Manners are not idle, but the fruit Of noble nature and of loyal mind. Good manners tend greatly to success in life.--Coarseness and gruffness lock doors, gentleness and refinement open them, while the rude, boorish man is shunned by all. Take the case of a speaker addressing a public meeting. What he says is weighty and important. His arguments are powerful and well marshalled, but his speech is uncouth and disagreeable. He says things that are coarse and vulgar. His bad manner vastly takes away from the impression which he desires to make, and which, if his manner had been different, he would have made. Again, two young men serve in a place of business. The one is gentle in his demeanor, meets his customers with a pleasant smile, is always polite. The other is rough in his deportment, apparently does not care whether those he deals with are pleased or not. The one is a favorite with everybody; the other, who may be equally worthy as far as character is concerned, is disliked. Good manners often disarm opposition.--People may have a prejudice against ourselves personally, or against the cause we represent. It is wonderful, however, how much may be done to soften them by habitual courtesy towards them, and by studiously avoiding anything calculated to offend them or rouse their anger. A wise man will always endeavor to be specially civil towards any one who differs from him. It is related that in the early days of the Abolition movement in the United States, two men went out preaching: one, a sage old Quaker, brave and calm; the other, a fervid young man. When the Quaker lectured, the audience were all attention, and his arguments met with very general concurrence. But when it came to the young man's turn, a tumult invariably ensued, and he was pelted off the platform. Surprised by their different receptions, the young man asked the Quaker the reason. "Friend," he said, "you and I are on the same mission; we preach the same things; how is it that while _you_ are received so cordially, I get nothing but abuse?" "I will tell thee," replied the Quaker; "thee says, 'If you do so and so, you shall be punished,' and I say, 'My friends, if you will _but_ do so and so, you shall not be punished.' It is not what we say, but how we say it." [1] In _The Memorials of a Quiet Life_ it is said of Augustus Hare that, on a road along which he frequently passed, there was a workman employed in its repair who met his gentle questions and observations with gruff answers and sour looks. But as day after day the persevering mildness of his words and manner still continued, the rugged features of the man gave way, and his tone assumed a softer character. Politeness is the oiled key that will open many a rusty lock.