harmony in the medium of created sound; they are echoes from our home; they are the voice of angels or the magnificat of Saints, or the living laws of Divine Governance, or the Divinic attributes; something are they besides themselves, which we cannot compass, which we cannot utter,—­though mortal man, and he perhaps not otherwise distinguished above his fellows, has the gift of eliciting them.”

Of quite another order is the Cardinal’s description of a gentleman.  Here there is no flight of poetical imagination, but a manifestation of felicitous intuition and penetrating insight as rare as it is convincing, and the generous wide vision of a man of the world, undimmed by the faintest trace of prejudice:—­

“Hence it is that it is almost a definition of a gentleman to say he is one who never inflicts pain.  This description is both refined and, as far as it goes, accurate.  He is mainly occupied in merely removing the obstacles which hinder the free and unembarrassed action of those about him; and he concurs with their movements rather than takes the initiative himself.  His benefits may be considered as parallel to what are called comforts or conveniences in arrangements of a personal nature:  like an easy chair or a good fire, which do their part in dispelling cold and fatigue, though nature provides both means of rest and animal heat without them.

“The true gentleman in like manner carefully avoids whatever may cause a jar or a jolt in the minds of those with whom he is cast; all clashing of opinion, or collision of feeling, all restraint, or suspicion, or gloom, or resentment; his great concern being to make everyone at their ease and at home.  He has his eyes on all his company; he is tender towards the bashful, gentle towards the distant, and merciful towards the absurd; he can recollect to whom he is speaking; he guards against unseasonable allusions, or topics which may irritate; he is seldom prominent in conversation and never wearisome.

“He makes light of favours while he does them, and seems to be receiving when he is conferring.  He never speaks of himself except when compelled, never defends himself by a mere retort; he has no ears for slander or gossip, is scrupulous in imputing motives to those who interfere with him, and interprets everything for the best.  He is never mean or little in his disputes, never takes unfair advantage, never mistakes personalities or sharp sayings for arguments, or insinuates evil which he dare not say out.  From a long-sighted prudence he observes the maxim of the ancient sage, that we should ever conduct ourselves towards our enemy as if he were one day to be our friend.  He has too much sense to be affronted at insults, he is too well employed to remember injuries, and too indolent to bear malice.

“He is patient, forbearing, and resigned, on philosophical principles; he submits to pain because it is inevitable, to bereavement