Part 2

Never lose your temper. “When a man has well-dined,” says an old playwright, “he should feel in a good humor with all the world.”

Never fail to rise when the ladies are leaving the table, and to remain standing somehow, no matter how unsteadily, until the last petticoat has disappeared. Then, your duty having been performed, you can roll under the table, if you want to, or see-saw back to your anchorage, and see if you can hold any more wine.

Never drink too much wine. True, there are a variety of opinions as to how much is too much; but be prudent, be resolved, never make an exhibition of yourself, at least _try_ to knock off before being paralyzed, and be happy.

Never, however, yield to the jocular propensities of your brother guests. Should they prop you in a corner of the room, with your hair drawn over your eyes and a lamplighter in your mouth for a cigar, and then jocosely vociferate “Speech! speech!” heroically reach for the nearest bottle, back with your head, and guzzle away. A philosopher, a real gentleman, will never be laughed down, sneered under, or rubbed out.

Never, if called on for a speech in a complimentary way, however, make a rostrum of the table at which you have dined. Rather essay your own chair, the window-sill, or even the mantel-piece.

Never fail in courtesy, even when grossly intoxicated. Apologize, even if you have slumbered on your neighbor’s shoulder, and murmur your excuses even while disappearing under the table. An exponent of high breeding never forgets to be a gentleman under the most adverse circumstances.

Never whistle, sing ditties, or jeer irrelevantly while another guest is responding to a popular toast. You surely should not wish to monopolize the entire oratorical effects of the occasion; and, moreover, boorish interruption is always in equivocal form.

V.

While Walking.

Never fail to maintain a firm but easy attitude. The willow, not the lightning-rod, will afford you the best suggestions.

Never walk over people, but around them. Men and women are not stepping-stones or door-mats, save to monarchs and rich corporations.

Never neglect to apologize if you stamp on a man’s corns, or jostle him into an excavation.

Never howl with laughter at any peculiarity of aspect, manner or dress. Be a gentleman always.

Never crush and shoulder your way through groups of ladies at shop-windows, with your cane menacingly twirled aloft, shillelah-fashion. Analogy between a fashionable promenade and Donnybrook Fair is wholly apocryphal.

Never smoke in the street, unless you can afford a good article. Chinese cigarettes, long nines, and black cutty pipes are decidedly in bad form.

Never, if you must smoke, whiffle your smoke in others’ faces, or playfully burn them in the back of the neck, or ask a lady for a light. Walter Raleigh, the father of tobacco-using, even carried his own cuspidor.

Never munch nuts or gorge fruits in public. A lady or gentleman on the afternoon promenade, with a peeled pineapple in one hand, a huge slice of watermelon in the other, and the jaws industriously working, is not an edifying spectacle.

Never forget, if with a lady, that she is under your protection, not you under hers.

Never rush her past an oyster-saloon at a run, or wildly distract her attention from a confectioner’s window. As a woman, she has her privileges.

Never drag her, pell-mell, with you through a mob of fighting roughs.

Never forget to be kind, even while feigning deafness to all insinuations as to refreshment. “Kindness iz an instinkt,” says Josh Billings, “while politeness iz only an art.”

Never neglect to give her at least a portion of your umbrella, when escorting her through the rain. If it should rain cats and dogs, as the saying goes, an adjournment beneath an awning, or front-stoop, might be deemed advisable.

Never, if walking with a tramp, introduce him to every acquaintance you chance to meet. It is a free country, but the line must be drawn somewhere.

Never, if you have occasion to address a strange lady, scrape, cringe and wriggle before her in an agony of politeness. To raise your hat gravely, place your hand on your heart, and yield her a low, sweeping obeisance, with your shoulders shrugged considerably higher than your ears, is sufficient. You are not supposed to be a Corean ambassador in the presence of Jay Gould.

Never address questions to strangers indiscriminately, especially as to their secret and private affairs. Communicativeness is not a necessary outcome of a total lack of sodality.

Never, even in questioning a policeman, fan him with his own club, note down his number, and ask him if he has yet got the hair off his teeth. Though in livery, he may yet be above the brute creation.

Never ask questions at all, but consult this Hand Book.

Never, if suddenly confronted on the promenade by a hostile acquaintance, accept his proposition to fight him in the gutter for a pot of beer. You are not a Prize Fighter.

