Another time, and with congenial companions, you can indulge in "the feast of reason, and the flow of soul."

If placed beside a lady so taciturn that no effort on your part can draw her out, or elicit more than a monosyllable, and that only at long intervals, you may safely conclude that there is nothing in her, and leave her to her own dullness, or to be enlivened by the approach of one of the other s.e.x. That will make her talk.

Few persons are good talkers who are not extensive and miscellaneous readers. You cannot attentively read the best authors without obtaining a great command of words, so that you can always, with ease and fluency, clothe your ideas in appropriate language.

Knowledge is of course the basis of conversation--the root whose deepened strength and vigour gives life to the tree, multiplicity to its branches, and beauty to its foliage.

Much that is bad and foolish in women would have no existence if their minds were less barren. In a waste field, worthless and bitter weeds will spring up which it is hard to eradicate; while a soil that is judiciously cultivated produces abundant grain, luxuriant gra.s.s, and beautiful flowers.

There are ladies so exceedingly satisfied with themselves, and so desirous of being thought the special favourites of Providence, that they are always desiring to hold out an idea "that pain and sorrow can come not near them," and that they enjoy a happy exemption from "all the ills that flesh is heir to." They complain of nothing, for they profess to have nothing to complain of. They feel not the cold of winter, nor the heat of summer. The temperature is always exactly what _they_ like.

To them the street is never muddy with rain, nor slippery with ice.

Unwholesome food agrees perfectly with _them_. They sleep soundly in bad beds, or rather no beds are bad. Travelling never fatigues them. n.o.body imposes on them, n.o.body offends them. Other people may be ill--they are always in good health and spirits. To them all books are delightful--all pictures beautiful--all music charming. Other people may have trouble with their children--_they_ have none. Other people may have bad servants--_theirs_ are always excellent.

Now if all this were true, the lot of such persons would indeed be enviable, and we should endeavour to learn by what process such complete felicity has been attained--and why they see every thing through such a roseate medium. But it is not true. This is all overweening vanity, and a desire "to set themselves up above the rest of the world." We have always noticed that these over-fortunate, over-happy women have, in reality, a discontented, care-worn look, resulting from the incessant painful effort to seem what they are not. And if any body will take the trouble, it is very easy to catch them in discrepancies and contradictions. But it is not polite to do so. Therefore let them pa.s.s.

As mothers are always on the _qui vive_, (and very naturally,) be careful what you say of their children. Unless he is a decidedly handsome man, you may give offence by remarking, "The boy is the very image of his father." If the mother is a vain woman, she would much rather hear that all the children are the very image of herself. Refrain from praising too much the children of another family, particularly if the two sets of children are cousins. It is often dangerous to tell a mother that "little w.i.l.l.y is growing quite handsome." She will probably answer, "I had hoped my child was handsome always." With some mothers it is especially imprudent to remark that "little Mary looks like her aunt, or her grandmother." Again, if you prudently say nothing about the looks of the little dears, you may be suspected and perhaps accused of taking no interest in children. Young ladies, when in presence of gentlemen, are too apt to go on the other extreme, and over-act their parts, in the excessive fondling and kissing and hugging of children not in the least engaging, or even good-looking. We cannot believe that any female, not the mother, can really fall into raptures with a cross, ugly child. But how pleasant it is to play with and amuse, an intelligent, affectionate, and good-tempered little thing, to hear its innocent sayings, and to see the first buddings of its infant mind.

