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OUT OF THE WIMDOW.
non* PKRKY>
Oat of th window shi* learn*! and laughed,
A gliTs laugh, Idle end foolish and aweet—
FoolUh Hud Idle, It drooped like a call,
Into the crowded, noisy street.
Up he glanced at the glancing face,
who had caught the laugh as it fluttered and fell,
And eye to eye for a moment there
They held each other as If by a spell.
All In a moment passing there—
And into tier Idle, empty day.
All In that moment something new
Suddenly seemed to flud its way.
And through and through the clamorous hours
That mado hi* clamorous, busy day,
A girl's laugh, Idle and foolish and sweet,
into every bargain found its way.
And through and through the crowd of the street*,
At every window In passing by,
lie looked a moment, ami seemed to see
A pair of eym like the morning sky.
TIIKO’S LOVE.
Isabel Ita<l managed to got through
with the ceremony very creditably in
dited. Who had succeeded in looking
queenly and elegant, and Mr. Van V erst
had shown all his pride in his handsome
eyes when he looked at her.
She had not trembled nor appeared in
the ieast nervous, but, as her first brides
maid said, behaved as though she wore
in the habit of getting married every
day.
After the ceremony, she had gone
through the tedious reception, and stood,
yet serious grave, yet pleasant—while
iier dear five hundred friends kissed her,
and took her hand, and congratulated
her her feminine friends, who, in their
secret souls, wore envious of her good
luck in having “secured” the handsome,
stately man beside her, who tilled his
position and did the honors as a prince
of the blood loyal might havo done—
whoso name was a power in social,
financial and political circles, and who
had condescended from his high estate
to woo lovely Isabel Lisle.
And now they were “married and a’.”
Ceremony, reception and breakfast were
over, anil well over, and Mrs. Van Verst
had retired to her dressing-room to
change her toilet of white satin and lace,
pearls and diamonds, and white roses,
for the charming traveling costume of
ecru silk and Persian embroidered garnet
cashmere.
.lust a little to the surprise of tho
vivacious girls who were supposed to be
indispensalileou the momentous occasion,
Isabel told them she really very much
preferred attending upon herself; and,
as Isabel usually had her own way,
Mabel and Maude left her, with a loving,
saucy little protest.
And she laughed, and turned them
out, and then—
Regardless of the magnificence of her
trailing bridal robes, unmerciful of the
rare and costly white roses she crushed
so ruthlessly, this bride of an hour, when
she had locked her door aud dashed
down tho curtains, filing herself on her
knees beside the lounge, in a perfect
ecstacy of grief knelt there, shivering
and praying.
She could not ery; it seemed as if all
her tears lmd “forever left her eyes to
curdle around her heart.” She did not
even make tho slightest sound, but, oh!
the awful, unspeakable, pent-up agony
she suffered, until she wondered she did
not die then aud there until she prayed
God to let her die as she was, or else re
move the burden.
And the why aud wherefore was, that
since the night and hour eighteen months
before, when she and Theo. Edmerton
had parted in proud, indignant coldness
—they twowliohad worshiped each other
as ovou fond lovers not often worship—
Isabel Lisle had never spent one happy
moment. Not once had she heard of him
or from him. lie had disappeared as
thoroughly from society as though he
were dead, and so how could she have
known that in his pique, and stubborn
ness, and unyielding pride, ho had put
the ocean, foreign countries, deserts, be
tween them!
All she knew was, lie made no sign; all
she realized was, lie had gone so l'ar in
his displeasure as to give her no oppor
tunity in her penitent relenting, to be
reconciled. And now, this fair, bright
day she was Horace Van Verst’s wife.
Someone rapped softly on the door,
bringing Isabel to her senses. Had it
been a minute or an hour since she knelt
there, shivering, writhing with longing
pain and utter abandonment of despair.
Maud fcjt. Willis’s cheerful voice called
out:
“ A belated wedding present, Belle—a
check for SI,OOO, or a Government
bond, I dare say, seeiug it is contained in
an envelope. Can’t I come iu?”
“ Not quite yet, dear. I’ll take the
parcel, please."
She unlocked the door and received it;
then with the first sob of pain that had
passed her lips yet, she sank faint and
weak upon the nearest choir, as she rec
ognised Theo. Edmertou’s handwriting.
She did not at once open it; she could
not, for the cold trembling of her hands.
