THE
AMERICAN GENTLEMAN'S
GUIDE TO POLITENESS
AND
FASHION.

THE
AMERICAN GENTLEMAN'S
GUIDE TO POLITENESS
AND
FASHION;
OR,
FAMILIAR LETTERS TO HIS NEPHEWS.

BY HENRY LUNETTES.

The good old name of Gentleman.
Tennyson.

People sometimes complain of writers who talk of "I, I." * * * * When I speak to you of myself, I am speaking to you of yourself, also. Is it possible that you do not feel that it is so? Victor Hugo.

NEW EDITION, CAREFULLY REVISED BY THE AUTHOR.

PHILADELPHIA:

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.

1864.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.,

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.

TO

HIS YOUNG COUNTRYMEN,

THIS UNPRETENDING VOLUME, IS, WITH AFFECTIONATE PRIDE,

INSCRIBED BY

THE AUTHOR.

INTRODUCTION.

"I lang ha'e thought, my youthful friends,
A something to have sent you,
Tho' it may serve no other end
Than just a kind memento:
But how the subject-theme may gang
Let time and chance determine;
Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a

sermon."

TABLE OF CONTENTS

LETTER I.

DRESS.

LETTER II.

DRESS—(Continued.)

STORIES AND ANECDOTES ILLUSTRATIVE OF DRESS.

LETTER III

MANNER.

LETTER IV.

MANNER—(Continued.)

ANECDOTES AND TALES, ILLUSTRATIVE OF MANNER.

LETTER V.

MANNER IN DETAIL.

SKETCHES ILLUSTRATIVE OF MANNERS.

LETTER VI.

MANNER—(Continued.)

RULES TO BE OBSERVED IN MAKING MORNING VISITS, AND IN SOCIETY GENERALLY.

ANECDOTES, SKETCHES, ETC.

LETTER VII.

HEALTH.

THE TOILET, AS CONNECTED WITH HEALTH.

ILLUSTRATIVE SKETCHES AND ANECDOTES.

LETTER VIII.

LETTER-WRITING.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

LETTER IX.

ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES AND SKETCHES.

LETTER X.

HABIT.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

LETTER XI.

MENTAL AND MORAL EDUCATION.

LETTER XII.

CHOICE OF COMPANIONS AND FRIENDS.—SELECTION OF A PURSUIT IN LIFE.—COURTSHIP.—MARRIAGE.—HOUSEKEEPING.—PECUNIARY MATTERS.

ILLUSTRATIVE SKETCHES, ETC.

THE
AMERICAN GENTLEMAN'S GUIDE.

LETTER I.

DRESS.

My dear young Friends:—

As you are already, to some extent, acquainted with the design and scope of the Letters I propose to address to you, there is no necessity for an elaborate prelude at the commencement of the series.

We will, with your permission, devote our attention first to Dress—to the external man—and advance, in accordance with the true rules of Art, gradually, towards more important subjects.

Whatever may be the abstract opinions individually entertained respecting the taste and regard for comfort evinced in the costume now, with trifling variations, almost universally adopted by men in all civilized lands, few will dispute the practical utility of conforming to the general requisitions of Fashion.

Happily for the gratification of fancy, however, the all-potent goddess, arbitrary and imperative as are her laws, permits, at least to some extent, such variations from her general standard as personal convenience, physical peculiarities, or varying circumstances may require.

But a due regard for these and similar considerations by no means involves the exhibition of eccentricity, which I hold to be inconsistent with good taste, whether displayed in dress or manner.

A violation of the established rules of Convention cannot easily be defended, except when required by our obligations to the more strenuous requirements of duty. Usually, however, departures from conventional propriety evince simply an ill-regulated character. The Laws of Convention, like all wise laws, are instituted to promote "the greatest good of the greatest number." They constitute a Code of Politeness and Propriety, adapted to the promotion of social convenience, varying somewhat with local circumstances, it may be, but everywhere substantially the same. It is common to talk of the eccentricities of genius, as though they are essential concomitants of genius itself. Nothing can be more unfounded and pernicious than this impression. The eccentricities that sometimes characterize the intellectually gifted, are but so many humiliating proofs of the imperfection of human nature, even when exhibiting its highest attributes. Hence the affectation of such peculiarities simply subjects one to ridicule, and, in many instances, to the contempt of sensible people.

Some years since, when Byron was the "bright, particular star" worshipped by young Sophs, it was quite a habit among our juvenile collegians to drink gin, wear their collars à la mode de Byron, cultivate misanthropy upon system, and manifest the most concentrated horror of seeing women eat! In too many instances, the sublimity of genius was meagerly illustrated by these aspirants for notoriety. In place of catching an inspiration, they only caught cold; their gloomy indifference to the hopes, the enjoyments, and pursuits of ordinary life, distressed no one, save, perhaps, their ci-devant nurses, or the "most tender of mothers;" their "killing" peculiarities of costume were scarcely daguerreotyped even upon the impressible hearts of the school-girls whose smiling observance they might chance passingly to arrest; women of sense and education pertinaciously adhered to a liking for roast beef, with variations, and manifested an equally decided partiality for the society and attention of men who were not indebted for the activity of their intellects to the agency of the juniper berry! Falling into such absurdities as these, a man cannot hope to escape the obnoxious imputation of being very young!

But while care is taken to avoid the display of undue attention to the adornment of the outer man, everything approaching to indifference or neglect, in that regard, should be considered equally reprehensible. No one entertains a more profound respect for the prodigious learning of Dr. Johnson, from knowing that he often refused to dine out rather than change his linen; nor are we more impressed by the gallant tribute to kindred genius that induced his attending Mrs. Siddons to her carriage, when she visited him in the third-floor rooms he continued to occupy even in his old age, because his trunk-hose were dangling about his heels, as he descended the stairs with his fair guest. One does not envy Porson, the greatest of modern Greek scholars, his habitually dirty and shabby dress, because it is forever associated with his learned celebrity! Neither is Greeley a better, or more influential editor, that he is believed to be invisible to mortal eyes except when encased in a long drab-colored overcoat. He, however, seems to have adopted an axiom laid down in a now almost-forgotten novel much admired in my youth—"Thaddeus of Warsaw," I think—"Acquire the character of an oddity, and you seat yourself in an easy-chair for life." The supposition of monomania most charitably explains the indulgence in habits so disgusting as those well-known to have characterized the distinguished savant ——, who died recently at Paris. Had he slept in a clean bed, and observed the decencies of life, generally, the race would have been equally benefited by his additions to scientific lore, and his country the more honored that he left a name in no degree in bad odor with the world!

But to return:—No better uninspired model for young Americans exists than that afforded, in the most minute details, of the life and character of Washington; and even upon a point comparatively so insignificant as that we are at present discussing, he has left us his recorded opinion: "Always," he writes to his nephew, "have your clothes made of the best materials, by the most accomplished persons in their business, whose services you can command, and in the prevailing fashion."

With such illustrious authority for the advice, then, I unhesitatingly counsel you to dress in the fashion.

To descend to particulars designed to include all the minutiæ of a gentleman's wardrobe, were as futile as useless; but a few hints upon this point, may, nevertheless, not be wholly out of place in epistles so frank, practical and familiar as these are intended to be.

