Among friends presents ought to be made of things of small value; or, if valuable, their worth should be derived from the style of the workmanship, or from some accidental circumstance, rather than from the inherent and solid richness.  Especially never offer to a lady a gift of great cost:  it is in the highest degree indelicate, and looks as if you were desirous of placing her under an obligation to you, and of buying her good will.  The gifts made by ladies to gentlemen are of the most refined nature possible:  they should be little articles not purchased, but deriving a priceless value as being the offspring of their gentle skill; a little picture from their pencil, or a trifle from their needle.

To persons much your superiors, or gentlemen whom you do not know intimately, there is but one species of appropriate present—­game.

If you make a present, and it is praised by the receiver, you should not yourself commence undervaluing it.  If one is offered to you, always accept it; and however small it may be, receive it with civil and expressed thanks, without any kind of affectation.  Avoid all such deprecatory phrases, as “I fear I rob you,” etc.

To children, the only presents which you offer are sugar-plums and bon-bons.

Avoid the habit of employing French words in English conversation; it is in extremely bad taste to be always employing such expressions as ci-devant, soi-disant, en masse, couleur de rose, etc.  Do not salute your acquaintances with bon jour, nor reply to every proposition, volontiers.

In speaking of French cities and towns, it is a mark of refinement in education to pronounce them rigidly according to English rules of speech.  Mr. Fox, the best French scholar, and one of the best bred men in England, always sounded the x in Bourdeaux, and the s in Calais, and on all occasions pronounced such names just as they are written.

In society, avoid having those peculiar preferences for some subjects, which are vulgarly denominated. “hobby horses.” They make your company a bore to all your friends; and some kind-hearted creature will take advantage of them and trot you, for the amusement of the company.

A certain degree of reserve, or the appearance of it, should be maintained in your intercourse with your most intimate friends.  To ordinary acquaintances retain the utmost reserve--never allowing them to read your feelings, not, on the other hand, attempting to take any liberties with them.  Familiarity of manner is the greatest vice of society.  “Ah! allow me, my dear fellow,” says a rough voice, and at the same moment a thumb and finger are extended into my snuff-box, which, in removing their prey drop half of it upon my clothes,—­I look up, and recognize a person to whom I was introduced by mistake last night at the opera.  I would be glad to have less fellowship with such fellows. In former times great philosophers were said to have demons for familiars,—­thereby indicating that a familiar man is the very devil.