated upon one guest.

If a hostess sees that a tete-a-tete conversation is becoming dull, she must make it a trio by the introduction of some sprightly third, or change the duet by substituting another partner and carrying off one to introduce elsewhere. If, however, any conversation seems to be animated and giving pleasure, neither of the parties so engaged will thank the hostess for interruption.

If dancing is introduced, the etiquette of the ball-room is also the etiquette for the evening party. It is best for the hostess to provide a pianist, if she does not herself preside at the piano, as it is excessively ill-bred to expect part of the guests to play for the remainder to dance. Many good-natured people find themselves thus victimized—invited "because they are always so willing to play for dancing." It is a good plan in a dancing party to have ices alone handed round once or even twice during the evening, and a hot supper later, if at all. Ices, lemonade, cake, confectionery, and fruits are, however, quite sufficient refreshment for small parties.

If the evening of a party is stormy, the hostess should have a waiter at the door, with a large umbrella, to escort the guests from the carriages to the house, or, better still, have an awning stretched across the sidewalk.

If a party is mixed-conversation, music, and dancing, all forming a portion of the evening's entertainment-it is the part of the hostess to invite guests to sing and play, and she must be careful not to overlook any amateurs in her invitations. If a guest declines, it is in bad taste to urge the performance. If the lady of the house is herself a good performer, she must play or sing but once, and then after all others have been first invited. A guest should only be invited to play once, unless at a generally expressed desire of the remainder of the company.

It is best for amateur performers to learn a few pieces of music without depending upon their notes, as, if they send or carry notes, it is a hint that they expect to be invited to play; if they do not, they are obliged to decline when invited.

It is excessively rude to converse loudly when any one is playing or singing. If your companion does not cease talking, to listen, converse in a very low tone, and withdraw from the immediate vicinity of the performer. On the other hand, if you are invited to play, do not wait for quiet in the room, nor exhibit any annoyance if your most exquisite passages are drowned in the buzz of conversation.

A gentleman who is a good pianist may, with perfect propriety, offer his services to the hostess as orchestra for impromptu dancing, or may offer to relieve any lady so engaged, to allow her to dance. If, however, there are more ladies than gentlemen, and he is needed to fill up a set, he must not insist upon playing, but go where he is most needed.

Never offer to turn the leaves for any one playing unless you can read music rapidly; otherwise you may confuse the performer by turning too soon or too late.

Never offer to sing a second unless invited by the lady who is to sing also. The hostess may wish her friends to hear a duet, which will be disagreeable to the performers.

Members of the same family, cousins or other relatives, should not keep together in general society. They can see each other on other occasions, and the object of parties is to promote sociality, not exclusiveness.

If you are asked to play an accompaniment, do not seek to display your own talent, but play so as to afford the best support possible for the voice singing. The same rule applies to a second in any instrumental duet, which is never intended to drown the sound of the leading instrument.

When the lady of the house invites any lady guest to sing or play, the gentleman standing nearest to her should offer his arm to escort her to the piano or harp. He should stand near her during the performance of the music, and, if competent, turn the leaves of her music. She may also request him to hold her gloves, bouquet and fan. When she rises, he should conduct her to a seat, and thank her for the pleasure she has given him and others.

It is ill-bred to comment upon the piano, even if shockingly out of tune or worn out. To look at a six-octave piano and decline playing because all your music is written for seven octaves, is positively insulting to a hostess. If it is true, decline upon some other pretext.

Private concerts and theatricals ought to be very good to be successful. Professional singers should be secured for the former, and if amateurs sing, they must be very confident of their own powers before making the attempt to appear before an audience, even of personal friends. Between the parts, conversation may flow, but is rude in the extreme during the performances. The best hours are from two to six or from eight to eleven P.M. The rooms should be arranged so as to allow a clear space at one end for the performers; the guests should be seated, and a general silence prevail excepting during the intervals of the performance. If the concert is divided into two parts, it is quite permissible to rise during the intermission, promenade if agreeable, meet friends, and change seats, being careful to be seated again when the performance re-commences.

For private theatricals, only the best amateurs should be retained. It is very rude to talk during the acts, and while applause should not be too boisterous, disapproval by hissing or otherwise is a thing unheard of. Ices and light refreshments should be handed round between the acts. Where there is no arrangement for a private theatre, and where the curtain is hung, as is most common, between the folding-doors, the audience-room must be filled with chairs or benches in rows, and, if possible, the back rows raised higher than the others. These are often removed at the close of the performance, and the guests then converse or dance.