Slit' sat there, her heart seeming to stop
its boating, until a girlish voice, as some
body passed the door, speaking about the
time of trains, roused her again into a
sort of desperate defiance to herself.
And then she tore open the envelope
and read this:
"Without any doubt you will be sur
prised to receive my most elaborate con
gratulations on the auspicious event that
has given to vour husband the sincere,
undivided love of your heart, and bestow
upon yourself the title that means, in
vour ease, that your affections are so
surely, so sincerely placed upon a gen
tleman so worthy—"
Then the vein of icy-fond sarcasm sud
denly coaxed even the correct, elegant
handwriting changed into n hurried,
half-illegible scrawl:
“Isabel, what have you done? My
God! what have you done ? Could you
not have waited a little while? A’on
have ruined my hopes, mv happiness,
mv faith and trust in woman. You have
killed me—killed me! May God forgive
yon, and, if ever I prayed, I pray now
that I may forget I ever loved—yes, that
I love you more madly than ever. ”
Such a letter—euch despair, and such
hopeless bitterness, such anguish of mis
scry, such pain of anger—and Mrs. Van
Verst crushed it in her hand, till the
pajHir was a mass of broken fragments.
“I will forget him— l will not go to
my husband with such thoughts in my
heart! My God, I will be true—l must
be true! Oh, make me— make mo true
to him, and don’t let me swerve! Heaven
help me!”
And with hands clasped and lovely
eyes uplifted, she stood one moment,
until a loving Father laid His blessing of
endurance and patience, and earnest
resolution and consciousness of His own
strength and presence, upon her heart,
that was siek unto despair.
Half an hour later she looked up into
her husband’s face, as they sat alone in
the coach that was conveying them to
the depot—such a good, grand face that
accompanied the character, no woman
could come in contact with and fail to
thoroughly revere and admire. And a
sudden little thrill of humble content
warmed in her eyes and quivered into a
I icaceful smile, us she laid her hand on
liis.
“I mean to be such a good wife,
Horace,” she said, gently.
“My darling, I know it,” ho answered
her. “And I am most blessed of any
man on God’s earth to-day.”
Ho their wedded life began.
***** ***
Two years afterward, and half a city
in mourning, because of the pitiless
scourge that the hot midsummer days
had swept relentlessly down upon it.
And in a nearly deserted hotel, where
fashion, and beauty and wenltli had fled
before the grim oncoming of the pesti
lence, two people lying dead—young,
handsome even m death, with refinement
and nobility on tlicir marble faces.
And tho death-roll, that morning, tele
graphed to happier Northern cities, con
tained these names: “Mr. Horuee Van
Verst, and his wife, Mrs. Isabel Lisle
Van Verst;” while, in an adjoining room,
rosy, healthy, joyous and unconscious of
her awful loss, their baby girl, a year old,
watched over by one careful nurse, while
another, gray-haired and tearful, was
hurriedly making preparations to leave
tho accursed fever-stricken city.
********
Theo. Edmerton had taken up his po
sition at the foot of the grand stair case,
and was rather enjoying looking on at
the gay crowd that was last, tilling Mrs.
Willard’s parlors, and especially looking,
as w'fts not tho firSt, nr the second, or the
dozenth time lie had looked just so eager
ly, at lovely Vivian Gwyneth.
Of late, ‘Edmerton had been passing
through a strange experience, and fair
haired Vivian was very intimately con
nected with it— so intimately that, during
these past few weeks, Edmerton had
come to know that that had happened to
him he had thought never could happen
to him again, after the desolate, waste
time in liis life, when Isabel Lisle had
married another.
He bad thought never to renew bis
faith and trust in woman. He had had
no hope nor wish that the wreck that he
liad believed himself in love and passion
should ever bo mado anew. And then,
right into all the debris of liis affections,
Vivian Gwyneth had come with sympa
thy and healing.
Until, standing and watching her to
night, the fairest, brightest star in Mrs.
Wyllard’s brilliant assemblage, Theo
Edmerton knew he loved her.
Until he was wondering what the rem
nant of bis heretofore unblessed life
would be worth to him if. when he asked
lovely Vivian for her love, she should
withhold it.
For he bad made up his mind slowly,
during the past few week’s, that he was
warranted in asking her.
He was almost sure she cared for
him, and yet, if it should so happen that
she did not!
