me
must be a gentleman; for a gentleman is, I take it, first and last, a
gentle man, or one who out of strength brings sweetness, as in the case
of Samson's lion. To please, first the heart, by a sincere and cordial
kindness, and next the eye, by a cheerful and (so far as may be)
graceful demeanour; this disposition will tend, if not to great deeds,
at least to the comfort and happiness of those around us. I was thought
severe, and may have been so; but I lived to see a notable change
wrought in that country. I remember the day, Melody, when a young man
said to me with feeling, "I cannot bear to see a man take off his hat to
a woman. _It makes me sick!_" To-day, if a man, young or old, should
fail in this common courtesy, it would be asked what cave of the woods
he came from. But let fine manners come from the heart, I would always
say, else they are only as a gay suit covering a deformed and shapeless
body. I recall an occasion when one of my pupils, who had made great
progress by assiduous study, and had attained a degree of elegance not
often reached in his station, won the admiration of the whole room by
the depth and grace of his bow. I praised him, as he deserved; but a few
minutes after, finding him in the act of mimicking, for the public
diversion, an awkward, ill-dressed poor lad, I dismissed him on the
instant, and bade him never come to my classes again.

In these ways, my child, I tried, and with fair measure of success, to
ease the smart of my own pain by furthering the pleasure of others; in
these ways, to which I added such skill as I had gained on the violin,
making it one of my chief occupations, when work was slack, to play to
such as loved music, and more especially any who were infirm in health,
or in sorrow by one reason or another. It was a humble path I chose, my
dear; but I never clearly saw my way to a loftier one, and here I could
do good, and think I did it, under Providence. As an instance,--I was
sent for, it may have been a year or two after my trouble, to go some
distance. A young lady was ill, and being fanciful, and her parents
well-to-do, she would have me come and play to her, having heard of me
from one or another. I went, and found a poor shadow of a young woman,
far gone in a decline, if I could judge, and her eyes full of a trouble
that came from no bodily ailment, my wits told me. She sent her people
away, saying she must have the music alone. I have seldom found a better
listene