atic spirit
preserved, which is the real essence of good manners. True democracy
consists in bringing each man out, not in reducing him to a common
level of inanity. Good manners consist in showing him respect for what
is worthy of respect in him, treating him as a rational human being,
not as a mere social unit who deposits his hard-won opinions, along
with his hat and stick, in the care of the butler when he enters the
house.

That is why men have, as a rule, better manners than women, though
they are far less polite. A man respects the judgment of a specialist
on any given subject, and he is rather intolerant of the snap
judgments of the dabbler or the dilettante. He listens, if forced to,
with unconcealed impatience to the babbling of his pretty neighbor at
table about art, perhaps, or engineering, or some other topic
concerning which her ignorance is as profound as her cocksureness is
lofty. But, after all, to be polite to her is to insult a whole race
of engineers or artists! Put one of them beside him, and see how
readily he will listen.

Politeness too often consists of shamming. Good manners are the
absence of sham. It is not the gentleman's place, certainly, to insult
the lady. Good manners seldom go quite so far as that. But even
politeness cannot expect him to endure the torture for more than a
limited time, especially if the topic chosen chances to be his own
specialty. It is his place to lead the conversation, as gently as
possible, back upon more neutral ground, where he may find what
consolation he can in sprightly personalities--while praying for the
coffee.

I enjoy the privilege of acquaintance with a very charming person, who
has never paid a compliment to her sex except by being a woman. Some
of her sex say that she is a delightful hostess and very beautiful.
Others say that she is atrociously rude, and they "can't see what it
is people admire in her." Most men adore her. She herself says that
the only people she cares to entertain are those who have earned their
own living. Her reasons are, I believe, interesting and significant.

She earns her own living, I may state, and a very considerable one,
for she is famous and highly successful in her branch of artistic
endeavor. Socially, one may say of her, in that atrocious phrase which
implies a queer jumble of values, that she is "very much in demand."
But, though a man in livery opens her front door, the street-cars
bring quite as many guests t