PRESENTS.
Having accepted a present, it is your duty, and ought to be your
pleasure, to let the giver see that you make use of it as intended, and
that it is not thrown away upon you. If it is an article of dress, or of
personal decoration, take occasion, on the first _suitable_ opportunity,
to wear it in presence of the giver. If an ornament for the
centre-table, or the mantel-piece, place it there. If a book, do not
delay reading it. Afterward, speak of it to her as favourably as you
can. If of fruit or flowers, refer to them the next time you see her.
In all cases, when a gift is sent to you, return a note of thanks; or at
least a verbal message to that effect.
Never enquire of the giver what was the price of her gift, or where she
bought it. To do so is considered exceedingly rude.
When an article is presented to you for a specified purpose, it is your
duty to use it for _that_ purpose, and for no other, according to the
wish of the donor. It is mean and dishonourable to give away a present;
at least without first obtaining permission from the original giver. You
have no right to be liberal or generous at the expense of another, or to
accept a gift with a secret determination to bestow it _yourself_ on
somebody else. If it is an article that you do not want, that you
possess already, or that you cannot use for yourself, it is best to say
so candidly, at once; expressing your thanks for the offer, and
requesting your friend to keep it for some other person to whom it will
be advantageous. It is fit that the purchaser of the gift should have
the pleasure of doing a kindness with her own hand, and eliciting the
gratitude of one whom she knows herself. It is paltry in you to deprive
her of this pleasure, by first accepting a present, and then secretly
giving it away as from yourself.
There are instances of women whose circumstances did not allow them to
indulge often in delicacies, that on a present of early fruit, or some
other nice thing being sent to them by a kind friend, have
ostentatiously transferred the gift to a wealthy neighbour, with a view
of having it supposed that they had bought it themselves, and that to
_them_ such things were no rarities. This is contemptible—but it is
sometimes done.
Making a valuable present to a rich person is in most cases, a work of
supererogation; unless the gift is of something rare or _unique_, which
cannot be purchased, and which may be seen and used to more advantage at
the house of your friend than while in your own possession. But to give
an expensive article of dress, jewellery, or furniture to one whose
means of buying such things are quite equal (if not superior) to your
own, is an absurdity; though not a very uncommon one, as society is now
constituted. Such gifts elicit no real gratitude, for in all
probability, they may not suit the pampered taste of those to whom fine
things are no novelties. Or they may be regarded (however unjustly) as
baits or nets to catch, in return, something of still greater cost.
There are persons, who, believing that presents are generally made with
some mercenary view, and being unwilling themselves to receive favours,
or incur obligations, make a point of repaying them as soon as possible,
by a gift of something equivalent. This at once implies that they
suspect the motive. If sincere in her friendship, the donor of the first
present will feel hurt at being directly paid for it, and consider that
she has been treated rudely, and unjustly. On the other hand, if
compensation _was_ secretly desired, and really expected, she will be
disappointed at receiving nothing in return. Therefore, we repeat, that
among persons who can conveniently provide themselves with whatever they
may desire, the bestowal of presents is generally a most unthankful
business. If you are in opulent circumstances, it is best to limit your
generosity to such friends only as do not abound in the gifts of
fortune, and whose situation denies them the means of indulging their
tastes. By them such acts of kindness will be duly appreciated, and
gratefully remembered; and the article presented will have a double
value, if it is to them a novelty.
Gratitude is a very pleasant sensation, both for those who feel and to
those who excite it. No one who confers a favour can say _with truth_,
that “they want no thanks.” They always do.
We know not why, when a young lady of fortune is going to be married,
her friends should all be expected to present her with bridal gifts. It
is a custom that sometimes bears heavily on those whose condition allows
them but little to spare. And from that little it may be very hard for
them to squeeze out enough to purchase some superfluous ornament, or
some bauble for a centre-table, when it is already glittering with the
gifts of the opulent;—gifts lavished on one who is really in no need of
such things; and whose marriage confers no benefit on any one but
herself. Why should she be rewarded for gratifying her own inclination
in marrying the man of her choice? Now that it is fashionable to display
all the wedding-gifts arranged in due form on tables, and labelled with
the names of the donors, the seeming necessity of giving something
expensive, or at least elegant, has become more onerous than ever. For
instance, poor Miss Cassin can barely afford a simple brooch that costs
about five dollars; but she strains the utmost capacity of her slender
purse to buy one at ten dollars, that it may not disgrace the brilliant
assemblage of jewellery that glitters on the bridal table of her wealthy
friend Miss Denham. And after all, she finds that her modest little
trinket looks really contemptible beside the diamond pin given by Mrs.