Never forget to pick up a lady’s handkerchief, if she lets it fall by accident; not with effusive familiarity, but daintily on the end of your cane or umbrella. Common civility is one of the cardinal points of good breeding.

Never pick it up at all, if she drops it purposely. You needn’t set your foot on it, or scowl at her; but coquetry is one of the vices deserving of silent reproof.

Never pick up anything that even your companion may drop, unless he should be very drunk. You may pick him up also, if he should drop.

Never, even if in haste, rush through a crowded thoroughfare at a breakneck gait, with your hair flying, your necktie over your ears, and shouting “Clear the track!” at every jump. Hire a cab, or obtain roller-skates. Repose of manner should never be sacrificed to emotional insanity.

Never pose on street corners, attitudinize before show-case mirrors, or whistle an opera bouffe air while watching a funeral cortege.

Never, if with a lady, ask her to wait for you on the curb while you step into an adjacent bar-room to see a man. The ruse is a transparent one, and, moreover, she may be thirsty herself.

Never hilariously address a stranger with an obvious defect of vision as “Squinty,” nor ask another how many barrels of whisky it has taken to paint his nose. Such familiarities may possibly be resented.

Never, on the other hand, be so over-civil as to be mistaken for a dancing master or a bunco-steerer.

Never forget that a gentleman is a gentleman everywhere. Even McGilder was occasionally taken for one.

Never have your shoes polished in the middle of the sidewalk while hanging on to an awning-beam for support. It may create the impression that all the polish you have is upon your shoes.

VI.

In the Use of Language.

Never cease trying to make yourself understood. Learn to read and write before you are of age.

Never pronounce with your teeth clenched, through the nose, or by ripping up the sounds laboriously from the pit of the stomach. Speak gently, but with clarion-like distinctness.

Never squeal like a rat, grunt like a pig, or roar like a bull. Cultivate a pleasing voice.

Never smother your meaning out of sight with slang. “Soup should be seasoned, not red-hot,” says an old writer.

Never swear, anathematize, or fairly drip with profanity, especially in the presence of delicate ladies and small children. Undue emphasis often defeats itself.

Never indicate a mere passing surprise by such expressions as “Holy smoke!” “Gosh almighty!” “I’m teetotally dashed!” and the like. A mere lifting of the eyebrows, a convulsive gasp, or a wild, staggered look, while smiting the forehead with the fist, will be demonstrative enough.

Never say _sir_ to a bootblack and _old chap_ to a minister of the gospel in the same breath. Exercise tact.

Never say “No, mum” or “Yessum,” in addressing a lady, or “Not much, old hoss,” or “yezzur,” in speaking to a gentleman, even if these chance to be your parents or near relatives. “No, dad,” “Yes, mommy,” “No, granny,” “Yes, nunksy,” and so on, are more affectionate.

Never address a young lady as _Jen._, _Mol._, _Pol._, _Bet._, _Suke._, or by any other abbreviation of her given name. _Miss So-and-so_, or plain _miss_, is in better form.

Never address a young married lady as _old girl_, even if you were intimate with her before her marriage. Her husband may not apprehend your facetiousness.

Never mispronounce. Never say _purtect_ for _protect_, _yer_ for _you_, _tater_ for _potato_, _this ’ere_ for _this here_, _tommytoes_ for _tomatoes, oilent_ for _violent_, _aborgoyne_ for _aborigine_, or _busted_ for _bursted_. “Take her up tenderly, lift her with care.”

Never say _kin_ for _can_, _they’se_ for _they’re_, _feller_ for _fellow_, _gal_ for _girl_, _wuz_ for _was_, _whar_ for _where_, _thar_ for _there_, _har_ for _hair_, _hev_ for _have_, _wull_ for _will_, _cud_ for _could_, nor _wud_ for _would_. Never imagine that ignoramuses only fall into these errors. The greatest scholars in the world have been known to fairly revel in them when suffering from _delirium tremens_, or otherwise off their guard.

Never forget that _duty_ rhymes with _beauty_, not with _booty_, and that _morn_ doesn’t rhyme with _dawn_ at all--poetasters to the contrary notwithstanding. Even a gentleman of the world will not wholly despise the soft demands of rhythm.

Never say _idear_ for _idea_, nor _wahm_ for _warm_. The addition of the _r_ in the one case is as indefensible as its omission in the other.