An hour afterward he stood before
Vivian Gwyneth, alone with her, in the
fragrant, half-dim fernery, with his
handsome face pale with passionate plead
ing, his eyes full of masterful tenderness,
as he told her how he loved her, and
asked for her sweet self in return.
And Vivian?
I think it was the sweetest way a wo
man ever gave herself to her lover, that
.which she did, in her own perfect way,
so proud, so tender, so charmingly shy:
“Before I answer you,” she said, lift
ing her glorious eyes to his in a swift,
radiant, little glance—“before I answer
you, let me show you—this—the picture
of him I have loved all my life. Even
ns a baby 1 began to worship it. It was
my ideal—l have worn it night and day.
Would you care to have me tell you
what you wish, knowing what I havetold
you?”
A gasping sort of vague fear crept
chilly over him in that one instant when
she laid a diamond-crusted gold locket
in his hand.
And then he opened it to look into his
own eyes the picture he had given
Isabel Lisle nineteen years before.
She smiled in his astonished face.
“You don’t know—no one knows but
my dear adopted parents—that I am
Isabel Lisle’s child: but I knew you,
Theo, the first time I saw you, and I
think, if I had not had mamma's locket,
I should still have known you from her
letters and diary I have kept. Are you
sorry I am mamma's daughter?”
Was it possible—was it possible?
Isabel's child!
Then all the passion came radiantly
back to his pale face and astonished eyes,
as he held out his arras caressingly.
“I think your mother has given you to
me. I loved her, but not as I love you,
oh, my little one! Vivian will you come
to me? Will you give yourself to me?”
And she stepped inside the outstretched
arms, and laid her bright head on his
breast, and made him realize that it
was for his highest human happiness
that fate kad seemed so apparently cruel
in all those past dreary years, which
now, in one httle moment, blotted out
forever. __________
A Petrified Woman.
On Thursday last, says tho Carson
(Nev.) Appeal, Alonzo Zaleno, an Ital
ian fisherman, discovered a petrified wo
man at Cascade Lake. He was going
out to fish at the time, and when pushing
off his boat, struck his oar against some
thing that attracted his attention. He
investigated the matter, and to find a
petrified hand protruding from the sand
and pebbles on the beach. In a short time
he hud unearthed a woman in a complete
state of petrifaction. It was small in
size, brown in color, and scrawny and
emaciated. The petrifaction had a hide
ous appearance, and the body originally
must have belonged to a shriveled, sick
ly womam. The left breast was well
developed, but the arms and legs were
not much larger than the bones should
havo been, and the lingers of tho right
lmnd were gone. The petrifaction
weighed nearly two hundred pound*, and
a more unsightly object could not well
be imagined. It was brought down to
Lake liigler in the afternoon, and L. .T.
Wilson, of San Francisco, has offered
SIOO for it, as he wished to present it to
the Academy of Science. In all prob
ability' the "body is that of an Indian
woman. There is a tradition that years
ago the Indians had a battle at Cascade
Lake, in which the squaws joined, and
the dead were buried on the shore of the
lake. Under certain conditions the hu
man cadaver petrifies; more especially in
water. The tinder wants $1.50 for his
prize, and it is probable that the sum
will bo paid by the academy, aud the
curiosity sent to Ban Francisco.
How Diamond Mines Are W'orked.
Tho system of working the diamond
mines is described by the operator as
follows:
The ground being picked loose by na
tives and broken up, is hauled out of the
mines in tubs running on inclined wires;
from these tubs it is transferred to a
sifting cylinder, which removes the
coarser stones, the remaining soil being
mixed with water and slowly stirred in a
flat pan of circular form, by means of
arms fitted with teeth, this pan varying
from six to fifteen feet in diameter, ac
cording to the amount of work to
be done. The effect of this is to leave
the diamonds, which are harvest, at the
bottom; the lighter soil escaping over
theedgoof the pan, to betaken up by
a dredger and trucked away. At the
end of a day’s work the contents
of the circular pan are cleaned
out and washed up in hand-sieves, when
in turning over the sieve on the table the
diamonds can be at once seen from their
brilliancy, some being of most perfect
octahedron shape and as clear as crystal.
