ollars."

Why haven't you sent him the trifling sum? He worked over half a day at
your house, and your family have been more comfortable for what he did
there ever since. He needs the money, for he is a poor man.

You half smile in our face at the suggestion, and say, "Merchants are
not in the habit of troubling themselves to send all over the city to
pay the little paltry bills of mechanics. If money is worth having, it
is worth sending or calling for."

In thought, reverse your positions, and apply the rule for a Christian
gentleman; remembering, at the same time, that God is no respecter of
persons. In his eyes, the man's position is nothing--the quality of his
life, everything.

A gentleman in _form_, according to the rules of good breeding, is one
who treats everybody with kindness; who thinks of others' needs,
pleasures and conveniences; and subordinates his own needs, pleasures
and conveniences to theirs. He is mild, gentle, kind and courteous to
all. A gentleman in _feeling_ does all this from a principle of
good-will; the Christian from a _law of spiritual life_. Now, a man may
be a gentleman, in the common acceptation of the term, and yet not be a
Christian; but we are very sure, that he cannot wave the gentleman and
be a Christian.

You look at us more soberly. The truth of our words is taking hold of
conviction. Shall we go on?

Do you not, in all public places, study your own comfort and
convenience? You do not clearly understand the question! We'll make the
matter plainer then:

Last evening you were at Concert Hall, with your wife and daughter. You
went early, and secured good seats. Not three seats, simply, according
to the needs of your party; but nearly five seats, for extra comfort.
You managed it on the expansive principle. Well, the house was crowded.
Compression and condensation went on all around you; but your party
held its expanded position. A white-haired old man stood at the head of
your seat, and looked down at the spaces between yourself, your wife
and daughter; and though you knew it, you kept your eyes another way
until he passed on. You were not going to be incommoded for any one.
Then an old lady lingered there for a moment, and looked wistfully
along the seat. Your daughter whispered, "Father, we can make room for
her." And you answered: "Let her find another seat; I don't wish to be
crowded." Thus repressing good impulses in your child, and teaching her
to be selfish and unlad