SECOND OOPV, 1899. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Chap...'. Copyright No. Sheif.„!l^_. V UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/tactotheressaysOOsanb TACT. The Temple Series* Dainty cloth bindings. Illustrated. Price, S5 cents each, postpaid, GOLDEN COUNSELS. Dwight L. Moody. WELL-BUILT. Rev. Theodore L. Cuyler, D. D. HELPS UPWARD. Rev. Wayland Hoyt, D. D. A FENCE OF TRUST. {Poems.) Mary F. Butts. PLUCK AND PURPOSE. William M. Thayer. LITTLE SERMONS FOR ONE. Amos R. Wells. WISE LIVING. Rev. George C. Lorimer, D. D. THE INDWELLING GOD. Rev. Charles A. Dickinson, D. D. TACT. Kate Sanborn. ANSWERED! Rev. J. Wilbur Chapman, D. D., Rev. R. A. Torrey, D. D., Rev. C. H. Yatman, Rev. Edgar E. Davidson, Thomas E. Murphy, and Rev. A. C. Dixon, D. D. In preparation, volumes by Rev. James Stalker, D. D., and Rev. F. W. Gunsaulus, D. D. United Society of Christian Endeavor. Boston and Chicago. KATE SANBORN. ' %,,^^e^S^^(r^'^^S^J>%J220^^^^'^:^s,^ ' Tact and Other Essays Kate Sanborn United Society of Christian Endeavor Boston and Chicago T3 38234 Copyright, i8gg BY THE United Society of Christian Endeavor ■ ViD COF i £: <3 i-< ii 'w „ s V £ ij - /^ {'"'■ ;.ud8 ) Colonicd Press : Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Shnonds &^ Co. Boston, Mass., U. S. A. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. Tact as a Virtue 7 11. Making Friends of Books . . .16 III. Fashion and How Far to Follow It . 24 rv. Two Ways of Taking Sorrow . .31 V. The Art of Making Gifts . . .38 TACT. I. TACT AS A VIRTUE. *IACT is a virtue ; yes, and not only a virtue, but a necessity, if you want to be agreeable, influential, and be- loved in this world, where all are more or less egotistic, sensitive, long- ing for kindness, and quick to take offence or feel hurt. " What do you suppose that young Smilax said to me yesterday at Mrs. Poinscttia's reception ? " asked a friend of me. Of course I could not even imagine the enormity of his offence, and she explained. " You remember the society column of The Evening Catchet announced that I was quite indisposed last week. I saw that dreadful Miss Snapitup at the door, and sent down word I had a ' very severe headache.' Well, T should have 8 TACT. had one if she had got in. And, as I greeted that disgusting Smilax, he said in his smart and pretentious way, ' Why, I'm really rejoiced to see you out, Mrs. Prospew, and just as handsome and rosy as ever. I noticed that you were unable to receive last Wednesday, and I said to myself only yesterday, " Now shall I buy a big bunch of Russian violets for dear Mrs. Prospew, or go to Young's for a good dinner for myself ? " ' And, smiling broadly as if he were the prince of humor, ' I decided to take in the dinner.' I said, ' You are very thoughtful, Mr. Smilax,' and passed on. He will never be admitted to my house after such a display of selfishness and utter lack of tact." " But," said I, after a good laugh at the situa- tion, " I have worse things than that said to me very often, and by people of high position and unusual culture. For instance, I gave a large reception last week, and several dear friends received with me ; the ' pourers ' were four pretty young girls, who were charmingly gowned, and they did prove a decided attraction. One ex- ceedingly distinguished and scholarly man re- turned to us after enjoying a cup of coffee and the prettiness of my lovely assistants, and in- quired very distinctly, ' How is it that you have all the youth, grace, and beauty in the other TACT AS A VIRTUE. 9 room ? ' And, looking down upon me, rendered absurdly broad by the enormous sleeves now a necessity, he added, ' You seem a good deal stouter than when we last met.' And obesity is my horror, the enemy I continually fight. He was utterly unconscious of his blunders, and evidently was pleased with his own wit." Tact is literally, to all, a delicacy of manipula- tion ; some have it as a natural gift ; with others, it is thoughtfulness cultivated ; and there are some good-natured blunderers, who are utterly destitute of this desirable quality, and never can attain it, reminding me of my big St. Bernard, who switches his magnificent plumed tail in my face for joy at being let out, or knocks me down when darting past me to chase a cat, but who would not hurt me for the world. I wonder whether I have more of these tact- less speeches made to me than are made to most people. An artist, who had not been a great success, and was changing his specialty from landscapes to portraits, trying to better his for- tune, remarked ingenuously to me that he had been deliberating whether or not to ask me to sit to him for a picture. He did not know whether I was really sufficiently well known to make the work pay, as an advertisement of his art, of course ! When one realizes what a tedious bore 10 TACT. it would be to " sit " twice a week for some time, in grand toilet and uncomfortable pose, trying to look easy and fascinating, but feeling stiff and tired and unhappy, it did seem preposterous audacity, the height of self-engrossed boorish- ness. But he felt that he was paying me a very pretty compliment. A literary friend sitting near me at a large lunch party said, when I remarked on the wonder- ful longevity of a relative, " She must be pretty old to be your grandmother," I laughed with the others, nor did I retort saucily, as I should have done years ago, that some one had asked me lately whether that lanky woman that went everywhere with Jack Pastel was his wife or his mother. Yes, I saw the point, and felt it also ; for no woman likes to be publicly twitted about her advancing years. Such jocosity is neither wit nor tact. Tact is sometimes better than talent or genius in winning one's way, and the lack of it has ruined the fortunes of many a young man and yomig woman who have wondered and lamented hopelessly over their lack of luck. An old clergyman, always more devoted to scriptural research and exegesis in his study than to pastoral duties, once surprised a friend of mine by calling early in the afternoon, and TACT AS A VIRTUE. 