There are circumstances where even the "golden rule which exhausts most of the requirements of politeness—fails us. As an instance of this: A very young girl at her first dance was offered a seat by her partner during one of the panting pauses of a waltz, whereupon she answered with instinctive unselfishness but with entire ignorance of etiquette, “Oh, I am not tired; you sit down!"

The conventional conduct known as "good form," or the lack of it, brings unerring revelation of a person's social advantages and position, and proclaims him a provincial or a cosmopolitan.

A man who attempts to combine the attractions of wine and of iced water by making the "sorbet" the accompaniment to his entire dinner, or orders a large cup of coffee with milk at the conclusion of the meal, may be a more worthy member of society, a finer specimen of manhood, than the gilded youth of fashionable circles, but he would not be regarded as a man of refinement, hardly as a gentleman, by the privileged classes here or in Europe.

The social code has been written and reviewed as much or more perhaps than any other code of laws in the world. The whirligig of time brings about so many changes that what was orthodoxy in one age is heterodoxy in the next. For example, twenty years ago, the favorite manner of announcing an engagement in New York was for the happy couple to be seen arm in arm on

some fashionable thoroughfare on Sunday, after church.

"How vulgar! How provincial!" exclaims the present generation. But what would they think of the manners of our more remote forbears when, as bride and groom making their first appearance in church, they proudly took the most prominent seats and in the middle of the sermon deliberately rose and turned slowly around several times to display their wedding finery fully and unblushingly. This extraordinary exhibition is vouched for upon undisputably good authority.

The word "etiquette" meant originally a ticket or tag affixed to a bag or bundle to note its contents. From this the word passed to certain cards which, during the reign of the fourteenth Louis of France, were given by the Court functionary to each guest, upon which were written the chief rules of the conduct to be observed. The word has been preserved for lack of a better-to express the recognized standard of behavior among persons entitled to be considered in good society. Its modern English equivalent is "good form." one expression is as open to the reproach of being "slang" as the other.

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Our own social code is patterned largely after the usages in favor among the English upper classes, although there are occasions upon which we are a law unto ourselves. The "Mother-isle " sets us the example, but, having reached our maturity, we, in common with other grown up

children, assume the direction of our conduct when we please.

Daniel Webster said, after a visit to England: "The rule of politeness there is to be quiet, act naturally, take no airs, and make no bustle. This perfect breeding has cost a great deal of drill.”

We have among ourselves a large class of quiet ladies and gentlemen, with minds broadened by travel and association with cultured people, with inherited traditions of good breeding and well versed in the social ethics of the older civilizations. To them we may defer, to them safely look for direction.

It is only the chimney-corner philosopher who scorns and sneers at learning the rules of etiquette.

In the changeful conditions of our society, where, untrammelled by class restriction, all may make their way to eminence, there is need of guidance in matters social, and fortunately a universal recognition of their importance. Many, all over the country, are asking for direction and for definite laws of conduct to be observed, according to the most recent decrees of fashion.

There is nothing derogatory to us that we are not all conversant with the latest forms of conventionality. Our society is in evolution, but the anxiety to learn, the often painful dread of making a mistake, is reassuring. They are "growingpains."

Bonaparte took lessons of the great actor Talma, how to comport himself in his new dignity, and

had his court drilled in etiquette as he did his army in military tactics.

When the great Catherine of Russia gave receptions to her nobility, she was obliged to publish certain rules of conduct that would be unnecessary now with the most untaught peasant. Gentlemen were not to get drunk before the feast was ended; ladies were enjoined not to wipe their mouths on the table-cloth; and noblemen were forbidden to strike their wives in company. The curiosity is still to be met with, in books on table-talk, and the edict no doubt was needed.

Formerly there was an etiquette of war. The Frenchmen at Fontenoy, face to face with their English opponents, politely bade them "fire first." But these well-mannered men oppressed their peasants, and in private broke all the commandments of courtesy which we revere.

This discrepancy between form and fact has brought discredit upon the subject of polite observances in the minds of some, who say, "Give us truth before all things." They say that they involve a degree of dissimulation that often implicates us in positive hypocrisy, in unequivocal falsehood that none should justify. They ask, "Why palliate untruths because they seem a kind of social obligation?”

This is a question for social casuists to decide. No thinking person would undervalue truth, but, like all good things, it may be carried to excess.

A very amiable woman once called upon a friend with a new-born baby. "Is n't she a pretty baby?" asked the delighted mother. An affirmative answer was given, but the next day the mother received a note saying: "On reflection, I have concluded that I was not truthful when I said your baby was pretty. I do not think her a pretty baby, but I don't doubt that she is a good one, and I hope may prove a great joy to you."

One cannot but feel that in this instance Truth was wounded in the house of her friends. The deeper truth of kindness and sympathy that for the moment saw the baby through its mother's loving eyes was sacrificed to the surface truth that appeared after cool and unsympathetic reflection.

We are not justified, however, in declaring to a friend that we are bored at an entertainment and are going home, and in the next breath telling our hostess that we are indebted to her for a very delightful evening.

Nor may we say to our friend, "Don't introduce me to that cad," and the next minute while shaking his hand repeat the formula, "Happy to meet you," — unless one can say it in such level perfunctory tones that conventionality owes nothing to cordiality and yet is satisfied.

Politeness consists in repressing ill-natured comments in the first place, not in asserting the contrary afterwards.

There are a few persons who are rebellious about some rules of etiquette which seem useless for