The Complete Bachelor Part 13

This shows the worst kind of provincialism and a vulgar spirit.

Even should your friends be among the most exclusive and fashionable in any place, they are never "swells," nor do they belong to the "Four Hundred." The latter term was once used by a gentleman to designate the probable list of people who were to entertain in New York that season, and has no bearing whatever upon the question of social limit.

If you send flowers never have them arranged in set designs. Fair voyagers will thank you much more if you send fruit, sweets, or books, as flowers on shipboard or railroad trains are nuisances. Books, sweets, and flowers are the only gifts which a bachelor can offer or a woman accept from him.

The terms "lady" and "gentleman" are distinctive. Your friends and acquaintances are all supposed to be ladies and gentlemen. To distinguish them as such implies a doubt. Should you call at a house you ask if the "ladies" are in, so as to distinguish them from the other females in the household. You also toast the "ladies." In referring to the gentler s.e.x, it is more complimentary to speak of them as "women."

You would say, "She is a clever woman," not a "clever lady." The person who speaks of "a lady or a gentleman friend" has a defined social position--on the Bowery.

Avoid slang, especially that of the music halls or the comic (?) newspapers. You can well afford not to be "up to date."

In greeting a person say "Good morning," "Good afternoon," or "Good evening," but refrain from such inane phrases as "Delighted, I'm sure."

On introduction or presentation, it is sufficient to say "I am delighted to meet you." Avoid also the "How d'y do?" "How are you?" "Very well, I thank you." All this is idiotic.

Whistle all you like in your bedroom, but not in public.

Gentlefolk have "friends" stopping with them, never "company." Servants have and keep "company."

When you refer to wine it means any kind of vintage, and not necessarily champagne. Therefore beware of the "gentleman who opens wine," or the one who gives a "wine party," whatever that may mean. We speak of a dinner, but not of a dinner party. A party to the play, no matter where the location of the places may be, is never a "box party."

Do not be a professed jester nor yet a punster. The clowns of society are not enviable beings.

When speaking of a fashionable woman do not refer to her as a "society woman." That would imply that she belongs to various societies or guilds, which is not probably the impression you desire to convey.

When a person has a predilection for the use of the word "elegant," and especially when it is employed in the sense of beautiful, good, charming, or delightful, you are quite just in your estimation of his or her vulgarity.

Answers to questions should be given in the direct affirmative or the direct negative. "All right" is not, to say the least, civil, and is ill-bred.

Never exhibit your accomplishments, unless "by special request," in the public parlors of hotels, or saloons of ships, or other places of general gathering. The persons who sing and play the piano and make themselves bores are as reprehensible as the window opening and shutting fiends, the fidgety travelers, the loud-voiced and constant complaining, all of whom are most obnoxious.

Under great provocation the expletive "d.a.m.n" is tolerated by society, but it should be whispered and not p.r.o.nounced aloud. The man who swears is certainly beyond the pale, and the one who uses silly and senseless exclamations is not far away from him. One of the marks of a gentleman is his complete mastery of himself under the most trying and aggravating circ.u.mstances.

These are but few of the many "don'ts" which it seems necessary to repeat in works of this kind. For a more extended catalogue of social and grammatical sins, the reader is referred to that excellent book The Verbalist, by Alfred Ayres, and the clever little _brochure_ Don't. A careful study of these will a.s.sist him much in reviewing elementary questions, the knowledge of which was taken for granted by the author of the Complete Bachelor.

THE END.