tion as various as the different characters whose good or whose happiness are the subjects of her care; and, lastly, that sweet sister of benevolence, charity, without which no woman ever yet could make herself a desirable companion or friend.

It may be said that these are virtues, not modes of conduct; but how much of virtue, particularly that of charity, may be implied and understood by what is commonly called manner! That which in the present day is considered the highest attainment in this branch of conduct, is a lady-like manner, and it is one that well deserves the attention of all who wish to recommend themselveswho wish, as all must do, to ward off insulting familiarity, and court respectful consideration. There are, however, many impressions conveyed to the minds of others by mere manner, far exceeding this in interest and importance. What, for instance, is so consoling to the afflicted as a sympathizing manner? The direct expression of sympathy might possibly give pain; but there is a manner, and happy are they who possess it, which conveys a silent invitation to the sorsowing soul to unburden its griefs, with an assurance that it may do so without fear of treachery or unkindness. There seems to be an instinct in our nature by which this mode of expressing sympathy is rendered intelligible; and who that has any thing to do with sorrow or suffering, or any wish to alleviate the pressure of either, would not desire that their manner should be so fraught with sympathy as to impart the consolation they may be unable to express in words?

Who, on the other hand, in a world which all the afflicted are disposed to consider cold and unfeeling, has not felt what it was, to meet with that peculiar tone of voice, that long, earnest gaze of the eye, and that watchfulness of personal comfort, which belong to a degree of interest deeper than can be told, and which convince beyond the power of language, that we are not-we cannot be overlooked or forgotten? How many an alien has been invited to return by a look, a tone, a gesture, when no power of speech

would have conveyed the same impression of a welcome! How many a prejudice has been overcome-how many a dangerous resolution broken-how many a dark design defeated by a conciliating and confiding manner? And may it not also be asked, how many an insult has been repelled by a manner fraught with dignity; how many an injury has been returned into the bosom where it originated, by a manner which conveyed all the bitterness of cherished and determined revenge?

To those who make the human mind their study, the mode of acting is of more importance than the action itself; and to women it is especially so, because the sphere in which they actually move is comparatively limited and obscure. It is seldom regarded as consistent with that delicacy which forms so great a charm in their nature, that they should act out to their full extent all the deep feelings of which they are capable. Thus there is no other channel for their perpetual overflow, than that of their manners; and thus a sensitive and ingenuous woman can exhibit much of her own character, and lead others out into the display of much of theirs, simply by the instrumentality of her manners; and, upon the same principle, that good breeding which obtains the highest applause in society, is but an imitation or assumption of every moral excellence, depicted on a minor scale.

Good manners are the small-coin of virtue, distributed abroad as an earnest-we will not ask how fallacious-of the greater and better things that lie beyond. The women of England are becoming increasingly solicitous about their manners, that they may in all points resemble such as prevail in a higher circle of society, and be, consequently, the best. But would it not be more advantageous to them, to bestow the same increase of solicitude upon what constitutes the true foundation of all that is amiable and excellent in life and conduct? Would it not be more advantageous to them to remember, that in the sphere of life appointed for them to fill, stronger and inore efficient traits of

character are required, than can possibly be classed under the epithet of lady-like? Not that coarseness or vulgarity of manner could ever be tolerated in those delicate intimacies, and intellectual associations, which properly belong to the class of women of whom England had once a right to boast-intimacies and associations, intervening like gleams of sunshine, between their seasons of perplexity and care; but the manners I would earnestly recommend to my country women, are of a character calculated to convey an idea of much more than refinement; they are manners to which a high degree of moral influence belongs, inasmuch as they inspire confidence, command esteem, and contribute to the general sum of human happiness.

Adaptation is the leading feature in this class of manners-adaptation not only to the circumstances of the person who acts and speaks, but also to the circumstances of those upon whom such speech or action operates. A light, careless, sportive manner is sometimes thought exceedingly charming; and when it emanates from youth and innocence, can scarcely fail to please; but when such a manner is affected by a woman of ponderous personal weight, of naturally grave countenance, and responsible station in society, none can avoid being struck with the obvious anomaly, and few can avoid being moved to laughter or contempt.

In English society it frequently happens that persons of humble parentage, and homely station, in early life, are raised, by the acquisition of wealth, to the enjoyment of luxurious indulgence. How absurd in such cases, is that assumption of delicacy and of aristocratic dignity which we too often see, and which is sure to give rise to every variety of uncharitable remark upon what they and their families have been !

Self-importance, or rather a prevailing consciousness of self, is the most universal hindrance to the attainment of agreeable manners. A woman of delicate feelings and cultivated mind, who goes into company determined to be interested, rather than to interest, can scarcely fail to please. We are

assured, however, that in this respect there is something very defective in the present state of society. All desire to make an impression, none to be impressed; and thus the social intercourse of every day is rendered wearisome, if not disgusting, by the constant struggle of each contending party to assume the same relative position.

