I was once forcibly reminded of this article of the “good-form” code by seeing a vigorous young college student rush through a door without any regard to an elderly woman whom he met in the passage, and whom he almost knocked off her feet in the encounter, leaving the outside door to swing back against her slender hand as she caught it to prevent its hitting her in the face. He seemed utterly oblivious to the fact that he had met any one, and by this unconscious rudeness he published abroad the fact that he had been reared in utter disregard of ordinary courtesy. This young man is trying to do what is right; he wishes to do a good work in the world, but he is destined to feel the handicap of bad breeding, for which he is not responsible. He will be responsible, however, for continuance in bad form; for bad breeding may be made temporary in its effects by an earnest purpose to replace it by true culture. I knew a young man whose birth and surroundings in boyhood were as unpromising as could be imagined. His father was a very low, ignorant, drunken fellow, unclean and disgusting in all his habits, even when sober. His mother could neither read nor write, although she was possessed of intelligence and many true, womanly instincts, such as made it possible for the hovel in which they lived to bear some semblance to a home. This boy, who was the eldest of a large family, was bright enough to attract the attention of a “district visitor,” was clothed, and taken to the Sunday-school, and from thence went on through a career of self-denial, self-training, and culture, always seeking the best things, holding every advantage gained from point to point, finishing his preparatory work as one of the most polished and consecrated young men of a large college circle, paying his way by skilled labor in a machine-shop for a few hours each week, while he was being equipped for a large field of usefulness. He became especially distinguished for the elegance of his deportment toward all with whom he chanced to be brought into association. It was often said, “He never forgets himself,” “He always does the admirable thing,” “You can depend on _him_ to do the elegant always,” and the beauty of it all was that this was a part of his Christian life. He was always wanted, but the social world that coveted him knew that he could not be _had_ for anything that was inconsistent with Christ.