The rough diamonds are almost in
varial ily below ten carats in weight, the
average being about the size of a pea;
indeed, in the Bnltfontein Mine, a ton
carat stone is looked upon as a curiosity,
though specimens exceedingone hundred
carats in weight have ou rare occasions
been secured. The value of a stone de
pends entirely on its color, slmpo and
freedom from spots or flaws, those of
faultless shape and perfect whiteness
taking the precedence of all others. The
diamonds exceeding twenty carats in
weight are mostly of various shades of
yellow, a large white diamond being a
comparative rarity.
The Paragrapher.
The Toronto Mail has a pertinent par
agraph on parngmphers. It dates the
mania for paragraphic lmmor from the
success of the Danbury News man. Half
a dozen really witty and pungent writers
followed bis lead and won a brilliant but
ephemeral reputation as epigmmatic
humorists, which they enhanced by a
judicious system of mutual admiration
and interchange of quotations. A host
of imitators soon turned the quaint fol
lies of the original paragraphers into ab
surbities. “The mania appears to have
subsided,” says the Mail, “nearly as
suddenly as it sprang up. Some of our
American exchanges still run originally
funny columns, but the paragraphic de
partment is no longer the road to a rapid
celebrity and calls to lectine at SSO a
night, and the personal element is pretty
much eliminated. The novelty of tho
business lias worn off, and the daily or
weekly quota of fun is accepted as part
of the established order of things, with
out any more curiosity about the writer
than there is concerning the authorship
of the editorials or commercial reports.
The business has been vastly overdone,
and the consequence lias been too much
sameness and tameness in the alleged
wit, too much resort to stock subjects,
such as the mule and the mother-in-law,
and.a lamentable lack of the sparkle and
spontaneity which characterized the ear
lier efforts in this direction.
A business Darkey.
An enterprising darkey of a calculating
turn of mind, says a Florida paper, called
on a gentleman who owns a garden in
the Citv of Tallahassee and represented
that the garden was rapidly growing up
with grass, which, if left to go to seed,
would render it impossible to grow vege
tables on the spot next year, and pro
posed to cut it down for a certain sum,
which the gentleman agreed to pay. He
then went to the gentleman who had re
ceutlv rented the premises and made the
same proposition, which was again ac
cepted, the latter not knowing, of course,
that tlio owner had agreed to pay for the
work, as the darkey had studiously kept
that to himself. After cutting the grass
and collecting pay from both gentleman
our hero proceeded to flic owner of a cow,
sold the grass for double w lmt he charged
for cutting it, pocketed four times as
much money as the work was worth, and
went on his*way humming a hymn tune.
Now. who says' the African is not a pro
gressive raoe ?
Lightning Htrokwu
The fatalities from lightning are very
much greater in number and extent than
is generally supposed. In European
Russia alone, the deaths for five years—
-1870-74—were 1,452 men and 818 women.
No fewer than 4,092 tires are here also
officially reported from the same cause
during this i>eriod. In Prussia, where
the registration of the causes of death is
exceptionally careful, 1,004 persons were
reported as killed by lightning in the nine
years from 1809 to 1877. If we may trust
the report of bur Registrar-General this
country is more fortunate in this regard,
for during the same period only 194 such
deaths are registered for England and
Wales; but our returns are admittedly
incomplete.
In Austria—from 1800 to 1877 (eight
years)—lightning occasioned upward of
40,000 tires, and destroyed more than
1,700 lives. In Switzerland the returns
seem curiously variable. For example,
in 1800 only three such deaths are re
ported; while in 1877 we find as many as
thirty. Of the deaths by lightning in
France,! M. Boudin some years ago col
lected statistics whiohshowedthat during
the thirty years, beginning in 1834 and
ending in 1863, as many as 2,038 people
were struck dead by lightning in that
country. During the last ten years of
this period the deaths amounted to 880,
and of these only 243 were women.
Nothing, indeed, is more striking in these
statistics than the uniform preponderance
in the numbers of the male over the fe
male sex. With the exception of Swe
den—where for some reason not explained
and not easily to be imagined, this pre
ponderance is not so observable—there
seems to be generally about two men
killed to one woman. The traveler who
accounted for the immunity of the Swed
ish women by' their comparative “lack of
personal attractions” was as ungallant,
and we believe, moreover, as incorrect in
his fact as he was certainly wanting in
the decorum that forbids jesting on seri
ous subjects. The country seems inva
riably to suffer more than the town; the
village more than the great city.