Farley the millionaire. After all, she sees no one notice it, and hears
no one say that it is even neat and pretty. To be sure, the bride, when
it was sent with a note on the preceding day, did vouchsafe a polite
answer. But then, if poor Miss C. does not make a wedding present to
rich Miss D., it might be supposed that Miss C. cannot afford it.
Neither she can. And her making the effort elicits perhaps some
satirical remarks, that would be very mortifying to Miss Cassin if she
heard them.
We repeat, that we cannot exactly perceive why, when the union of a
couple of lovers, in many cases, adds to the happiness, honour, and
glory of the married pair alone, their friends should think it a duty to
levy on themselves these contributions; so often inconvenient to the
givers, and not much cared for by the receivers.
When the young couple are not abounding in what are called “the goods of
this world,” the case is altered; and it may then be an act of real
kindness for the opulent friends of the bride to present her with any
handsome article of dress, or of furniture, that they think will be
acceptable. What we contend is, that on a marriage in a wealthy family,
the making of presents should be confined to the immediate relatives of
the lady, and only to such of _them_ as can well afford it.
Much of the money wasted in making ostentatious gifts to brides whose
fathers have already given them a splendid outfit, might be far better
employed, in assisting to purchase the _trousseaus_ and the furniture of
deserving young women in humble life, on their marriage with respectable
tradesmen or mechanics. How many ladies of fortune have it in their
power to do this—yet how seldom it is done!
At christenings, it is fortunately the sponsors only that are expected
to make gifts to the infant. Therefore, invite no persons as sponsors,
who cannot well afford this expense; unless you are sufficiently
intimate to request them, privately, not to comply with the custom;
being unwilling that they should cause themselves inconvenience by doing
so.
The presentation of Christmas and New-Year’s gifts is often a severe tax
on persons with whom money is not plenty. It would be well if it were
the universal custom to expect and receive no presents from any but the
rich.
In making gifts to children, choose for them only such things as will
afford them somewhat of lasting amusement. For boys, kites, tops, balls,
marbles, wheelbarrows, carts, gardening utensils, and carpenter’s tools,
&c. Showy toys, that are merely to look at, and from which they can
derive no enjoyment but in breaking them to pieces, are not worth
buying. Little girls delight in little tea-sets, and dinner-sets, in
which they can “make feasts,” miniature kitchen-utensils, to play at
cooking, washing, &c.; and dolls so dressed that all the clothes can be
taken off and put on at pleasure. They soon grow tired of a doll whose
glittering habiliments are sewed fast upon her. A wax doll in elegant
attire is too precarious and expensive a plaything to make them happy;
as they are always afraid of injuring her. We knew a little girl for
whom a magnificent wax doll, splendidly dressed, was brought from
France; and for an hour she was highly delighted. But next morning she
was found still more happy in carrying about her favourite baby, a
sofa-pillow, with an old shawl pinned round it for a frock; feeling
perfect freedom to toss it about as she pleased. Children like their
doll-babies to be very substantial, and rather heavy than light. A
large, well-made _rag_-doll is for a small child far better than any
other,—occasionally putting a clean new face upon it.
We have seen country children perfectly satisfied with a doll that was
nothing but a hard ear of Indian corn, arrayed in a coarse towel pinned
round it. A little farm-house boy, of three years old, made a pet of a
large squash, which he dressed in a pocket-handkerchief, and called
Phebe Ann. We heard him say, as he passed his hand over its lumpy neck,
“Poor Phebe Ann! what hives she has!”
To an intelligent child, no gifts are so valuable as entertaining
books—provided they really _are_ entertaining. Children are generally
wise enough to prefer an amusing book in a plain cover, to a dull one
shining with gold. When children are able to read fluently, they lose
much of their desire for mere picture-books. If the cuts are badly
executed, and give ugly, disagreeable ideas of the characters in the
stories, they only trouble and annoy the little readers, instead of
pleasing them. Some of the most popular juvenile books have no pictures
inside, and no gilding outside. Bad engravings, (beside uselessly
enhancing the price,) spoil the taste of the children. We highly
recommend to the publishers of juvenile books to omit the cuts entirely,
if they cannot afford very good ones. Many children have better judgment
in these things than their parents suppose; and some of them more than
the parents themselves.
Children have less enjoyment than is supposed in being taken to shops to
choose gifts for themselves, or even in laying out their own money. It
is always a long time before they can decide on what to buy, and as soon
as they have fixed upon one thing, they immediately see something they
like better. And often, after getting home, they are dissatisfied with
their choice, and sorry they bought it. Also, they frequently wear out
the patience of the shopkeepers; being desirous of seeing every thing,
and pondering so long before they can determine on buying any thing.
It is every way better to go to the shops without them, buy what you
think proper, and then give them an agreeable surprise by the
presentation.