When you are visiting another city, and receiving civilities from some of its inhabitants, it is an ill requital for their attentions to disparage their place, and glorify your own. In every town there is something to praise; and in large cities there is a great deal to amuse, to interest, and to give pleasure. Yet there are travellers who (like Smelfungus) are never satisfied with the place they are in--who exclaim all the time against the east winds of Boston, the sea-air of New York, the summer heats of Philadelphia, the hilly streets of Baltimore, and the dusty avenues of Washington. We have heard people from New Orleans call Philadelphia the hottest city in the Union, and people from Quebec call it the coldest. If there are two successive days of rain, then poor Philadelphia is the rainiest of all places. If it snows twice in two weeks, then it is the snowiest. If a fire breaks out, it is the city of fires. If there is an Irish fight in Moyamensing, it is the city of perpetual riots. By-the-bye, after that summer when we really had several successive riots up-town, and down-town, we saw an English caricature of the City of Brotherly Love, where the spirit of William Penn, in hat and wig, was looking down sadly from the clouds at the rioters, who were all represented as Quakers, in strait, plain clothes, and broad brims, knocking each other about with sticks and stones, firing pistols, and slashing with bowie-knives. Alas, poor Quakers! how guiltless ye were of all this! It is a common belief in England, that of this sect are _all_ the people of Pennsylvania.

In talking to an elderly lady, it is justly considered very rude to make any allusion to her age; even if she is unmistakeably an old woman, and acknowledges it herself. For instance, do not say--"This silk of yours is very suitable for an elderly person"--or--"Will you take this chair?--an old lady like you will find it very comfortable"--or--"Look, baby--is not that grandma?"--or--"I told the servant to attend first to you, on account of your age"--or--"Children, don't make such a noise--have you no respect for old people?"

All this we have heard.

CHAPTER XVI.

INCORRECT WORDS.

Every one who sees much of the world must observe with pain and surprise various unaccountable instances of improper and incorrect words that sometimes disfigure the phraseology of females who have gone through a course of fashionable education, and mixed in what is really genteel society. These instances, it is true, are becoming every day more rare; but we regret that they should exist at all. Early impressions are hard to eradicate. Bad habits of speaking are formed in childhood: sometimes from the society of illiterate parents, but more frequently from that of nurses and servants; and if not corrected or shaken off in due time, will cling like burrs to the diction of women who are really ladies in every thing else. Such women will say "that there," and "this here"--"them girls"--"them boys"--"I don't want no more"--"I didn't hear nothing about it"--"I didn't see n.o.body there"--"I won't do so no more."

And other similar violations of grammar; and grammar is never more palpably outraged than when two negatives are used for an affirmative.

It is surely shorter and easier to say, "I want no more"--"I heard nothing about it"--"I saw n.o.body there"--"I will do so no more."

Another grammatical error, less glaring, but equally incorrect, is the too common practice of converting a certainty into an uncertainty by saying, "I have no doubt but he was there." As if his being there was your only doubt. You should say, "I have no doubt of his being there."

"I have no doubt but that he wrote it," seems to signify that you do doubt his writing it, and that you are nearly sure he did not. The proper phrase is, "I have no doubt of his writing it." "I do not doubt but that she knew it long ago," implies that you do doubt her having known it. It should be, "I do not doubt her knowing it long ago." Leave out _but_, when you talk of doubting.

No word is proper that does not express the true meaning. For instance, it is not right to call a township a town. A township is a section of land that may consist entirely of forests and farms, and may not comprise even a small village or hamlet. A town resembles a city in being closely built up with streets of adjoining houses. Men cannot go fishing or hunting in a _town_, though they may in a township. We are surprised to find this misapplication of the word among some of the most distinguished of the New-England _literati_. Perhaps it explains Jonathan's perplexity in one of the old Yankee Doodle songs:

"He said he couldn't see the town, There were so many houses."

We hope it is not necessary to caution our readers against the most provincial of Yankee provincialisms, such as, "I hadn't ought," or "I shouldn't ought"--or "It warn't," instead of "It was not"--or the exclamations, "Do tell!" or "I want to know," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed as a token of surprise the moment after you have told, and made known. The common English habit, or rather a habit of the common English, of using continually the words "you know," and "you know," is very tiresome, particularly when they are talking of something that you cannot possibly be acquainted with. Check them by saying, "No, I do not know." They also make great use of the word "monstrous"--ugly as that word is. Do not imitate them in saying that you are "monstrous glad," or "monstrous sorry," or "monstrous tired," or that a young lady is "monstrous pretty." We have heard even "monstrous little."