The universal partiality of our countrymen for black, as the color of dress clothes, at least, is frequently remarked upon by foreigners. Among the best dressed men on the continent, as well as in England, black, though not confined to the clergy, is in much less general use than here. They adopt the darker shades of blue, brown and green, and for undress almost as great diversity of colors as of fabrics. An English gentleman, for instance, is never seen in the morning (which means abroad all that portion of the twenty-four hours devoted to business, out-door amusements and pursuits, &c.;—it is always morning until the late dinner hour has passed) in the half-worn coat of fine black cloth, that so inevitably gives a man a sort of shabby-genteel look; but in some strong-looking, rough, knock-about "fixin," frequently of nondescript form and fashion, but admirably adapted both in shape and material for use—for work. Of this, by the way, every man, worthy of the name, has a daily portion to perform, in some shape or other—from the Duke of Devonshire, with a fortune that would purchase half-a-dozen consort-king-growing German principalities, and leave a princely inheritance for his successors, to the youngest son of a youngest son, who, though proud of the "gentle blood" in his veins, earns, as an employé in the service of the government,—in some one of its ten thousand forms of patronage and power—the limited salary that barely suffices, when eked out by the most ingenious economy, to supply the hereditary necessities of a gentleman. But this is a digression. As I was saying in the morning, during work-hours, whatever be a man's employment, and wherever, his outside garb should be suited to ease and convenience, its only distinctive marks being the most scrupulous cleanliness, and the invariable accompaniment of fresh linen.

Coming to the discussion of matters appertaining to a toilette elaborate enough for occasions of ceremony, I think of no better general rule than that laid down by Dr. Johnson (in his character of a shrewd observer of men and manners, rather than as himself affording an illustration of the axiom, perhaps)—"the best dressed persons are those in whose attire nothing in particular attracts attention."

There is an indescribable air of refinement, a je ne sais quoi, as the French have it, at an equal remove from the over-washed look of your thorough Englishman (their close-cropped hair always reminds me of the incipient stage of preparation for assuming a strait-jacket!) and the walking tailor's advertisement that perambulates Fifth Avenue, Chestnut-street, the Boston Mall, and other fashionable promenades in our cis-Atlantic cities, in attendance upon the locomotive milliner's show-cases, yclept "belles"—God save the mark!

The essentials of a gentleman's dress, for occasions of ceremony are—a stylish, well-fitting cloth coat, of some dark color, and of unexceptionable quality; nether garments to correspond, or in warm weather, or under other suitable circumstances, white pants of a fashionable material and make; the finest and purest linen, embroidered in white, if at all; a cravat and vest, of some dark or neutral tint, according to the physiognomical peculiarities of the wearer, and the prevailing mode; a fresh-looking, fashionable black hat and carefully-fitted, modish boots, light-colored gloves, and a soft, thin, white handkerchief.

Perhaps, the most arbitrary of earthly divinities permits her subjects more license in regard to the arrangement of the hair and beard, than with respect to any other matter of the outer man. A real artist, and such every man should be, who meddles with the "human face divine" or its adjuncts, will discern at a glance the capabilities of each head submitted to his manipulation. Defects will thus be lessened, or wholly concealed, and good points brought out.

If you wear your beard, wear it in moderation—extremes are always vulgar! Avoid all fantastic arrangements of the hair—turning it under in a huge roll, smooth as the cylinder of a steam-engine, and as little suggestive of good taste and comfort as would be the coil of a boa constrictor similarly located, parting it in Miss Nancy style, and twisting it into love [soap?] locks with a curling-tongs, or allowing it to straggle in long and often, seemingly, "uncombed and unkempt" masses over the coat-collar. This last outrage of good-taste is so gross a violation of what is technically called "keeping," as to excite in me extreme disgust. Ill, indeed, does it accord with the trim, compact, easily-portable costume of our day, and a miserable imitation, it is of the flowing hair that, in days of yore, fell naturally and gracefully upon the broad lace collar turned down over the velvet or satin short-cloak of the cavaliers and appropriately adorning shoulders upon which, with equal fitness, drooped a long, waving plume, from the wide-brimmed, steeple-crowned, picturesque hat that completed the costume.

While on this subject of collars, etc., let us stop to discuss for a moment the nice matter of their size and shape. Just now, like the "life" of a "poor old man," they have "dwindled to the shortest span," under the pruning shears of the operatives of the mode. Whether this is the result of a necessity growing with the lengthening beards that threaten wholly to ignore their existence, you must determine for yourselves, but I must enter my protest against the total extinction of this relieving line of white, so long, at least, as the broad wristband, now so appropriately accompanying the wide coat-sleeve, shall remain in vogue.

The mention of this last tasteful appendage naturally brings to mind the highly ornate style of sleeve-buttons now so generally adopted. Eschew, I pray you, all flash stones for these or any other personal ornament. Nothing is more unexceptionable for sleeve-buttons and the fastenings of the front of a shirt, than fine gold, fashioned in some simple form, sufficiently massive to indicate use and durability, and skillfully and handsomely wrought, if ornamented at all. Few young men can consistently wear diamonds, and they are, if not positively exceptionable, in no degree requisite to the completion of the most elaborate toilette. But those who do sport them, should confine themselves to genuine stones of unmistakable water, and never let their number induce in the minds of beholders the recollection that a travelling Jew—whether from hereditary distrust of the stability of circumstances, or from some other consideration of personal convenience, usually carries his entire fortune about his person! Better the simplest fastenings of mother-of-pearl than such staring vulgarity of display. And so of a watch and its appendages. A gentleman carries a watch for convenience, and secures it safely upon his person, wearing with it no useless ornament, paraded to the eye. It is, like his pencil and purse, good of its kind, and if he can afford it, handsome, but it is never flashy!

The fashion of sporting signet-rings is not so general, perhaps, as it was a little while since, but it still retains a place among the minutiæ of our present theme. Here, again, the same general rules of good taste apply as to other ornaments. When worn at all, everything of this sort should be most unexceptionably and unmistakably tasteful and genuine. Any deviation from good ton, in this regard, will as inevitably give a man the air of a loafer as an ill-fitting boot will, or the slightest declension from the perpendicular in his hat!

In connection with my earnest advice in regard to all flash ornaments, to whatever purpose applied, I must not omit to record my protest against staring patterns in pants, cravats, vests, etc. Carefully avoid all the large, many-colored plaids and stripes, of which (as Punch has demonstrated) it takes more than one ordinary-sized man to show the pattern; and all glaring colors as well. I have no partiality, as I believe I have intimated, for the eternal dead black which, abroad at least, belongs, by usage, primarily to the clergy; but this is a better extreme than that which has for its original type the sign-board getting-up of a horse-jockey.

A fashion has of late years obtained extensively, which has always, within my remembrance, had its admirers—that of a white suit throughout, for very warm weather. This has the great merit of comfort, and some occupations permit its adoption without inconvenience. But even the use of thin summer cravats (which should always be of some unconspicuous color) wonderfully mitigates the sufferings incident to the dog-days, and these are admissible for dress occasions, when corresponding with the general effect of the vest and nether investments.

