fe. It is true that the notion of vulgarity is affixed, in
the fine world, to many trifling modes of dress and deportment,
which in themselves have no demerit whatever, except that
something opposed to them has acquired an ephemeral propriety
from the fancy of the great. But in real good breeding there is
always a reason. It is far too little attended to in England in
any class, though, from acting as a continual corrective to
selfish and unsocial affections, it is peculiarly requisite in
all. Good manners consist in a constant maintenance of
self-respect, accompanied by attention and deference to others;
in correct language, gentle tones of voice, ease, and quietness
in movements and action. They repress no gaiety or animation
which keeps free of offence; they divest seriousness of an air of
severity or pride. In conversation, good manners restrain the
vehemence of personal or party feelings, and promote that
versatility which enables people to converse readily with
strangers, and take a passing interest in any subject that may be
addressed to them."

The writer takes occasion to regret the narrow spirit which prevents our
nobility, or, to speak more properly, our fashionable coteries, from
acquiring a healthier tone, by mixing with societies in which habits of
more vigorous thought predominate. In France, to whatever degree frivolity
may be carried, a French lady would be ashamed not to affect an interest
in the great writers by whom her country has been ennobled; and to betray
an ignorance of their works, or an indifference to their renown, would be
considered a proof not only of the greatest stupidity, but of bad taste
and unrefined habits. Here we are distinguished unfavourably from our
neighbours--exceptions, of course, there must always be--but in general to
betray an acquaintance with any literature beyond the last novel, or the
current trash and gossip of the day, might provoke the charge of pedantry,
but at any rate would fail in exciting the slightest sympathy. Hence men
of letters, and women of letters, form a caste by themselves much to their
own disadvantage, and still more to the injury of those to the improvement
of whom they might imperceptibly contribute; hence the statesman, or the
lawyer, or the writer, generally keeps aloof from the great world, which
he leaves to idle young men and aged coxcombs; or, if he enters it, takes
care to