compatriots abroad; and it needs but to travel ever so little on the continent to be aware that the opinion entertained of us by foreigners is perfectly natural. I speak not of individuals, or I might adduce numerous bright exceptions; my censure is directed against what I consider a national defect, corrected in the few, but still conspicuous in the many; and having so far explained my meaning, I assert that the English abroad are unaccommodating, arrogant, unsocial, hard to please, and easy to provoke.

Our notorious nationality, offensive as it is to foreigners, might be turned to some account, if it served as a bond of union amongst ourselves; but mark the difference! Englishman meets Englishman on the continent as though each suspected the other to be a swindler, against whose designing advances he must be ever upon his guard. Amongst Englishwomen, the case is even worse; their conduct towards each other is something perfectly inhuman.*

Goldsmith complained of the uncheerful, antisocial temperament of the English in his day. "Nothing," says he, "is so uncommon among the

* The author was told, when in Germany some years ago, by a German lady, that in a certain town (for obvious reasons not specified) there were about eight English families residing, none of whom visited the other; "because," said the lady, "they quarrelled so, they were obliged to give it up." What a reflection upon us! But it is only another exhibition of the same uncourteous, unaccommodating, precedence-seeking spirit, which mars social life in England, and makes up the sum of those petty, but heart-corroding, grievances that have power "to crush the charm out of existence."

English as that easy affability, that instant method of acquaintance, or that cheerfulness of disposition, which makes in France the charm of every society. Yet in this gloomy reserve they seem to pride themselves, and think themselves less happy, if obliged to be more social. One may assert, without wronging them, that they do not study the method of going through life with pleasure and tranquillity. Might not this be a proof that they are not so much philosophers as they imagine? Philosophy is no more than the art of making ourselves and others happy; that is, in seeking pleasure in regularity, and reconciling what we owe to society to what is due to ourselves." It is high time that we should learn a different character, seeing that we have gained nothing by the old one, but ill-will abroad and dissatisfaction at home.

I am not going to construct a code of manners: books innumerable have already been written, professing to teach good manners and the rules of etiquette. It is the principle alone to which I would direct attention. Courtesy I hold to be an essential part of Christianity: I therefore exhort all instructors of youth to aim at making their pupils good Christians, and they will not fail to practice benevolence in trifles as well as in things of magnitude. Such courtesy will be worth a thousand times more than the conventional politeness of cliques and coteries, however fashionable they may be.

While placing most prominent the principle,

that of benevolence, whence courtesy ought to flow, I do not mean to scout or disparage conventional good-breeding: on the contrary, I recommend as close a conformity as circumstances admit of, with the tone of manners prevailing in the best society; for, besides certain fixed rules of politeness, universally implied and received, which are the same to-day as they were yesterday, and in all probability will remain unchanged to an indefinite time, there is always a prevailing tone or mode which persons going much into the world, as it is called, will do well to adopt. A man need not be the less a good Christian because he is an elegant gentlePolished manners can never be an incumbrance, but habitual awkwardness will be so often. "An earthen jar," says an Eastern proverb, "will be an earthen jar still, though placed upon the head; but a fine jewel will be still a fine jewel, though trodden in the dust."

man.

In recommending this assumption of the prevailing tone of manners, I should do violence to my own feelings and opinions if I neglected to add a few warning words against certain peculiarities in modern manners which appear to me reprehensible. First, I would utter my protest vehemently against that habit of attacking every thing pertaining to sentiment with the shafts of ridicule, now so much in vogue in certain circles. Virtue has no more formidable enemy than the jest-finder, superficial as he is. His sneer withers her flowers of fairest promise: vile and worthless as is his

trick-we will not call it talent-it has for the sensitive a thousand terrors. All that is high, and pure, and generous in youth, shrinks before it; enthusiasm is silenced by it, and becomes ashamed of its own noble promptings. I cannot, then, view this habit in any other light than that of positive crime.

The next to be avoided, though a mere foible in comparison, is a species of affectation, which might even have been noticed under that head; but having undoubtedly grown out of the more serious offence just reprobated, it may as well find place here. The dread of being thought too much interested about any thing, has driven persons frequenting those circles, where eyes are ever on the look-out for the ludicrous, to affect being interested about nothing. Hence the apathy of modern fashionable manners; hence the nil admirari tone, the nil admirari eye, with which persons and things are spoken of and regarded, whose merits, were it but the fashion to be and to appear pleased-in short, to be natural-would have lighted up animated smiles in many a countenance, and drawn forth praises loud, and heartfelt, and enthusiastic.

This equability of manner may, for a time, impose upon persons unaccustomed to it; but, in the end, cannot fail to become wearisome. It threatens, moreover, to make English society one dead level, striking out all that once so pleasingly diversified it-all individuality, all originality of character.

It has been asserted that no person can enact any passion or sentiment long without its becoming, in some degree, natural to him. Should this hold good in relation to the assumed apathy of polite circles, neither the moral nor intellectual character of English society is likely to become very exalted. To subdue the tone both of our feelings and conversation, so as not to jar with the sentiments and conversation of others, is assuredly essential to the harmony of every circle. To abstain also from egotism, or too much speaking on any subject; never to obtrude our own or family concerns upon indifferent persons, nor, indeed, unreasonably even upon our intimate friends; to offer our opinions with modesty, not as infallible oracles, but more in the form of suggestions or suppositions; to listen patiently, and with as much shew of interest as shall steer clear of hypocrisy; above all things, never flatly to contradict: these are rules, the practice of which can never be out of place. But to stifle every emotion, whether of grief or joy, indignation, or approval; to drill ourselves into an automaton-like insensibility can never be required of us, either by the laws of good taste or sound sense.

To return from this digression to the more immediate consideration of our subject, the inculcation of courtesy and the formation of manners in children. Good manners being entirely the result of education, it must be necessary to begin early to teach them this, as well as every other