Public buildings fare, it seems, little
better than private houses, though a cen
tury and a quarter has elapsed since
Franklin’s famous expenment with the
kite demonstrated the possibility of con
trolling the electric fluid, and nearly a
century has passed since the.learned,
taking interest in lightning conductors,
were divided into hostile factions on the
famous question of “knobs or points.”
Mr. Anderson estimates that at least one
half, and perhaps two-thirds of the pub
lic buildings, including the churches and
chapels, of Great Britain and Ireland,
are without any protection against light
ning; while it is believed that not five out
of a thousand private houses are fitted
with conductors. St. Pauls was among
the first buildings in Europe to be pro
tected, Benjamin Franklin’s “lightning
rods” liarfng been first set up over Sir
Christopher Wren’s dome, in 1768.
London News.
Badly Confused.
Nothing can be more comical than the
scared anxiety of a “cornered” party
who does not know which side of the
fence to get down on. A Southern pa
per tells the following:
Soon after the battle of Prairie Grove,
three Confederate officers of rank came
into our army to negotiate for an ex
change of prisoners. Three Union offi
cers were detailed to negotiate with them.
One day, while the commission was in
session, an old, gray-headed, gray
bearded Arkansas farmer walked in and
asked:
“Es this the Provo’s offis?”
Someone attempted to explain, but
the old fellow being quite deaf, did not
understand, and said:
“Yes, I’m a good loyal citizen; I’ve
got my protection papers; I’ve been and
got paid for my forage. Its all right.”
“Look here,” said Col. W—, of the
Union army, “you had better be careful
about what you say about your loyalty;
don’t you see those gentlemen over
there?” pointing across the table to
where the Confederate officers sat in
their gray uniforms.
The old man took out a pair of dilapi
dated spectacles, and fixing them on his
nose, closely examined the gray' uniforms
with their velvet collars and brass stars.
His hands trembled violently, and he
seemed quite frightened, but collected
himself and said to the Confederates:
“Well, gentlemen, I meant no offence.
I didn’t know—fact is, I’ve alius been a
Southern man. I’ve jest got one son,
and he’s with Marmaduke. The only
other man grown in my r family' that’s fit
for sarvis is my darter Bailie’s husband,
and lie’s with Rector, and—”
“Hold on, old fellow,” cried Col. W—,
“what about your being a loyal citizen?”
Ho looked at the other side of the ta
ble. Then lie readjusted his spectacles,
scanned the blue coats, took off his hand
kerchief from about liis neck, blew his
nose, leaned both hands on the table aud
said:
“Well, gentlemen, this is a little mixed,
but you jist go on and fight it out among
yourselves, I can live under any gov
ernment. ”
The Growth of a Southern City.
Atlanta is a peculiar city. Peculiar
because of the remarkable difference be
tween her and her sister cities of the
South. Each year new buildings are
erected, and apparently just enough to
meet the demands, and when the build
ing season is over, the unthinking ob
server concludes that “Atlanta is gown.”
But when the beginning of the next
season arrives, building is as brisk as
ever, and one remarkable thing in con
nection with this subject is. that in
almost any instance the buildings are
engaged before they are half completed.
Aiiot her thing is that the buildings are
erected in such a short time. Where
is a little “shanty’' to-day is a handsome
building to-morrow, almost, and a man
has to keep liis eyes open or he will not
know his own neighborhood. —Atlanta
Constitution.
PITH AND POINT.
The Chinese plank—An ironing board.
A rat in a trap does not believe in the
early-closing movement.
Columbus made an egg stand; but
Italians of less renown have made the
peanut stand.
Burglars never wait for an opening
in their business. They go to work at
once and make an opening.
Did you ever know a man who talked
much of himself who did not have a poor
subject for his conversation ?
A great many men are cottage-built;
that is to say, they have but one story.
And they are forever telling it.
‘ ‘ Are you lost, my little fellow ?’
asked a gentleman of a 4-year-old.
“No,” ho sobbed in reply; “b-butmy
mother is.”
Someone lias charged Tennyson with
plagiarism. We have long suspected
the p. laureate has been remodeling tho
fugitive poems of the Sweet Singer’of
Michigan.