An instance relating immediately to an animal of inferior grade in the creation to man, but bearing some affinity to the case in point, is told by a traveller, whose party having shot several old monkeys, took home their young ones to the camp where he was stationed. He amused himself in the evening by watching these little animals, which had been so accustomed to be caressed and carried about by their parents, that they expected the same services from each other, and by their persevering efforts to obtain assistance from those who in an equal degree required it from them, formed themselves into a tumultuous heap, and nearly worried each other to death.

It might be invidious to compare the tumult of feeling, the weariness, and the fatality to happiness experienced by these animals, to that which is produced by the general desire to make an impression, in modern society; but none can be blind to the fact, that a determination to be pleased in company, is the surest means of giving pleasure, as well as of receiving it.

A young lady who has not had an opportunity of conversing, of playing, or of showing off in any other way, is almost sure to return from an evening party complaining of its dulness, and discontented with herself, as well as with every one besides. Ask her if such and such agreeable and intelligent persons were not present; and she answers, "Yes." Ask her if they did not converse, and converse pleasantly; and still she answers, "Yes." What then? The fact is, she has herself made no impression, charmed nobody, and therefore, as a necessary consequence, she is not charmed.

How much more happiness does that woman experience, who, when in company, di

rects her attention to her nearest neighbor; and, beholding a cheerful countenance, or hearing a pleasant voice, is encouraged to proceed in cultivating an acquaintance, which may ultimately ripen into friendship, may teach her some useful lesson, or raise her estimate of her fellow-creatures. Even where no such agreeable results are experienced, where the party attempted proves wholly impracticable, there is still a satisfaction in having made the trial, far beyond what can be experienced by any defeated attempt to be agreeable. Indeed the disappointment of having failed to make a pleasing impression merely for the purpose of gratifying our own vanity, without reference to the happiness of others, is adapted in an especial manner to sour the temper, and depress the mind; because we feel along with the disappointment, a mortifying consciousness that our ambition has been of an undignified and selfish kind; while, if our endeavor has been to contribute to the general sum of social enjoyment, by encouraging the diffident, cultivating the acquaintance of the amiable, and stimulating latent talent, we cannot feel depressed by such a failure, nor mortified at our want of success.

The great question with regard to modern education is, which of these two classes of feeling does it instil into the mind-does it inspire the young women of the present day with an amiable desire to make everybody happy around them? or does it teach them only to sing, and play, and speak in foreign languages, and consequently leave them to be the prey of their own disappointed feelings, whenever they find it impossible to make any of these qualifications tell upon society.

CHAPTER V.

CONVERSATION OF THE WOMEN OF ENGLAND.

Ir may not, perhaps, be asking too much of the reader, to request that gentle person

age to bear in mind, that in speaking both of the characteristics and the influence of a certain class of females, strict reference has been maintained, throughout the four preceding chapters, to such as may with justice be denominated true English women. With puerile exotics, bending from their own feebleness, and wandering, like weeds, about the British garden to the hindrance of the growth of all useful plants, this work has little to do, except to point out how they might have been cultivated to better purpose. I have said of English women, that they are the best fireside companions; but I am afraid that my remark must apply to a very small portion of the community at large. The number of those who are wholly destitute of the highest charm belonging to social companionship, is lamentably great: and these pages would never have been obtruded upon the notice of the public, if there were not strong symptoms of the number becoming greater still.

Women have the choice of many means of bringing their principles into exercise, and of obtaining influence, both in their own domestic sphere, and in society at large. Among the most important of these is conversation; an engine so powerful upon the minds and characters of mankind in general, that beauty fades before it, and wealth in comparison is but as leaden coin. If match-making were indeed the great object of human life, I should scarcely dare to make this assertion, since few men choose women for their conversation, where wealth or beauty are to be had. I must, however, think more nobly of the female sex, and believe them more solicitous to maintain affection after the match is made, than simply to be led to the altar, as wives whose influence will that day be laid aside with their wreaths of white roses, and laid aside forever.

If beauty or wealth have been the bait in this connection, the bride may gather up her wreath of roses, and place them again upon her polished brow; nay, she may bestow the treasures of her wealth without reserve, and permit the husband of her choice to

"spoil her goodly lands to gild his waste;" she may do what she will-dress, bloom, or descend from affluence to poverty; but if she has no intellectual hold upon her husband's heart, she must inevitably become that most helpless and pitiable of earthly objects a slighted wife.

Conversation, understood in its proper character, as distinct from mere talk, might rescue her from this. Not conversation upon books, if her husband happens to be a fox-hunter; nor upon fox-hunting, if he is a book-worm; but exactly that kind of conversation which is best adapted to his tastes and habits, yet at the same time capable of leading him a little out of both into a wider field of observation, and subjects he may never have derived amusement from before, simply from the fact of their never having been presented to his notice.

How pleasantly the evening hours may be made to pass, when a woman who really can converse, will thus beguile the time! But, on the other hand, how wretched is the portion of that man who dreads the dulness of his own fireside—who sees the clog of his existence ever seated there-the same, in the deadening influence she has upon his spirits, to-day, as yesterday, to-morrow, and the next day, and the next! Welcome, thrice welcome, is the often-invited visiter, who breaks the dismal dual of this scene.

