Dignity of Manners,

i. A CERTAIN dignity of manners is absolutely necesz sáry, to make even the most valuable character either respected or respectable in the world.

Horse-play, romping, frequent and loud fits of laughter, jokes, waggery, and indiscriminate familiarity, will sink both merit and knowledge into a degree of contempt. They compose at most a merry fellow, and a merry fellow was never yet a respectable man. Indiscriminate familiarity either offends your superiors, or else dubs you their dependent and led captain. It gives your inferiors just, but troublesome and improper claims to equality. A joker is near a-kin to a buffoon; and neither of them is the least related to wit.

2. Mimicry, the favourite amusement of little minds, has been ever the contempt of great ones. Never give way to it yourself, nor ever encourage it in others; it is the most illiberal of all buffoonery; it is an insult on the person you mimic; and insults, I have often told you, are seldom forgiven.

As to a mimic or a wag, he is little else than a buffoon, who will distort his mouth and his eyes to make people laugh. Be assured no one person ever demeaned himself to please the rest, unless he wished to be thought the Merry-Andrew of the company, and whether this charac ter is respectable, I will leave you to judge.

3. If a man's company is coveted on any other account than his knowledge, his good sense, or his manners, he is seldom respected by those who invite him, but made use of only to entertain...." Let's have such a one, for he sings a good song, for he is always joking or laughing;" or, "let's send for such a one, for he is a good bottle compa nion;" these are degrading distinctions, that preclude all respect and esteem. Whoever is had (as the phrase is) for the sake of any qualification, singly, is merely that thing he is had for, is never considered in any other light, and, of course, never properly respected, let his intrinsic merits be what they will.

4. You may possibly suppose this dignity of manners to border upon pride; but it differs as much from pride, as true courage from blustering.

To flatter a person right or wrong, is abject flattery, and to consent readily to every thing proposed by a company, be it silly or criminal, is full as degrading as to dispute warmly upon every subject, and to contradict upon all occasions. To preserve dignity, we should modestly assert our own sentiments, though we politely acquiesce in those of others.

So again, to support dignity of character, we should neither be frivolously curious about trifles, nor be laboriously intent on little objects that deserve not a moment's attention; for this implies an incapacity in matters of greater importance.

A great deal likewise depends upon our air, address, and expressions; an aukward address and vulgar expressions, infer either a low turn of mind, or a low education.

5. Insolent contempt, or low envy, is incompatible also with dignity of manners. Low-bred persons, fortunately lifted in the world, in fine clothes and fine equipage, will insolently look down on all those who cannot afford to make as good an appearance; and they openly envy those who perhaps make a better. They also dread the being slighted; of course are suspicious and captious; are uneasy themselves, and make every body else so about them.

6. A certain degree of outward seriousness in looks and actions, gives dignity, while a constant smirk upon the face (with that insipid silly smile fools have when they would be civil) and whiffling motions, are strong marks of futility.

But above all, a dignity of character is to be acquired best by a certain firmness in all our actions. A mean, timid, and passive complaisance, lets a man down more than he is aware of; but still his firmness or resolution should not extend to brutality, but be accompanied with a peculiar and engaging softness, or mildness.

7. If you discover any hastiness in your temper, and find it apt to break out into rough and unguarded expressions, watch it narrowly, and endeavour to curb it; but let no complaisance, no weak desire of pleasing, no weedling, urge you to do that which discretion forbids; but persist and persevere in all that is right. In your connections and friendships, you will find this rule of use to you. In

vite and preserve attachments by your firmness; but la bour to keep clear of enemies by a mildness of behaviour. Disarm those enemies you may unfortunately have (and few are without them) by a gentleness of manner, but make them feel the steadiness of your just resentment; for there is a wide difference between bearing malice and a determined self-defence; the one is imperious, but the other is prudent and justifiable.

8. In directing your servants, or any person you have a right to command, if you deliver your orders mildly and in that engaging manner which every gentleman should study to do, you will be cheerfully, and consequently well obeyed, but if tyrannically, you would be very unwillingly served, if served at all. A cool, steady determination should shew that you will be obeyed, but a gentleness in the manner of enforcing that obedience should make service a cheerful one. Thus will you be loved without being despised, and feared without being hated.

