ny the Romans
produced--takes care to let us know what a neat, well-dressed, dapper
little gentleman he was. But I don't think you ever read the 'Apology of
Apuleius?"

"Not I--what is it about?" asked the Captain.

"About a great many things. It is that sage's vindication from several
malignant charges--amongst others, and principally indeed, that of
being much too refined and effeminate for a philosopher. Nothing can
exceed the rhetorical skill with which he excuses himself for
using--tooth-powder. 'Ought a philosopher,' he exclaims, 'to allow any
thing unclean about him, especially in the mouth--the mouth, which is
the vestibule of the soul, the gate of discourse, the portico of
thought! Ah, but AEmillianus [the accuser of Apuleius] never opens _his_
mouth but for slander and calumny--tooth-powder would indeed be
unbecoming to _him_! Or, if he use any, it will not be my good Arabian
tooth-powder, but charcoal and cinders. Ay, his teeth should be as foul
as his language! And yet even the crocodile likes to have his teeth
cleaned; insects get into them, and, horrible reptile though he be, he
opens his jaws inoffensively to a faithful dentistical bird, who
volunteers his beak for a toothpick.'"

My father was now warm in the subject he had started, and soared
miles away from Riccabocca and "My Novel." "And observe," he
exclaimed--"observe with what gravity this eminent Platonist pleads
guilty to the charge of having a mirror. 'Why, what,' he exclaims, 'more
worthy of the regards of a human creature than his own image,' (_nihil
respectabilius homini quam formam suam!_) Is not that one of our
children the most dear to us who is called 'the picture of his father?'
But take what pains you will with a picture, it can never be so like you
as the face in your mirror! Think it discreditable to look with proper
attention on one's self in the glass! Did not Socrates recommend such
attention to his disciples--did he not make a great moral agent of the
speculum? The handsome, in admiring their beauty therein, were
admonished that handsome is who handsome does; and the more the ugly
stared at themselves, the more they became naturally anxious to hide the
disgrace of their features in the loveliness of their merits. Was not
Demosthenes always at his speculum? Did he not rehearse his causes
before it as before a master in the art? He learned his eloquence from
Plato, his dialectics from Eubulides; but as for his delivery--there, he