Never say _pants_ for _trousers_, _vest_ for _waistcoat_, _boiled rag_ for _shirt_, nor _trotter cases_ for _boots_ and _shoes_. As a sole alternative, let your language be choice to fastidiousness.

Never allude to a _cuss_, meaning a _man_. Even _pure cussedness_ for _sheer contrariety_ is becoming the property of the common herd.

Never say “the old woman,” alluding to your wife. Is marriage of necessity the grave of respect?

Never speak of your father as “the governor,” “the old man,” “the money-bag,” and the like. Perhaps, he is a very good sort of person.

Never say _castor_ for hat, nor _gun-boats_ for _overshoes_, nor _duds_ for _clothes_ in general. A multiplication of these synonyms may be creditable to the invention, but is apt to be confusing.

Never fear to say you are _sick_, if you are so. Englishmen are _h’ill_, and Frenchmen are at liberty to be _indisposé_. We never say “an ill room,” or “an indisposed bed,” but “a sick room” or “a sick bed,” as the case may be.

Never ask if the railroad has come in, but if the train has come in. The track can no more come and go than can the station itself.

Never pile on the adjectives. A painting may be meritorious without being “stunning;” a handsome wall-paper is not necessarily “excruciating;” and you should hardly call a choice dish of ham and eggs “divine.” Let not your enthusiasm overleap itself.

Never say _naw_, _nixy_, _not by a blamed sight_, nor _nary a time_, for pure and simple _no_. Let the negative be swift, clear and decisive, even in declining a drink.

Never say _yis_, _yaw_ nor _ya-as_, for _yes_, unless you swear by the shamrock, the Bologna sausage, or the roast beef of old England.

Never say that you believe you’ll take root or come to anchor, when you intend sitting down, nor say “squatty-vous” to a friend in requesting him to take a seat.

Never, if you must use slang, fail to make a judicious choice of it. Who was it said, “Let me but make the slang of a people, and he who will make their laws?” But no matter; since there is plenty of it ready-made. Never attempt to add thereto, but be content to separate the wheat from the chaff, the fine gold from the dross.

Never speak of a bar-room as “a h’istery,” “a whisky ranch,” “a rum-hole,” or “a jig-water dispensary.” Plain old Anglo-Saxon “gin-mill” must hold its own against the innovations of storming time.

Never, in speaking confidentially to a young lady of her father’s tippling habits, refer to him as “an old soaker,” “a rum-head,” “a guzzler,” “a perambulating beer-keg,” or “a happy-go-lucky old swill-tub.” Far better to slur matters gently by recommending an inebriate asylum, or suggesting that the old gentleman be locked up with a whisky-barrel, with a fair chance of his drinking himself to death.

Never, at social gatherings, speak of elderly ladies as “old hens,” nor of the children of the house as “kids.” But a careful study of the very best society will soon make these pitfalls apparent to you.

Never, in entreating a young lady to sing, ask her if she can’t chirp or twitter a bit.

Never, after she has sung, and with obvious effort, playfully suggest that she has a bellows to mend. To gaze into her eyes lingeringly, and whisper that you did not mean to knock her endwise, would be more considerate and soothing.

Never say, _smeller_, _horn_, _bugle_, or _snoot_ for _nose_. Never say _peepers_ for _eyes_, _potato-trap_ for _mouth_, nor _bread-basket_ for _stomach_, at least not in the very highest circles. _Olfactor_, _optics_ and _paunch_ are a choice disguise for the Queen’s English, if that is the end in view.

Never say that a man was “howling mad” or “jumping crazy,” meaning that he was very angry, when you have such tempting morsels as “hopping mad,” “frothing at the mouth,” “mad as a hatter,” and “crazy as a bedbug” at your disposal.

Never say, “Well, I should smile,” meaning that you assent to something said or proposed, when honest old “You can bet your boots I will” is coyly nestling near at hand, craving a caress.

Never ask, “How in ---- am I going to do it?” when silvery “Do it youself, and be blowed!” may lend a mingled suavity and conciseness to the situation.

Never say, “busted in the snoot” for “thumped in the proboscis.” This is wholly inexcusable.

Never say “I _seed_” for “I _saw_,” “I _heerd_” for “I _heard_,” or “I _thunk_” for “I _thought_.” Notwithstanding that these gross mistakes may be in vogue among highly-educated men, newspaper editors and professional linguists, erect a standard of your own rather than follow in their unworthy lead.