11 remained chatting most agreeably for half an hour. She began to repent of her bitter remarks and severe censures of his indifference to his flock, when he rose, and remarked, " Well, I j,niess the mail will be open by this time ; they told me it was thirty minutes late, so I dropped in here to wait." By his utter lack of tact he lost the credit of a call, and provoked a sensitive parishioner still more by using her parlor and taking her time while he waited for his letters. Once after performing the marriage ceremony for a rosebud of a girl, the pet of the village, a^d a noble, scholarly physician, who justly felt that no honor could be too great for his darling, Tie had the good taste to kiss her beautiful lips appreciatively, and then more than spoiled the effect of the compliment by turning round with a sonorous hawk, and spitting in the fire ! The bride tells of that bit of boorishness to-day with unfailing mirth, although she is now a gray- haired widow. At the funeral of a lamented saint he once selected a hymn as inappropriate as " Laden with guilt and many woes, Down to the grave the sinner goes." He is long since dead himself. His learning is forgotten, while his bad manners are still 12 TACT. talked about and laughed over. Better less solitary erudition and more practical tact. You have heard of the two wise men consulted by a Sultan when distressed by a dream. One explained it as an evil omen, that it meant that the Sultan would see all his kindred die. The wise man's head was soon off. The second de- clared that the omen was most beneficent, " for it means, Sultan, long life to thee, so long that thou shalt outlive all of thy kin." He was richly rewarded. A lady, disappointed by the failure of the most distinguished artist to appear at her musical en- tertainment, called upon a young lady to sing, who was still a pupil, but unusually gifted. After much persuasion she reluctantly consented from pure amiability. As she left, madam blandly remarked, " Thank you, dear, for trying to sing." Some good people pride themselves on their frankness and strict adherence to truth, and suc- ceed in making themselves abhorred for their inexcusable, cruel bluntness. If a pretty girl, waking on her wedding morn, found that she had a disfiguring cold-sore or pimple on lips or nose, how many of her friends would have the tact not to notice it ? There are yet others who seem to delight in bringing up sad family histories, loss of money TACT AS A VIRTUE. 13 or reputation, lugging out the worst old skeleton of all, and giving it a savage rattle, probing old wounds, piercing sorrowing hearts by severe crit- icism on dead friends. Truth is a dangerous weapon in the hands of a tactless and heartless person. Even a cat objects to being rubbed the wrong way. Children should be carefully and daily trained in this virtue, which emanates from the Golden Rule. Then there would be less friction in fami- lies and more harmony in social life. " I hate you," said a Beacon Street dame the other day to an old friend who was calling on her. " Yes, I hate you, because you don't grow old, and I do." Better to learn the " art of put- ting things," and say, « Do tell me the secret of perpetual youth, for you certainly possess it," and give a pretty and truthful compliment instead of a verbal blow. How quickly defects and fading charms and lack of success are noted and emphasized by our dearest friends! Invalids are especial martyrs to the lack of tact ; every year many are killed by brutal truths, or by lack of tenderness, or by a feeling that they are a burden. " Tack," one woman pronounces it, and it is a good way, for it is often a duty to tack and veer and change our course to avoid collision. 14 TACT. " Does the grave look pleasant to you ? " in- quired a sympathetic visitor of a nervous suf- ferer, who was hoping to regain health. An aunt of mine, in a dangerous condition from dropsy, received this cheering remark from a lady that dropped in to cheer her up : " Dear me ! How dreadfully you do look ! I do hope and pray that you'll die before you burst ! " These people were both well educated, well meaning, and religious ; and I have no doubt that every reader can recall remarks equally devoid of de- cency from the same kind of people. In home life tact is the lubricant, the oiled feather, that makes all the complicated machin- ery glide smoothly. Do not laugh at little Nell's red head, or Tom's big nose, or tell your wife that she toes in, or does not do her hair up as becomingly as that stylish Mrs. Fritter from the city. Do not lose your temper over discussion of religion or politics. Learn to admire rather than criticise, to say something pleasant instead of finding fault. When rebuked yourself, turn the tables with a compliment ; like the aged Fontenelle, who was reproached by a pretty girl for not looking as he passed by her. " If I had looked^ I should not have passed ! " said the gallant nonagenarian. Tact in diplomatic life attains the dignity of TACT AS A VIRTUE. 