It is to be hoped that when a man commits the rudeness of passing into a room before a lady instead of giving her the precedence, it is from forgetfulness.  Certainly I have frequently been the amazed witness of this proceeding.  Forgetfulness, too, may be the cause of a man’s tilting back his chair until it sways backward and forward, meantime burying his hands in the depths of his trousers pockets.  But such thoughtlessness is, in itself, discourtesy.  No man or woman has a right to be absorbed in his or her affairs to the extent of forgetting what is due to other people.

The tricks of manner and speech contracted by a boy or young man should be noticed and corrected by mother or sister before they become confirmed habits.  Such are touching a lady on arm or shoulder to attract her attention, inquiring “What say?” or “Is that so?” to indicate surprise, glancing at the addresses on letters given him to mail, and consulting his watch in company.  It would be difficult to find a better rule for courtesy with which to impress a boy or girl than the advice written by William Wirt to his daughter: 

“The way to make yourself pleasing to others is to show that you care for them.  The world is like the miller at Mansfield ’who cared for nobody, no, not he, because nobody cared for him.’  And the whole world will serve you so if you give it the same cause.  Let all, therefore, see that you do care for them, by showing what Sterne so happily calls ‘the small sweet, courtesies of life,’ in which there is no parade, whose voice is to still, to ease; and which manifest themselves by tender and affectionate looks, and little kind acts of attention, giving others the preference in every little enjoyment at the table, walking, sitting or standing.”

There is one gross breach of good breeding which can hardly be due to inattention.  There is a homely proverb to the effect that one “should wash her dirty linen at home,” and it is to the violation of this advice that I refer.  Discussing home matters, complaining of the actions of members of your family, or confiding their faults or shortcomings to an outsider, even though she be your dearest friend, is as great an act of discourtesy as it is contrary to all the instincts of family love and loyalty.  Your father may be a hypocrite, your mother a fool of the Mrs. Nickleby stamp, your brother a dissipated wretch, and your sister a professional shop-lifter, while your husband combines the worst characteristics of the entire family—­but as long as you pretend to be on speaking terms with them, stand up for them against all the rest of the world; and if matters have come to such a pass that you have severed all connection with them, let a proper pride for yourself and consideration for the person to whom you are talking deter you from acknowledging their faults.  These persons are members of your family—­that should be enough to keep you forever silent as to their peccadilloes or sins.  But, if you do not feel this, for politeness’ sake refrain from making your listener supremely uncomfortable by your complaints.  No true lady will so far forget her innate ladyhood as to be guilty of this rudeness.