"By Vesta," thought Gordon, "she has rewarded him for those two words, with that smile, which I have made such useless efforts to obtain! and _he_ has made no effort at all!--I abandon her!" "Whom do you esteem great men, Mr. Montague?" inquired Margarette. "O, there have been hosts of them in the world," answered Montague; "but perhaps it would be better to tell you what I call true greatness, than to name those whom I esteem great. True greatness, I apprehend, consists in conquering or in duly restraining the ruling passion; in forgiving an injury, when we have fair opportunity for avenging ourselves; in sacrificing our own feelings and interests for the good of others; in that benevolence that leads to a forgetfulness of _self_, in efforts to promote the happiness and welfare of mankind." "The world will hardly subscribe to your explanation of _greatness_," said Gordon, with something like a sneer, "and few are _great!_" "Few are--but many might be," said Montague. "Every one who foregoes his own personal good, for the good of others; who forgets his own happiness, in efforts to promote the happiness of those around him, and who will not be turned aside from his purpose by the obstacles, or the unkindness, or the ridicule with which he meets, is _great_." "Who sees such greatness?" asked Gordon. "It has sometimes been conspicuous on earth, as in the case of Howard, Peter the Great of Russia, Wilberforce, Clarkson, Mrs. Fry, and multitudes of others," said Montague. "But no matter whether it is seen by the world or not, provided its influence be felt. And there is no one, capable of moral action, who has not almost daily opportunities for exercising true greatness and magnanimity of soul; and should every one improve the opportunity, the wilderness of this world would soon be like Eden, and her deserts like the garden of the Lord!'" Margarette's countenance again beamed with pleasure and approbation, as she said--"Moral grandeur, would then be your definition of greatness, Mr. Montague?" "It would." "And the only true one, according to my apprehension," said Margarette, "and I have often had the pleasure of seeing it exemplified. And this moral greatness leads to sublimity of thought," she added. "It expands the soul, and elevates the conception. As an instance: I once attended a prayer meeting, where was a man who had no more than ordinary capacity, and who knew nothing beyond the cultivation of his little farm, and the path to heaven. He could scarcely read intelligibly. Being called on to lead in the devotions of the evening, he knelt down, and began in this manner--'O, thou, who lightest up heaven!' To me, it was like a shock of electricity! I have thought of it a thousand times since, and doubt whether Byron, with all his genius, in his happiest moment of poetic inspiration, ever had so sublime a conception."