ive of what in the ways of a thousand years women
had come to desire. His is the head upon which "all the ends of the
world have come," and the eyelids are a little weary. He is older than
the tea things among which he sits.' Many have admired, but few have
tried to imitate, the Perfect Gentleman of Emerson's definition; yet few
there are who have not felt the wistful desire for resemblance. But the
other is more objective: his clothes, his manners, and his habits are
easy to imitate.

Of this Perfect Gentleman in the eighteenth century I recently
discovered fossil remains in the _Gentleman's Pocket Library_ (Boston
and Philadelphia, 1794), from which any literary savant may restore the
original. All in one volume, the Library is a compilation for Perfect
Gentlemen in the shell, especially helpful with its chapter on the
'Principles of Politeness'; and many an honest but foolish youth went
about, I dare say, with this treasure distending his pocket, bravely
hoping to become a Perfect Gentleman by sheer diligence of spare-time
study. If by chance this earnest student met an acquaintance who had
recently become engaged, he would remember the 'distinguishing diction
that marks the man of fashion,' and would 'advance with warmth and
cheerfulness, and perhaps squeezing him by the hand' (oh, horror!)
'would say, "Believe me, my dear sir, I have scarce words to express the
joy I feel, upon your happy alliance with such and such a family,
etc."' Of which distinguishing diction, 'believe _me_' is now all that
is left.

If, however, he knew that the approaching victim had been lately
bereaved, he would 'advance slower, and with a peculiar composure of
voice and countenance, begin his compliments of condolence with, "I
hope, sir, you will do me the justice to be persuaded, that I am not
insensible to your unhappiness, that I take part in your distress, and
shall ever be affected when _you_ are so."'

In lighter mood this still imperfect Perfect Gentleman would never allow
himself to laugh, knowing, on the word of his constant pocket-companion,
that laughter is the 'sure sign of a weak mind, and the manner in which
low-bred men express their silly joy, at silly things, and they call it
being merry.' Better _always_, if necessary, the peculiar composure of
polite sensibility to the suffering of properly introduced
acquaintances. When he went out, he would be careful to 'walk well, wear
his hat well, move his head properly, and hi