Married women are often spoken of in high terms of commendation for their personal services, their handiwork, and their domestic management; but I am inclined to think that a married woman, possessing all these, and even beauty too, yet wanting conversation, might become "weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable," in the estimation of her husband; and, finally, might drive him from his home by the leaden weight of her uncompanionable society.

I know not whether other minds have felt the same as mine under the pressure of some personal presence without fellowship of feeling. Innocent and harmless the individual may be who thus inflicts the grievance, yet there is an irksomeness in their mere bodily

presence almost intolerable to be borne; and in proportion to the estimate we form of real society, and companionship, and sympathy of feeling, is the dread we entertain of association with mere animal life in its human form, while nothing of this fellowship of feeling is experienced.

There cannot, however, be a greater mistake in the science of being agreeable, than to suppose that conversation must be made a business of. Oh! the misery of being pitted against a professional converser!—one who looks from side to side until a vacant ear is found, and commences a battery of declamation if you will not answer, and of argument if you will. Indeed, the immense variety of annoyances deducible from illmanaged conversation, are a sufficient proof of its importance in society; and any one disposed to dispute this fact, need only recall the many familiar instances of disappointment and chagrin which all who mix in any manner with what is called the world, must have experienced, from mistaken views of what is agreeable in conversation.

It would be vain to attempt an enumeration of the different aspects under which this peculiar kind of annoyance presents itself. A few heads will be sufficient, under which to range the different classes of injudicious talkers. First, then, we naturally think of those who have obtained the conventional appellation of bores, or, to describe them more politely, the class of talkers whose over-solicitude is proportioned to their difficulty in obtaining patient hearers. These, again, may be subdivided into endless varieties, of which a few specimens will suffice. Yet among all these, even the most inveterate, may be found worthy individuals, whose qualifications for imparting both instruction and amusement are by no means contemptible.

Entitled to distinction in the art of annoyance are the hobby-riders-those who not only ride a favorite hobby themselves, but expect every one they meet with to mount and ride the same. It matters not whether their ruling subject be painting or politics,

except that minds devoted to the fine arts have generally about them some delicacy as to the reception of their favorites, and are too shrinkingly alive to the slights it may receive, to risk its introduction without some indication of a welcome. Still there are exceptions even to this rule, and nothing can be more wearisome to the uninitiated, or more unintelligible to the unpractised ear, than the jargon poured forth by an amateur painter without regard to the tastes or the understandings of those around him.

and where his father died; and he sees no mountain gorge, nor bandit chief, nor hears the rush of torrents on the breeze; but his eye dwells again upon the apple-tree in its spring bloom, and the lambs upon the lea, and his ear is open to the cooing of the woodpigeon on the chestnut boughs, and the sound of voices-than all other sounds more sweet the voices that spoke kindly of his child

hood.

It might be supposed that, if under any circumstances the society of a painter could be always welcome, it would be among the varied scenes of a picturesque tour. But even here the mind has pictures of its own, and he who is perpetually telling you what to see, might as well force upon you at every view, the use of his camera lucida, and neither allow you to gaze upon nature as you wish to behold it, nor as it really is.

the interstices of the foliage, and he knows not where the poetry or even the truth of this wonderful property of breadth can be. The painter descants upon the bringing out of the distant cottage from the wood. His companion is of opinion it would be better to let it remain where it is-half hid in the retirement of the forest, and sending up, as it seems, from the very bosom of the silent shade, its wreath of curling smoke, to indicate the social scene beneath its rustic roof, prepared for by the lighting of the woodman's fire. But the painter is not satisfied. He calls upon his friend to observe the grouping of the whole. He must have the outline broken. The thing is done. His sketch is exhibited in triumph, and he raves on with accelerated delight; for he has cleft the hills in twain, and placed a group of robbers on the broken ground. Alas! how should his companion believe or understand! His thoughts are expatiating upon that scene, because its sloping hills, and cultivated fields, and gardens and orchards and village churchyard, are like the spot where he was born,

Women are, perhaps, less addicted than men to annoy others with their pet subjects; because they have less opportunity of follow

to the exclusion of others; and politics, that most prevalent and unceasing absorbent of conversation, is seldom a favorite theme with them. They have, however, their houses and their servants, and, what is infinitely worsethey have themselves.

Perhaps accustomed to a little private admiration in a remote corner of the world, they obtain a false estimate of their own importance, and act as if they thought no subject so interesting as that which turns upon their own experience, their own peculiarities, or even their own faults. It does not always follow that such women admire themselves so much as the prevalence of self in their conversation would at first lead us to suppose, for in expatiating upon the good qualities of others, they often exclaim-and why should we doubt their sincerity?-how much they wish they were like the beings they extol! They will even speak disparagingly of themselves, and tell of their own faults without occasion; but even while they do this with an air of humil ity, they seldom fail to leave an impression on the minds of their hearers, that in reality they