disguise or concealment: this kind excites respect. The first
seems to proceed simply from impulse, the second from impulse and
reflection united; the first proceeds, in a measure, from ignorance, the
second from knowledge; the first is born from an undoubting confidence
in others, the second from a virtuous and well-grounded reliance on
one's self.

Now, if you suppose that this is the beginning of a sermon or of a
fourth of July oration, you are very much mistaken, though, I must
confess, it hath rather an uncertain sound. I merely prefaced it to a
little sketch of character, which you may look at if you please, though
I am not sure you will like it.

It was said of Alice H. that she had the mind of a man, the heart of a
woman, and the face of an angel--a combination that all my readers will
think peculiarly happy.

There never was a woman who was so unlike the mass of society in her
modes of thinking and acting, yet so generally popular. But the most
remarkable thing about her was her proud superiority to all disguise, in
thought, word, and deed. She pleased you; for she spoke out a hundred
things that you would conceal, and spoke them with a dignified assurance
that made you wonder that you had ever hesitated to say them yourself.
Nor did this unreserve appear like the weakness of one who could not
conceal, or like a determination to make war on the forms of society. It
was rather a calm, well-guided integrity, regulated by a just sense of
propriety; knowing when to be silent, but speaking the truth when it
spoke at all.

Her extraordinary frankness often beguiled superficial observers into
supposing themselves fully acquainted with her long before they were so,
as the beautiful transparency of some lakes is said to deceive the eye
as to their depth; yet the longer you knew her, the more variety and
compass of character appeared through the same transparent medium. But
you may just visit Miss Alice for half an hour to-night, and judge for
yourselves. You may walk into this little parlor. There sits Miss Alice
on that sofa, sewing a pair of lace sleeves into a satin dress, in which
peculiarly angelic employment she may persevere till we have finished
another sketch.

Do you see that pretty little lady, with sparkling eyes, elastic form,
and beautiful hand and foot, sitting opposite to her? She is a belle:
the character is written in her face--it sparkles from her eye--it
dimples in her smile, and pervades the