HERE are many points that call for recapitulation as axioms of etiquette. We shall mention them as we would recite the Decalogue, without comment. Never look over the shoulder of a friend who is reading, nor examine a card basket that stands on your friend's table, unless you are asked. Never try by furtive signals to call the attention of another, when you are in company, nor cultivate habits of whispering and mystery. Attend to your toilet at home, and you will not need to pick your teeth, or your nose, pare your nails, or scratch your head in the drawing-room while making calls. Never reveal to another the secrets of your friend, even though he may have used you badly; the violation of confidence injures you more than him.

Remove your hat when you enter the house, whether your own house or that of a friend, and let your manner be quiet, restful and easy.

Never boast of your knowledge, nor tell another that he is unacquainted with the rules of good society; never open another person's door without knocking, nor occupy the business hours of any man without sufficient cause.

Never break an engagement with whomsoever made. If you have done wrong, whether intentionally or not, tender an apology, and receive an apology from another, with amplest courtesy.

Be punctual as to time, precise as to payment, honest and thoughtful in all your transactions, whether with rich or poor. The poorest gift your friend can offer deserves your praise for the giver's sake.

Respect your friends and give them their title, or prefix, whenever you name them to others, though you will not use the prefix in their company. To speak of your friend as “Derby,” or “George,” bespeaks your want of ton.

Tell the truth, even at the cost of dullness, if you cannot amuse without exaggeration.

Personal comments are never admired by gentlemen, however bright may be the humor, or keen the sarcasm of the culprit.

If a lady needs your aid, even though she be a stranger, do what may be required, and think yourself honored by her thanks. If she wishes to pass, you stand aside, raise your hat, incline your body, and show the manners of good society, without the affectation of the dancing master. The ladv will bow her acknowledgments of your courtesy. Care for your dress before you enter society, but after that think only of your friends.

Be mindful of others, and give the best seat in your room to a lady, an aged person, or an invalid.

Ask no questions about the affairs of your friend, unless he wants your advice. What you must know ask from him, never from his child or his servant.

When you call on your friends, remain if an interesting conversation is onward, until the completion of the theme permits courteous departure.

The seat assigned to you by your hostess you may not resign to another.

Converse with a lady on the topics she may choose, even though she may select domestic sorrows; but never relate your troubles to another, if you hope to be interesting. Ladies seldom make confidants of gentlemen friends.

You may make inexpensive presents to a lady to whom

you are neither related nor engaged, and may receive similar tokens; but expensive interchanges provoke comment that should be avoided.

When you enter a room, bow to the company in general and you are then free to recognize and salute your friends in particular.

When you take your seat at a table, bow politely to the person who presides.

Before you enter company, remove all offensive odors.

Send presents when you think fit, without trading for rich returns, and do not magnify their worth, nor foolishly pretend they have no value.

Mention your wife or your husband with respect in your most familiar references, and never mention your pet names to others.

Courtesy to ladies in every rank is one mark by which gentlemen are known.

Familiarity among friends comes by long use, but may not be granted on a brief acquaintance, whose prefix must be used on fit occasions.

Books borrowed must be returned unmarked and uninjured, at the time named for their replacement.

The personal deformity or mental peculiarity of your friend should pass unmentioned, as though you had no idea of their existence.

Those below you in social rank have the same claim on your courtesy as your peers in station. You are polite, being a gentleman.

Avoid affectation and eccentricity, and still more decidedly eschew imitation, except in the fullest cultivation of natural powers.

Pomposity of manner frequently obscures genuine worth.

Should wealth slip from you, prudently retire from the social grade which altered circumstances incapacitate you to uphold.

Acquire knowledge, and it will remove from your manner all signs of pedantry.

Pointed contradictions are unwise and rude, even though the statement to which you demur may be wrong.

Scholarship is fine, but it does not atone for ill breeding.

Gentlemen never disparage the other sex by word or deed.

Better solitude than base associations.

Egotism, though not actually a vice, is a fault almost as injurious.

The use of the cuspidor in a drawing-room reveals the manners of the camp.

Enter your room like a gentleman, though you have no company. Cultivate respect for yourself, and you will move gently, noiselessly, and with dignity, even when your haste is most urgent.

None but the uncultivated would offer a partner in the dance an ungloved hand, as it savors of intentional disrespect.

In company your movements should imply ease, blended with deference, respect for your friends, and modest confidence in your own powers.

Your friends may reasonably think you slight them when you fail to call.

The commission you have undertaken in courtesy is more incumbent than a business obligation, and your note book must secure attention.

Careless and trivial remarks will kill the warmest friendship.

Coughing, sneezing, and all such natural actions, should be subdued by a strong will, considerate for the comfort of others.

Conversation about your own doings and powers shows ill breeding.

“Wine is a mocker;” no man should be urged to drink.

The book that has been loaned to you is not yours to lend.