proof of the peculiar favor of the gods, and considered that beauty
only worth adorning and transmitting which was unmarred by outward
manifestations of hard and haughty feeling. According to their ideal,
beauty must be the expression of attractive qualities within--such as
cheerfulness, benignity, contentment, charity, and love.

Mirabeau was one of the ugliest men in France. It was said he had "the
face of a tiger pitted by smallpox," but the charm of his manner was
almost irresistible.

Beauty of life and character, as in art, has no sharp angles. Its
lines seem continuous, so gently does curve melt into curve. It is
sharp angles that keep many souls from being beautiful that are almost
so. Our good is less good when it is abrupt, rude, ill timed, or ill
placed. Many a man and woman might double their influence and success
by a kindly courtesy and a fine manner.

Tradition tells us that before Apelles painted his wonderful Goddess of
Beauty which enchanted all Greece, he traveled for years observing fair
women, that he might embody in his matchless Venus a combination of the
loveliest found in all. So the good-mannered study, observe, and adopt
all that is finest and most worthy of imitation in every cultured
person they meet.

Throw a bone to a dog, said a shrewd observer, and he will run off with
it in his mouth, but with no vibration in his tail. Call the dog to
you, pat him on the head, let him take the bone from your hand, and his
tail will wag with gratitude. The dog recognizes the good deed and the
gracious manner of doing it. Those who throw their good deeds should
not expect them to be caught with a thankful smile.

"Ask a person at Rome to show you the road," said Dr. Guthrie of
Edinburgh, "and he will always give you a civil and polite answer; but
ask any person a question for that purpose in this country (Scotland),
and he will say, 'Follow your nose and you will find it.' But the
blame is with the upper classes; and the reason why, in this country,
the lower classes are not polite is because the upper classes are not
polite. I remember how astonished I was the first time I was in Paris.
I spent the first night with a banker, who took me to a pension, or, as
we call it, a boarding-house. When we got there, a servant girl came
to the door, and the banker took off his hat, and bowed to the servant
girl, and called her mademoiselle, as though she were a lady. Now, the
reason why the lower