"Of infinitely more consequence," said Dr. Campbell: "but why, to excellent principles, may we not add agreeable manners? Why should not truth be amiable, as well as respectable? You, who have such enlarged views for the good of the whole human race, are, I make no doubt, desirous that your fellow-creatures should love truth, as well as you love it yourself." "Certainly, I wish they did," said Forester. "And have your observations upon the feelings of others, and upon your own, led you to conclude, that we are most apt to like those things which always give us pain? And do you, upon this principle, wish to make truth as painful as possible, in order to increase our love for it?" "I don't wish to make truth painful," said Forester; "but, at the same time, it is not my fault if people can't bear pain. I think people who can't bear pain, both of body and mind, cannot be good for any thing; for, in the first place, they will always," said Forester, glancing his eye at Flora and her flower-pot,--"they will always prefer flattery to truth, as all weak people do." At this sarcastic reflection, which seemed to be aimed at the sex, Lady Catherine, Mrs. Campbell, and all the ladies present, except Flora, began to speak at once in their own vindication. As soon as there was any prospect of peace, Dr. Campbell resumed his argument in the calmest voice imaginable. "But, Mr. Forester, without troubling ourselves for the present with the affairs of the ladies, or of weak people, may I ask what degree of unnecessary pain you think it the duty of a strong person, a moral Samson, to bear?" "Unnecessary pain! I do not think it is any body's duty to bear _unnecessary_ pain." "Nor to make others bear it?" "Nor to make others bear it." "Then we need argue no further. I congratulate you, Mr. Forester, upon your becoming so soon a proselyte to politeness." "To politeness!" said Forester, starting back. "Yes, my good sir; real politeness only teaches us to save others from _unnecessary pain_; and _this_ you have just allowed to be your wish.--And now for the grand affair of Flora's flower-pot. You are not bound by politeness to tell any falsehoods; weak as she is, and a woman, I hope she can bear to hear the painful truth upon such an important occasion." "Why," said Forester, who at last suffered his features to relax into a smile, "the truth then is, that I don't know whether the flower-pot be pretty or ugly, but I was determined not to say it was pretty." "But why," said Henry, "did you look so heroically severe about the matter?" "The reason I looked grave," said Forester, "was, because I was afraid your sister Flora would be spoiled by all the foolish compliments that were paid to her and her flower-pot."