15 an art. But for our every-day existence let us all try to cultivate it as a virtue, following Longfellow, who wrote in his journal at the be- ginning of a new year, " We have but one life here on earth ; we must make that beautiful." II. MAKING FRIENDS OF BOOKS. ;HEN one writes about books as friends, comforters, teachers, guides, or as the means of actual support, he or she usually quotes too largely from what wise men and women have said on the subject. Would all that mass of quotation really influence one person to make friends of books ? I want to be entirely prac- tical, and hope to rouse not a few young people so that they will consider what it is best for them to do in regard to books, and then will begin to do it at once. Being "bookish" or pedantic is simply being a bore, and impertinently tedious. There are too many apparently anxious to tell all they know of a subject, no matter how they tire their audience, who, possibly, are fully as well in- formed on the same theme. One woman that I remember used to read, read, read, and then talk, talk, talk, on what she 16 MAKING FRIENDS OF BOOKS. 17 had read, read, read. She crammed for effect. She used books as politicians use their friends, to climb up by them to fame and distinction. She enjoyed the brilliant, unending monologue, but we were martyrs. Horace Walpole was at one time her idol ; his life, his letters, his sayings, his home, his inti- mates — she seemed to have the entire seven volumes committed to memory. No one could wedge in a remark, or stop the torrent. But at one dinner party she was courteously, but firmly, squelched by the accomplished hostess, who re- marked, as the guest opened the floodgates, and was endeavoring to fix all present with her glit- tering eye, " Excuse me, madam ; but we are all familiar with Walpole's memoirs, and I prefer more general conversation at my table." It was severe, but such egotistic display of knowledge requires heroic treatment. I recollect Judge Chase's warning to me when entering a dining-room, — " Don't, I beg of you, mention TJie Atlantic Moyithly.'''' I had uncon- sciously bored him and many others by constant quotation from that favorite magazine. Avoid too large an acquaintance with new books ; like new friends, they may prove worth- less or dangerous or tiresome. I carefully avoid the ponderous fiction in two or three volumes 18 TACT. laboriously evolved to illustrate conscientiously some modern phases of religious or irreligious thought, or the home embarrassments brought into view by the " new woman " invention ; I am proud to say that I do not, and will not, attempt to read anything but what I am so in- terested in that I must read it. Most authors write themselves out. Why waste precious hours on their failures, feeble reiterations of one great success ? Why pore over the pages of a book like George Moore's " Esther Waters," which is devoted to portraying the sins and suf- ferings and coarse, bestial lives of low, bad, vulgar people that we should avoid in real life ? Omnivorous devouring of an immense number of books, in a careless, half-skipping way, de- stroys the mind's power of holding what is worth keeping. Last week a lady made the same com- plaint to me that she has made for the last ten years, " My memory is worthless ; is n't it awful ? I studied about Spain one year, and last winter our club took up Italian art ; and now it has all gone. I look over the books I studied faithfully, and they are entirely new to me." We must plough deep channels in the brain for thought- seed, and allow the seed to germinate, not sow over and over till the result is hopelessly mixed and futile. MAKING FRIENDS OF BOOKS. 19 Never pretend to have read books; you will invariably be found out and ridiculed. Well, what do I approve ? What advice shall I give ? How shall a young man or woman make friends of books in the best way ? The easiest way to do this is to go " lustrating round," as my colored cook said of her minister, when pressed to give an account of a sermon. There called on me yesterday a young lady that has just graduated with high honors at college. She was given by the college the opportunity to study biology for a year, and is now a student at Dartmouth, delighting her in- structor by her excellent work. Her sister, still in college, excels in mathematics. Her brother is a civil engineer, vsddely known in this and other countries. It was to him that the directors of the World's Fair went when they needed a competent man to care for the water-supply, and told him to name his own price ; and it is said of him that in the various high positions that he has held " he has brought out results that com- mand the admii'ation of scientists and practical engineers wherever the English language is spoken." He is still a young man, modest, sincerely devoted to his home and all the farm interests, as if he were still busy there rather than in the laboratory and steadily winning fame. 20 TACT. I visited that home to-day, where these three children were brought up, and I questioned the mother, whose brilliant dark eyes revealed a noble soul and high aspirations, about her early methods of education. " Did you train a love of knowledge into their minds, or was it born there ? " She replied : " I began very early to read to each child, and I found it better to give them food just a little beyond them, rather than below their capacity. Every evening, before putting them to bed, I read for an hour." Ah, you see ? It was the mother that taught them to love books, showed them how to make "friends of books." But with rare common sense farm duties were made equally a part of the day's routine, and this was done in so wise a way, giving occasional rewards for cheerful labor, and occasionally sharing profits, that each child loves the farm, and each one knows all about the care of the bees and cows and hens and crops, the girls gladly relieving the mother of drudging tasks. If all mothers on farms or in city homes did but half as well, many a puz- zling and distressing problem would be solved. Some students, whose parents have made great exertions to give them a thorough education, seem spoiled by contact with books, and look MAKING FEIENBS OF BOOKS. 