I remember a judge of a supreme court once gave me custards, at a similar entertainment.  The family we had gone to see, were perhaps a little too elegant for such a set-out, for I had seen them in Rome with mi-lordi and monsignori, at their six o’clock dinners; but the quiet good sense with which everybody dropped into their own distinctive habits at home, caused me to make a comparison between them and ourselves, much to the disadvantage of the latter.  I do not mean that usages ought not to change, but that usages should be consistent with themselves, and based on their general fitness and convenience for the society for which they are intended.  This is good sense, which is commonly not only good-breeding, but high-breeding.

The Genevois are French in their language, in their literature, and consequently in many of their notions.  Still they have independence enough to have hours, habits, and rules of intercourse that they find suited to their own particular condition.  The fashions of Paris, beyond the point of reason, would scarcely influence them; and the answer would probably be, were a discrepancy between the customs pointed out, “that the usage may suit Paris, but it does not suit Geneva.”  How is it with, us?  Our women read in novels and magazines, that are usually written by those who have no access to the society they write about, and which they oftener caricature than describe, that people of quality in England go late to parties; and they go late to parties, too, to be like English people of quality.  Let me make a short comparison, by way of illustration.  The English woman of quality, in town, rises at an hour between nine and twelve.  She is dressed by her maid, and if there are children, they are brought to her by a child’s maid:  nourishing them herself is almost out of the question.  Her breakfast is eaten between eleven and one.  At three or four she may lunch.  At four she drives out; at half-past seven she dines.  At ten she begins to think of the evening’s amusement, and is ready for it, whatever it may be, unless it should happen to be the opera, or the theatre, (the latter being almost proscribed as vulgar), when she necessarily forces herself to hours a little earlier.  She returns home, between one and four, is undressed by her maid, and sleeps until ten or even one, according to circumstances.  These are late hours, certainly, and in some respects unwise; but they have their peculiar advantages, and, at all events, they are consistent with themselves.

In New York, the house is open for morning visits at twelve, and with a large straggling town, bad attendance at the door, and a total want of convenience in public vehicles, unless one travels in a stage-coach, yclept an omnibus, it is closed at three, for dinner. Sending a card would be little short of social treason.  We are too country-bred for such an impertinence.  After dinner, there is an interval of three hours,