9. I hope I need not mention vices. A man who has patiently been kicked out of company, may have as good a pretence to courage, as one rendered infamous by his vices, may to dignity of any kind; however, of such consequence are appearances, that an outward decency, and an affected dignity of manners, will even keep such a man the longer from sinking. If, therefore, you should unfortunately have no intrinsic merit of your own, keep up, if possible, the appearance of it; and the world will possibly give you credit for the rest. A versatility of manner is as necessary in social life, as a versatility of parts in political. This is no way blameable, if not used with an ill design. We must, like the camelon, then, put on the hue of the persons we wish to be well with; and it surely can never be blameable to endeavour to gain the good will or affection of any one, if, when obtained, we do not mean to abuse it.

Rules for Conversation.

1. JACK LIZARD was about fifteen when he was first entered in the university, and being a youth of a great deal of fire, and a more than ordinary application to his studies, it gave his conversation a very particular turn. He

had too much spirit to hold his tongue in company; but at the same time so little acquaintance with the world, that he did not know how to talk like other people.

2. After a year and a half's stay at the university, he came down among us, to pass away a month or two in the country. The first night after his arrival as we were at supper, we were all of us very much improved by Jack's table-talk. He told us, upon the appearance of a dish of wild-fowl, that according to the opinion of some natural philosophers, they might be lately come from the moon.

3. Upon which the Sparkler bursting out into a laugh, he insulted her with several questions, relating to the bigness and distance of the moon and stars; and after every interrogatory would be winking upon me, and smiling at his sister's ignorance. Jack gained his point; for the mother was pleased, and all the servants stared at the learning of their young master. Jack was so encouraged at this success, that for the first week he dealt wholly in paradoxes. It was a common jest with him to pinch one of his sisters lap-dogs, and afterwards prove he could not feel it.

4. When the girls were sorting a set of knots, he would demonstrate to them that all the ribbons were of the same colour; or rather, says Jack, of no colour at all. My Lady Lizard herself, though she was not a little pleased with her son's improvements, was one day almost angry with him; for, having accidentally burnt her fingers as she was lighting her lamp for her tea-pot, in the midst of her anguish, Jack laid hold of the opportunity to instruct her that there was no such thing as heat in fire. In short, no day passed over our heads, in which Jack did not imagine he made the whole family wiser than they were before.

5. That part of his conversation which gave me the most pain, was what passed among those country gentlemen that came to visit us. On such occasions Jack usually took upon him to be the mouth of the company; and thinking himself obliged to be very merry, would entertain us with a great many odd sayings and absurdities of their college cook. I found this fellow had made a very strong impression upon Jack's imagination, which he never considered was not the case of the rest of the company, till after many repeated trials he found that his stories seldom made any body laugh but himself.

6. I all this while looked upon Jack as a young tree shooting out into blossom before its time; the redundancy of which, though it was a little unseasonably, seemed to foretel an uncommon fruitfulness.

In order to wear out the vein of pedantry, which ran through his conversation, I took him out with me one evening, and first of all, insinuated to him this rule, which I had myself learned from a very great author, "To think with the wise, but talk with the vulgar." Jack's good sense soon made him reflect that he had exposed himself to the laughter of the ignorant by a contrary behaviour; upon which he told me, that he would take care for the future to keep his notions to himself, and converse in the common received sentiments of mankind.

7. He at the same time desired me to give him any other rules of conversation, which I thought might be for his improvement. I told him I would think of it; and accordingly as I have a particular affection for the young man, I gave him the next morning the following rules in writing, which may, perhaps have contributed to make him the agreeable man he now is.

8. The faculty of interchanging our thoughts with one another, or what we express by the word conversation, has always been represented by moral writers, as one of the noblest privileges of reason, and which more particularly sets mankind above the brute part of the creation.

Though nothing so much gains upon the affections as this extempore eloquence, which we have constantly occasion for, and are obliged to practice every day, we very rarely meet with any who excel in it.

9. The conversation of most men is disagreeable, not so much for want of wit and learning, as of good-breeding and discretion.

It is not in every man's power, perhaps, to have fine parts, say witty things, or tell a story agreeably; but every man may be polite if he pleases, at least to a certain degree. Politeness has infinitely more power to make us esteemed, and our company sought after, than the most extraordinary parts or attainments we can be master of. These seldom fail to create envy, and envy has always some ill will in it.

10. If you resolve to please, never speak to gratify any