FLATTERY
The man who is not injured by flattery is as hard to find as the one who is improved by criticism.
Flattery is a sort of moral peroxide—it turns many a woman's head.
"Oi hate flattery," said O'Brien the other day. "Flattery makes ye think ye are betther than ye are, an' no man livin' can iver be that."
THE CONVERSATIONALIST (to well-known author)—"I'm so delighted to meet you! It was only the other day I saw something of yours, about something or other, in some magazine."
WILBUR (indicating a couple in the background)—"Funny that such a stunning-looking woman should marry such a dub as that."
FLATTE—"Well, I don't know. No accounting for those things. Now, you take your wife—she's a ripper."—Life.
The admiration which Bob felt for his Aunt Margaret included all her attributes.
"I don't care much for plain teeth like mine, Aunt Margaret," said Bob, one day, after a long silence, during which he had watched her in laughing conversation with his mother. "I wish I had some copper-toed ones like yours."
A gentleman who discovered that he was standing on a lady's train had the presence of mind to remark:
"Tho I may not have the power to draw an angel from the skies, I have pinned one to the earth." The lady excused him.
"Sir," said the angry woman, "I understand you said I had a face that would stop a street-car in the middle of the block."
"Yes, that's what I said," calmly answered the mere man.
"It takes an unusually handsome face to induce a motorman to make a stop like that."