Part 20

In all cases, the mourning should be "lightened" by degrees. Plain black silk, without crepe, and trimmed with jet, belongs to a secondary period. Changes are made gradually through black and white combinations, before colors are again worn.

During the period of heavy mourning, it is not proper to attend the theatre or opera, or other gay place of amusement; nor to pay formal visits, or attend receptions, except it may be the marriage of a near friend, for which occasion the mourning dress is temporarily laid aside.

As a matter of respect, no invitations of a gay social character are sent to the recently afflicted. After three months, such invitations may be sent; of course, not with any expectation that they will be accepted, but merely to show that, though temporarily in seclusion, the bereaved ones are kindly remembered.

For men the etiquette of mourning is less conspicuous but equally formal as far as it goes. The periods of wearing mourning are usually shorter than those observed by women in similar cases, probably because the life of business men is not confined to the social world, and its restrictions are less binding upon them in details.

At the funeral of a near relative, a man wears black, including gloves, and a mourning band around his hat. Subsequently he may continue to wear black for several months, or, if this is not feasible, the hat-band of bombazine is accounted a sufficient mark of respect. The width of the band may be graduated, sometimes covering the surface to within an inch of the top, sometimes being only two or three inches wide.

As to the etiquette of men's dress in general, the tale is soon told. The "dress-suit" is worn only at dinner and in the evening. At any hour after six o'clock, a man may with propriety appear anywhere in a dress suit, though it is required only on formal occasions. Before dinner, morning dress is worn--the frock coat, or a business suit with its four-buttoned cut-away. As to the minute details of cut and dimensions, the prevailing style of linen and ties, etc.--very appropriately called "notions"--these things vary from season to season. The well-dressed man will consult his tailor and furnisher. Hats, boots, and gloves, the extremes of every perfect costume, are important exponents of good style; and careful attention to their choice and wearing is essential to complete and effective dressing.

PERSONAL HABITS

Neatness in personal habits is the first mark of good breeding that strikes the observer. Not that a dandy is always a gentleman; but an habitual sloven cannot be. The clothing worn at work may be unavoidably soiled; as also the hands, when occupations involve the handling of dirty substances. But "a little water clears us of this deed; how easy is't then!"

The neatly-dressed hair, the fresh clean skin, the well-kept teeth, the smooth polished nails, the spotless linen and the tasteful tie, the well-brushed clothing and the tidy boots, are all points of good form in personal appearance.

The toilet once made should be considered finished. The hands should not stray to the hair to re-adjust hair-pins--an absent-minded habit. The nervous toying with ear-rings or brooches, or dress buttons, is another mannerism to be guarded against. The hands should learn the grace of repose. It is a great triumph of nervous control for a woman to hold her hands still when they are not definitely employed.

If the attitudes of sitting and standing are practiced under the direction of the teacher of "physical culture," one will probably be innocent of such solecisms as thrusting the feet out to display the shoes; sitting sideways, or cross-legged; or slipping half-way down in the chair; or bending over a book in round-shouldered position; rocking violently; beating a noisy tattoo with impatient toes; or standing on one foot with the body thrown out of line, etc., etc.

Scratching the head or ears, and picking the teeth, are operations that are properly attended to in one's own dressing-room. The conspicuous use of the handkerchief is in bad form. Blowing the nose is not a pleasant demonstration at any time, and at the table is simply unpardonable. A person of fastidious taste will take care of the nose in the quietest and most unobtrusive way, and refrain from disgusting other people of fastidious taste.

"Familiarity breeds contempt." Laying the hand upon another's head or shoulder, clinging to the arms or about the waist, is a freedom that only near relationship or close friendship will excuse. Among slight acquaintances it is an unwarrantable liberty. Even at the impulsive "school-girl age" young ladies should be taught to repel such under-bred familiarities.

SOCIAL CO-OPERATION

Those who accept a social invitation virtually pledge themselves to bear a part in making the entertainment an agreeable success. Whether one's talent lies in conversation, or music, or in the rare gift for commingling and promoting harmonies in a social gathering, he or she should feel bound to make some effort to add to the pleasure of the occasion. Young men who attend private balls should be obliging about dancing, and amiably assist the hostess in finding partners for the shy or unattractive girls, who are liable to be neglected by selfish young people.

