His dress is an index of his character: simple, appropriate, harmonious. The man of the world pronounces it tasteful, the man of the people sees in it nothing that is unusual, and the man of sense recognizes in it a certain independence of the newest mode.

Being of those that make haste discreetly, he studies the characters of his acquaintances before giving them his confidence. In conversation, he is neither impatient, restless, nor hurried, and though he is careful in selecting his words, he attaches more importance to the matter of his discourse than to the manner. Made to give the tone, he is content to receive it: he is wont to take as much pains to remain unnoticed as many another takes to make himself seen.

The Mentor — Part 86

If he appears in a circle where he is not known, the greater number see in him only a quiet, plain man that, despite his simplicity, however, has that about him to which they involuntarily yield their respect. The superficial, the presuming, and the malicious, though ignorant of the cause, are embarrassed by his steady, searching glance; the loyal and the unfortunate, on the contrary, are drawn toward him, feeling that in him they shall find a friend.

The Mentor — Part 86

He is guarded in speaking ill of others, a thing he never does but with right intentions--as, for example, to unmask a hypocrite, to punish the guilty, or to protect the weak. In speaking of his enemies, he never forgets to be just; he is not of those that are blind to the virtues of even the most unworthy, nor is he of those that are so ungenerous as to deny them.

The Mentor — Part 86

He is temperate in sustaining his opinions, and opposes only to be better informed, or to enliven the conversation; and often he will suddenly acknowledge his defeat, and confess with generous sincerity that the reasons of his opponent are better than his own. His victories are not less noble. His aim is to enlighten, not to humiliate, much less to offend. If he finds that he is opposed by presumption, obstinacy or ignorance, it is his habit to yield. “You may be right,” he will say; “my way of seeing things is often erroneous, and this, quite likely, is the case now.”

He avoids what is likely to create discord, seeks to promote kindly feeling among his fellows, and never pleads the faults of others in extenuation of his own. He is slow to take offence, opposes incivility with urbanity, and passion with moderation. Wrong-doing he accounts a weakness, and he pleads weakness as its excuse; the wrong-doer excites his pity rather than his hate.