21 down on the old home and the old way of life, — a lamentable folly and sin. Such scholars are not real, and will never attain to great heights. When one uses books to climb up on, and then looks back with a sneer at former simplicity and the friends of humbler days, he is a pitiable fool and destined to failure. Then one must be careful not to make friends with the wrong kind of books. From the blood- curdling tales of highway desperadoes (which have lured many ignorant boys to escapades that led to imprisonment) to the seductive, immoral novel, or the erratic, erotic poetry of the free- thinking, " fleshly school," that gives a roseate view of life, where sin is the highest joy, and all that is criminal is applauded and defended — these are books that should be shunned as the deadliest poison, though, like the arsenic in wall- paper, their poison may not be seen or feared. Life is so short and books so numerous that you must early decide what you will do in some special department, and stay right there, or you will be like a child trying to grasp too many playthings. A person that has made friends with the best books is always welcomed in the best society, and can hold his own ; he can support himself, too, by their aid, for the world is always on the look- 22 TACT. out for genuine scholars. Poverty is no draw- back, but rather a spur. The boys that studied by firelight in other days made great men. The most successful men I know to-day were all poor boys, who made their own way. They would do anything to get through college, — groom horses, make gardens, be provider for a boarding-house, teach those that knew less. A college president, about twenty-five years ago, saw on his travels a bright-faced, barefooted boy, who attracted him. He asked the boy whether he would like an education. How those eyes flashed with eager response ! He was helped along, always a splendid scholar ; and to-day he is the leading lawyer in a large city, given many honors, and getting tremendous fees. He made friends with books. Now for a bit out of my own life, to hit the nail squarely on the head. I used to study only because I was made to, or to please my father, with no idea of the value of definite information, which is the key of success. One day father re- peated to me what he had just said to his class in literature, — " Young gentlemen, if you would listen attentively to these lectures, and make them your own, it would be worth a mine of gold for you to draw from. I am giving you a for- tune, if you will accept and prize it." MAKING FRIENDS OF BOOKS. 23 This sounded strange, and set me to thinking. What did I care for old Chaucer ? I liked better the conundrum connecting his honored name with a tough steak. And Spenser ? Old-fash- ioned, unreal, long-spun ! And Milton ? Awfully hard to read much of, like toiling up the pyra- mids ; and what would an acquaintance with these bygones ever amount to ? When I was suddenly called upon to earn my own support, or to begin to prepare myself for that, then how intensely I listened, how faithfully I followed suggestions ! These same old authors were my best friends. In fact, they made my fortune. I go to books when tired or nervous, and they rest and cheer me ; when worried and anxious, and cares are forgotten ; when I am ill or suffer- ing, they do me as much good as the doctor. They are always the same, never capricious, never " hurt," never censorious, never find fault, or gossip ; and between the covers of the right kind of books you will find the sure road to suc- cess. Select a subject, and stick to it, making friends of all the books on that theme ; then use the knowledge with enthusiasm and tact, and your success is certain. III. FASHION, AND HOW FAR TO FOLLOW IT. \¥ I answered honestly for myself, I should first change the pronoun from the neuter to the feminine gender, for Fashion, Dame Fashion, is to me a capricious woman, a person- ality, as mysterious and fully as potent as the unpopular " Mrs. Grundy," or individualized pub- lic opinion. It is unwise to have a contempt for either. The theme uses " apt alliteration's art- ful aid " ; so, imitating, I add, " Friends, never follow the far-fetched, fleeting, fantastic freaks ; the frivolous, farcical follies of Fashion ; with frantic fierceness flee from her finical fripper- ies ; find firm foundation, rather than fritter funds for fringes, frills, feathers, flounces, and frightful frocks, fancying you are fascinating, when you really are frumps, funny fools at finest functions, for all your furbelows and Frenchified fixings." 24 FASHION, AND HO W FAR TO FOLLOW IT. 25 " Shawls, ribbons, furs, and furbelows, And that's the way the money goes ! " And my answer ? I like to keep in the mid- dle of the long procession, my ambition in this respect being to dress so suitably as to be unno- ticed, yet leaving the impression of being con- versant with latest styles. " In medio tutissimus ihis,'^ — an old Latin proverb recalled from school-day studies in Yirgil also tells the story as plainly as any guideboard, — " You will go most safely in the middle." Much more difficult is it to answer the question for others. In a general way, shun extremes in color, mode, and cut; yet adhere to prevailing rules. Who make or set the fashion ? Sometimes royalty ; by an accident, as when the Prince of Wales left his gloves at home, from forgetful- ness, when hurrying to some formal reception, and no gloves for evening gayeties was the dictum for a season. The long, pointed toe, the unwieldy, ridiculous, tilting hoop, the im- mense sleeve, were