To recur once more to the important item of body linen;—never wear a colored[1] shirt—have no such article in your wardrobe. Figures and stripes do not conceal impurity, nor should this be a desideratum with any decent man. The now almost obsolete German author, Kotzebue—whose plays were very much admired when I was young, and whom your modern students of German should read in the original—I remember, makes one of his female characters, a sensible, observing woman, say that she detected a gentleman in the disguise of a menial by observing the fineness of his linen! If your occupation be such as to require strong, rough-and-tumble garments, wear them, unhesitatingly, when you are at work, but have them good of their kind, and keep them clean. While your dress handkerchief should not look, either for size or quality, as if you had, for the nonce, perverted the proper use of bed-linen—in the woods, for pioneer travelling, rough riding, etc., a bandanna is more sensible, as is a cut-away coat, or something of that sort, with ample pockets, loose, strong, and warm, and a "soft" broad-brimmed, durable hat, or cap, as the case may be—not an old, fine black cloth dress-coat, surmounted by a narrow-rimmed "segment of a stove-pipe," with a satin cravat, though it be half-worn! In short, my dear boys, study fitness and propriety in all things. This is the legitimate result of a well regulated mind, the characteristic of a true Gentleman—which every American should aim to be—not a thing made up of dress, perfumery, and "boos," as Sir Archy McSycophant styled them; but a right-minded, self-respecting man, with Excelsior for his motto, and our broad, free, glorious land "all before him, where to choose" the theatre of a useful, honorable life. Matters like those I have dwelt on in this letter, are trifles, comparatively; but trifles, in the aggregate, make life, and, thus viewed, are not unworthy the subordinate attention of a man of sense. They are collateral, I admit, but they go to make up the perfect whole—to assist in the attainment of the true standard which every young man should keep steadily in view. And, insignificant as the effect of attention to such matters may appear to you, depend upon it, that habits of propriety and refinement in regard to such personal details, have more than a negative influence upon character in general. The man who preserves inviolable his self-respect, in regard to all personal habits and surroundings, is, ceteris paribus, far less likely to acquire a relish for low company and profligate indulgences, and to cultivate correspondent mental and moral attributes. It occurs to me that, going into detail, as I have, your attention should, in the proper connection, have been called to a little matter of dress etiquette, of which you moderns are strangely neglectful, as it appears to an old stickler for propriety like me. To have offered an ungloved hand to a lady, in the dance, would, in days when I courted the graces, have been esteemed a peccadillo, and over-punctilious as you may think me, it seems very unhandsome to me. A dress costume is no more complete without gloves than without boots, and to touch the pure glove of a lady with uncovered fingers is—impertinent!

Here, again, let me condemn all fancy display. A fresh white, or, what amounts at night to the same thing, pale yellow glove, is the only admissible thing for balls, other large evening parties, ceremonious dinners, and wedding receptions; but for making ordinary morning visits, or for the street, some dark, unnoticeable color is in quite as good taste and ton. Bright-colored gloves bring the hands into too much conspicuousness for good effect, and, to my mind, give the whole man a plebeian air. I remember once being, for a long time, unable to divine what a finely-dressed young fellow, in whom I thought I recognised the son of an old college chum, could be carrying in each hand, as he walked towards me across the Albany Park; of similar size and color, he seemed, John Gilpin like, to have

——"hung a bottle on each side
To keep the balance sure!"

When I could, in sailor phrase, "make him out," behold a pair of great fat hands, incased in tight-fitting gloves, closely resembling in hue the brightest orange-colored wrapping-paper!

You will expect me not entirely to overlook the important topic of over-garments.

As in all similar matters, it is the best taste not to deviate so much from the prevailing modes as to make one's self remarkable. Fortunately, however, for the infinite diversity presented by the human form, a sufficient variety in this respect is offered by fashion to gratify the greatest fastidiousness. And no point of dress, perhaps, more imperatively demands discrimination, with regard to its selection. Thus, a tall, slender figure, with narrow shoulders and ill-developed arms, is displayed to little advantage in the close-fitting, long-skirted overcoat that would give desirable compactness to the rotund person of our short, portly friend, Alderman D., while the defects of the same form would be almost wholly concealed by one of the graceful and convenient Talmas that so successfully combine beauty and comfort, and afford, to an artistically-cultivated eye, the nearest approach to an abstract standard of taste, presented by masculine attire, since the flowing short cloak of the so-called Spanish costume was in vogue.

Here, again, one is reminded of the propriety of regarding fitness in the selection of garments especially designed to promote comfort. Nothing can well be more ungainly than the appearance of a man in one of the large woollen shawls that have of late obtained such general favor, at least as they are frequently worn, slouching loosely from the shoulders, and almost necessarily accompanied by a stoop, the more readily to retain them in place. They are well adapted to night travel, to exposed riding and driving (when properly secured about the chest), and are useful as wrappers when a man is dressed for the opera or a ball. But that any sensible person should encumber himself with such an appendage in walking—for daily street wear—is matter for surprise. They have by no means the merit for this purpose of the South American poncho, which is simply a large square shawl of thick woollen cloth, with an opening in the centre for passing it over the head, thus securing it in place, and giving the wearer the free use of his arms and hands, a desideratum quite overlooked in the usual arrangement, or rather non-arrangement of these dangling "M'cGregors." But the way, I well remember, that one of the young T——s of Albany, not very many years ago, was literally mobbed in the streets of that ancient asylum of Dutch predilections, upon his appearance there in a poncho brought with him on his return from Brazil! So much for the mutations of fashion and opinion!

To sum up all, let me slightly paraphrase the laconic and invariable advice of the immortal Nelson to the young middies under his command. "Always obey your superior officer," said the English hero, "and hate a Frenchman as you would the devil!" Now then, for my "new reading:"—In DRESS, always obey the dictates of Fashion, regulated by good sense, and hate shabby gentility as you would the devil!

Well, you young dogs, here ends the substance of my first old-fashioned letter of advice to you. I will confess that upon being convinced, as I was at the very outset, how much easier it is to think and talk than to write, I was more than half inclined to recall my promise to you all. The pen of your veteran uncle, my boys, has little of "fuss and feathers," though it may be "rough and ready." The "Mill-Boy of the Slashes" used often to say, when we were both young men, and constantly associated in business matters as well as in friendship, "Let Lunettes do that, he holds the readier pen;" but times are changed since then, and you must not expect fine rhetorical flourishes, or the elegances of modern phraseology in these straight-forward effusions. I learned my English when "Johnson's Dictionary" was the only standard of our language, and the "Spectator" regarded as affording an unexceptionable model of style. With this proviso, I dare say, we shall get on bravely, now that we are once fairly afloat; and, perhaps, some day we'll get an enterprising publisher in our Quaker City to shape these effusions into a "prent book" for private circulation—a capital idea! at least for redeeming my crabbed hieroglyphics from being "damned with faint praise" by my "numerous readers," a thought by no means palatable to the sensitive mind of your old relative.

I believe it was "nominated in the bond," that the subjects treated of in each of my promised letters shall be illustrated by stories, or anecdotes, drawn from what you were pleased to style "the ample stores furnished by a life of large observation and varied experience." It occurs to me, however, that as this, my first awkward essay to gratify your united wishes, has already grown to an inconceivable length, it were well to reserve for another occasion the fulfillment of the latter clause of your request, as more ample space and a less lagging pen may then second the efforts of

Your affectionate
Uncle Hal.

P. S.—In my next, I will include some practical directions respecting the details of costume suitable for various ceremonious occasions—the opera, dinners, weddings, etc., etc.

"Whew!" methinks I hear you all exclaim, "our old uncle setting himself up as

"'The glass of fashion and the mould of form!'

He may indeed be able to

——"'hold the mirror up to Nature;'

but to attempt to reflect the changeful hues of mere fashion"——

Not too fast, my young friends! Do not suppose me capable of such folly. But, for the benefit of such of you as are so far removed from the centre of ton as to require such assistance, I have invoked the aid of a good-humored friend, thoroughly au fait in such matters, the "observed of all observers" in our American Belgravia, a luminary in whose rays men do gladly sun themselves.

H. L.

Footnotes:

[1] It will be understood, of course, that the necessities and the regulations of military life are here excepted.

LETTER II.

SKETCHES AND ANECDOTES.