Young ladies should be careful how they accept presents from gentlemen.
No truly modest and dignified woman will incur such obligations. And no
gentleman who really respects her will offer her any thing more than a
bouquet, a book, one or two autographs of distinguished persons, or a
few relics or mementos of memorable places—things that derive their
chief value from associations. But to present a young lady with articles
of jewellery, or of dress, or with a costly ornament for the
centre-table, (unless she is his affianced wife,) ought to be regarded
as an offence, rather than a compliment, excusable only in a man sadly
ignorant of the refinements of society. And if he is so, she should set
him right, and civilly, but firmly, refuse to be his debtor.
Yet, we are sorry to say, that there are ladies so rapacious, and so
mean, that they are not ashamed to give broad hints to gentlemen,
(particularly those gentlemen who are either very young or very old,)
regarding certain beautiful card-cases, bracelets, essence-bottles, &c.
which they have seen and admired,—even going so far as to fall in love
with elegant shawls, scarfs, splendid fans, and embroidered
handkerchiefs. And their admiration is so violent, and so reiterated,
that the gentleman knows not how to resist; he therefore puts them in
possession of a gift far too costly for any woman of delicacy to accept.
In such cases, the father or mother of the young lady should oblige her
to return the present. This has been done.
There are ladies who keep themselves supplied with certain articles of
finery, (for instance, white kid gloves,) by laying ridiculous wagers
with gentlemen, knowing that, whether winning or losing, the gentleman,
out of gallantry, always pays. No lady should ever lay wagers, even with
one of her own sex. It is foolish and unfeminine—and no man likes her
any the better for indulging in the practice.
Some young ladies, who profess a sort of daughterly regard for certain
wealthy old gentlemen, are so kind as to knit purses or work slippers
for them, or some other nick-nacks, (provided always that the “dear old
man” has a character for generosity,) for they know that he will reward
them by a handsome present of some bijou of real value. And yet they may
be assured that the kind old gentleman (whom “they mind no more than if
he was their pa”) sees through the whole plan, knows why the purse was
knit, or the slippers worked, and esteems the kind young lady
accordingly.
Another, and highly reprehensible way of extorting a gift, is to have
what is called a philopena with a gentleman. This very silly joke is
when a young lady, in cracking almonds, chances to find two kernels in
one shell; she shares them with a beau; which ever first calls out
“_philopena_,” on their next meeting, is entitled to receive a present
from the other; and she is to remind him of it till he remembers to
comply. So much nonsense is often talked on the occasion, that it seems
to expand into something of importance; and the gentleman thinks he can
do no less, than purchase for the lady something very elegant, or
valuable; particularly if he has heard her tell of the munificence of
other beaux in their philopenas.
There is great want of delicacy and self-respect in philopenaism, and no
lady who has a proper sense of her dignity _as a lady_ will engage in
anything of the sort.
In presenting a dress to a friend whose circumstances are not so
affluent as your own, and who you know will gladly receive it, select
one of excellent quality, and of a colour that you think she will like.
She will feel mortified, if you give her one that is low-priced, flimsy,
and of an unbecoming tint. Get an ample quantity, so as to allow a piece
to be cut off and laid by for a new body and sleeves, when necessary.
And to make the gift complete, buy linen for the body-lining; stiff,
glazed muslin for the facings; buttons, sewing-silk, and whatever else
may be wanted. This will save her the cost of these things.
When you give a dress to a poor woman, it is far better to buy for her a
substantial new one, than to bestow on her an old thin gown of your own.
The poor have little leisure to sew for themselves; and second-hand fine
clothes last them but a very short time before they are fit only for the
rag-bag.
If you are going to have a party, and among your very _intimate_ friends
is one whose circumstances will not permit her to incur the expense of
buying a handsome new dress for the occasion, and if she has no choice
but to stay away, or to appear in a costume very inferior to that of the
other ladies, you may (if you can well afford it) obviate this
difficulty by presenting her with a proper dress-pattern, and other
accessories. This may be managed anonymously, but it will be better to
do it with her knowledge. It will be a very gratifying mark of your
friendship; and she ought to consider it as such, and not refuse it from
a feeling of false pride. Of course, it will be kept a secret from all
but yourselves. In the overflow of gratitude _she_ may speak of it to
others, but for _you_ to mention it would be ungenerous and indelicate
in the extreme. We are glad to say that ladies of fortune often make
gifts of party-dresses to their less-favoured friends.
In sending a present, always pay in advance the expense of transmitting
it, so that it may cost nothing at all to the receiver. You may send by
the Mail a package of any size, weighing not more than four pounds,
paying the postage yourself at the office from whence it goes. It will
then be delivered at the door of your friend, without further charge.