dictate, and, without your permission, calls you
in public or in private by your first name, you need not hesitate to
drop him from your list of intimates. He is neither a gentleman nor
does he respect you as you deserve. He may be, in his way, an
estimable man, but it is not in _your_ way, and he belongs to the rank
of very ordinary acquaintanceship.

If a man asks you to call him by his first name, and your friendship
with him justifies it, do not hesitate to do so; but if he is the
"finished" article, he will not imagine that this concession on your
part gives him the right to drop unbidden the "Miss" or "Mrs." from
_your_ name.

A true gentleman does not speak of a lady, even his betrothed, to
strangers without what boys call "the handle" to her name. Nor should
a woman mention men by their last names only. When a young or elderly
woman speaks of "Smith," "Brown" or "Jones," you may make up your mind
that the last coat of varnish was neglected when she was "finished."

Always be cautious in making advances toward familiarity. Be certain
that your friendship is desired before going more than halfway. Not
long ago I heard a woman say gravely of an uncongenial acquaintance
whose friendship had been forced upon her:

"She is certainly my _familiar_ friend. We can never be _intimate_."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

OUR STOMACHS.

In the best grades of society it is not now considered a sign of
refinement to be "delicate." When our grandmothers, and even our
mothers, were girls, robust health was esteemed almost a vulgarity.
Now, the woman who is pale and "delicate" is not an interesting
invalid, but sometimes an absolute bore. There are exceptions to this
rule of pride in _in_delicate health,--notably among the lower
classes. These people having neglected and set at defiance all
hygienic rules, feel that a mark of special distinction is set upon
them by their diseases. In fact, they "enjoy poor health," and take
all occasions to discourse to the willing or disgusted listener upon
their "symptoms," "disorders," their "nerves," and "Complaints." The
final word should be spelt with a huge C, so important a place does
it occupy in their estimation. The three D's which should be rigidly
excluded from polite conversation--Domestics, Dress and Diseases--form
the staple of their conversation. And the greatest of these is
Diseases.

A farmer's daughter, whose rosy cheeks and plump figure elicited from
me a gratulatory comm