My dear Nephews:

In accordance with the promise with which I concluded my last letter, I will give you, in this, narrated in my homely way, some anecdotes, illustrative of the opinions I have expressed upon the subject of DRESS.

Liking, sometimes, to amuse myself by a study of the masses, in holyday attire and holyday humor,—to see the bone and sinew of our great country, the people who make our laws, and for whose good they are administered by their servants, enjoying a jubilee, and wishing also to meet some old friends who were to be there (among others, Gen. Wool, who, though politicians accused him of going to lay pipe for the presidency, is a right good fellow, and the very soul of old-fashioned hospitality), I went on one occasion to a little city in western New York, to attend a State Fair.

On the night of the fête that concluded the affair, your cousins, Grace and Gerté, to whom you all say I can refuse nothing, however unreasonable, insisted that I should be their escort, and protested warmly against my remonstrances upon the absurdity of an old fellow like me being kept up until after midnight to watch, like a griffin guarding his treasures, while two silly girls danced with some "whiskered Pandoor," or some "fierce huzzar," who would be as much puzzled to tell where he won his epaulettes as was our (militia) Gen. ——, of whom, when he was presented to that sovereign, on the occasion of a court levee, Louis Philippe asked, "where he had served!"

It would not become me to repeat half the flattering things by which their elegant chaperon, Mrs. B. seconded the coaxing declarations of your cousins, that they would be "enough more proud to go with Uncle Hal than with all the half-dozen beaux together," whose services had been formally tendered and accepted for the occasion.

"Yes, indeed," cried Gerté, "for Uncle Hal is a real soldier!" And I believe the wheedling rogue actually pressed her velvety lips to the ugly sabre scar that helps to mar my time-worn visage.

"Col. Lunettes is too gallant not to lay down his arms when ladies are his assailants!" said Mrs. B. with one of her conquering smiles. "Well, ladies," said I, "I cry you mercy—

"'Was ever colonel by such sirens wooed,
Was ever colonel by such sirens won!'"

I have no intention to inflict upon you a long description of the festivities of the evening. Suffice it to say upon that point, that the "beauty and fashion," as the newspapers phrase it, not only of the Empire State, but of the Old Dominion, and others of the fair sisterhood of our Union, were brilliantly represented.

When our little party entered the dancing-room, which we did at rather a late hour, for we had been listening to some good speaking in another apartment—the ladies declared that they preferred to do so, as they could dance at any time, but rarely had an opportunity of hearing distinguished men speak in public,—the "observed of all observers," among the fairer part of the assembly, and the envy, of course, of all the male candidates for admiration, was young "General ——," one of the aids-de-camp of the Governor of the State. In attendance upon his superior officer, who was present with the rest of his staff, our juvenile Mars was in full military dress, and made up, as the ladies say, in the most elaborate and accepted style of love-locks (I have no idea what their modern name may be), whiskers and moustaches. The glow that mantled the cheeks of the triumphant Boanerges could not have been deeper dyed had

his "modesty," like that of Washington, when overpowered by the first public tribute rendered to him by Congress, "been equalled only by his bravery!"

"He above the rest in shape and gesture,
Proudly eminent."

but apparently, wholly unconscious of the attention of which he was the subject, was smilingly engrossed by his devotion to the changes of the dance, and to his fair partner; and the last object that attracted my eye, as we retired from the field of his glory, were the well-padded military coat, the curling moustaches and sparkling eyes of "Adjutant-Gen. ——!"

True to my old-fashioned notions of propriety, I went the next morning to pay my respects to Mrs. B., and to look after your cousins,—especially that witch Gerté, whom her father had requested me to "keep an eye upon," when placing her under my care for the journey to the Fair.

I found the whole fair bevy assembled in the drawing-room, and in high spirits.

After the usual inquiries put and answered, Grace cried out, "Oh! Uncle Hal, I must tell you! Gen. —— has been here this morning! He was wearing such a beautiful coat!—his dress last night was nothing to it!—it fairly took all our hearts by storm!"

At these words, a merry twinkle, as bright and harmless as sheet lightning, darted round the circle.

The master of the house entered at that moment, and before the conversation he had interrupted was fairly renewed, invited me into the adjoining dining-room to "take a mouthful of lunch."

While my host and I sat at a side-table, sipping a little excellent old Cognac, with just a dash of ice water in it (a bad practice, a very bad practice, by the by, my boys, which I would strenuously counsel you not to fall into; but an inveterate habit acquired by an old soldier when no one thought of it being very wrong) the lively chit-chat in the drawing-room occasionally reached my ears.

"It was tissue, I am quite sure!" said Miss ——.

"No matter about the material—the color would have redeemed anything!" cried Grace.

"Sea-green!" chimed in the flute notes of another of the gay junto, "what can equal the General's verdancy?"

"What?" (here I recognized the animated voice of the lady of the mansion); "why, only his mauvais ton, in 'congratulating' me upon having 'so many' at my reception for Governor and Mrs. ——, the other evening, and his equally flattering assurance that he had not seen so 'brilliant a military turn-out in a long time'—meaning, of course, his elegant self! You are mistaken, however, Laura, about his coat being of tissue, it was lawn, and had just come home from his lawn-dress, when he put it on. I distinctly saw the mark of the smoothing-iron on the cuff, as well as that his wristband was soiled considerably."

"He had only had time to 'change' his coat since he went 'home with the girls in the morning,'" chimed in some one, "and his hair, I noticed as he rose to make what he called his 'farewell bow of exit,' was filled with the dust of that dirty ball-room."

"Which couldn't be brushed out without taking out the curl, too, I suppose!" This last sally

emanated I believe, from one of the most amiable, usually, of the group.

"Well," said the hostess, with a half-sigh of relief, "he seldom inflicts himself upon me! His grand entrée this morning, in the character of a katy-did, gotten up à la mode naturelle," (here there was a general clapping of hands, accompanied by bravos that would have rejoiced the heart of a prima donna), "was, no doubt, occasioned by his having heard some one say that, what vulgar people style a 'party call,' was incumbent upon him after my reception. What a pity his informant had not also enlightened him on another point of ettiquetty, as old Mr. Smith calls it, and so spared me the mortification, my dears, of presenting to you, as a specimen of the beaux of ——, and one of the aids-de-camp of Governor ——, a man making a visit of ceremony in a bright, pea-green, thin muslin shooting-jacket!"

Bulwer, the novelist, when I was last in London, some two or three years ago—and for aught I know he still continues the practice—used to appear in his seat in the English House of Commons one day in light-colored hair, eye-brows and whiskers, with an entire suit to correspond; and the next, perhaps, in black hair, etc., accompanied by a black coat, neckcloth, and so on throughout the catalogue. A proof of the admitted eccentricities of genius, I suppose.

D——, who is now a very respectable veteran lawyer, and well known in the courts of the Empire State, was originally a Green Mountain Boy—tall, a trifle ungainly, with a laugh that might have shaken his native hills, rather unmanageable hair, each individual member of the fraternity, instead of regarding the true democratic principle, often choosing to keep "Independence" on its own account, and a walk that required the whole breadth of an ordinary side-walk to bring out all its claims to admiration. Though D—— did not sacrifice to the graces, he really wrote very clever "Lines;" but his shrewd native sense taught him that a reputation as a magazine poet would not have a direct tendency to increase the number of his clients. So the sometime devotee of the Muse of Poetry, bravely eschewing the open use of a talent that, together with his ever-ready good-humor and quiet Yankee drollery, had brought him somewhat into favor in society, despite his natural disadvantages, entered into partnership with an old practitioner in A——, and bent himself to his career with sturdy energy of purpose.