We advise our New-England friends to eschew, both in speaking and writing, all Yankee phrases that do not convey the exact meaning of the words. For instance, to "_turn out_ the tea," instead of to "_pour_ it out." There can be no turn given, in this process, to the spout or handle of the tea-pot. On the contrary, it cannot pour well unless it is held straight. To "cut the eggs," instead of to beat them. The motion of beating eggs does not cut them. "Braiding eggs," is still worse. But we believe that this braiding is not the same as cutting. What is it?

Two young officers were travelling in the far West when they stopped to take supper at a small road-side tavern, kept by a very rough Yankee woman. The landlady, in a calico sun-bonnet, and bare feet, stood at the head of the table to pour out. She enquired of her guests, "if they chose long sweetening, or short sweetening in their coffee." The first officer, supposing that "long sweetening" meant a large portion of that article, chose it accordingly. What was his dismay when he saw their hostess dip her finger deep down into an earthen jar of honey that stood near her, and then stir it (the finger) round in the coffee. His companion, seeing this, preferred "short sweetening." Upon which the woman picked up a large lump of maple sugar that lay in a brown paper on the floor beside her, and biting off a piece, put it into his cup. Both the gentlemen dispensed with coffee that evening. This anecdote we heard from the sister of one of those officers.

"Emptyings" is not a good name for yeast. "Up chamber, up garret, down cellar," are all wrong. Why not say, "up in the chamber, up in the garret, down in the kitchen, down in the cellar" &c.? Why should a mirthful fit of laughter be called "a gale"? "Last evening we were all in such a gale!"

Snow and ice are not the same. Therefore a s...o...b..ll should not be called an ice-ball, which latter might be a very dangerous missile.

Pincushions are pincushions, and not pin-b.a.l.l.s, unless they are of a globular shape. If in the form of hearts, diamonds, &c., they are not b.a.l.l.s.

When you are greatly fatigued, say so--and not that you are "almost beat out." When the Yankees are "beat out," the English are quite "knocked up." The English are "starved with cold"--Americans only starve with hunger. They may perish with cold; but unless hunger is added, they will not starve.

It is wrong to say that certain articles of food are healthy or unhealthy. Wholesome and unwholesome are the right words. A pig may be healthy or unhealthy while alive; but after he is killed and becomes pork, he can enjoy no health, and suffer no sickness.

If you have been accustomed to p.r.o.nounce the word "does" as "doos," get rid of the custom as soon as you can. Also, give up saying "pint" for "point," "jint" for "joint," "anint" for "anoint," &c. Above all, cease saying "featur, creatur, natur, and raptur."

In New England it is not uncommon to hear the word "ugly" applied to a bad temper. We have heard, "He will never do for president, because he is so ugly." On our observing that we had always considered the gentleman in question, as rather a handsome man, it was explained that he was considered ugly in disposition.

A British traveller, walking one day in a suburb of Boston, saw a woman out on a door-step whipping a screaming child. "Good woman," said the stranger, "why do you whip that boy so severely?" She answered, "I _will_ whip him, because he is so ugly." The Englishman walked on; but put down in his journal that "American mothers are so cruel as to beat their children, merely because they are not handsome."

No genteel Bostonian should call Faneuil Hall, "Old Funnel," or talk of the "Quinsey market," instead of Quincy, or speak of "Bacon street," or "Bacon Hill." That place was so called from a beacon, or signal-pole with a light at the top, and never was particularly celebrated for the pickling and smoking of pork.

The word "slump," or "slumped," has too coa.r.s.e a sound to be used by a lady.

When you have exchanged one article for another, say so, and not that you have "traded it."