To beat time or hum the air at a concert is in extremely bad taste.

It is the part of the hostess at a private concert and private theatricals—which latter include charades, tableaux, proverbs, and dramatic readings—to arrange the programmes and apportion the parts, unless she appoints a stage-manager amongst her guests. The performers should seek to aid her by perfect good-nature in accepting her arrangements, and by willingness to accept any allotted part, even if distasteful or obscure. All cannot be first, and the performer who good-naturedly accepts a small part, and performs it well, will probably be invited to a more conspicuous position on the next occasion. The hostess or host must never take conspicuous parts, unless they are solicited to do so by all the rest of the corps dramatique.

Nothing but the most absolute necessity, or an excuse from some very grave cause, should prevent the attendance of any one who has undertaken a part. It is a positive insult to the rest of the party to inconvenience them by remaining away upon some trivial excuse, for the smallest part must be filled by somebody, and it is not easy to furnish substitutes upon such occasions.

The hostess should consult each performer before allotting to them a part, and endeavor to suit each one.

Private concerts and private theatricals should be followed by a supper, as they are fatiguing for the performers, and oftentimes as much so to the audience.

If a party are invited to an informal dramatic reading, it is not necessary to divide the room, excepting by a large table, upon which the books are placed. The host or hostess, while endeavoring to give to each guest the most favorable opportunity to display their own powers, should still, if they are good readers, be ready to oblige their guests by reading also, carefully avoiding any attempt to outshine them.

Matinees are usually held in the open air, in some good ground, in which a brass band should be playing, and plenty of good flowers displayed, embellished by the best dressed people it is possible to assemble together. There are not any introductions; people amuse themselves as best they can. Luncheon may be spread in- doors, or upon tables under the trees, or if tents are erected, inside of these. Fruits, ices, salads, cold meats, confectionery- in short, any cold collation, with wine, tea, and coffee, should be served. Full morning dress is most appropriate.

Croquet parties are very fashionable, and meet generally at about three P.M. The host should be careful to have his grounds well shaded, his mallets, balls, and other arrangements in perfect order. Seats for such guests as are not playing should be scattered about in shady places. Refreshments may be handed round between the games, or arranged as for matinees.

Within the past few years, a species of entertainment of a past generation has been revived in England, and some attempts have been made to introduce it in this country. It was, and is, called the "Kettledrum." Tea and coffee, with biscuit and cake, are served round from five to half-past five. Any one in the visiting circle of the house may go without an invitation; the dress is full morning dress, and the guests dance until seven o'clock. From them guests often go to dinner parties, and thence to balls, so that a man may be considered to be in harness to society from five P.M. to 4 A.M., and to be rather hardly driven, too.

Ceremony is laid aside upon these occasions, and people act with greater freedom than at more formal gatherings.

In country parties, ceremony is often required, even upon occasions where more freedom of action would be desirable. Inattention to this matter may give offence, as the hostess may fancy herself slighted merely because she is not city-bred.

Avoid in country parties treading upon delicate ground, talking of local squabbles, church matters, or the acknowledged feud of the village.

Be punctual to the time stated for any kind of a country party, as one late arrival may delay the carriages, boats, or other conveyances of an entire party. Many of these expeditions start at a very early hour, to avoid the road during the heat of the day, and if you accept the invitation, you must relinquish your morning nap and appear at the appointed time. Seek out the hostess upon your arrival, and if you can in any way assist her, either by running for tardy servants, packing luncheon hampers, arranging the order of vehicles, or any other last duties, do so with alacrity.

Private fetes in the country correspond to matinees in town, and the same rules apply.

At pic-nics, whether water or land parties, etiquette is set at naught; yet the true gentleman and lady will never leave true courtesy and politeness at home, even if they lay aside forms and ceremonies. Everybody is to enjoy the time and freedom as much as possible, "within the limits of becoming mirth;" yet an act of rudeness, a disregard of the gentle and delicate attentions of society, will never increase the pleasure.

Gentlemen at pic-nics must consent to become waiters, guides, servants to the ladies; must "scale mountains," climb trees, perform any feats desired by the fair tyrants, if they fancy "that lovely flower," or "exquisite bunch of sea-weed," in impossible- to-get-at places. If on a fishing party, it is the gentlemen's place to bait the hooks for the fair anglers, to assist them in landing their prey, to find them shady nooks for seats, and in every way to assist them. If nutting or berrying are the objects of the party, the gentlemen must climb the nut-trees, seek out the berry-bushes, carry double allowances of baskets and kettles, and be ready for any assistance required in climbing fences or scrambling over rocks. By the way, the etiquette for climbing a fence is for the gentleman to go over as gracefully as possible, turn his back upon the lady, and not look round until she claims his hand to spring from the topmost bar. She will not thank him if he insists upon shoving her over first, or watches her while she climbs up.