"New Year" coming round again in the good old Dutch city where D—— had pitched his tent, some of his friends offered to take him with them in their round of calls, and introduce him to such of their fair friends as it was desirable to know; hinting, at the same time, that this would afford a suitable occasion for donning a suit of new and fashionable garments.

On the first of January, therefore, agreeable to appointment, his broad, pock-marked face—luminous as a colored lantern outside an oyster-saloon—and his gait more than usually diffusive, D—— was seen coming along from his lodgings, to meet his companions for the day's expedition, and evidently with sails full set. It soon became apparent to all beholders, not only that the grub had been transformed into a full-fledged butterfly of fashion, but—that he wore his long, wide, ample-caped, new cloak wrong side out!

At the recent Peace Convention in Paris, even those strenuous adherents to things as they were, the Turks, wore the usual dress of Europeans and Americans throughout, with the single exception of the fez, which, I believe, no adherent of Mahomet will renounce, except with his religion. Young Charles P—— told me that Count Orloff's sable-lined talma was of the most unexceptionable Parisian cut.

An agreeable young friend of mine, the Rev. Mr. H., contrives to support a family (Heaven only knows how!) upon the few hundred dollars a year that make the usual salary of a country clergyman. He indulges himself, at rare intervals, in a visit to his fashionable city relatives, by way of necessary relaxation, and to brush up a little in matters of taste, literature, etc. Perhaps, too, he thinks it well, occasionally, to return, with his wife and children, the long visits made every summer by a pretty fair representation of his numerous family circle at the pleasant little rectory, where refinement, industry, and the ingenuity of a practical housekeeper, create a charm often lacking in more pretentious establishments.

On one of these important occasions, it was decided that the handsome young rector should avail himself of his city jaunt to purchase a new suit of clothes, his best clerical coat, notwithstanding the most careful use and the neatest repairing, being no longer presentable for ceremonious purposes. (I make no doubt that the compatibility of the contemplated journey and the new clothes, both in the same year, was anxiously discussed in family council.)

As soon as possible after his arrival in town, my clerical friend broached the all-important subject of the tailor, to one of his brothers, a youth of unquestionable authority in such matters, and invoked his assistance.

"With all my heart, Will, we'll drop in at my own place, as we go down this morning; they get everything up there artistically." "And at artistic prices, I fear," soliloquized the new candidate for the honors of the cloth, with a slight quaking at heart, as a long-cherished plan for adding, without her previous knowledge, a shawl to the waning bridal outfit of his self-sacrificing wife, rose before his mental vision.

"But, I say, Will," inquired his modish brother, of our young clergyman, in a tone of good-humored banter, as they sauntered down Broadway together, after breakfast, "where did you buy your new chapeau?"

"At A——, before leaving home"——

"Excuse me, my dear fellow, but it's a nondescript! It will never do with your new suit, allow me to say, frankly."

"But the person of whom I bought it had just returned from New York, and he assured me it was the latest fashion! I gave him eight dollars for it, at any rate."

"Preposterous!" ejaculated the man of fashion, in a tone portentous as that which ushered in the "prodigious" of Dominie Sampson, when astounded by his discoveries in the mysteries of the toilet. "It first saw the light in the 'rural districts,' depend on't!"

The quizzical glances with which his companion ever and anon scrutinized the crowning glory of his neat morning attire, as he had previously thought it, gradually overpowered the philosophy of my friend,—clergyman though he was—the admitted Adonis of his class in college, and the favorite of ladies, old and young. The church's

——"favorites are but men.
And who e'er felt the stoic when
First conscious of"——

wearing a "shocking bad hat!" The result was, that the condemned article was exchanged at a fashionable establishment for one fully meeting the approbation of the modish critic.

"What! another new hat?" cried the young wife, whose quick woman's eye at once caught the je ne sais quoi—the air of the thing, as her husband rejoined her later in the day.

The gentleman explained;—"And you thought the other so becoming too, Belle," he added, in a half-deprecatory tone; "but Chauncey was so strenuous about it, and I knew he would appeal to you, and that you would not be satisfied without"——

"But they allowed you really nothing for the other, though it was quite new, and certainly a nice hat. What a pity, now, that you did not travel in your old one, though it was a little worse for wear, or even in the cap you bought to fish in. There was Mr. —— in the same car with us, looking anything but elegant, I am sure, with the queerest-looking old

'Kossuth,' I believe they are called, on, and the roughest overcoat!"

"But, you know, Belle, dear, such a dress is not considered admissible for the clergy."

"No! well, whatever is sensible and convenient should be, I am convinced now, if I was not before."

Our young clergyman, as he turned the still-cherished plan of the new shawl anxiously in his mind, a "sadder and a wiser" man than before, determined never again to buy a new dress hat expressly to perform a journey in, especially when going directly from the "rural districts" to a large city; besides laying up for future use some other collateral resolutions and reflections of an equally wise and practical character.

"Why, Belle," said the "superb" Chauncey to his fair sister-in-law, drawing her little son nearer to him, as he leaned on his mother's lap after dinner, "this is really a magnificent boy, 'pon-my-word!—you should take him to 'Bradbrook's' and fit him up! Would you like a velvet jacket, eh, my fine fellow?"

The curly-headed child pointed his dimpled forefinger towards the pretty garment he was wearing, and said, timidly, "Pretty new coata, mamma made for him."

"I believe," responded the young mother, quietly, bending her beaming eyes upon the little face lovingly upturned to hers, "that Willie will have to do without a velvet jacket for the present; mamma intended to get one for him in New York, but"——the sentence was finished mentally with "papa's second new hat has taken the money." This will reveal the secretly-cherished plan of the young rector's wife, with which a faint sketch of a pretty cap to crown the shining curls of her darling, had dimly mingled, almost unconsciously to herself, until brought out by the power of that "tide in the affairs of men"—necessity!

Sitting in the same seat in a railroad car with ex-Chief-Justice ——, than whom there is no more eminent jurist nor finished gentleman in the land, discoursing earnestly of old times and new, our conversation was suddenly interrupted, as we stopped to feed our iron steed, by the loud salutation of a youth who seemed to take more pains than the law requires under such circumstances, to enunciate the name of my companion. "Pleasant morning, Judge!—if I don't intrude" (a glance at me, and no introduction by the chief-justice), "is this seat unoccupied?" And down he sat vis-à-vis to us.

He had the talk pretty much to himself, for a while. By-and-by, our uninvited guest apologized for his gloves, half-worn fine black kid. They were "really too bad; must have taken them up by mistake, in the hurry of getting off," etc.

"I always keep an old pair expressly for these abominably dirty cars, but, I believe, I have forgotten to put them on this morning," said the venerable lawyer, in a peculiarly quiet tone, unfolding, as he spoke, the ample, old-fashioned, travel-worn camlet cloak, beneath which his arms had hitherto been crossed, and thus revealing his neat, simple dress, and the warm, clean lining of his outer garment. Taking a well-worn pair of soft beaver gloves from an inside pocket, the judge, with an air of peculiar deliberation, drew them upon hands, "small to a fault," as the novels say, and as white as those myths are supposed to be, and re-adjusted his arms and cloak with the same deliberation. A nice observer might note a slight gleam of the well-known smile, whose expressive sarcasm had so often withstood professional insolence and ignorance, as the chief justice turned his head, and cursorily surveyed his fellow-passengers.

"Who is that young man, sir?" I inquired, when we were, soon after, upon again stopping, relieved of the presence of this jackanapes.

