in life, I 'd
rather "give the move than take it." The waiting policy is a rare one;
it is the secret of success in love, and of victory in an equity court
And so I determined I 'd wait and see what should come of it. I appealed
to myself thus: "Potts, you are eminently a man of the world, one who
accepts life as it is, with all its crosses and untoward incidents; who
knows well that he must play bad cards even oftener than good ones. No
impatience, therefore, no rashness; give at least twenty-four hours'
thought to any important decision, and let a night's sleep intervene
between your first conception of a plan and its adoption." Oh, if the
people who are fretting themselves about what is to happen this day ten
years, would only remember what a long time it is,--that is, counting by
the number of events that will occur between this and to-morrow,--not
to say what incidents are happening at the antipodes that will yet bring
joy or sorrow to their hearts,--they would keep more of their sympathies
for present use, and perhaps be the happier for doing so.

CHAPTER XVIII. AN IMPATIENT SUMMONS.

I am about to make a very original observation. I hope its truth may
equal its originality. It is, that the man who has never had a sister
is, at his first entrance into life, far more the slave of feminine
captivations than he who has been brought up in a "house full of girls."
"Oh, for shame, Mr. Potts! Is this the gallantry we have heard so
much of? Is this the spirit of that chivalrous devotion you have been
incessantly impressing upon us?" Wait a moment, fair creature; give me
one half-minute for an explanation. He who has not had sisters has had
no experiences of the behind-scene life of the female world; he has
never heard one syllable about the plans and schemes and devices by
which hearts are snared. He fancies Mary stuck that moss-rose in her
hair in a moment of childish caprice; that Kate ran after her little
sister and showed the prettiest of ankles in doing it, out of the
irrepressible gayety of her buoyant spirits. In a word, he is one who
only sees the play when the house is fully lighted, and all the actors
in their grand costume; he has never witnessed a rehearsal, and has not
the very vaguest suspicion of a prompter.

To him, therefore, who has only experienced the rough companionship
of brothers--or worse still, has lived entirely alone--the first
acquaintanceship with the young-lady world is such a fascin