Part 7

As to the napkin, by all means habituate the child to its use, even if it be nothing more than a square of old calico or flour-sacking, hemmed, or even unhemmed. He can learn on a piece of his mother’s old apron how to use the fine linen of the king’s banquet-hall, and do it so daintily that the apron and the mother who wore it down to napkin dimensions will confer honor on the king’s damask.

O my sister mothers in the many humbler homes of those who love our Lord and are looking for his appearing, has it seemed to you that any of these things that I have written are trivial or burdensome, wholly outside the sphere of life in which you and your children will ever move? Are you so overburdened with many cares that you feel, when the food is cooked and placed “anyhow,” that your part is done; that the family may come “just as it happens” and eat, simply to satisfy hunger, as do the cattle in the field? Have you thought that if you could but get through the day anyhow, your duty was done? Still you must meet the certainties that are before you. Your children must bear a part in the closing scenes of the world’s history,—ask yourself if there is not something for you in these things that I have written. They have been written with a most solemn sense of their importance. They are a part of the gospel message; they concern the work which some one now in training must do before the Lord can come.

The knowledge of how to prepare and serve a hygienic dinner, as well as how to select suitable portions and decline others, at a worldly banquet, may be absolutely necessary to the winning of souls in the last call to the world.

XII.

Nothing is of more importance to success in any work than conversation. How to converse so as to win and not wound, to both give and gain, is an accomplishment which has very nearly passed into the list of lost arts. And here again good form comes to the rescue, and by its placid but arbitrary code offsets that lawlessness into which even good men have fallen in excess of zeal.

Sixty years ago the rule for children was that they “should be seen and not heard,” so that a child’s talk was almost unknown in a company of adults. This was so wrong that it has reacted in a sort of wild freedom upon the part of the children which, uncorrected, develops into the adult chatter-box and gossip, than which no character is more to be dreaded.

Bad habits of conversation are very hard to break, and since it is by the “calves (or sacrifice) of the lips” that we are especially to honor God, by “words fitly spoken,” and that we are to “give a reason for the faith that is in us,” it is not of small importance that we should know how to talk. Begin with the baby, therefore, so that the child shall grow up into correct forms of speech, and into that regard of all good form which shall not only give him at once the ears, but the hearts of the people.

I scarcely need to say, Do not use slang, for this is universally understood as out of harmony with Christian practise; but yet it may not be amiss to say that even the world of society, whose laws of behavior we are considering, would ostracize one whose language was punctuated with much slang. An oath would be more tolerable to so-called “polite ears.”

Money, or prominence, will for a time give a man social passport in spite of all manner of ill-breeding. He can buy a place and recognition even from those who despise him; but this is not the sort of recognition in the interests of which I am writing. I am pleading for that which shall gain a hearing for the custodians of a truth without which no man can live, and for the reception of which few are as yet prepared. It is for the sake of the honest souls who are in the darkness of the world’s “culture” that I am pleading. They have a right to know all that the Spirit of God has been sending to his people concerning that all-round righteousness that makes up the sum of that whole gospel for the whole man, which is included in an uttermost salvation; and some tongues must be so cultured as to talk the way open for truth just as effectually as a wag can do it for fun, a singer open it for a song, or money open it for blind boorishness; and the quiet mother in the home must have a large share of this work.

To this end teach the child that he must listen when any other child is speaking until he has finished; never to interrupt, or, if it is necessary to give some information, to say, for instance: “I beg your pardon, but,—” or, “Willie, if you please, was it not on Wednesday instead of Tuesday?” Any interruption simply for getting in a word should never be indulged. Teach him to wait patiently for a fair chance to speak, no matter how great may be the temptation to “thrust in his oar.” This should not be construed to include those playful interruptions in the merry tangle of words which all children delight in “once in a while,” “just for fun.”

Teach him to avoid all abrupt forms of expression, such as “Give me that!” “Don’t!” “Stop!” “Quit!” “Get out!” “You sha’n’t!” “I won’t!” If he never hears such phrases at home, he will not be apt to catch them; but if he should, a few little experiences such as he would certainly meet as a man upon entering the social world, with the adult equivalents of these words, would teach him that they were very unprofitable. Let him find out that he can get nothing in that way, and he will begin intuitively to cultivate his tongue to acceptable speech.

It is not good form to talk at table about the physical organs, or the processes of digestion, excepting when some special occasion should require, and then it should be by the most delicate allusions. The mention of any form of disease, or of death, would be considered exceeding bad form; also any malodorous topic of any sort. Table conversation should be such as to inspire every good feeling; appetizing, promotive of good fellowship, comradeship, faith, hope; optimistic in every sense of the word. The children should be taught that no complaints or grievances are to be mentioned there, because such things always have a tendency to destroy relish for food, and retard the process of digestion. A chronic grumbler at the table will threaten a whole family with dyspepsia. “Let your conversation be seasoned with salt,” is a good injunction; and if the Scriptural rule is followed at home, the child will grow up capable of taking the gospel message anywhere without personal offense, even if he must go into many untried places. Neither will it be necessary for him to “premeditate; but whatsoever shall be given ... in that hour” (Mark 13:11) he shall be able to speak.