"His name is ——," replied the judge. "A scion of the law, I think now—a son of the ——, who made a fortune, you may remember, by the sudden rise of West India molasses, some few years ago (a pause). I never rate a man by his antecedents, Colonel, but a little modesty is always suitable and becoming, in very young persons," added the chief-justice, somewhat sententiously.

You will, perhaps, remember the commotion created by the promulgation of Marcy's edict respecting the dress to be worn on state occasions, by our representatives abroad.

Our accomplished young countryman, Mr. H. S——, though nominally Secretary of Legation, was virtually our minister, at St. Cloud, when this order was published. In simple compliance with his instructions, the American secretary appeared at a court dinner in the suit of plain black, prescribed by his government. The premonitions of a revolution could scarcely have created more consternation among the officials of the Tuileries, and even the diplomatic dignitaries assembled, experienced a sensation. The Turkish ambassador was surprised out of the usually imperturbable stoicism of a devout follower of the mighty prophet of Moslemdom.

"What are you doing here," he growled, as the young republican arrested his attention, in language more remarkable for Oriental figurativeness than for Parisian elegance, "a raven among so many birds of gay plumage?"

The newspaper writers of the day, commenting upon this, said that the minister from Venezuela—the most insignificant government represented, was most bedizened with gold lace, stars, and trumpery of every sort. These letters, prepared for home perusal, were re-published in the Paris papers, and of course, met the eyes of all the parties alluded to!

S—— told one of my friends that among the annoyances to which the whole affair subjected him, was that of being subsequently constantly thrown in contact with the various personages with whose names his own had been, without his previous knowledge, unceremoniously, associated.

No doubt, however, his skillful diplomacy carried him as triumphantly through this difficulty as through others of vital importance.

Dining with this polished young diplomate, at the Tremont in Boston, where we met soon after his return home, the conversation turned upon the personal appearance of Louis Napoleon, and from his wire-drawn moustaches diverged to the subject of beards in general.

"The truth is, Col. Lunettes," said Mr. S——, in French,—which by the way, he both speaks and writes, as he does his native tongue, with great purity and propriety, and this to our shame be it said, is far enough from being generally the case with our various officials abroad, "the truth is, Col. Lunettes, (I detected a just perceptible glance at my furrowed cheek, which was, however, smooth-shaven as his own) that a clean face is getting to be the distinctive mark of a gentleman!"

"My dear Miss ——," said I to a charming woman, whose cordial smile of recognition drew me within the magic circle of her influence, at a ball, where I had been for some little time a 'quiet looker-on,' "will you pardon the temerity of an old friend in inquiring what induced your chilling reception of the handsome stranger whom I saw presented to you with such empressement by our host a little while ago? If you could have seen the admiration with which he long regarded you at a distance, 'his eye in a fine frenzy rolling,'—as he leaned against the—the corner of the big fiddle, there, while the music was at supper!—could you have seen this, as others saw it, and then the look of deep desperation with which he swallowed a bottle of champagne at a standing, when he fled from your frowns to the supper-room!—Really, Miss ——, I have seldom had my sympathies so excited for a stranger"—

By this time her ringing laugh stirred the blood into quicker pulsations through my time-steeled heart; "Oh, Colonel, Colonel!" cried she, in tones, mirth-engendering as the silvery call of Dian, goddess of the dewy morn, (is that poetry, I wonder?) "I see you are just as delightfully quizzical as during our Alpine journey together. I have never quite forgiven the Fates for robbing our party of so inimitable a compagnon de voyage, and me of"—"so devout an admirer!" I chimed in: "and me of so devout an admirer," proceeded the lady, with a quick spirit-flash in her deep violet eyes, "and when we were just becoming so well acquainted, too! It was too provoking! Do you remember the amusement we had from recalling the various characteristic exclamations of the different members of our party, when the Italian plains burst upon our view, out-spread before us in the morning sunlight, after that horrid night in the shepherd's hut?"

"If I recollect, it was your avowed slave, 'gentleman John' as you called him, who shouted, 'O, ye Gods and little fishes!—nothing bad about that, by thunder?' That fellow carried the ladies, as he did everything else, by storm"—

"No, no, Colonel, not all the ladies; but I was going to tell you about this 'mysterious stranger,' or 'romantic stranger'—what sobriquet did you give him? Suppose we go nearer the door, it is so warm here," and she twined an arm that threw Powers into a rapture,[2] confidingly around the support proffered her by an old soldier, and we gradually escaped from the crowd (any one of the men would willingly have stillettoed me, I dare say!) into a cool corner of the hall.

"I am sorry you thought me rude, colonel," she began, a tint, soft as the shadow of a crimson rose flitting over her expressive face.

I entered a protest.

"I dare say my manner was peculiar," resumed my fair companion, "but I fear 'no rule of courtly grace to measured mood' will ever 'train' my face; and—the truth is, Colonel, that, though I love and honor my own countrymen beyond the men of all other lands, I do wish they would imitate well-bred foreigners in some respects. I hate coxcombs! I believe every woman does at heart. Now, here is this person, Colonel C——, I think, if I heard the name?"

"Wherefore Colonel, and of what?" thought I, but I only answered—"Really, I am not able to say."

"Well, at any rate, I identified the man, beyond a peradventure, as the same individual who sufficed for my entertainment during a little journey from home to G——, the other day. As papa, in his stately way, you know, committed me to the care of the conductor, saying that 'Miss ——'s friends would receive her at G——,' I observed (luckily, my fastidious father did not) the broad stare with which a great bearded creature, at a little distance from us, turned round in his seat and surveyed us. When I withdrew from the window, from which I had looked to receive—to say good-bye, again, to papa"—

I would have given—I think I would have given—my Lundy-Lane sword, to have occasioned the momentary quiver in that musical voice, and the love-light in that half-averted eye! After a scarce perceptible pause, the lovely narrator proceeded:

"There was that huge moon-struck face—["sun-struck, perhaps?" I queried, receiving a slight fan-pass for my pains]—such a contrast to papa's! staring straight at me, still. I busied myself with a book behind my veil, and presently knew, without looking, that the gentleman had gradually returned to his former position. Now came my turn to scrutinize, though the 'game was scarcely worth the powder.'"

"Spoken like the true daughter of a gentleman-sportsman!" I exclaimed, and this time was rewarded with an irradiating smile.

"Well, such a rolling about of that alderman-like figure, such a buttoning and unbuttoning! But this was all nothing to his steam-engine industry in the use of the 'weed.' I turned sick as I observed part of the shawl of a lady sitting before the creature hanging over near him. After a while, he sallied forth, at one of the stopping-places, and soon returned with—(expressive hue!)—an immense green apple! It seemed for a time likely to prove the apple of discord, judging from the hungry glances cast at it by a long, lank, thinly-clad old man across the car. But now came the 'tug of war.' It scarce required my woman's wit to divine the motive that had prompted the tasteful selection of the alderman's lunch. A glove was pompously drawn off, and—behold! a great pâté of a ring on the smallest, I cannot truthfully say little-finger, set with a huge red cornelian, that looked for all the world like a cranberry-jam in a setting of puff-paste! As the big apple slowly diminished under the greedy eyes of the venerable spectator of this rich Tantalus-feast, my heart melted with pity."

A well-affected look of surprise on the part of her auditor, here claimed the attention of the fair speaker.

"Don't alarm yourself, Colonel! 'Pity 'tis, 'tis true,' my compassion was excited only towards the poor finger that, stout as it looked, must soon be worn to the bone, if often compelled to do duty at the speed with which it was worked that day. Imagine the poor thing stuck straight out with that heavy stone

pâté upon it, while the proprietor plied his hand from his mouth to the car-window behind him, with the industrious regularity of a steam ferry-boat, professedly laden with little bits of apple-skin, but really intended—oh, most flattering tribute to my discriminating powers!—to captivate my fancy, through my eye!"