all invented originally to con- ceal some deformity or defect. Or a woman of beauty, with style and a distinguished presence, appears in a most striking, dashy combination, and by her own powers of fascination makes the costume charming. This peculiar cut may 26 TACT. " hit " the public, and will be seen in most ex- pensive materials, and copied in cheaper and cheaper goods down to a cheviot at five cents a yard on " bargain Monday," at a counter for goods marked down, absolutely " slaughtered," owing to the securing of a large consignment at a recent fire in a neighboring city. Dressmakers, men and women, plan shrewdly to start styles, and then abandon them as " too common," necessitating fresh outlay. First, scant skirts, so that one's natural swing of step is im- peded, and stepping into a carriage is awkward business ; next, skirts five yards round ; then, overskirts. yes; first outside jackets tight as possible, not a pucker; another season, full plaits at the back. First long, then short, then the other way. It is all for trade, and to get our money ; and we poor, imposed-upon mortals, with no minds of our own, no courage, at any rate, to express them, meekly follow, dancing just as the piper plays. We submit to dangerous and disgusting burdens, like the bustle, which "they" are trying on us again, or skirts for summer travel that weigh five pounds, the weight principally in the back. We endure a " no-pocket regime," and make a bag do a pocket's duty. Imagine tailors withholding pockets from their patrons ! Do not let us fight FASHION, AND HOW FAR TO FOLLOW IT. 27 for the ballot until we dare to strike for one pocket. We are told by some reigning beauty, perhaps of a doubtful class, who is desirous of concealing ugly feet, that dresses must trail in dust and mire and snowy slush ; and a majority submit, gathering dirt, disease, disgusting refuse, under the hem of their garments. It is equally foolish to copy servilely and to lag behind in a superior, indifferent way, as if despising entirely the innovations of these anonymous leaders. I remember an eccentric old lady who used to go to church with a curi- ous coalhod of a bonnet, at least twenty years behind the times, and a shabby black shawl, on which was embroidered, " The fashion of this world passeth away." Her appearance was the signal for a series of grins and half-suppressed chuckles as she passed up the aisle, and her influence was for bad rather than good. I have had guests whose god was fashion, in dress, mannerisms, list of friends, location of summer residence, appointments of house and equipages ; and their conversation so wearied and hypnotized me that I almost lost conscious- ness while trying to keep up a simulation of interest, an intelligent and sympathetic expres- sion, in spite of drooping eyelids, as they went 28 TACT. on and on in this manner : " Yes, it 's strictly confidential to you, dear ; but I know Mary her- self would tell you. Her daughter is to marry next month, and such a splendid fellow ! Money, too, in plenty, so they can live in style. He 's a well-groomed, fashionable society success, good polo-player, is great at golf, leads a cotillon in high style ; in a word, he never makes a mistake in his necktie ; you know what I mean. It 's to be a swell wedding ; they are both in the smart set. The presents are beginning to pour in, the latest notions in silverware, all solid, of course. I'm going down, of course, to the wed- ding ; there will be a private car — quite swag- ger, you see — for Posie's special friends. I shall wear — well, you recollect that old-rose satin I brought over last fall (but Paris is al- ways one year ahead), trimmed with chiffon of lighter shade. No, you have n't seen me since. Well, dear, I have decided to make it a little more fashionable, and so found the most elegant lace, ten dollars a yard ; so you may guess," etc. terrible ! I begin to think of the short- ness, the uncertainty, of life, and how I should dread to be called away while .my mind was diluted with this drivel ! How different from another friend who comes FASHION, AND HOW FAR TO FOLLOW IT. 29 to bless me now and then! She has a way all her own of arranging her hair, and it suits her head and face. Most people look as if they never studied the side and back effect of hair- dressing or head-gear. She has not changed the fashion of her gown and cloak for a dozen years ; but they are always of handsome ma- terial, and well adapted to her face and figure. She does not suggest a fashion-plate, but she is quietly elegant, and looks as if she were some- body. Her conversation, never egotistic or petty, stirs and instructs, inspires, and stimulates, and makes me want to grow, and to look upward in growing. I believe it to be the duty of every man, woman, boy, and girl to look as attractive as possible. Young people must be allowed pretty little additions to their toilet. The middle-aged must not grow careless and penurious, or indif- ferent to the great effect of becoming attire, at home as well as when out in society. Old peo- ple, who have plenty of time to adorn and beau- tify themselves, should never lose their interest in " dressing up " to please the home circle, nor should they give up all the lovely colors to youth, and wander round in solemn blacks and grays, as if only waiting for the grave. Funeral fashions, and the prevailing style of 30 TACT. public, expensive, gift-compelling weddings, I should like to decry. There are fashions in using certain words and phrases. Just now we often read about a " far cry," " in touch with," " along the line," etc. " In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold, Alike fantastic if too new or old : Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside." It is easy to moralize, very easy for me to tell others all this. Let me confess that I always used to lean to fussy trimmings and colors far too showy, until taught by artistic friends that I should use subdued and' cooling tints as a back- ground for my florid face, and that the more simply I dressed, the better the effect. And I am still learning. IV. TWO WAYS OF TAKING SORROW. " Adjust ourselves to loss, make friends with pain, Bind all our shattered hopes, and bid them bloom again." ^E all, in our college days, thought of Mrs. Boardman as a most saintly and religious woman, a little too exact in speech, a little too stately and formal in manner, for young people to like to be with her much ; but that she had the sanctifying grace of God in her heart was never doubted. To tell the plain truth, she was rather avoided for her very extreme goodness, " piosity," one of the girls called it ; but we were all delighted to find any excuse, however flimsy, to get to dear Mrs. Downs's cosey parlor. She was always so bright and enlivening, with her merry, sweet-voiced wel- come and off-hand style of conversation ! O yes, " Aunt Fanny " was " perfectly lovely," " an old dear," and we tried her patience beyond 31 32 TACT. all limits, without doubt, with our egotistic com- plaints and experiences. She deserved an aure- ole, as I look back on it all ; but we never associated such an awesome amount of religion with her as with the dignified and severe matron of the larger " cottage." One day came the sad news of the sudden death of Mrs. Boardman's only brother, a dis- tinguished clergyman, who had succumbed in- stantly to some unsuspected disease of the heart. The poor woman lost all semblance of self-con- trol or submission. She shrieked and raved, refused to allow any justice or goodness in a God that would do so cruel a thing as to snatch away her brother, her support, her comfort, her all. She could see nothing ahead but hopeless gloom and wretchedness. She spoke of no one else as suffering the same affliction. We inquired for his wife and children. " Yes, yes ; they will bear up and go on. But how could God have taken my darling brother ? " His death she regarded as an especial attack on her by the Almighty. It was a most painful revelation. I shall never forget the darkened room, the smell of camphor and anodynes, the dismal preparations for leaving. She seemed incapable of further interest in the students, or of care for anything TWO WATS OF TAKING SOBROW. 33 or anybody but just her rebellious, hysteric self, and departed, swathed in the heaviest crape, to make others miserable by her lack of submission and her weak, unavailing laments. Soon after, we were amazed to learn through a freshman, who knew all about it, that our beloved " Aunt Fanny," who was always help- ing us to bear our little trials, had but recently passed through the deep waters of affliction. She had suffered the loss of her two children from scarlet fever, and her husband, while an insidious softening of the brain was coming on, had so changed his investments of their large property that almost all had been swept away. She had been obliged to give up her horses and carriages and a luxurious home on the finest avenue in New York City, while her unfortunate husband was still alive, with little brain power left, in a hospital for such melancholy incurables. " Are you sure it is this Mrs. Downs, our sunny-faced, warm-hearted Aunt Fanny ? How can she bear this terrible load of sorrow so uncomplainingly, carrying such a heavy cross with her unflinching acceptance, always think- ing of every one of us, never, apparently, of herself ? " When this became known, we girls, all heartily ashamed of our own thoughtless im- 34 TACT. positions upon her time and strength, and yet uplifted by so shining a proof of real Christian resignation, planned a birthday surprise party in her honor. Each brought a pretty gift ; each talked merrily, but not of herself. The refresh- ments were delicious, and for once in a long time Mrs. Downs was ministered unto. Then for the first time did we see tears on that beau- tiful face, but they were tears of joy and grateful surprise at our enthusiastic ovation. Better fortune soon came to her through one of these student friends, but her blessed influ- ence stays and shows fruit in many lives. Hers is the true religion. Still another bereaved woman that I know has worn out her entire circle of friends, appealing continually for an audience and for sympathy ; going over and over the harrowing details, regretting that this had not been said, or that had not been done, idealizing the lost one, whom in life she judged most severely, until her extreme panegyrics seemed almost a ghastly joke. No one was ever so afflicted ; no one ever had lost so fond a husband. Some one must stay close by her, day and night, to examine the series of photographs of the departed, to hear the last word quoted and analyzed. There was no release for any one. Each dreaded the TWO WAYS OF TAKING SORROW. 