fact that there is such a wide variance in the taste of
individuals," argued Bernard, "should, however, make us cautious of
condemning that which may be sustained by the judgment of so many. Did
you know, by the way, Miss Virginia, that 'habit' and 'custom' are
essentially the same words as 'habit' and 'costume.' This fact--for the
history of a nation may almost be read in the history of its
language--should convince you that the manners and customs of a people
are as changeable as the fashions of their dress."

"I grant you," said Virginia, "that the mere manners of a people may
change in many respects; but true taste, when founded on a true
appreciation of right, can never change."

"Why, yes it can," replied her companion, who delighted in bringing the
young girl out, as he said, and plying her with specious sophisms.
"Beauty, certainly, is an absolute and not a relative emotion, and yet
what is more changeable than a taste in beauty. The Chinese bard will
write a sonnet on the oblique eyes, flat nose and club feet of his
saffron Amaryllis, while he would revolt with horror from the fair
features of a British lassie. Old Uncle Giles will tell you that the
negro of his Congo coast paints his Obi devil white, in order to inspire
terror in the hearts of the wayward little Eboes. The wild Indians of
Virginia dye their cheeks--"

"Nay, there you will not find so great a difference between us," said
Virginia, interrupting him, as she pointed to the plastered rouge on
Bernard's cheek. "But really, Mr. Bernard, you can scarcely be serious
in an opinion so learnedly argued. You must acknowledge that right and
wrong are absolute terms, and that a sense of them is inherent in our
nature."

"Well then, seriously, my dear Miss Temple," replied Bernard, "I do not
see so much objection to the gay society of England, which is but a
reflection from the mirror of the court of Charles the Second."

"When the mirror is stained or imperfect, Mr. Bernard, the image that it
reflects must be distorted too. That society which breaks down the
barriers that a refined sentiment has erected between the sexes, can
never develope in its highest perfection the purity of the human heart."

"Well, I give up the argument," said Bernard, "for where sentiment is
alone concerned, there is no more powerful advocate than woman. But, my
dear Miss Temple, you who have such a pure and correct taste on this
subject, can surely illustrate your own idea by