board.

If you are sick yourself, say as little about it as possible. And never
allude to it at table, where you will receive little sympathy, and perhaps
render yourself disgusting to all who hear you. At no time talk about it
to gentlemen. Many foolish commonplace sayings are uttered by ladies who
attempt to describe the horrors of seasickness. For instance this: "I felt
all the time as if I wished somebody to take me up and throw me
overboard." This is untrue--no human being ever really _did_ prefer
drowning to seasickness.

A piano never sounds well on shipboard--the cabins are too small and the
ceilings too low. To the sick and nervous (and all who are seasick become
very nervous) this instrument is peculiarly annoying. Therefore, be kind
enough to spare them the annoyance. You can practise when the weather is
fine, and the invalids are on deck. Pianos have been abolished in many of
the finest ships. Such instruments as can be carried on deck and played in
the open air are, on the contrary, very delightful at sea, when in the
hands of good performers--particularly on a moonlight evening.

Things Not to Do.

Slapping a gentleman with your handkerchief, or tapping him with your fan.
Allowing him to take a ring off your finger, to look at it. Permitting him
to unclasp your bracelet, or, still worse, to inspect your brooch. When
these ornaments are to be shown to another person always take them off for
the purpose.

Introductions.

Where the company is large, the ladies of the house should have tact
enough to avoid introducing and placing together persons who cannot
possibly assimilate, or take pleasure in each other's society. The dull
and the silly will be far happier with their compeers. To a woman of
talent and a good conversationalist it is a cruelty to put her
unnecessarily in contact with stupid or unmeaning people. She is wasted
and thrown away upon such as are neither amusing nor amusable. Neither is
it well to bring together a gay, lively woman of the world, and a solemn,
serious, repulsive dame, who is a contemner of the world and all its
enjoyments.

Avoid giving invitations to bores. They will come without.

We saw no less a person than Charles Dickens compelled at a large party to
devote the whole evening to writing autographs for a multitude of young
ladies--many of whom, not satisfied with obtaining one of his signatures
for themselves, desired half a dozen others for "absent friends." All