look and word often go farther in winning upon their affection than even a piece of coarse flannel, or a remnant of dark print.

Henrietta, her niece, looked much prettier than she really was; she had good dark eyes, to which a soupçon of rouge, put on with such skill that few suspected it, gave all possible brightness. Her figure was tall and slight, and she dressed to perfection. Henrietta had not spent some years in Paris for nothing; she was a remarkable instance of how much we may do ourselves for our personal appearance. If human beauty be a flower, as all poets and philosophers assert that it is, a great deal may be done for flowers by judicious cultivation.