begged Griffith to bring me the last letter I had received from a
friend of mine.

"I shall find out," I thought, from the effect my sketch has on him,
"what sort of blood runs in his veins."

I took the paper from Griffith's hands, saying:

"Let me see if I have copied it rightly."

For it was all in my writing. I handed him the paper, or, if you will,
the snare, and I watched him while he read as follows:

"He who is to win my heart, my dear, must be harsh and unbending with
men, but gentle with women. His eagle eye must have power to quell
with a single glance the least approach to ridicule. He will have a
pitying smile for those who would jeer at sacred things, above all, at
that poetry of the heart, without which life would be but a dreary
commonplace. I have the greatest scorn for those who would rob us of
the living fountain of religious beliefs, so rich in solace. His
faith, therefore, should have the simplicity of a child, though united
to the firm conviction of an intelligent man, who has examined the
foundations of his creed. His fresh and original way of looking at
things must be entirely free from affectation or desire to show off.
His words will be few and fit, and his mind so richly stored, that he
cannot possibly become a bore to himself any more than to others.

"All his thoughts must have a high and chivalrous character, without
alloy of self-seeking; while his actions should be marked by a total
absence of interested or sordid motives. Any weak points he may have