The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1888-11-21
The Small Amenities.

A New York lady entered one day a
Broadway surface car, and gentleman
rose to offer her his seat. She said,
" Thank you," and was about to drop
into the seat, when a man suddenly
slipped in before her, took out his
newspaper, and began to read earnestly.
The lady had seen this disgraceful per-
Torrance tried before, and she would
not, therefore, have been very greatly
surprised, had she not recognized the
incumbent of what was by right her
seat as distinguished doctor of divinity
recently imported into the metropolis
from the West. Having listened several
times to his pulpit eloquence, she had
become very familiar with his counte-
nance. Another lady was not long ago
seated in a Brooklyn Bridge car, during
one of the crowded periods, when a
woman entered, heavily weighted down
with various baskets and bundles. A
man, entirely unencumbered, followed
her. A gentleman rose to give his
seat to the poor woman, but the man
promptly pushed in before her. 81
did not rise to give you my seat" said
the gentleman, Indignantly. 81 Of
fered it to that poor woman" Das
is all right" said the man, with
bright smile. "She is mine wife,"
These little bits of actual experience
show us how much stress ought to be
laid upon what may be called the small
amenities of life. If the doctor of
divinity had imagined that there was
anybody in the crowded car who knew
him, he would never have dared to lay
bare the great sore of selfishness which
disfigured his soul; even if the natives
of Germany were not taught proper
reverence for women at home, if they
had learned to put on the minor pro-
prieties, they would not give such
shocking hints in public of the brutality
of their private life. By the "small
amenities" we mean the courtesies eX-
changed between strangers in public
the Excuse mes" and "Thank
you's," and the acts which 90 with
them. How many of us instruct our
children to be just as polite in the little
matters where our lives touch others
which else are unknown to us, as in the
intercourse with the friends and ac-
quaintances whose good opinion we
may presume to be worth more to us?
]
see in public places, it would be fair to
say, very few. There are not many
respects in which Americans need
to copy foreigners. But when we
see the exquisite ease and propriety
with which really well-bred foreigners,
black though their hearts may be, con-
duct themselves in public, we sigh for
the power to improve our manners.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his essay
upon Manners, has done much toward
this object, and Lord Chesterfield's
Letters we have ever with us; but the
people do not take kindly to perusing
these papers. Possibly reading will
never teach good manners any more
than it will dancing. They must be
the result of incorporating instruction,
both by precept and example, from our
earliest years. "The First Gentleman
of Europe" Thackeray tells us, was
defective in the arts of reading and
spelling. He was certainly "a glutton
and wine ibber," and even worse,
but what presence he hadl One of
those bows must, from all accounts,
have made an impression for life upon
all who saw it. How delightful it
would be if we could bring our children
up, while despising and hating poor
Georges follies and vices, to learn
something of his manners How
quickly the tone and look accompany
ing a simple word passed by stranger,
in apology or request, reveal to the in
telligent ear and eve his social status!
Do you not always think a little more
highly of the one who says, 81 beg
your pardon" and Thank YOU" than
of him who says Beg pardon" and
Thanks? 1t seems as though the
whole element of genuine heartiness
was left out of the latter expressions.
By these shibboleths we reveal our
selves when we least think. 1t may re-
quire whole lifetime of honest prayer
and struggle to weed out selishness
and arrogance and toadyism, or any of
dozen kindred vices and weaknesses,
from our hearts-and may we be nerved
ever anew for the fight; but surely we
may, by painstaking, acquire manner
which will kindly conceal our lack from
the cold eye of the general public. Miss
Maria Z. Brace of Vassar College re-
Gently read before a brilliant assembly
as essay upon The Pantomime of Social
Life, in which she argued, and, we be-
lieve, justly, that it is impossible to
avoid some semblance in our outer man
TO the inner passions which move us;
but she admitted also that the converse
was true-that in assuming virtue "
when we chad it not" and in cultivat-
ing the manner of gentleness and good
ness, we could not but assist in the in
ward formation of those qualities of
w