Page:The Galaxy (New York, Sheldon & Co.) Volume 24 (1877).djvu/680

 the respectable intonings the sympathetic stranger reads over the inscriptions on the mural tablets before him, all to the honor of the earlier bearers of a name which is, for himself, a symbol of hospitality.

When I came back to the parsonage the entertainment had been transferred to the interior, and I had occasion to admire the maidenly vigor of those charming young girls, who, after playing lawn-tennis all the afternoon, were modestly expecting to dance all the evening. And in regard to this it is not impertinent to say that from almost any group of young English girls—though preferably from such as have passed their lives in quiet country homes—an American observer receives a delightful impression of something that he can best describe as general salubrity. He notices face after face in which this rosy absence of a morbid strain—this simple, natural, affectionate development—amounts to positive beauty. If the young girl has no other beauty, the look I speak of is a sufficient charm; but when it is united, as it so often is, to real perfection of feature and color, the result is the most beautiful thing in nature. It makes the highest type of English beauty, and to my sense there is nothing better than that. Not long since I heard a clever foreigner indulge, in conversation with an English lady—a very wise and liberal woman—in a little lightly restrictive criticism of her countrywomen. "It is possible," she answered, in regard to one of his objections; "but such as they are, they are inexpressibly dear to their husbands." This is doubtless true of good wives all over the world; but I felt, as I listened to these words of my friend, that there is often something in an English girl-face which gives it an extra touch of justesse. Such as the woman is, she has here, more than elsewhere, the look of being completely and profoundly at the service of the man she loves. This look, after one has been a while in England, comes to seem so much a proper and indispensable part of a "nice" face, that the absence of it appears a sign of irritability, vanity, hardness, shallowness. Depth of tenderness, as regards a masculine counterpart—that is what it means; and I confess that that seems to me a very agreeable meaning. I quite agreed with the author of the declaration I have quoted, that it outweighed the particular foible her interlocutor had touched upon, for, if I recollect rightly, this was merely some slight irregularity of toilet.

As for the prettiness, I cannot forbear, in the face of a fresh reminiscence, to give it another word. And yet, in regard to prettiness, what do words avail? This was what I asked myself the other day as I looked at a young girl who stood in an old oaken parlor, whose rugged panelling made a background for her lovely head, in simple conversation with a handsome lad. I said to myself that the faces of English young people had often a singular charm, but that this same charm is too soft and shy a thing to talk about. The young girl's face had a lovely oval, and her clear brown eyes a quiet warmth. Her complexion was as pure as a sunbeam after rain, and she smiled in a way that made any other way of smiling than that seem a shallow grimace—a mere creaking of the facial muscles. The young man stood facing her, slowly scratching his thigh and shifting from one foot to the other. He was tall and very well made, and so sun-burned that his fair hair was lighter than his complexion. He had honest, stupid blue eyes, and a simple smile that showed his handsome teeth. He was very well dressed. Presently I heard what they were saying. "I suppose it's pretty big, " said the beautiful young girl. "Yes; it's pretty big," said the handsome young man. "It's nicer when they are big," said the young girl. The young man looked at her, and at everything in general, with his slowly apprehending blue eye, and for some time no further remark was made.