35 necessary visit, for she drew out all vitality, yet seemed incapable of any relief. One friend who has just returned from Europe, and had been warned of the situation, planned a countersiege. She was a bright, unmarried woman, almost alone in the world, save for a host of friends, and had been obliged to support herself for many years. Still, she had a sunny, breezy presence ; and no one stopped to think that she could ever have any reason to be " blue." She wrote me of the interview, and how she came off the victor. She said : — " Dear Kate : — It is over, and Widow Stearns feels that I am the most unfortunate and hardly used being she knows of. You see, I went prepared, and took the initiative. I greeted her in a subdued, solemn way ; and, when she asked what had changed my manner, I poured forth a flood of woes, some real, some exaggerated. She tried to break in ; it was no use. I went straight along. She begged pardon for interrupting, and took up the photograph. ' But how fortunate you are, dear Mrs. Stearns, to have had such a husband I Think of me in my solitary, unloved loneliness. And what would I not give now for such faithful photographs of my dear parents ! What a lasting sorrow that I could not help them as much as I wanted to ! ' I dwelt at length on my own diseases, my own failures, my very peculiar trials, — just one steady, onroUing, muddy stream of doleful egotism. When entu-ely out of breath, I hurried out of the door to keep an engagement. And, as I left, 36 TACT. she really wrung my hand and said, 'You poor, dear Alice, I do pity you. How you have suffered ! ' It was almost too bad to guy her in such a state, but such women must be headed off or bottled up, or they will kill all their acquaintances." Now do not fancy that I argue against one's right to show deep feeling and to be secluded until the first shock of grief is past. But I cannot believe in darkened rooms and darkened minds, as if faith and joy vanished at the first blow of grief, as frost kills the flowers. There is a better way. I have the privilege of having as friends three women that are now most bravely bearing their anguish. One, whose oldest daughter was taken, actually wrote to console certain of her most sensitive friends, saying to one : " I know how you will suffer with me, but try to be cheerful for Helen's sake. She would not wish us to be prostrated." Another, who had recently lost her father, with whom she was closely associated in the fondest way, sent flowers, with loving thoughts, to those with whom she had been accustomed to meet in various engagements, and has entered more deeply into her beautiful work for destitute children. And the third, a young mother, who lost her beautiful boy, said, smiling through her tears, " But think TWO WAYS OF TAKING SOBBOW. 37 how I have been blessed above so many women, who have never known the ecstasies of a mother ! I have had him more than a year. I have been very happy." Because I know of these rare instances I do not mean that I should follow their shining, heroic example. Racked recently by rheumatic torture, I was not at all brave, and in the feeble- ness that follows, I fear I do not always look on the bright side. But that there are such people in this world, who take sorrow almost as a friend, and are not only improved by it, but help many others, is something to think about. V. THE ART OF MAKING GIFTS. ^UST now gift-making seems to be de- generating, among certain classes, into a business operation, wandering far from the primary definition, — " Something voluntarily bestowed, without expectation of return." Gifts are now expected as appropriate attentions on every marked occasion in each luxurious life, from that of Baby No. One, who has cut a front tooth, or cast off long clothes, or celebrates his first birthday, to that of the brilliant " bud " or debutante at present raised to the acme of social importance, who is just engaged (for the first time), and awaits the customary offerings — a goddess, " over the teacups." " Mamma " confides the news as a great, great secret to fifty or more of her most intimate friends, and the maiden herself writes on her daintiest stationery, " I want you to know how TBE AET OF MAKING GIFTS. 39 happy I am " ; and this would all be blissfully beautiful if no answering gift were depended on. But there is an unwritten but binding rule between the lines ; and, as the recipients of said notes read them, they exclaim, " dear ! there 's another teacup ! " and a hundred or more dainty, fragile teacups are forwarded, — Doulton, Sevres, Royal Worcester, Dresden, " Old India blue," or the latest novelty, with the warmest congratulations of " yours ever devotedly," — and so grateful for the confidence ! It becomes, during a season of " announcements," a little wearing, if not de- pressing and expensive, to feel that, because " Pinkie " or " Pearl " or " Birdie " is in the seventh heaven of spooneyism, every one to whom she repeats the sweet secret must respond promptly with a choice gift. It amounts to levying a tax on one's friends whenever a young pair is mated. That is not the highest idea of gifts, certainly. Weddings, too, in what is called " society," are now a bid for gold and silver and jewels rare. Few young men that have not inherited fortunes can afford the elaborate, costly, picturesque ceremonial ; the gifts that they are expected to make, the fees, the expenses of the honeymoon trip, often being beyond the reach of a modest income. 40 TACT. To be sure, the gifts pour in; nothing less than solid silver, cut glass, precious stones is valued much, although it is now correct style to send a check if it be sufficiently large to be shown. Yes, the smart and swagger cliques now exchange checks of large amount to such a degree that clearing-houses for each city's four hundred will be the next necessity. It is not among these worldlings that we look for the true art of giving. At Christmas, the farce of exchanging gifts rises to its most unpleasant extravagance among those that can easily waste several thousands to keep even with their set. But there is always dissatisfaction, for some Mrs. Aurear Shekel will always exceed the others and assume an envied pre-eminence. It is not in the most magnificent houses that gifts are the most prized or enjoyed. The most formal and forlorn Christmas-tide I ever experi- enced was spent in a superbly elegant city home, where a small fortune had been spent to make the day a success. In the morning the gifts were duly presented, and the blas^ bachelor brother looked perfectly disgusted and really angered by the elegant souvenirs from his two sisters — an impressive tiger-skin rug, with its fierce head, glaring teeth, and danger-suggesting THE ART OF MAKING GIFTS. 