I knew him for a gentleman
By signs that never fail;
His coat was rough and rather worn,
His cheeks were thin and pale;
A lad who had his way to make
With little time for play;
I knew him for a gentleman
By certain signs to-day.
He met his mother on the street,
Off came his little cap;
My door was shut, he waited there
Until I heard his rap.
He took the bundle from my hand;
And when I dropped the pen,
He sprang to pick it up for me--
This little gentleman of ten.
He does not push or crowd along.
His voice is gently pitched;
He does not fling his books about
As if he were bewitched.
He stands aside to let you pass,
He always shuts the door.
He runs on errands willingly,
To forge or mill or store.
He thinks of you before himself;
He serves you if he can,
For in whatever company
The manners make the man.
At ten or forty 'tis the same.
The manner tells the tale;
And I discern the gentleman
By signs that never fail.
I have read of three women who were once talking about pretty hands.
Not one of them tested the matter by the size of their hands, and yet
they, too, forgot quality. One said she kept hers pretty by washing
them in milk; another dipped hers in berry juice, and the third washed
hers in the fragrance of flowers.
While they were talking, a poor old woman came and asked for something
to eat, and they were so busy talking about the kind of hands they had
they could not help her.
Another woman whose hands were worn with work, and hardened by the sun,
and all wrinkled, and who was passing by, listened to the poor old
woman's cry, and fed her. Then she asked the three what they had been
doing, and they said, "We will leave it to you to say whose hands are
the loveliest." And do you know, girls and boys, she passed by the
hands of milky whiteness and the hands that smelt of flowers, and
turning to the working woman said, "She has the prettiest, for she uses
them for gifts to others!"
It is quality of character that counts.
You may be as big as a giant and as strong as a horse, and yet lack in
the only thing that really counts or lasts--a quality that gives you
worth.
What is worth anyhow? What are you worth? You say, "Oh, my daddy is a
millionaire. We have a lovely house and gardens, and I get new dresses
every month. Whew! We are worth a lot!"
Well, perhaps you are, for a man can have money and something more. If
he has only money piles, he is terribly poor.
You are worth just what you are. Just what your quality is.
They used to talk years ago of "ladies of quality" and they meant the
upper uppers--the swells and people with titles. Now we know there are
splendid ladies with titles, but it is not the title that makes them
ladies of quality, it is what they carry in their hearts.