n every mother's son of them will lie at any time rather
than confess ignorance.

--I have a kind of dread, rather than hatred, of persons with a large
excess of vitality; great feeders, great laughers, great story-tellers,
who come sweeping over their company with a huge tidal wave of animal
spirits and boisterous merriment. I have pretty good spirits myself, and
enjoy a little mild pleasantry, but I am oppressed and extinguished by
these great lusty, noisy creatures,--and feel as if I were a mute at a
funeral when they get into full blast.

--I cannot get along much better with those drooping, languid people,
whose vitality falls short as much as that of the others is in excess. I
have not life enough for two; I wish I had. It is not very enlivening to
meet a fellow-creature whose expression and accents say, "You are the
hair that breaks the camel's back of my endurance, you are the last drop
that makes my cup of woe run over"; persons whose heads drop on one side
like those of toothless infants, whose voices recall the tones in which
our old snuffling choir used to wail out the verses of:

"Life is the time to serve the Lord."

--There is another style which does not captivate me. I recognize an
attempt at the grand manner now and then, in persons who are well enough
in their way, but of no particular importance, socially or otherwise.
Some family tradition of wealth or distinction is apt to be at the bottom
of it, and it survives all the advantages that used to set it off. I
like family pride as well as my neighbors, and respect the high-born
fellow-citizen whose progenitors have not worked in their shirt-sleeves
for the last two generations full as much as I ought to. But grand pere
oblige; a person with a known grandfather is too distinguished to find it
necessary to put on airs. The few Royal Princes I have happened to know
were very easy people to get along with, and had not half the social
knee-action I have often seen in the collapsed dowagers who lifted their
eyebrows at me in my earlier years.

--My heart does not warm as it should do towards the persons, not
intimates, who are always too glad to see me when we meet by accident,
and discover all at once that they have a vast deal to unbosom themselves
of to me.

--There is one blameless person whom I cannot love and have no excuse for
hating. It is the innocent fellow-creature, otherwise inoffensive to me,
whom I find I have involuntarily j