with you, 'Do you observe how people are looking at you? This happens to
no man in Athens but to you. A fine compliment was paid you yesterday in
the Porch. More than thirty persons were sitting there when the question
was started, Who is our foremost man? Every one mentioned you first, and
ended by coming back to your name.' The Flatterer will laugh also at
your stalest joke, and will stuff his cloak into his mouth as if he could
not repress his amusement when you again tell it. He will buy apples and
pears and will give to your children when you are by, and will kiss them
all and will say, 'Chicks of a good father.' Also, when he assists at
the purchase of slippers he will declare that the foot is more shapely
than the shoe. He is the first of the guests to praise the wine and to
say as he reclines next the host, 'How delicate your fare always is'; and
taking up something from the table, 'Now, how excellent that is!'" And
so on. Yes, we have heard it all over and over again in Modern Athens
also. The Greek fable also of the fox and the crow and the piece of
cheese is only another illustration of the truth that the God of truth
and integrity never left Himself without a witness. Our own literature
also is scattered full of the Flatterer and his too willing dupes. "Of
praise a mere glutton," says Goldsmith of David Garrick, "he swallowed
what came. The puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame." "Delicious
essence," exclaims Sterne, "how refreshing thou art to poor human nature!
How sweetly dost thou mix with the blood, and help it through the most
difficult and tortuous passages to the heart." "He that slanders me,"
says Cowper, "paints me blacker than I am, and he that flatters me
whiter. They both daub me, and when I look in the glass of conscience, I
see myself disguised by both." And then he sings:

"The worth of these three kingdoms I defy
To lure me to the baseness of a lie;
And of all lies (be that one poet's boast),