Never say, “Him an’ me is goin’ to the circus,” when “He and I _are_ going to the circus” is meant. This scarcely perceptible inaccuracy brings many a conscientious student to grief.

Never say, “They is well, but I are not.” Painstaking discernment will enable you to make the correction.

Never say “Between you and I and the pump-handle,” meaning “Between you and me.”

Never speak of dinner as “grub,” “hash” or “trough-time,” nor refer to the dessert as “an after-clap.”

Never, if you have been on a spree, allude to it as a “boose,” a “toot,” a “twist,” a “rolling big drunk,” a “bust,” or a “bump,” when strong, sensible “budge,” “bender” and “jamboree” are peeping wistfully from the catalogue.

Never proclaim that you are “chocked to the throat,” meaning simply that you have dined plentifully.

Never be afraid to call a spade a “spade,” even if you have bet on hearts or diamonds.

Never, if intoxicated, say that you are “weaving the winding way,” “slopping over,” “six sheets in the wind,” or “screwed.” The latter is wholly British, and not yet adopted with us.

Never repeat worn-out saws and proverbs, such as “It’s a long turn that makes no lane,” “It’s an ill wind that blows your hat off,” and the like. Better use your own invention than harp forever on a moldered string.

Never, moreover, repeat much-used quotations, no matter how celebrated they may once have been. “We have met the enemy and we are theirs,” and “Whoever undertakes to shoot down the American flag, haul him on the spot,” may be patriotic, but they weary, they weary!

Never call a pretender a “cad,” when either “fraud” or “dead-beat” can safely give odds to the importation.

Never allude to your time-piece as a “cracker,” a “turnip” or a “ticker,” nor to your hands as “mawlies,” “fins” or “flippers,” nor to your fingers as “digits.” The use of any one of these slang terms indicates a want of higher culture.

Never, in referring to an enemy, say that you will “put a head on him bigger than a bushel-basket,” merely meaning that you will punch him.

Never say “peart” for clever.

Never say _oncommon_ for _uncommon_, nor comment upon a delicacy by saying that it is “licking good.”

Never say, in commenting upon a lady’s appearance, that she looked like a “fright,” like a “frump,” or like “a bundle of bones tied up with rags.” You have “dowdy” and “scarecrow” to fall back on.

Never wish aloud that a man may be hanged, drawn and quartered, simply because he owes you a dollar and a quarter. Fiendish resentment is not one of the shining characteristics of a true gentleman.

Never, when in doubt as to any particular form of expression, fail to consult this Hand Book. It is the one faithful lamp by which your steps may be guided.

VII.

Dress and Personal Habits.

Never forget to wash yourself and brush your hair (if you have any) before quitting your room in the morning. To make your toilet at the kitchen sink, or even at a convenient fire-plug, is to set the canons of good society at naught.

Never re-appear in the morning with a dirty shirt, a crushed hat, and with your necktie under your ear. This might convey the impression that you had gone to bed in your clothes.

Never be filthy in anything. Cleanliness is a virtue that even a recognized gentleman cannot afford to hold in contempt.

Never appear in other than subdued colors, for the most part. “Give me plain red and yellow,” said the negro minister, in his advice to his flock on the vanities of dress.

Never wear anything over-dainty. Never--of course, we are now addressing the male reader, for whom this invaluable Hand Book is chiefly designed--wear anything that the gentler sex have made exclusively their own. To appear in public with a nosegay in lieu of a throat-stud, or even with a sunflower at the waist, would be likely to excite remark.

Never wear check-shirts, children’s dickies, nor ’longshoremen’s jumpers. An immaculate shirt-front with a clean collar to match, is always _en règle_.

Never wear full evening dress in the early morning, especially if you intend working in the garden, or whitewashing the back fence, before going down town.

Never wear dancing pumps in rainy or snowy weather, or arctics if it is warm and fine. But long-continued observation will finally enable you to discriminate for yourself in these minor matters.

Never appear among ladies with your boots covered with mud, and your whole person suggestive of having been rolled in the gutter. If you haven’t a servant or wife to clean you up, undertake the task yourself, however distasteful.

Never wear your hat tilted far over your nose, with a cigar meeting its brim at a rising angle of forty-five degrees from your lips. The Volunteer Fire Department, though once the arbiter of manly deportment, is a thing of the past.

