nt to ask them if it does them any particular good to go and sit in
people's houses by the hour, watch their every look and action, and
harrow up their feelings by such gratuitous information? I want to ask
them if they suppose our eyesight is not so sharp as theirs? And I take
great pleasure in informing them, and in politely and frigidly
requesting them to remember, that, so far as my observation goes, when
people are ill, or looking ill, they are not so blind, either to
feelings or appearances, as not to have discovered the fact; that,
indeed, they must be exceptions to the general rule of half-invalids if
they do not frequently and critically examine every lineament of their
face, and secretly grieve over their increasing imperfections;
consequently, ye provokingly observant ones, when you meet them and find
them not looking well, even find yourselves in doubt as to whether they
are looking quite as well as when you last saw them, and are sure you
shall perish unless you introduce what Emerson declares "a forbidden
topic" in some form--at least give your friends the benefit of the
doubt; tell them they are looking _better_ than usual, and, my word for
it, they _will_ be by the time they hear that; for if there is anything
that will make a person, especially a woman look well, and feel better,
it is the knowledge that some one thinks she does.

But if she is thin, remember there is nothing fat-producing in your
telling her of the fact; or if her eyes are dull, they will not brighten
at the certainty that you know it, unless with anger that your knowledge
should be conveyed in such a fashion; and if she is pale, telling her of
it will not bring the color to her face, unless it be a blush of shame
for your heartless ill-breeding.

So much for the class who appear purposely to wound one's feelings. Then
there is another class who accomplish the same result with no such
intention, who do it seemingly from pure thoughtlessness, but who should
none the less be held accountable for their acts.

One of these unlucky mortals, who would not willingly cause any one a
single heartache, lately met a gentleman friend of ours, who is, 't is
true--and "pity 'tis 'tis true"--in very delicate health, and thus
accosted him:

"I tell you, my man, unless you do something for yourself, right off,
you won't be alive three months from now!"

"Do something!" As if he had not just returned from a thousand mile
journey taken to consult on