Tangleweb is not at home. Observe how quick
he is with his card; how hurriedly he makes
away from the house, fearful of being sent for
back again; how nervously he looks about him,
in an agony lest he should meet his tormentor
in the street, and be dragged back after all.
As to Twitcher's position when calling with
the intention of leaving a card, the door
suddenly opens, and the family appears going out
for a walk, so that Miss Tangleweb receives the
suddenly proffered card in her own fair hand—as
to this state of things, there are some misfortunes
too serious to be turned into a joke, and
this is one.

But I must leave for the present my own
observations on these matters, and return to the
strictures of Professor Bon Ton, who, while we
have been lingering on the door-step, is fairly
inside and full of information as to how I am to
behave when I find from the porter that Madame
Toile d'Araignée is absolutely à la maison.

"There are,"  says our Professor, "two kinds
of visits: those which are undertaken without
any particular object, and those for which there
is some special reason. The last are indispensable
among people who know how to behave
themselves; the first are only permissible among
relatives and intimate friends, though there are
certain unmitigated idlers who pay such visits
with no better excuse than the miserably trivial
one of asking after one's health.

"It is unnecessary for me to say," continues
Bon Ton, "that you must never present yourself
on the occasion of a call except in correct
costume. Among relations and intimate friends, the
frock-coat may be allowed, but everywhere else
the black coat, and the complete toilet to
correspond, are indispensable.

"A visit received ought to be returned in all
cases in which this is possible, unless, indeed,
there is a great disproportion in rank between
the persons.

"In official life an inferior is not to expect
that his superior will return his call.

"Never pay a visit at an inopportune
moment, such as the hours devoted to breakfast,
to dinner, or to work. The evening is, all things
considered, the fittest time. At Paris, visits are
received from eleven o'clock in the morning till
nine in the evening.

"Visits form a tie holding society together,
which tie you cannot break without breaking also
with society itself."

Having thus dealt with the subject generally,
the author comes down to more particular
matters.

"The most indispensable visits are the
following: Visits on New Year's Day; visits ol
digestion—that is to say, those which you owe
after receiving an invitation, whether or not
you have accepted it; and those for which there
is a special reason—namely, some event, such
as a birth, a death, a marriage, an increase or a
loss of fortune, &c.

"A visit of ceremony should never last more
than from ten to fifteen minutes, unless under
very extraordinary circumstances. You may
indeed remain five minutes longer, if you are
pressed to do so."

Here follows a suggestion to which the reader's
attention is especially invited, as it seems to be
aased on profound observation and knowledge.

"If in the course of your visit you see the
master of the house pull a paper from his pocket,
begin to hunt for something in his desk, look
up at the clock; if he has an absent appearance;
if he twiddles his thumbs, drums on the
floor with his foot, or takes up the tongs to
mend a fire which stands in no need of such
attentions,—if he does any of these things, or
anything else of the same kind, take my advice and
be off at once, even if you have only been five
minutes in the house.

"The supreme art of making visits is to know
when to depart. In the case of visits of
ceremony, the shortest are the best.

"The precise moment when you begin to feel
bored is the moment when you are beginning
to bore others. Retire.

"If it should happen that your visit seems to
give pleasure, you may remain two minutes
longer than you had intended.

"In the case of a visit, after having received
a letter announcing some important event, it is
necessary that you should know how to arrange
your physiognomy in accordance with the
character of that event. In all such cases model
your countenance on that of your host."

Our Professor is evidently not favourable in
any case to a free and easy style of conducting
the affairs of life; but in connexion with morning
calls he is especially rigid and severe:

"To enter a room without being announced,
though you are in the position of a brother, an
uncle, or a cousin-german, is to be guilty of an
action that is simply brutal.

"If you find no one in the ante-room to introduce
you, knock lightly, and wait a considerable
time for some one to open the door for you,
unless, indeed, you are called to from within to
enter. If after waiting some instants there is
no answer, the position becomes extremely
embarrassing. Among friends your best way is to
enter the room and wait till some one comes,
and either puts you politely out of doors, or
asks you to be good enough to wait.

"Among simple acquaintances, if you are not
answered you had better retire, and in mere
discretion abstain from asking the porter whether
the individual to whom you paid the visit was
at home or not."

An excellent rule follows soon after the above.
There could hardly be a better instance of the
different estimation in which business is held
here and abroad, than will be found below. The
"man of letters" mentioned by the Professor
would assuredly in England have been a "man
of business."

"If you call upon a man of letters and find
him at work, retire on the instant without even
waiting to wish him ' good day;' you may cause
him otherwise to lose the chain of his ideas,
wlu'ch may involve the losing of a whole chapter.
Your visit can only put him out."