Never wear pinchbeck jewelry, loud breast-pins, nor steel, silver or washed-gold watch-guards. Secret-society regalia, conspicuously worn, and multitudinous finger-rings are also in questionable taste.

Never walk with a high-and-mighty stud-horse gait, nor yet slouch and slink along as if you had robbed a hen-roost, nor yet with a bounding hoop-la sort of prance, like a clown in the circus-ring. Never, either, walk bow-legged or club-footed, if you can help it. Cultivate a grand, regal, easy and flowing carriage, but without swagger or bombast.

Never walk, especially if in haste, with your arms folded, nor with your hands in your coat-tail pockets.

Never improvise tooth-picks out of fence splints, and then chew them industriously in public. Tobacco and chewing-gum still assert their claims.

Never expectorate all around you at every step you take, without an instant’s intermission. If you are troubled with bronchitis, remain at home. If the same old drunk persistently lingers, try a B. and S., or a gin fizz, according to your judgment.

Never whistle like a locomotive, nor attempt a Tyrolese _jodel_, while walking with a lady or ladies on a fashionable promenade.

Never whittle sticks, play on a jewsharp, or essay to catch flies on window-panes in public. Such recreations, innocent in themselves, should only be pursued in the privacy of one’s own apartment.

Never permit the quality or cut of your wearing-apparel to deteriorate, if you have to live on pork and beans to keep up your end in this regard. “Never retrench in your wardrobe expenses, whatever you do,” said old Samuel Pepys. “All the world knows how you appear, but no one need know how you live.” A frequent change of residence might serve to disconcert the tailors, should they prove troublesome.

Never allow your shoes to run down at the heel, nor out at the toes. Nothing is more incongruous than a fine gentleman, in other respects quite the swell, with his foot-leather burst out around the instep, his stocking heels wabbling up and down at every jump, and his bare toes courting the public gaze.

Never hiccough or sneeze without intermission, unless greatly inebriated. In this dilemma, lose no time in drinking yourself sober, or in seeking temporary retirement, if only on a park-bench.

Never let your lower lip hang down on your breast, like a motherless calf’s. “Put up or shut up,” says the Coptic proverb.

Never, on the other hand, screw up your lips under your nose, as though constantly subjected to an overpowering odor. Even a prevailing ecstatic, attar-of-roses haunted expression is in preferable form to this.

Never fail to keep your nose clean. If you have no handkerchief, use your coat-tail.

Never cultivate a broad, teeth-husking smile, unless your ivories are in good order. Tobacco-stained fangs are at an especial disadvantage in this form.

Never fail to cleanse the teeth at least once a week. A tooth-brush is best.

Never wear your hat in church, in a boudoir, nor at a marriage or burial service; never, on the other hand, take it off when overtaken by a blizzard or a cyclone. If neither the blizzard nor the cyclone does that much for you, you may consider yourself fortunate.

Never doff your hat nor make your bow indiscriminately. A Cyrus Field, for instance, would be justified in expecting greater courtesy than would be accorded to a Jesse James; though, if cornered by one of the latter type on his own stamping-ground, it would doubtless be well not to slight him too conspicuously. Be diplomatic.

Never fail to cultivate an off-hand judgment of men and women who are strangers to you. A man with a head like a monkey’s is not necessarily a savant; nor are putty-like faces, with idiotic lips and China-blue eyes, in women, necessarily Elizabeth Cady Stantonesque in intellectual scope and oratorical brilliancy. You would scarcely mistake Red Leary for Herbert Spencer.

Never carry a lighted cigar into a millinery store or powder-magazine.

Never be over servile to good clothes for themselves alone. The professional thief who lost his life in a double tragedy in Sixth avenue not long ago, was one of the best dressed men in New York.

Never, on the other hand venture to indiscriminately despise slovenly dress in men or women. Lady Burdette-Coutts is said to occasionally slouch around London like a charwoman just for the fun of the thing; good old Steve Girard was wont to dress like a music-master in distress; and some greasy, old, garlic-smelling tatterdemalion at your elbow may be one of the most successful pawnbrokers of the Hebraic persuasion.

Never burst, without notice, into any one’s private apartment like a shot out of a gun. Even your excuse that you want to borrow your car-fare may not be mollifying, and people have nerves.

Never keep gnawing your mustache, twisting your whiskers into fantastic braids, nor making your hat wag about on your head through muscular contraction of the scalp.