Handsome is that handsome does.
John.Mama, I want something to look at; what can I have?
Mother.Why, my dear, cannot you find something in the room to look at—some pretty story-book, or amusing puzzle?
J.No, mama, I don’t want to read, or be puzzled either; and I have looked at the shells and fossils on the mantelpiece, and the gold fishes in the globe, and counted the window-panes and the flowers on the carpet twenty times, and I’ve been looking into the looking-glass for the last half hour.
M.Into the looking-glass, John! for what purpose?
J.That I might know how handsome I am, mama.
M.Why, do you really think that you are handsome?
J.Yes, mama; do not you?
M.Only sometimes.
J.Why—only sometimes, mama?
M.Because, John, you are only handsome when you are good; when you are naughty, you are a very ugly little fellow!
J.Why, mama, my hair is always curled, and my hands always white, and I am sure that my clothes are always very pretty.
M.Yes, my dear, that may be; but does any one love you more on this account?
J.I should think they do, mama.
M.Then let me tell you, my dear, that if a child be ever so pretty, and dressed ever so fine, he cannot be loved unless he is good. No person is pleasing to look at, who is naughty. A person who is naughty has a bad heart, and a bad heart usually spoils the face.