and double-breasted white waistcoat-Lord Charles Starche, I mean-who is stalking from Boodles' to Brookes', and thinks that he does the pavement a great honor by the pressure of his perfect boot. Then in the road, though we are too recherché for omnibuses, we have a graduated scale of vehicles, from the four-wheeled cab up to the yellow chariot, in which Dowager Lady Septuagene is huddled up, while two splendid Mercuries balance themselves behind. There are men of many classes in hansoms, broughams, cabriolets, and curricles, and ladies passing to St. James in barouches and chariots. What I see, indeed, is what any one may see in the streets of London, but I see it all calmly; and having nothing else to do, I observe in these ordinary outlines details which would escape many others. Indeed, I have arrived at that perfection of observation, that at one glance I can fix the class to which a passer-by belongs, and at a second can tell you whether he or she is an ornament or a disgrace to it. I must not tell you much of what I see and hear when I turn round. My club was once one of the best in London, but I regret to say it has sadly deteriorated, so much so that when I have finished my studies I shall have to seek another window elsewhere. A number of men have crept into it somehow who ought not to be there. For instance there is Glanderson, who, though he belongs to a good and old family, is nothing more or less than a horse dealer. He vascillates between this and Tattersall's. He comes in from horses, and he goes out to horses. I need not add that he eats, drinks, dresses, and in short lives by horses. Now a horse-dealer may be an excellent man, but if he thinks nothing but horses, he cannot be good society. Glanderson thinks horses. If there is a rumor of war he has nothing to say about it, except that horseflesh will rise in price. If there is to be a great political movement in a day or two, he only laments that it wil intefere with the "Two Thousand." Then again there is Trickington, who is simply a cardsharper. It is no matter that his uncle is an earl, and his brother a Member; Trickington would be sent to the treadmill if he practised in a railway carriage what he does here. If these men were away I should not complain of young Moulder, whose father made a fortune by patent candles; for Moulder has been to Eton and Cambridge, and is at least modest. I am an old bachelor, and have passed a varied life. - I have seen and mixed at different times in many grades of society. I have seen hundreds of vulgar, and thousands of ill-bred people. I have lived in the unenviable atmosphere of foreign courts, and in the narrow circles of country villages. As I have sought for good rather than high society, I have freely disregarded position, and entered where I thought I might find it. I have often been driven back by disgust and disappointment, but sometimes gone to laugh and stayed to enjoy. With this ex perience I sat down in my club-window, and ruminated on men and manners, classes and company, society and solecisms. In watching from my club-window, I have asked myself, "What makes that man a gentleman, and the other who is passing him a snob?" and I have passsed on to theorize on good-breeding. Confess, then, that it is magnanimous in me to submit the result of my long cogitations to the critical eye of the public. I have a fancy that any one might be a gentleman if he could watch himself, as I watch him from my club-window. I have often longed to cry out to a man: "In the name of good taste, do give up that habit, take off that coat, or alter that walk." I have often longed to turn Turveydrop, and lecture these people on their manners. It is positively painful to me to see a man who aspires to the name and position of "gentleman," going so very bad a way to become one. I feel convinced that if everybody was well-bred, this world would be far better and far happier. But as I could not cry across the street all day long, and should perhaps do little good if I were to do so, I have had recourse to the printer. But I had not sat down to my foolscap when a thought of horror rose before my mind. If I, a man, were rash enough to discourse to Crinoline, what a hail of scornful words should I bring down on my head! I therefore bethought me of a device, and rushing off laid all my plan before a lady, of whose judgment in these matters I had the highest opinion, and besought her to assist me. To this ex cellent and charming person I have now the pleasure to introduce you, that she may speak for herself as to the share she has taken in this work. If this little book should really improve you, my dear reader, I beg you to take an early opportunity of walking, riding, or driving down this street, and you will soon see from my look and Emile how great is the satisfaction of THE MAN IN THE CLUB-WINDOW. THE LADY'S PREFACE. THOSE suggestions which apply peculiarly to the gentler portion of the community differ, in many details, from the advice and rules necessary to be impressed upon the Lords of Creation. "The Habits of Good Society," as referring to ladies, are here, therefore, treated by "one of themselves." It is true that certain maxims of politeness, and regulations which are thought to refine and improve the manners of good society, concern both sexes equally. There are, nevertheless, many niceties in conduct, variations in habits, and delicacies of feeling so peculiarly feminine, that the readiest pen of the most observant bachelor, how alive soever he may be to all that should form perfection in the sex whom he adores in dim perspective, can scarcely compass. Even the carefully-turned sentences of an experienced widower would not comprise those details with which a lady is familiar; whilst a married man might be apt to make his model wife the standard of deportment, and thus to copy one style of manners alone. Men may discriminate and criticise, but woman can alone instruct woman in her every-day habits and conduct, as, we trust may be demonstrated in the course of the following recommendations from A MATRON. |