The Ladies' Book of Etiquette, and Manual of Politeness

To some, who, with hearts desolated by the separation from the home circle, could read, with an eager interest, volumes of the most common-place, trivial incidents, if only connected with the loved ones there, will come pages, from the pen of the dearest relative, full of learning, wit, and wisdom, wholly uninteresting to the receiver. Why is this? Not from any desire upon the part of the writer to display learning or talent, but because, writing a letter being to them a great undertaking, and the letter being destined to go a long distance, they look upon it as an event too unusual to be wasted in detailing the simple, every-day details of domestic life, and ransack memory and learning for a subject worthy of the long journey and unusual labor. Others will have, from mere acquaintances, long, tedious details of uninteresting trivialities, and from the near relatives, short, dry epistles, which fall like stones upon the heart longing for little, affectionate expressions, and home memories. From some letter writers, who are in the midst of scenes and events of the most absorbing interest, letters arrive, only a few lines long, without one allusion to the interesting matter lying so profusely around them; while others, with the scantiest of outward subjects, will, from their own teeming brain, write bewitching, absorbing epistles, read with eagerness, laid aside with the echo of Oliver Twist's petition in a sigh; the reader longing for "more." It is, of course, impossible to lay down any distinct rule for the style of letter writing. Embracing, as it does, all subjects and all classes, all countries and associations, and every relation in which one person can stand to another, what would be an imperative rule in some cases, becomes positive absurdity in others. Every letter will vary from others written before, in either its subject, the person addressed, or the circumstances which make it necessary to write it.