Boisterous deportment is not in good taste. Even the most romping games may be conducted as becomes ladies and gentlemen, not as clowns. Couples should avoid straying too long or too far from their companions.

Even if the luncheon or dinner is spread on the grass, or eaten out of a basket, gentlemen will see to the comfort of the ladies before eating themselves, and, need I say, the freedom from the restraints of the table affords no excuse for gluttony or rudeness of any description.

On returning from a pic-nic, the thanks of the party are due to the originators of it, and should be paid by each one before the company disperses.

Singing a comic song is a dangerous experiment, as you may be personal without intending it. An English lady of rank, speaking of an evening party, says: "At an evening party, given expressly in honor of a distinguished lady of color, we heard a thoughtless amateur dash into the broadly comic, but terribly inappropriate' nigger' song of' 'Sally, Come Up.' Before he had got through the first verse, he had perceived his mistake, and was so overwhelmed with shame that he could scarcely preserve sufficient presence of mind to carry him through to the end."

A modern writer of talent says: "Your pleasure at any party will depend far more upon what you take with you into the room than upon what you find there. Ambition, vanity, pride, will all go with anxiety, and you will probably carry them all home again, with the additional burden of disappointment. Even if they are all gratified, you will know that others are disliking you, even if envious of you. To go with a sincere desire to please others by amiability, good-nature and sympathy will probably result in your own popularity, and if you entirely forget yourself, you will be astonished to find how much others insist upon remembering you."

If at any morning or evening party you meet a distinguished guest, it is ill-bred to follow him from one place to another, listening to every word he utters, and making him have the uncomfortable sensation of being "stared at."

Impromptu charades are a very popular amusement at the present day, at both in-door and out-door parties. If you have no talent for them, you will only confuse others and make yourself appear absurd by insisting upon taking a part; but even if you are dull, do not refuse your assistance if it is really required, trying, by tact and modesty, to cover up any deficiency in wit or talent.

The best rule for the management of parties, be they in-door or out-door, morning or evening, city or country, is to endeavor to find out the wishes of the majority of the guests and act upon that knowledge. To force a large party of people to listen to awkward, bungling charades, because two or three amateur actors desire to "show off," proves a want of tact in the hostess; to allow a few young people to guide the entertainments in a large assembly of older and graver ones, is in equally bad taste; it is, of course, better to assemble together as far as possible only those who are likely to be congenial and interested in the same subjects; but this is not always possible, and where the company is mixed, the republican spirit should preside, and the "majority rule."

One word of warning to all who give parties. You can never tell what ruin may be commencing when you urge wines or intoxicating beverages upon your young guests. You may be the first to stimulate the appetite; you may renew a passion that has been subdued; you may turn a wavering will from the hardly gained resolution to abstain. There are instances, not a few, but many, where the love of liquor, conquered and subdued, has been revived in fiercest heat by cordials, brandied peaches, wine-sauces, and similar apparently innocent refreshments. It is better to appear mean than to tempt to ruin, and in these days of temperance movements, no lady will be censured or misunderstood who banishes every drop of intoxicating liquor from her table.

VISITING.

NEVER pay any visit upon a general invitation. The Spanish hidalgo, who declares to you that his house, lands, all that he has, are yours, would be greatly surprised if you appropriated any of his things. It is the same thing, more or less, with people elsewhere who give people general invitations to take up their quarters in their houses.

There are instances of visits of a month's duration being made upon the invitation, "If you visit B—-, I hope that you will not forget that I reside there, and will be very happy to see you." Yet, even where friends are not newly made, but of long standing, it is best not to pay visits unless by special invitation. A thousand events may occur to render it inconvenient for one friend to have company that cannot be known to another, hundreds of miles, perhaps, away. If a friend really desires to extend hospitality to another, she will send her an invitation, which can be accepted with the prospect of mutual convenience and pleasure.