The following advertisement appeared
in an Irish newspaper : “This is to no
tify Patrick O’Flaherty, who lately left
his lodgings, that if he does not return
soon and pay for the same he shall be
advertised. ”
Many physicians claim that intemper
ance is a disease. It must be conta
gious, then ; at any rate, a man who
gets drunk finally catches it when ho
goes home.. There may appear to be
some little discrepancy or contradiction
here, but we can’t stop for that now.—
Burdette.
“Oh, look at the donkey! he’s been
destroying that hill of corn !” exclaimed
Mrs. Suburban, in dismay. “Con
found him !” said the husband, flinging
t stick at the animal, “ lie’s a corn-sum
aiit ass!” The scream that Mrs. S.
emitted, previous to going off in a faint,
frightened the beast more than her hus
band’s stick.— Boston Transcript.
“Are you an Odd Fellow?” “No,
sir ; I have been married more than a
week.” “ I mean do you belong to tho
order of Odd Fellows?” “No; I be
long to the order of married men.”
“ Mercy, how dull! Are you a Mason ?”
“No ; lam a carpenter.” “ Worse and
worse ! Are you a Son of Temperance ?”
“No ; lam the son of Mr. John Gos
ling.”
Spinster landlady: “Then you and
vour mamma want the same rooms you
had last year?” Young lady: “Yes,
Miss Spriggins, only it isn’t mamma
who is with me, but my husband ; I’ve
got married since last year.” Spinster
landlady: “Lor, now, have you? I’m
glad to hear it. Yet, after all, I don’t
know why I should be glad g you never
lid me any harm, poor thing.”
A man in Scott county, Ky., was
hutted in the pit of the stomach by a
mountain ram on his place. He was.
tiadly hurt, and a physician was sent
•or. The latter arrived and asked him
now he felt. He replied : “lam ready
for death, but I don’t like to die this
way. I wouldn’t mind being kicked to
death by a tlirouglibrea horse or gored
to death by a Durham bull, but I can’t
ntand the idea of being butted into eter
nity by a mountain ram!”
I’ve dined till I’m weary of dinners;
I’ve waltzed myself quite out of breath;
I’ve flirted with saints and with sinners;
I’ve dressed myself nearly to death.
I’ve fallen in postures and poses,
To please sad-faced maidens intense;
I’ve well nigh been smothered ip roses,
Collected at frightful expense.
In short, to the best of my knowledge,
No duty nor pleasure I’ve shirked,
And since I was cramming at college
Have never so hardly been worked.
Hereditary Descent of Beauty.
Mr. Darwin believes that the general
beauty of the English upper class, and
especially of' the titled aristocracy, is
probably due to their constant selection
of the most beautiful women of all classes
(peeresses, actresses, or wealthy bour
geoises) as wives through an immense
number of generations. The regular
featui’es and fine complexions of the
mothers are naturally handed down by
heredity to their descendants. Similarly
iPwoulid seem that we must account for
the high average of personal beauty
amongst the ancient Greeks and the mod
ern Italians by the high average of gen
eral taste, the strong love for the beauti
ful, diffused amongst all classes in both
those races. The prettier women and the
handsomer men would thus stand a bet
ter chance of marrring, other things
being equal, and of Landing down their
own refined type of face and form to
their children. If this be so—and evo
lutionists at least can hardly' doubt it—
then we should expect everywhere to
find the general level of personal beauty
highest where there was the widest dif
fusion of aesthetic taste. Now, our own
squalid poor are noticeable, as a rule,
for their absolute and repulsive ugliness,
even when compared with those of other
European countries. Gaunt, hard-faced
women, low-browed, bull-dog looking
men, sickly, shapeless children people
the back slums of our manufacturing
towns. Their painful ugliness can
not all be due to their physicial circum
stances alone; for the lazzoroniwlio hang
about the streets of Naples must lead
lives of about equal hardship and dis
comfort; yet many of them, both men
and women, are beautiful enough to sit
as models for a Lionardo. On the other
hand, every traveler speaks in high ad
miration of the beauty and gracefulness
displayed by young and old among the
aesthetic Polynesians; while in many like
cases I note that Europeans who have
once become accustomed to the local typo
find decidedly pretty faces extremely
common in several savage races whose
primitive works of aid show them in
other ways to possess considerable (es
thetic taste. In India, where artistic
feeling is universal, almost every man
or woman is handsome. On the whole,
it seems fairly proved that the average
personal beauty everywhere roughly
corresponds to the average general love
! for beauly in the abstract.
I