gnized as the sign of the
immaculate public servant, as the inscription on it testifies, and the
steps of suspicion must ere-long dog him who does not carry one. The
"testimonial" business is, in truth, a little demoralizing, almost as
much so as the "donation;" and the demoralization has extended even to
our language, so that a perfectly respectable man is often obliged to
see himself "made the recipient of" this and that. It would be much
better, if testimonials must be, to give a man a barrel of flour or a
keg of oysters, and let him eat himself at once back into the ranks of
ordinary men.

III

We may have a testimonial class in time, a sort of nobility here in
America, made so by popular gift, the members of which will all be able
to show some stick or piece of plated ware or massive chain, "of which
they have been the recipients." In time it may be a distinction not to
belong to it, and it may come to be thought more blessed to give than
to receive. For it must have been remarked that it is not always to the
cleverest and the most amiable and modest man that the deputation comes
with the inevitable ice-pitcher (and "salver to match"), which has in it
the magic and subtle quality of making the hour in which it is received
the proudest of one's life. There has not been discovered any method of
rewarding all the deserving people and bringing their virtues into the
prominence of notoriety. And, indeed, it would be an unreasonable world
if there had, for its chief charm and sweetness lie in the excellences
in it which are reluctantly disclosed; one of the chief pleasures
of living is in the daily discovery of good traits, nobilities, and
kindliness both in those we have long known and in the chance passenger
whose way happens for a day to lie with ours. The longer I live the more
I am impressed with the excess of human kindness over human hatred, and
the greater willingness to oblige than to disoblige that one meets at
every turn. The selfishness in politics, the jealousy in letters,
the bickering in art, the bitterness in theology, are all as nothing
compared to the sweet charities, sacrifices, and deferences of private
life. The people are few whom to know intimately is to dislike. Of
course you want to hate somebody, if you can, just to keep your powers
of discrimination bright, and to save yourself from becoming a mere mush
of good-nature; but perhaps it is well to hate some historical person
who has been