they were before these two
entered, would rival the work of the stereopticon, so far as
completeness of change is concerned. You have seen such faces and have
heard such voices. They result from a life the kind we are considering.
They are but its outward manifestations, spontaneous as the water from
the earth as it bursts forth a natural fountain.

We must not fail also to notice the effect of this life upon one's
manners and bearing. True politeness comes from a life founded upon this
great principle, and from this alone. This gives the true
gentleman,--_gentle-man_,--a man gentle, kind, loving, courteous from
nature. Such a one can't have anything but true politeness, can't be
anything but a gentle-man; for one can't truly be anything but himself.
So the one always intent upon and thinking of self cannot be the true
gentleman, notwithstanding the artful contrivances and studied efforts
to appear so, but which so generally reveal his own shallowness and
artificiality, and disgust all with whom he comes in contact.

I sometimes meet a person who, when introduced, will go through a series
of stiff, cold, and angular movements, the knee at such a bend, the foot
at such an angle, the back with such a bend or hump,--much less pleasant
to see than that of a camel or a dromedary, for with these it is
natural,--so that I have found myself almost thinking, Poor fellow, I
wonder what the trouble is, whether he will get over it all right. It is
so very evident that he all the time has his mind upon himself,
wondering whether or not he is getting everything just right. What a
relief to turn from such a one to one who, instead of thinking always of
self, has continually in mind the ease and comfort and pleasure he can
give to others, who, in other words, is the true _gentle-man_, and with
whom true politeness is natural; for one's every act is born of his
thoughts.

It is said that there was no truer gentleman in all Scotland than Robert
Burns. And yet he was a farmer all his life, and had never been away
from his native little rural village into a city until near the close of
his life, when, taking the manuscripts that for some time had been
accumulating in the drawer of his writing-table up to Edinburgh, he
captivated the hearts of all in the capital. Without studied
contrivances, he was the true gentleman, and true politeness was his,
because his life was founded upon the principle that continually brought
from his pen lines