people are handsome now and then--it looks generous."

"Yes," said Vincent, "for a barber's block: but here comes Mrs. C--me,
and her beautiful daughter--those are people you ought to know, if you
wish to see human nature a little relieved from the frivolities which
make it in society so like a man milliner. Mrs. C--has considerable
genius, combined with great common sense."

"A rare union," said I.

"By no means," replied Vincent. "It is a cant antithesis in opinion to
oppose them to one another; but, so far as mere theoretical common sense
is concerned, I would much sooner apply to a great poet or a great orator
for advice on matter of business, than any dull plodder who has passed
his whole life in a counting-house. Common sense is only a modification
of talent--genius is an exaltation of it: the difference is, therefore,
in the degree, not nature. But to return to Mrs. C--; she writes
beautiful poetry--almost impromptu; draws excellent caricatures;
possesses a laugh for whatever is ridiculous, but never loses a smile for
whatever is good. Placed in very peculiar situations, she has passed
through each with a grace and credit which make her best eulogium. If she
possesses one quality higher than intellect, it is her kindness of heart:
no wonder indeed, that she is so really clever--those trees which are the
soundest at the core produce the finest fruits, and the most beautiful
blossoms."

"Lord Vincent grows poetical," thought I--"how very different he really
is to that which he affects to be in the world; but so it is with every
one--we are all like the ancient actors: let our faces be ever so
beautiful, we must still wear a mask."