liness of the body effectually preventing any search after the soul or mind, and their experience of a certain class of men justifies them in so believing. Of the far larger class, who put aside all the dazzle and beauty of the outside appearance to look beyond, they have no conception, little knowing that every sensible man, if he do admire the sparkling casket, always looks within to see if it contain a gem of value and purity, or a tawdry bit of coloured glass."
"You are very hard upon us," I say, surprised. "Are all men so difficult to please as you?"
"Shall I tell you why we see the faults of women so clearly?" he says. "Because we know how infinitely above us most of you are in purity, unselfishness, and goodness; it is because we hate to see you step off your pedestals and come down to our level, that we are so severe upon every failing and shadow of evil doing. Do we not honour you more in setting you a high standard than a low one?"
"But do you not help to lower it?" I ask. "I have never been out into the world; I have only read and heard people talk: but, I think, if girls are frivolous and vain, it is you who help to make them so. If you talked nobly and sensibly to them and tried to bring out, not the amusing weaknesses of their characters, but the hidden worth that lies in every nature, you would make less of toys, more of companions of them."
"You are right," he says; "men do incalculable harm in fostering the vanity and conceit of girls; but it is a fact that you may tell a woman she is virtuous, discreet, admirable in every way, and she will not say thank you; but tell her she is pretty—and smiles will break out all over her face. Fellows know this, and of course take advantage of the weakness, and so society becomes leavened with a general idea that beauty is the greatest good and blessing on earth, and that all the other virtues and graces are
