ired off when dinner was announced. It was like a _coup de theatre_,
every man and woman knowing his or her exact rank and precedency, and
the time when to move. This business of getting out of a drawing-room to
a dinner-table is often one of difficulty, though less frequently in
France than in most other European countries, on account of the
admirable tact of the women, who seldom suffer a knotty point to get the
ascendancy, but, by choosing the gentlemen for themselves, settle the
affair off hand. From their decision, of course, there is no appeal. In
order that in your simplicity you may not mistake the importance of this
moment, I will relate an anecdote of what lately occurred at a dinner
given by an English functionary in Holland.

When William invaded England, in 1688, he took with him many Dutch
nobles, some of whom remained, and became English peers. Among others,
he created one of his followers an Irish earl; but choosing to return to
Holland, this person was afterwards known as the Count de ----, although
his Irish rank was always acknowledged. It happened that the wife of the
descendant of this person was present at the entertainment in question.
When dinner was announced, the company remarked that the master of the
house was in a dilemma. There was much consultation, and a delay of near
half an hour before the matter was decided. The debated point was,
whether Madame de ---- was to be considered as a Dutch or an Irish
countess. If the latter, there were English ladies present who were
entitled to precede her; if the former, as a stranger, she might get
that advantage herself. Luckily for the rights of hospitality, the Dutch
lady got the best of it.

These things sound absurd, and sometimes they are so; but this social
drilling, unless carried to extremes, is not without its use. In
America, I have always understood that, on such occasions, silent laws
of etiquette exist in all good company, which are founded on propriety
and tact. The young give way to the old, the undistinguished to the
distinguished, and he who is at home to the stranger. These rules are
certainly the most rational, and in the best taste, when they can be
observed, and, on the whole, they lead perhaps to the fewest
embarrassments; always so, if there happen to be none but the well-bred
present, since seats become of little consideration where no importance
is attached to them. I confess to some manoeuvring in my time, to get
near, or awa