But her manners constituted her chief attraction: while they were utterly different from those of every one else, you could not, in the least minutiae, discover in what the difference consisted: this is, in my opinion, the real test of perfect breeding.

While you are enchanted with the effect, it should possess so little prominency and peculiarity, that you should never be able to guess the cause.
"Pray," said Lord Vincent to Mr.Wormwood, "have you been to P--this year ?" "No," was the answer.
"I have, my lord," said Miss Trafford, who never lost an opportunity of slipping in a word.
"Well, and did they make you sleep, as usual, at the Crown, with the same eternal excuse, after having brought you fifty miles from town, of small house--no beds--all engaged--inn close by?
Ah, never shall I forget that inn, with its royal name, and its hard beds-- "'Uneasy sleeps a head beneath the Crown!'" "Ha, ha! Excellent!" cried Miss Trafford, who was always the first in at the death of a pun.

"Yes, indeed they did: poor old Lord Belton, with his rheumatism; and that immense General Grant, with his asthma; together with three 'single men,' and myself, were safely conveyed to that asylum for the destitute." "Ah! Grant, Grant!" said Lord Vincent, eagerly, who saw another opportunity of whipping in a pun.

"He slept there also the same night I did; and when I saw his unwieldy person waddling out of the door the next morning, I said to Temple, 'Well, that's the largest Grant I ever saw from the Crown.'" [Note: It was from Mr.J.Smith that Lord Vincent purloined this pun.] "Very good," said Wormwood, gravely.

"I declare, Vincent, you are growing quite witty.