I have confined myself to the Form,—a form which, though good, is dead,—the letter of the social code, which is at best a lifeless thing, a burden, a barrier, often a cause of heart-burning jealousy, wrath, anger, adulteries, and every sort of contention. There is nothing so cruel as a quarrel carried on under the cloak of good form. The bitter sarcasm of a war waged with polite words and phrases, the tones keyed to simulate tenderness and love, as society requires, but breathing of hate, makes a combination in which Satan is especially manifested as in nothing else in the world. Truly the letter killeth. The social code is all right, but, lacking the Spirit, it is a rotting carcass. However, since it was modeled after Christ, it requires but that the Holy Spirit shall breathe life into it to make it an instrument for the accomplishment of necessary work in carrying the gospel to every creature.

It is manifestly better to be filled with the Spirit than covered with all the forms in the world; but good form, vitalized, will make any messenger so ready for any good work in any field that he need take no thought how or what he shall speak, for it shall be given him the same hour. “For it is not ye that speak, but the Spirit of your Father which speaketh in you.” Matt. 10:20.

XIII.

Even good form may be made too burdensome to be endured, and it is the privilege of conscientious Christian society to strike the happy medium between this oppressive formalism and the true kindly life which can cause even the violation of all form to be almost unnoticed.

It is better to have the good life without the good form than to have the good form without the good life; but it is our privilege, and duty as well, to have both.

In treating upon this subject it must not be forgotten that there are forms and forms. Each city aims to be a center of social good form for itself and its suburbs. Each has its own little peculiarities, as, for instance, its own manner of using visiting cards,—the size, shape, turning of the corners this way and that as signals; all of which differ according to the decree of the social leaders of a great center of social influence; and yet the manners of one city would never be considered blunders in any other, however much they might differ, provided they were sincere, easy, adjustable, and dainty. It is not, however, considered elegant to ignore the customs of the people among whom you may visit. That which your hostess considers good form should be good to you while you are her guest, unless some principle is violated. Good form requires concessions to even ignorance without any of the “I-am-more-cultured-than-you” air.

Because of this diversity of forms it will be manifestly impossible for any one to know just what would be considered good form in every detail the world over. As in everything else which involves principles and their application, it is true in this, that if you know and appreciate the opportunities, and keep your eyes open, you will be able to avoid serious mistakes.

In reply to many questions of a miscellaneous character I bind a little sheaf of gleanings with which to conclude this subject of good form.

“When a gentleman friend of the family calls, is it proper for the wife to go on with her work, and not go to the parlor at all to welcome him, but to leave him to be entirely entertained by the husband? Or is it necessary that she go to the parlor, and remain during his visit? Would it be proper for her to leave the room during his visit without asking to be excused?”

First of all I wish to drop the remark that the word “gentleman” is not good form, as commonly used. It has been so perverted and misused that it does not in these days even mean that for which it was first intended,—a man of especially good manners. There are “gentlemen of the cloth,” “gentlemen of the turf,” “the gentleman of the road,” “the gentleman about town;”—all slang phrases, which have brought the word into disrepute. The compound word “gentleman” was an effort upon the part of human society to make distinctions which the Creator had refused to recognize. He called man “MAN.” One can not be more than a man. Furthermore, the appropriation of the word “gentleman” by the “aristocracy,” the fact that in the social world there is a “gentleman class,” has made the expression inappropriate for universal application. Instead of speaking of your gentleman friend, speak of your man friend.

Therefore I will say in reply to my questioner that when a man friend calls upon the husband and family it is proper for the wife to occupy herself with some work kept at hand for such occasions; or, if necessary, after she has greeted him, and passed a few minutes pleasantly in conversation, she may excuse herself, and go to her household duties; but if she can do so, it is very cordial, and in every respect good form, for her to take her work, and with some graceful word of apology, such as any man would appreciate, go on keeping her hands busy, while she assists in entertaining her husband’s friend. In leaving the room she should ask to be excused, unless the men are so occupied as to make it an interruption to do so. If she does not expect to return, however, she should make her adieus, and invite him to call again, before leaving the parlor.

“Is it admissible for a lady to keep on with her sewing or mending while she is entertaining a caller? Can she take some kind of fancy work with her while she is visiting a friend or neighbor?”

It is perfectly admissible for a woman to keep on with her sewing and mending while she is entertaining a caller, provided she speaks of it in some simple, graceful fashion. This is a much better means of manifesting your appreciation of a caller than to lay aside necessary work and take some fancy article. You can even take your mending with you while visiting a friend and neighbor, and it will be appreciated more than fancy work. In many localities fancy work, especially for married women, has fallen into disfavor among even society people. There is a social cult which makes much of everything practical. It is a fad;—here to-day, gone to-morrow; but it has prepared the way for even a stocking-bag in the boudoir of some social queen: the stockings, of course, are supposed to be of the very finest texture and quality, and the darning in itself to be a piece of finest lace work; and yet under the cover of this supposition one can take a real serviceable hose and do good, practical work upon it.

“Should the hostess offer to take the hat of a gentleman caller? and where should she place it?”

If he does not at once make his hat at home, she should indicate where he can leave it. It is better form for her to suggest that he can hang it upon the hat rack or peg in the hall, or lay it on the table, if he does not seem to know that he can do so, than it would be to take it from him. If he has been properly instructed, as every boy should be at home, he will, without any effort upon her part, relieve her of the necessity of looking after his hat. But if he appears embarrassed by it, take it at once with some pleasant remark calculated to set him at ease, and place it where it ought to be. The proper place is in the hall, if there be a hall. Lacking this, any convenient place is in order.

“If a man friend happens to call when the husband is absent and the wife alone, should she invite him into the parlor and visit with him?”