Not to make an effort to contribute to the success of the affair is a negative fault, perhaps. But what shall we say of those whose influence is positively adverse?--those who attend a party with curious eyes bent upon picking flaws, and who indulge in jealous depreciation; or who, in a spirit of social rivalry, make a note of "points," with a view to outdoing the hostess in the near future. Such a spirit--and its presence is not easily veiled--is a veritable Achan in the camp; and a few such rude people can poison the atmosphere of an otherwise genial reception. Verily, they have their reward, for the stamp of ill-breeding is set on their querulous little faces.

But, if such spirits contribute nothing to the social fund,--because they have nothing to contribute,--you, who have, must do double duty. And nothing is more needed than tactful conversation.

The oddest criticism that I have ever encountered from a reviewer was the laconic and cynical remark (commenting upon my rather altruistic belief in the duty of giving one's best thought to the conversational circle), that "Nowadays, people don't talk: if they have any good ideas, they save them and write them out and sell them." The critic implied that, otherwise, in this age of universal scribbling, some plagiarist would appropriate these ideas and hurry them to the magazine market before the original thinker had time to fix the jewel in a setting of his own.

Of course, the little brain thief is common enough; but it had never occurred to me to be so wary. It struck me "with the full force of novelty," that any one should be deterred from speech by such a consideration. I have since wondered whether that particular phase of serpent-wisdom accounts for the non-committal silences with which some well-known wits entertain the social circle, the while a despairing hostess is making the best of such help as a few lively chatterboxes can give her. Not that I ever saw any notably superior talkers struck dumb in this way; Richard Brinsley Sheridan never was, if I recall correctly. Why should you be? If your bright idea is stolen, you can spare it; if you are truly bright, you have many more where that one came from.

But beware of forced brightness. Wit is nothing if not spontaneous. If nature has not endowed you with the instantaneous perception of contrasts and incongruities, out of which flashes the swift conceit called wit, do not imagine you are "dull" or uninteresting. There are other gifts and graces less superficial, far more rare, and ultimately more influential, than wit.

And though you are witty, do not talk nonsense over-much. Remember that it is the "little nonsense now and then" that is "relished by the best of men." It is perilously easy to weary people with the "smart" style of talk. But let your cheerful sense, grave or gay, be as good an offering to your friends as you know how to make. Your next special occasion--for which you might have "saved" all these things--will lose nothing of value. It may rather gain fourfold, by the reflex inspiration that replenishes every unselfish outpouring of the nobler social spirit.

ON THE WING

Travelers have certain rights guaranteed by their regularly-purchased tickets. Within such bounds they are privileged to claim all comforts and immunities.

But the mannerly tourist will claim no more. He will not take up more room than he is entitled to while other passengers are discommoded. Nor will he persist in keeping his particular window open when the draught and the cinders therefrom are troublesome or dangerous to other people.

If travelers carry a lunch-basket, they should discuss its contents quietly, and be careful not to litter the floor with crumbs, or the debris of fruits and nuts, nor to leave any trace of its presence after the luncheon is finished.

If a lady is traveling under the escort of a gentleman, she will give him as little trouble as possible. She will amuse herself by reading, or studying the landscape, leaving him at liberty to choose similar diversions when conversation grows tedious. She will carry few parcels, and if possible will have arranged for some one to meet her at her station, so that her obliging guardian need not be taxed to look after her beyond the railway journey's end. If the gentleman has attended to the purchase of tickets, and the paying of dining-car fees, etc., the lady will repay those expenditures, as a matter of course, thanking him for the trouble that he has taken to give her "safe conduct."

A gentleman thus traveling as escort will attend to all matters of tickets, the checking of baggage, etc.; and will see that the lady is comfortably settled for her journey, with some thoughtful provision in the way of magazines, and possibly a basket of fine fruit. He will see that the porter and the maid (if there is one) are attentive to her comfort, and will not relinquish his charge until he leaves her, either at her final destination, or in the care of some one authorized to relieve him of the responsibility. He will perform all these duties cheerfully, and endeavor to convey the idea that it is a pleasure to him; and this will be better shown in his manner than by any conventional protestations.

There ought not to be such a thing as "hotel manners." But there is; and it suggests certain important injunctions.