Laughter is, indeed, a terrible betrayer of the character, and a surer guide in judgment than most people know.

For men learn to use their voices skilfully and to govern their tones as well as their words; but, beyond not laughing too loud for ordinary decency of behaviour, there are few people who care, or realize, how they laugh; and those who do, and who, being aware that there is room for improvement, endeavour to improve, very generally produce either a semi-musical noise, which is false and affected, or a perfectly inane cachinnation which has nothing human in it at all.
Bosio Macomer was a refined man, not only by education and outward contact with the refinements he sought in others, but within himself and by predisposition of nature.

He read much, and found beauties in books which his friends thought dull, but which appealed tenderly to his innate love of tenderness.

He had probably lost many illusions, but the sweetest of them all was still fresh in him, for he loved nature unaffectedly.

In an unobtrusive way he was something of an artist, and was fond of going out by himself, when in the country, to sketch and dream all day.