When my amusement had somewhat subsided, I said to my fair friend:

"I suppose the doughty alderman finished his repast, like Jack the Giant-killer, by eating up the famishing old man who had the insolence to watch him while breakfasting?"

"I am happy to be able to say," replied she, "that the long, lean, lanky representative of our fallen race, not only escaped being thoroughly masticated and thrown by little handfuls out of the car-window, but when Jack the Giant-killer, and almost every one else had gone out of the car, was presented by a lady with two nice large sandwiches that she happened not to need."

"And that benevolent lady was"——

A movement among the dancers here crowded several acquaintances into such close contact with us that we could not avoid overhearing their conversation.

"Do you know that large man, wearing so much beard, Mr. Jerome?"

"Know him? certainly I do, Miss Blakeman. That's C——, Col. C——, the rich New York grocer. He is one of the city aldermen—they talk of him for the legislature—quite a character, I assure you."

"He evidently thinks so himself," rejoined one of the group; "just notice him in that polka! I heard him telling a lady, a moment ago, that he had not missed a single set, and wouldn't for anything."

"They say," pursued a lady, "that he is paying his addresses to that pretty little Miss S——, who was so much admired here, last winter; she is an orphan, I think, and quite an heiress."

A perceptible shiver ran through the clinging arm that still graced my own, and as I moved away with my sweet charge, she murmured, in the musical tongue of the Beautiful Land, as she ever calls Italy, "the gentle dove for the vulture's mate!"

Will that do for this time, boys? Or do you require that, in imitation of the little Grecian Hunch-back, a moral shall be appended to each of his narratives, by your

Uncle Hal.

P. S.—In accordance with my promise, there follow the admirable directions and remarks of the elegant and obliging friend referred to in my previous letter. He will, I trust, permit me thus to tender him, renewedly, my very grateful acknowledgment of his flattering politeness, and to express my sense of the important addition made by his kindness to my unpretending epistles.

"My dear Col. Lunettes:

"I regard myself as highly complimented that so distinguished a representative of the ancien régime, as yourself, one so entirely comme il faut, as all admit, in matters of taste, should esteem my opinion, even in regard to minor points of etiquette, as worth his attention.

"I need scarcely add, dear sir, an assurance of my conviction of the honor you do me by affording me a place in your remembrance, and that I make no doubt your profound knowledge of the world, united with your unusual opportunities for extensive observation—long un habitué de belle société, in various countries, as you have been—will afford a rich treat, as well as much instruction, to those who may be favored with the perusal of your proposed Letters. That he may have the honor to be thus fortunate, is the hope of, dear sir,

"Your very respectful
"And obedient servant,
"—— ——

"Belgravia, Tuesday Morn.,

"May 6th, '56."

Gentlemen's Dress.—The subject now to be treated of, may be divided into several classes:—morning, promenade or visiting, and evening or ball dress; which again may be subdivided into others, such as riding-dress, dress suitable for bachelors' dinner-parties, or opera (when unaccompanied by ladies). Besides these again, we have dresses suitable for fishing, shooting, and yachting purposes, which, however, scarcely call for, or admit of, the display of much taste, inasmuch as the occupations for which such costumes are designed partake rather of the nature of healthy exercise than of that quiet and gentlemanly repose necessary to give full effect to the graces of the more elaborate "toilette." Military, Naval, and Court dresses may also be considered out of the scope of the remarks in this letter, because their being made scrupulously in accordance with rigid Regulation Rules, leaves no room for taste, but substitutes the dicta of official routine.

To commence our exemplifications with a Wedding-Suit, which, from the wearer's approximate connection with the ladies deserves the "pas"—it may be remarked that the time of day in which the ceremony is solemnized should determine the character of the costume, that is to say, whether it should be morning or evening. In either case, however, general usage allows (not to say demands), a more marked style than is generally worn in morning or evening usual wear. Should the wedding take place in the evening, a very elegant costume is, a dark claret dress-coat, white ribbed-silk, or moire antique, waistcoat, white silk neckcloth, black trowsers, silk stockings, and shoes. The lining of the sleeves, also, of white silk, coming to the extreme edge of the cuff, imparts a

singularly light and elegant appearance to the hand and glove. An equally elegant Morning Wedding-Dress might consist of a rich, deep-brown frock-coat; waistcoat of black cashmere, with a small violet-colored palm-leaf figure; neck-tie of silk, combining colors of black and cherry, or brown and deep blue; trowsers of delicate drab, or stone-color; gloves primrose, or slate-colored kid.

The usual Evening-Dress is so imperiously insisted on, that it might be almost classed in the category of uniforms, being almost invariably composed of black coat, vest, and trowsers. Two items, however, in this costume, admit of disquisition amongst "men who dress," viz., the vest and the tie—both of which may be either white or black, without any infraction of the laws of bienseance. This, therefore, must be settled by the taste of the wearer, who should remember that black, having the effect of apparently diminishing a man's size, and white that of increasing it, it would, therefore, be judicious for a person of unusual size to tone down his extra bulk by favoring black in both these garments, while he who is below the average standard could, if not actually increase his height or size, at least create the impression of more generous proportions. I, however, must confess a decided partiality for a white neck-tie, at least; because, although subject to the disadvantage of being de rigueur amongst waiters and other members of the Yellow Plush Family, it is, nevertheless, always considered unexceptionable, at any season, or hour, in any rank, profession, or capacity.

A Morning Call should be made in a frock-coat, or at least one in which this style predominates. It must, however, be constantly borne in mind that it is quite impossible to furnish even general rules on any one of these points that shall prove immutable, since not only each successive year, but every varying season produces decided changes in the standard established by Taste and Fashion.

Bachelors' Dinner-parties are pleasant, social reunions, at which gentlemen enjoy themselves with more abandon than would, perhaps, be considered consistent with the quiet and more retired respect due to the presence of the "beau sexe;" and, as a natural consequence, admit of a more négligé style of costume. Still, however, a certain regard must be had to the requirements of good society; and as many of these parties, when they break up, adjourn to the opera, or theatre, where they are pretty sure to meet ladies of their acquaintance, a costume half-way between morning and evening is, by tacit agreement, prescribed; for instance:—a coat of some dark color (generally termed "medley-colored"), cut rounded over the hips; black cap; inner vest, buttoning rather high in the breast; dark-grey trowsers, and black silk neckerchief, or ribbed silk scarf.

Instead of giving sketches of particular costumes, it would, perhaps, be better and tend more to develop the importance of dress, if a few remarks were made on the general rules which should guide one in selections for his own wear.

The four staple colors for men's wear, are black, blue, brown, and olive. Other colors, such as drab, grey, mixed, etc., being so far as the principal garments go, what are termed "fancy colors," should be very cautiously used.

As was remarked above, black has the effect of diminishing size, but it has another more important effect, which is to test, in the severest way, the wearer's claims to a distinguished appearance. It is a very high compliment to any man to tell him that black becomes him, and it is probably owing to this property that black is chosen, par excellence, for evening or ball dress. Men, therefore, of average or ordinary pretensions to stylish contour, should bear this in mind, and, when such color is not indispensable, should be careful how far they depend on their own intrinsic dignity.

Blue, of almost any shade, becomes a light complexion, besides being an admirable set-off to black velvet, which can, in almost all cases, be judiciously used in the collar, in which case, a lighter shade of blue (also becoming such a complexion) can be worn without killing (as it is technically termed), the darker shade of the coat—the velvet harmonizing both.

