New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1870-12-27
THE ART OF GTVING.

Goldsmith exquisitely satirized the blunder
which gift even of the best intention,
may be, in that oft-quoted line in 1.-The
"Haunch of Venison"-
at like sending them rufles when wanting shirt"
At this festive season, when evefybody's
heart is warm and everybody's hand is open,
the Art of Giving discreetly is one of which all
might wish to be possessOrs. Ii is the enigma
of this joyous period. The shops are running
over with articles of splendor and utility the
purchaser has money in his purse and an hon
est desire to crafty his friend; that friend he
has known for years. or thought that he knew; ;
and yet the intending purchaser gazes In a
puzzle upon the masses of merchandise, hest
tating and higgling with himself, lucky at last
if he does not hit upon the absurdest selec-
ton. Shall it be book or picture, article of
raiment, something to eat or smoke or drink.
ornamental or useful, perishablc or permanent 7
This only shows how small, even with close
intimacy our understanding may be of each
other; for an enlightened friendship knows by
a sort of intuition that which will be most
useful or agreeable to its object; and out
of the largest assortment, it will take at
once the fittest. 1t finds no embarrassment
in the largest stock of merchandise, for
it knows beforehand what it should purchase
The shOpmen would be less the slaves of their
calling if this fine tact were cOmmoner.
Thousands of women who hang over the
counters, with disheveled pile of goods be-
fore them, hesitating, embarrassed. and see
saving in their poor, imbecile minds, have
evidently not tact enough to make a gift ex-
nd int IN fhpm-
selves. Two-thirds of us all never outgrow
this characteristic of childhood. Now we will
have this and now that now the drab and
now the blue silk or pOpn, which shall it
be this at four shillings or the other at
eighth Women lead in this high hesitation;
but we men, be it admitted, have our share
of it, and are not without our own lamentable
lack of precision even in the major affairs of
life.
There is the old saw about looking gift
horse in the mouth but surely something
must be pardoned to curiosity and something
to the economy which demands to know
whether the steed will be worth his stabling
and grain. Gratitude is all very well but
how is a bachelor to feel gratitude for the gift
of the finest hoped skirt, or a single lady for
mOrsel of selfshness must mingle even with
our hottest affections. 1t is irritating even in
the pleasant Christmas time to find the gift
giving running, as we may say, in ruts. 1t is
not exhilarating to receive from ones devoted
friends, upon the same day, eight worsted slip
pers and nine pen-wipers, even though each
! be of a different description. This monOtOny
| of donation is the result of the indecisiOn of
which we have spoken. The female mind, in
the last stages of desperation, takes refuge in
pen-wipers, or falls back upon Berlin wool.
The intention is just as richly laudable as pos
sible: there is only poverty of resources.
But there is no such trouble when the dOnee
is Juvenile; the doll is infallibc for the little
girl, the wooden horse or gun for the male
youngster; nothing which Santa Claus can put
| into the stocking comes amiss. 1t is of no
consequence that the mouths of the ligneOus
horses will not open-nO real child would ever
think of looking into them
| 1t is one of the most painful things i'll the
world to feel that we should dilate with emo
tons of gratitude and yet be utterly unable
to do so. This is the great vice of malapropos
gift-gving. Gradually, in spite of our efforts
to keep them soft, we feel our hearts indurat-
"Smith mean by sending me this box of cigars,
"when he knows that l have given up smOk-
cling for a twelve-month Z" "Dear Mr. Jones, v
we say, "yOu must consider the Intention
"ConfOund the intention" cries Jones; "why
"did MT he make it half dozen of that old
"sherry which l know he has in his cellar 7"
And so the world goes on; the gift steeds all
stand in a row. with their mouths wide open,
with the heartless recipients peering into them.
This, it must be allowed, is but melancholy
hOrse-shOw We are like the little beggars
who scOn plain bread and butter, throw
it back into the area, and loudly demand
cold roast-beef with pickles to match. We
are poor set, we men and women; but how
should we be different in this matter of earthly
gifts, while so many of us are ready to criticise
the infinite generosity of Providence We
ought to feel that the intention is everything;
but though it were to save ourselves as from
fire, we try to do so in vain. All good friends,
it is of no use whatever to try. Thankfulness
must be spontaneous, and it never comes Of
fryi