Even in travelling, if you are unexpectedly detained in a city where you have friends, do not drive to their house uninvited. Go first to a hotel, and let them know of your arrival, leaving it optional with them to extend hospitality. To drive at once to the house, with your baggage, forces an invitation, which may cause much annoyance and inconvenience, even if they are really glad to see you, and it also renders you liable to be accused of meanness and a desire to save your hotel bill. If you are afraid your friends will feel hurt if you do not "make their house your home," at least write to them and ascertain if they can conveniently receive you as you pass through their city. Even with relatives, it is better to announce your coming, that your hostess may so arrange her engagements and household as to leave her time to really enjoy your visit.

A special invitation should specify who is invited, and no one not mentioned should go. "Love me, love my dog," is a proverb that will not apply in such cases. A person who is invited to visit at a friend's house is not at liberty to bring children and servants who were not included in the invitation. A wife may, of course, accompany her husband, unless there be special reason to the contrary, and a husband must always have the opportunity of accompanying his wife, or joining her.

If the length of your visit is not specified in your invitation, a week is a good limit for your stay. At all events, make a move at the end of that time, and if you are invited to stay longer, and know that it is convenient for you to do so, the time can then be definitely decided upon.

When you receive an invitation by letter, answer it at the earliest possible moment, and say decidedly whether you accept or decline it. To leave your friends in doubt may prevent the same invitation being extended to others. As soon as possible after accepting an invitation, write and let your friends know by what train to expect you, and keep your engagement, that you may not keep any one waiting for you at the station for nothing. If you are unavoidably detained, write or telegraph and say so, naming another hour for your arrival.

In inviting a friend to pay you a visit, name a season when will you will be able to devote most of your time to their entertainment. Have always a room devoted especially to your guest, and be sure that no one intrudes there without a special invitation, and never enter it yourself without an invitation to do so. Before the arrival of a guest, see yourself that the room is in perfect order, well warmed if in winter, shaded and cool if in summer; let there be every convenience for bath and change of dress, and writing materials and stamps ready to write if desired before unpacking. Have always a feather bed and mattress, both feather and hair pillows upon the bed, that your guest may have the choice. Many prefer feathers in the warmest weather, others a mattress even in winter. Let the fire, in winter, be made every morning before your guest rises, and keep a good supply of fuel in the room.

It is the duty of the host to send a carriage to the depot to meet an expected visitor, and if possible to go himself. After a warm welcome, show the guest at once to the room prepared, and give ample time for a bath and change of dress, if it is in the day time. If the arrival is late in the evening, have a substantial supper prepared, and then allow the traveller to retire, being careful that on the first arrival the breakfast can be ready at a late hour, that your friend may not be disturbed to breakfast with the family.

It is the duty of the hostess to share the meals of a guest, no matter how irregular; but any truly polite person will pay strict attention to the customary meal times.

When staying with friends, endeavor as much as possible to conform to their regular habits. Be punctual at meal times. Ascertain over-night the hour for breakfast, and be particular to be dressed in time for it. After breakfast, it is customary to leave visitors to their own devices, unless some special arrangement is made for the forenoon; but the hostess should introduce her guests to the piano, billiard-table, portfolios library-any device for passing time at her command; and the visitor should accept this hint, and expect no further attention during the forenoon.

It is, however, the duty of the host and hostess to accompany their guests to any points of interest in their city or neighborhood, to accompany them if they desire to do any shopping, and if they have any special habit, as rising late, napping in the afternoon, or other little self-indulgence, to see that they are never disturbed in it.

It is also a kindly courtesy, if your friends have acquaintances ill the city beside yourself, to inform them of their arrival, even if strangers to yourself, and invite them to call, dine, or take tea during the visit. If you give your guests a party, you must invite all their friends in the city, even if they are strangers to yourself. Invite them in your guest's name, enclosing your own invitation in theirs.

Host and hostess should give up as much of their time as possible to their guests, and should see that they are amused and taken care of. It is a mistake, however, to suppose that visitors require constant attention, and they should be careful not to "bore" them by over-attention, which savors of fussiness. A guest will often under such circumstances long for a lonely hour to devote to music, reading, or sewing, but does not like to express the desire.

The truest courtesy is for the host to make his visitor feel as much at home as possible, and for the visitor to disturb the host's household as little as possible.

Where a lady is visiting, she may with perfect propriety offer to assist her hostess in her household duties or family sewing; but if she declines, it is bad taste to insist. She should, however, leave her hostess free for such duties in the morning, being always ready to join her in the sitting-room when she is at leisure.