Brown being what is termed a warm color, is eminently adapted for fall and winter wear—olive and dark green, for summer.

When Beau Brummel was asked what constituted a well-dressed man, he replied, "Good linen—plenty of it, and country washing." This, perhaps, is rather too primitive. The almost equally short opinion of the French critic is decidedly more comprehensive—"un homme bien coiffé, et bien chaussé, peut se présenter partout." Under any circumstances, however, it may be laid down as immutable, that the extremities are most important parts, when considered as objects for dress, and that a well appointed hat, faultlessly-fitting gloves, and immaculate boots, are three essentials to a well-dressed man, without which the otherwise best constituted dress will appear unfinished.

Besides the necessity for the greatest care required in the selection of colors, with regard to their harmonizing with each other, and their general adaptation to the complexion or contour of the wearer, there is another matter of the first importance, and this is, the cut. Of course, everything should be sacrificed to perfect ease, as any garment which pinches, or incommodes the wearer, will strongly militate against the easy deportment of even the most graceful, and tend to give a contracted and constrained appearance. Every garment, therefore, should leave the wearer perfectly free and uncontrolled in every motion; and, having set out with this proviso, the artiste may proceed to invest his work with all the minute and seemingly immaterial graces and touches, which, although scarcely to be remarked, still impart an air or character, which is unmistakable, and is expressed in the French word chique.

Wadding, or stuffing, should be avoided as much as possible. A little may be judiciously used to round off the more salient points of an angular figure, but when it is used for the purpose of creating an egregiously false impression of superior form, it is simply snobbish. Some one has called hypocrisy "the homage which vice pays to virtue." Wadding is the homage which snobbishness pays to symmetry!

A well-dressed man will never be the first to set a new fashion; he will allow others to hazard the innovation, and decline the questionable honor of being the first to advertise a novelty. Two lines of Pope (I believe), admirably illustrate the middle course:—

"Be not the first by whom the new is tried,
Nor yet the last by whom 'tis set aside."

Besides which he will find it far easier to become a critic than an author; and as there is sure to be a vast number of men who "greatly daring" dress, he will merely be at the trouble of discriminating which is worthy of selection or rejection; he will thus verify the old saw, that "fools make feasts and wise men eat thereof," and avoid, by means of his own knowledge of the becoming, the solecisms which are pretty certain to occur in a number of experiments.

Trinculo.

Footnotes:

[2] Remind me to tell you about that some other time.

LETTER III.

MANNER.

My dear Nephews:

In the order of sequence adopted at the commencement of our correspondence, the subject of manner comes next in succession.

It was the shrewd aphorism of one of the most profound observers of human nature that "Manner is something to all, and everything to some."

As indicative of character, which it undoubtedly is, to a certain extent, it is well worthy the attention of all youthful aspirants to the honors of the world. And though, like every other attribute, it should bear indubitable murks of individuality, care and attention, before habit has rendered change and improvement difficult, will enable every man to acquire that propriety and polish, in this respect, the advantages of which through life can scarcely be overrated.

It has been somewhat paradoxically said, that the fashionable manner of the present day is no manner at all! which means simply—that the manners of the best bred people are those that are least obtruded upon the notice of others,—those most quiet, natural, and unassuming.

There is, however, a possibility of carrying this modish manner to such an extreme as to make it the very height of affectation. If Talleyrand's favorite axiom admits of some qualification, and language is not always used to "conceal our ideas," then should manner, which is the natural adjunct that lends additional expressiveness to words, be in a degree modified by circumstances—be individualized.

Every approach to a rude, noisy, boisterous, manner, is reprehensible, for the obvious reason that it interferes with the comfort, and, consequently, with the rights of others; but this is at a wide remove from the ultra-modishness that requires the total suppression of every manifestation of natural emotion, and apparently, aims to convert beings influenced by the motives, feelings, and principles that constitute humanity, into mere moving automata!

In this, as in too many similar matters, Americans are prone to excess. Because scenes are considered bad ton, in good society abroad, and because the warm-hearted hospitality of olden time sometimes took shape a little more impressingly and noisily than kindness required, some of our fashionable imitators of European models move through the world like resuscitated ghosts, and violate every law of good feeling in an endeavor to sustain at home a character for modish nonchalance! Now, take it as a rule through life, my young friends, that all servile imitation degenerates into caricature, and let your adoption and illustration of every part of your system of life be modified by circumstances, and regulated by good sense and manly independence.

I need scarcely tell you that true politeness is not so much a thing of forms and ceremonies, as of right feelings and nicety of perception. The Golden Rule habitually illustrated in word and action, would produce the most unexceptionable good breeding—politeness so cosmopolitan that it would be a passport to "good society" everywhere.

One of the most polished and celebrated of American authors has given us as fine and laconic a definition of politeness as I remember to have met with—"Self-respect, and a delicate regard for the rights and feelings of others."

The good breeding of a true gentleman is not an appendage put off and on at the dictate of caprice, or interest, it is essentially a part of himself—a constituent of his being, as much as his sense of honesty or honor, and its requirements are no more forgotten or violated than those of any other essential attribute of manhood. You will all remember Sir Philip Sidney's immortal action in presenting the cup of water to the dying soldier. This was a spontaneous result of the habitual self-possession and self-restraint that form the basis of all true good breeding. It is one of the most perfect exhibitions on record of the moral sublime; but it was, also, only a legitimate result of the instinctive politeness of a Christian gentleman!

Manner, then, may be regarded as the expression of inherent qualities, and though it must, necessarily, and should properly, to some extent, at least, vary with the variations of character, it may readily be rendered a more correct and effective exponent of existing characteristics of mind and heart, by judicious and attentive training.

While true good breeding must, from its very nature be, as I have said, in all persons and under every modification of circumstance substantially the same, the proper mode of exemplifying it, must, with equal propriety, be modified by the exercise of practical good sense and discrimination. Thus, the laws of convention,—which, as I have before remarked, is but another name for the rules of politeness, established and adhered to by well-bred people, for mutual convenience—though in some respects as immutable as those of the Medes and Persians, will always be adapted, by persons of good sense, to the mutations of circumstance and the inviolable requisitions of that "higher law," whose vital principle is "kindness kindly expressed!" Having now established general principles, let us turn to the consideration of practical details.

There is, perhaps, no better test of good manners afforded by the intercourse of ordinary life, than that of conduct towards superiors in age or station, ("Young America" seems loth to admit that he has any superiors, but we will venture to assume these premises). The general-in-chief of the Revolutionary Army of America is well known to have always observed the most punctilious respect towards his mother, in his personal intercourse with her, as well as in every other relation of life. My word for it, he never spoke of her as the "old woman;" nor could one of the youthful members of his military family have alluded, in his hearing, to a parent as the "governor," or the "old governor," without exciting the disapproving surprise of Washington and his co-patriots. And yet our young republic has known no more high-bred and polished men than those of that day,—the stately and elegant Hancock, even when broken by time and disease, a graceful and punctilious observer of all the ceremonious courtesies of life; the courtly Carroll, whose benignant urbanity was the very impersonation of a long line of old English gentlemen; and the imposing stateliness of the commander-in-chief, ever observant of the most minute details of propriety, whether in the familiar intercourse of daily life, or while conducting the most momentous affairs of his country. But to return from this unpremeditated digression. Never let youthful levity, or the example of others, betray you into forgetfulness of the claims of your parents or elders, to a certain deference. Depend upon it, the preservation of a just self-respect demands this.