ully estimate how great a factor in life is the possession
of good manners, or timely thoughtfulness with human sympathy behind
it. They are the kindly fruit of a refined nature, and are the open
sesame to the best of society. Manners are what vex or soothe, exalt
or debase, barbarize or refine us by a constant, steady, uniform,
invincible operation like that of the air we breathe. Even power
itself has not half the might of gentleness, that subtle oil which
lubricates our relations with each other, and enables the machinery of
society to perform its functions without friction.

"Have you not seen in the woods, in a late autumn morning," asks
Emerson, "a poor fungus, or mushroom,--a plant without any solidity,
nay, that seemed nothing but a soft mush or jelly,--by its constant,
total, and inconceivably gentle pushing, manage to break its way up
through the frosty ground, and actually to lift a hard crust on its
head? It is the symbol of the power of kindness."

"There is no policy like politeness," says Magoon; "since _a good
manner often succeeds where the best tongue has failed_." The art of
pleasing is the art of rising in the world.

The politest people in the world, it is said, are the Jews. In all
ages they have been maltreated and reviled, and despoiled of their
civil privileges and their social rights; yet are they everywhere
polite and affable. They indulge in few or no recriminations; are
faithful to old associations; more considerate of the prejudices of
others than others are of theirs; not more worldly-minded and
money-loving than people generally are; and, everything considered,
they surpass all nations in courtesy, affability, and forbearance.

"Men, like bullets," says Richter, "go farthest when they are
smoothest."

Napoleon was much displeased on hearing that Josephine had permitted
General Lorges, a young and handsome man, to sit beside her on the
sofa. Josephine explained that, instead of its being General Lorges,
it was one of the aged generals of his army, entirely unused to the
customs of courts. She was unwilling to wound the feelings of the
honest old soldier, and so allowed him to retain his seat. Napoleon
commended her highly for her courtesy.

President Jefferson was one day riding with his grandson, when they met
a slave, who took off his hat and bowed. The President returned the
salutation by raising his hat, but the grandson ignored the civility of
the negro. "Thomas," s