the
feather in its bonnet is as fresh as the crest of a fighting-cock,
and the rosette on its slipper as clean-cut and pimpant (pronounce it
English fashion,--it is a good word) as a dahlia. As a general rule,
that society where flattery is acted is much more agreeable than that
where it is spoken. Don't you see why? Attention and deference don't
require you to make fine speeches expressing your sense of unworthiness
(lies) and returning all the compliments paid you. This is one reason.

--A woman of sense ought to be above flattering any man,--said the
Model.

[My reflection. Oh! oh! no wonder you did n't get married. Served you
right.] My remark. Surely, Madam,--if you mean by flattery telling
people boldly to their faces that they are this or that, which they are
not. But a woman who does not carry about with her wherever she goes
a halo of good feeling and desire to make everybody contented,--an
atmosphere of grace, mercy, and peace, of at least six feet radius,
which wraps every human being upon whom she voluntarily bestows her
presence, and so flatters him with the comfortable thought that she
is rather glad he is alive than otherwise, isn't worth the trouble of
talking to, as a woman; she may do well enough to hold discussions with.

--I don't think the Model exactly liked this. She said,--a little
spitefully, I thought,--that a sensible man might stand a little praise,
but would of course soon get sick of it, if he were in the habit of
getting much.

Oh, yes,--I replied,--just as men get sick of tobacco. It is notorious
how apt they are to get tired of that vegetable.

--That 's so!--said the young fellow John,--I've got tired of my cigars
and burnt 'em all up.

I am heartily glad to hear it,--said the Model,--I wish they were all
disposed of in the same way.

So do I,--said the young fellow John.

Can't you get your friends to unite with you in committing those odious
instruments of debauchery to the flames in which you have consumed your
own?

I wish I could,--said the young fellow John.

It would be a noble sacrifice,--said the Model, and every American woman
would be grateful to you. Let us burn them all in a heap out in the
yard.

That a'n't my way,--said the young fellow John;--I burn 'em one 't'
time,--little end in my mouth and big end outside.

--I watched for the effect of this sudden change of programme, when it
should reach the calm stillness of the Model's interior apprehension,
as