rs before us to see all that from our places could
be seen.

We saw that the roof, up to the first lines of architecture, was hung
with violet; beyond this with black. We saw N's, eagles, bees, laurel
wreaths, and other such imperial emblems, adorning every nook and corner
of the edifice. Between the arches, on each side of the aisle, were
painted trophies, on which were written the names of some of Napoleon's
Generals and of their principal deeds of arms--and not their deeds of
arms alone, pardi, but their coats of arms too. O stars and garters!
but this is too much. What was Ney's paternal coat, prithee, or honest
Junot's quarterings, or the venerable escutcheon of King Joachim's
father, the innkeeper?

You and I, dear Miss Smith, know the exact value of heraldic bearings.
We know that though the greatest pleasure of all is to ACT like a
gentleman, it is a pleasure, nay a merit, to BE one--to come of an old
stock, to have an honorable pedigree, to be able to say that centuries
back our fathers had gentle blood, and to us transmitted the same. There
IS a good in gentility: the man who questions it is envious, or a coarse
dullard not able to perceive the difference between high breeding and
low. One has in the same way heard a man brag that he did not know the
difference between wines, not he--give him a good glass of port, and he
would pitch all your claret to the deuce. My love, men often brag about
their own dulness in this way.

In the matter of gentlemen, democrats cry, "Psha! Give us one of
Nature's gentlemen, and hang your aristocrats." And so indeed Nature
does make SOME gentlemen--a few here and there. But Art makes most.
Good birth, that is, good handsome well-formed fathers and mothers, nice
cleanly nursery-maids, good meals, good physicians, good education,
few cares, pleasant easy habits of life, and luxuries not too great
or enervating, but only refining--a course of these going on for a few
generations are the best gentleman-makers in the world, and beat Nature
hollow.

If, respected Madam, you say that there is something BETTER than
gentility in this wicked world, and that honesty and personal wealth are
more valuable than all the politeness and high-breeding that ever wore
red-heeled pumps, knights' spurs, or Hoby's boots, Titmarsh for one is
never going to say you nay. If you even go so far as to say that the
very existence of this super-genteel society among us, from the slavish
respect that we p