Do not say, "I should admire to read that book," "I should admire to hear that song," "I should admire to see the president." Subst.i.tute, "I should like to read that book," "I should like to hear that song," "I should like to see the president."

Using the word "love" instead of "like" is not peculiar to the ladies of any section of the Union. But they may a.s.sure themselves it is wrong to talk of _loving_ any thing that is eatable. They may _like_ terrapins, oysters, chicken-salad, or ice-cream; but they need not _love_ terrapins or oysters, or _love_ chicken-salad.

We remember, in the farce of Modern Antiques, laughing at an awkward servant-girl bringing in a dish of salad to a supper-table, before the company had a.s.sembled, and, after taking a large bite, turning her foolish face toward the audience, and saying, "I loves beet-root."

Even if you are a provincial New-Yorker, give up calling the door-step or porch by the ancient Dutch name of "stoop," (stoep,) and do not talk of going out on the stoop, or sitting in the stoop. When a load of wood or coal is put down at your door, say not that it is "dumped." Never speak of visiting friends that "live to Brooklyn," or "live to Newark."

They live _at_ those places, not _to_ them. The word "muss" sounds badly, when a young lady says, "her scarf is mussed," or her collar is "mussed"--or that her bureau drawers are all in a muss. The English synonyme, "mess," has _rather_ a better sound. Be it also remembered that a stool is not a bench. A bench holds several people, a stool but one.

When you mean that an article of dress (a bonnet or a cap) is neat and pretty, do not say that it is cunning. An inanimate object cannot be cunning. To be cunning requires some mind. We are sorry to say that we have heard females who, when they intend to be witty, talk of taking a snooze, (which means a nap,) and speak of a comic anecdote as being "rich," and of a man in faded clothes as looking "seedy." We have heard Philadelphia ladies speak of a "great big" house, or a "great big" ship; and there are still some who _expect_ what has already come to pa.s.s--as, "I expect it rained somewhere last night"--"I expect she arrived yesterday"--"I expect he went to Baltimore." In all these cases the proper term is "I suppose," and not "I expect."

The word "mayhap" (instead of perhaps) is a positive vulgarism. It is of English origin, but is only used in England by very low people--and by English writers, never.

We have little tolerance for young ladies, who, having in reality neither wit nor humour, set up for both, and having nothing of the right stock to go upon, subst.i.tute coa.r.s.eness and impertinence, (not to say impudence,) and try to excite laughter, and attract the attention of gentlemen, by talking slang. Where do they get it? How do they pick it up? From low newspapers, or from vulgar books? Surely not from low companions?

We have heard one of these ladies, when her collar chanced to be pinned awry, say that it was put on drunk--also that her bonnet was drunk, meaning crooked on her head. When disconcerted, she was "floored." When submitting to do a thing unwillingly, "she was brought to the scratch."

Sometimes "she did things on the sly." She talked of a certain great vocalist "singing like a beast." She believed it very smart and piquant to use these vile expressions. It is true, when at parties, she always had half a dozen gentlemen about her; their curiosity being excited as to what she would say next. And yet she was a woman of many good qualities; and one who boasted of having always "lived in society."

We think that gentlemen lose a particle of their respect for young ladies who allow their names to be abbreviated into such cognomens as Kate, Madge, Bess, Nell, &c. Surely it is more lady-like to be called Catharine, Margaret, Eliza, or Ellen. We have heard the beautiful name Virginia degraded into Jinny; and Harriet called Hatty, or even Hadge.

A very silly practice has been introduced of writing Sally, Sallie--f.a.n.n.y, Fannie--Mary, Marie--Abby, Abbie, &c. What would our grand-parents have thought of Pollie, Mollie, Peggie, Kittie, Nancie?

Suppose young men were to adopt it, and sign themselves, Sammie, Billie, d.i.c.kie, Tommie, &c.!

By-the-bye, unless he is a relation, let no young lady address a gentleman by his Christian name. It is a familiarity which he will not like.

CHAPTER XVII.