It is a graceful way to acknowledge the kindness of your hostess to work whilst with her upon some piece of embroidery, a pianocover, a sofa-cushion, or some article of dress, which you present to her when finished as a memento of your visit.

For a guest to make outside engagements, disregard the meal times, visit without consulting the host or hostess, is to treat the house of a friend as if it were a hotel, and is not only rude, but positively insulting.

It is best, if you are visiting a large city, and desire to do shopping or to transact business, to select the hours when you know your entertainers are otherwise engaged for such business, and not tax them to accompany you, unless they have similar affairs requiring attention, when it may be pleasanter to have company.

Neither hostess nor guest may accept any invitations which do not include the other.

If either hostess or visitor is in mourning, the other must decline all invitations during the visit, giving that as a reason. It is always accepted in society as sufficient excuse.

If any sudden trouble comes into a house where you are visiting, try to be of service. Let your friend feel that you have not visited her for gayety alone, but are glad to sympathize in her trouble. If sickness or death come, share the nursing, try to relieve the hostess of some of her family cares, if it is only taking the children into your own room or out for a walk; be ready to do the shopping required for mourning, and take away every painful detail you can. There is no comfort so great as a really useful sympathizing friend in times of trouble; yet if relatives come and require rooms, if you find you are a restraint and can be of no use, it is the truest kindness to shorten your visit, and leave the mourners free to comfort each other.

When visiting, never depend upon your host for writing or sewing materials; but it is a delicate attention for you, if hostess, to have your guest's room amply supplied with both.

It is extremely rude for visitors to make comparisons between the house at which they are visiting and others where they have enjoyed hospitality. To inform your hostess indirectly that her house, furniture, table, or servants are inferior to those of other friends, is insulting, and it is as much so to cast the slur upon the first house visited by vaunting the superiority of the second.

To a certain extent, use your friend's servants as your own wholly so as far as your own personal wants require their services. Ask for whatever you want in your own room, and give any requisite directions to the servant who waits upon you. Do not trouble the mistress of the house with matters which in your own house you would give to a servant. At the same time, avoid being troublesome; put out your own washing, and any extra work you require done, and never call upon the servants at hours when they are otherwise employed.

If you are unfortunate enough during a visit to injure any article of furniture in your own room, have it repaired or replaced at once at your own expense.

It is a graceful compliment for a gentleman during a visit to bring flowers, fruit, books, or confectionery occasionally to the hostess, and a lady friend will be gratefully remembered if she is kind to the children.

If a gift is made, it must be to the hostess, or if there are several children, to the youngest. If children are over twelve years old, it is better to give any present to the mother; but you will never give offence by a gift to the baby. A gentleman may give baby jewelry, and a lady a piece of handsome needlework. You may be sure the parents will find no fault with this acknowledgment of their hospitality.

Always hold yourself at the disposal of those in whose house you are staying. If they propose to ride, drive, walk, or other wise occupy the day, you must take it for granted that these plans are made with reference to your enjoyment. You should receive them with cheerfulness and enter into them with alacrity, doing your best to seem pleased, and be pleased, by the efforts made to entertain you. Never mind if it is the twentieth time you have driven to "see the lovely view from the hill four miles from here," or you have paid a dozen previous visits to "that beautiful waterfall just above the lake;" you must find a new tree to admire, or a new point to sketch every time you go.

It is not expected that the host or hostess can devote the entire day to guests. Sir Walter Scott's conduct towards his guests at Abbotsford furnishes a model of hospitality. He never saw them till dinner; but whilst he was busily engaged in writing, he left his house, servants, carriages, horses, and grounds at their entire disposal.

Byron gives a perfect picture of guest life at a country house:

"The gentlemen got up betimes to shoot, Or hunt; the young, because they liked the sport The first thing boys like, after play and fruit; The middle-aged, to make the day more short; For ennui is a growth of English root, Though nameless in our language-we retort The fact for words, and let the French translate That awful yawn which sleep cannot abate.

"The elderly walked through the library, And tumbled books, or criticized the pictures, Or sauntered through the garden piteously, And made upon the hot-house several strictures; Or rode a nag which trotted not too high, Or in the morning papers read their lectures; Or on the watch their longing eyes would fix, Longing at sixty for the hour of six."

"But none were 'gene;' the great hour of union Was rung by dinner's knell! till then all were Masters of their own time-or in communion, Or solitary, as they chose to bear The hours,-which how to pass to few is known. Each rose up at his own, and had to spare What time he chose for dress, and broke his fast When, where, and how he chose for that repast."'