the old societies of Europe of many of their savage and silly notions.  The cord stretched between the guests and the performers used to be a feature of musical entertainments at private houses.  Grisi went once to sing at a concert given by the duke of Wellington at his country-seat.  The old man asked her when she would dine.  “Oh, when you do,” she said.  He saw her mistake and did not correct it; so it happened that she dined at the same table with the guests, and the incident, it is said, excited considerable horror among people of the old sort.  Think how barbarous, how savage, how utterly uncivilized, is such an instinct!  Women, of course, persecute each other, but it seems inconceivable that a man and a gentleman could have entertained such a sentiment.

Of course, a supper at a concert is just the same as at a ball, only there are fewer people and more leisure.  The prince of Wales, and to a less degree the other royalties, move among the throng and make a point of speaking to any one to whom they wish to be civil.  “The Prince,” as he is commonly called, takes advantage of the suppers at balls and parties to make himself agreeable.  The rule is, let me remind the reader, to wait until the prince addresses you before speaking, and to wait also for him, when in conversation, to turn away:  it would be considered very rude to terminate the interview yourself.  A subject in talking with the prince is always expected to call him “Sir.”  The queen is addressed as “Ma’am.”  It is not understood in this country that to call a man “sir” is a confession of your inferiority to him.  But it is so in England, and the fact illustrates the strong hold these absurd and uncomfortable egotisms have upon the British mind.  No gentleman in England says “sir” to another, unless it be a very young person to an old one. [1] A subordinate in an office might “sir” a superior, but he would not “sir” a man of the same rank as his superior with whom he had no connection.  “Sir” is the term applied by any Englishman of whatever rank to a member of the royal family.  Our committees, when princes visit America, usually address them in notes as “Your Royal Highness.”  But “Your Royal Highness” is not a vocative:  it can be used only in the third person.  However, the princes are then in America, and perhaps we are under no obligation to know everything of their ways at home.  Should the reader ever meet a prince in that prince’s country, I should advise him to do just as other people do there.  He will probably question, and not unreasonably, if he should accept the implied inferiority; but the best of all principles for extempore action is to do what seems the usual thing, unless we have previously decided from mature consideration to do the unusual thing.  It is not the prince’s fault that he is a prince:  he means to be civil to you, and you can do no good by making him and yourself uncomfortable.  Indeed, a truculent person does not succeed in asserting his