'My dear Gilbert, I wish you would try to be a little more amiable,' said my mother one morning after some display of unjustifiable ill-humour on my part.

'You say there is nothing the matter with you, and nothing has happened to grieve you, and yet I never saw anyone so altered as you within these last few days.

You haven't a good word for anybody--friends and strangers, equals and inferiors--it's all the same.

I do wish you'd try to check it.' 'Check what ?' 'Why, your strange temper.

You don't know how it spoils you.