in their lives, never shall they be
wrong in the time to come. Never have they been known to conjecture that
another may, after all, be wiser than they, handsomer, stronger, or more
fortunate. They would kill a man rather than admit a mistake. Noble
fellows! And I? Do you wonder that I blush in my corner as I gaze upon
them, strive to smooth my hair into the appearance of a manly flatness,
strive to set my face hard and feign it knowing, strive to elevate my
voice to the dogmatic note, strive to cast out from my mind all those evil
spirits of proportion?

Can it be possible that any one of my readers has ever been in a like
case? Is there hope for us, my brother? You have, I perceive, a fine,
expressive, sensitive countenance. That is, indeed, against you in this
race for manhood. It is true that Apollo passed for a man--but that was
long ago, and not in Britain. You have a pleasant, sympathetic voice. An
excellent thing in _woman_. But you, my friend,--break it, I beseech you.
Coarsen it with raw spirits and rawer opinions; and set that face of
thine with hog's bristles, plant a shoe-brush on thy upper lip, and send
thy head to the turner of billiard balls. Else come not nigh me, for,
'fore Heaven, I love a man!

Sometimes, however, I am inclined to a more comfortable consideration of
this great question--for it is one of my weaknesses to be positive on few
matters. But to-day I taunted my soul with its unmanliness till it rose in
rebellion against me. 'Poor-spirited creature,' I said, 'where is thy
valour? When a fool has struck thee I have seen thee pass on without a
word, not so much as a momentary knitting of thy fist When ignorance has
waxed proud, and put thee to the mock, thou hast sat meek, and uttered
never a word. It must needs be thou art pigeon-livered and lack gall!
There is not in thee the swagger, the rustle, the braggadocio of a true
swashbuckler manhood. Out on thee!'

And my soul took the blows in patience.

'Hast thou any courage hid in any crevice of thee?' I continued my taunt.
And suddenly my soul answered with a firm quiet voice: 'Try me!'

Then said I, 'Coward as thou art, fearful of thy precious skin, darest
thou strike a blow for the weak against his oppressor, darest thou meet
the strong tyrant in the way?'

And thereon I was startled, for my soul suddenly sprang up within me, and,
lo! it neighed like a war-horse for the battle.

'Ah!' I continued, 'but couldst thou fight against the e