41 claws, and a fine pearl, set with diamonds, for a scarf-pin. He looked around lazily, then, with a petulant air, exclaimed, " O bother Christmas and this nonsense about presents all round ! Now I suppose I shall have to pay back " ; and with- out a word of thanks he returned to paper and cigar. Very ungrateful and ill-bred ; but he was a blunt business man, and he regarded all this merely as a " quid pro quo." He saw no senti- ment, no expression of affection, and certainly did not know, or did not practise at home, the art of receiving gifts, which is equally important with that of making them. I felt uncomfortably patronized by the gifts made to me, although most kindly meant, as I could not possibly return in kind. The big dinner-party was stiff and slow, as parties of relatives that do not always agree are apt to be, and the impression received was anything but that of a "merry Christmas." Yes, the give-and-take system is overdone: I heard a lady say last year as a box was opened : " Dear me ! I wrote Mrs. Yacht Operabox that I had decided not to make any gifts this year outside my own family, and now "will you see this candelabrum, almost precisely like the one Mrs. Town Houses sent me last year from Tiffany's ; it cost exactly sixty dollars, for a 42 TACT. friend priced them for me ; and now I must do fully as much for her at New Year's, and pretend to be so pleased. "Why did n't she believe me ? " The rich usually give to the rich, which is far from the highest art in giving, and the gifts are gauged by their money value — another direct departure from the ideal. Then there is a black art by which poor, silly souls are lost for the sake of a gift of jewels or rich attire, as seen from Marguerite to pretty Hetty Sorrel standing before her little looking- glass and gazing at her shell-like ears bedecked with the earrings from Arthur Donnithorne. Emerson said, " Give of thyself " ; and this can be interpreted in many ways. Not that an author should always present his own books, or an artist his pictures, any more than a dealer in shoes or woollen goods should send specimens of his stock. A woman writer, who delights in scribbling, but abhors the needle, once pieced together a really handsome silk quilt for her best-beloved friend ; and it is valued exceedingly just because it is a perpetual testimony to a loving sacrifice of time and preference to adorn a friend's room. Ah ! now we are approaching the fuller mean- ing of a gift. To be perfectly harmonious, a gift should be the result of loving study of a friend's THE ART OF MAKING GIFTS. 43 needs and tastes. A little self-denial on the part of the giver makes it more precious, and the element of surprise must not be left out. We all like to untie a mysterious parcel, to receive a box we did not expect ; to find that some one has been thinking of us, and work- ing, perhaps, to please us with needle, pen, or brush. If those that have abundant means would give with delicacy and just the right spirit to those that are not considered poor, but have to struggle to make a little go a great way and in a great many ways, that would brighten many an anxious face, and lighten many an overburdened heart at the holiday season. If the money wasted yearly on bonbonnieres and transient trinkets were bestowed in this way — a silk dress here, some real lace there, a pretty outfit for a young girl, a score of new books for the minister or teacher, six months abroad for music or language, or what advantages are most longed for, what hope and courage that sort of giving would add to many a sad life ! If a gift is a perfunctory matter, it will be felt to be so. Some people refer to what they have done for you in this way, which is almost inex- cusable ; others give you a painful sense of obligation ; still others deprecate their gift unduly. 44 TACT. Let me tell you of two dear little boys, who proved last Christmas that they had instinctively the art of giving. A lady that lived near them had been robbed of all her jewelry while the family were at dinner ; a second-story thief had entered her room, and all her valuable rings, pins, bracelets — all doubly precious from associations — were gone. The boys heard of her great loss, and they began to save their week's allowance instead of spending it; they surprised their friends by working in various ways to earn money ; but they told no one of their plan until a week before Christmas, when their mother was let into the secret. She, delighted with their spirit^ added to the sum laid up, and on Christ- mas morning the two walked up the long drive- way that led to the handsome mansion, and, pulling at the bell, inquired whether Mrs. Wilson was in. They were invited in ; and when Mrs. Wilson entered the drawing-room the two rose, and, bowing politely, offered a small box to her with this explanation, " We felt very sorry you lost all your pretty pins and rings, and we knew how badly you felt about it, so Harry and I just brought you the best diamond w& could get with our spending-money." It was a slender pin, but of real goldj and the diamond was a wee one, but THE ART OF MAKING GIFTS. 45 it was a genuine diamond. Mrs. Wilson was completely overcome, but the boys did not seem to feel that they had done anything unusual. Their way of giving was a very good way, and will bear thinking about. THE END. ]bH » 1^33 Ssgui