The way in which a man is dressed has much to do with his feeling of satisfaction and self-confidence. The advice of an expert to a man who feels things are going against him, is to "stop and shave, take a bath, and put on a smart, well-fitting suit of clothes." A prominent business man acknowledges that when properly dressed he can approach other men with twice his usual degree of self-confidence.

Every one has noticed how a person badly dressed becomes self-conscious upon entering into the presence of well-dressed people. He feels suddenly at a disadvantage; a sense of inferiority creeps over him, and his greatest desire is to beat a hasty retreat.

It has been said that a well-modulated voice testifies to a strain of good blood in the speaker's ancestry, but it does more than this. It serves as an index to his self-confidence. The degree of earnestness and conviction in the speaker's mind is disclosed in his voice and manner. The instant he speaks he declares himself, and our first estimate will not easily be changed.

Diffidence is a serious handicap to any man. "I hate," exclaims Emerson, "where I looked for a manly furtherance, or at least a manly resistance, to find much of concession." Men who lack self-confidence do not hold themselves in high esteem, and others accept them at their own valuation. When a brutal soldier raised his sword to John Milton and said "I have power to kill you," that great souled man replied, "And I have power to be killed and to despise my murderer." It is this dauntless spirit, even in the face of imminent danger, that proves a man's worth.

Let a man speak out like a man, not like a weakling. Servility is not politeness, nor are weakness and effeminacy marks of good-breeding.

Training in self-confidence belongs properly to childhood. Parents are doubtless responsible for much of the fearthought that prevails in after life. As Chamberlain says:

"Every ugly thing told to the child, every shock, every fright, given him, will remain like splinters in the flesh, to torture him all his life long. The bravest old soldier, the most daring young reprobate, is incapable of forgetting them all the masks, the bogies, ogres, hobgoblins, witches and wizards, the things that bite and scratch, that nip and tear, that pinch and crunch, the thousand-and-one imaginary monsters of the mother, the nurse, or the servant, have had their effect; and hundreds of generations have worked to denaturalize the brains of children. Perhaps no animal, not even those most susceptible to fright, has behind it the fear heredity of the child."

But if one has reached young manhood and is distressed by timidity and fearthought, let him take courage, from the fact that thousands like him have finally mastered themselves. We have before hinted that such a man must take himself in hand for the most severe mental overhauling. This must be well and thoroughly done, and strong resolutions put into immediate effect. But having made this careful and honest diagnosis of his own case, and decided upon a definite course of action, he should then stop his introspection, stop thinking about his fears and shortcomings, and engage his mind wholly with strong up building thoughts.

But this is not all. These thoughts must be translated into acts. The fable of the Hunter and the Woodman reminds us that a hero is brave in deeds as well as in words: "A hunter, not very bold, was searching for the tracks of a lion. He asked a man who was felling oaks in the forest, if he had seen any marks of his footsteps, or if he knew where his lair was. 'I will,' he said, 'at once show you the lion myself.' The hunter, turning very pale, and with his teeth chattering from fear, replied, 'No, thank you. I did not ask that; it is his track only I am in search of, not the lion himself.' "The fault of many men is that they are careless about trifles. It is the little thoughts and acts of a man's every-day life that chiefly enter into the making of his personality. Only once in a great while can one hope to perform some signal act of bravery, but the courage of little things can be manifested every hour of the day. When a friend called the second time on Michelangelo he found him still working at the same statue. " You have been idle," he exclaimed, "since I saw you last." "No, indeed," answered the sculptor–"I have retouched this part, and polished that; I have softened this feature, and brought out this muscle. I have given more expression to this lip and more energy to this limb." "But," said his friend, "these are trifles." "It may be so," replied Michelangelo, "but please recollect that trifles make perfection and that perfection is no trifle."

It is through care in apparently unimportant things that a man builds confidence and character. "By systematic discipline all men may be made heroes," and one may say with Shakespeare, "I dare do all that may become a man; who dares do more is none."

A man unconsciously expresses himself in his manner. He attracts or repels by voice, look, gesture, walk, or appearance. He is liked or disliked on the instant. He pleases or arouses prejudices, warms or chills one, persuades or discourages, and often can not give the reason why. But let him be sure of himself, and his certainty and confidence will inspire these same qualities in others. "If a man," says Emerson, "will but plant himself on his instincts, the great world will come round to him."

A man who is given much to levity loses in public estimation. The professional joker is too capricious to be accepted seriously, and the self-assurance with which he perpetrates his tiresome and superannuated jokes is not the kind of self-confidence we recommend. The basis of the truly self-reliant man, like that of the great orator, is serious, strong-willed, and earnest.

Modesty is not incompatible with power and self-confidence. " A man never speaks of himself without loss," wrote Montaigne. It is not too much to say, indeed, that a man who talks much about himself is fundamentally weak. A strong, self-reliant person should attract attention to what he says more than to what he is. Whately's description of the difference between two orators applies also to men in private intercourse. "When the moon shines brightly," he says, "we are apt to exclaim, 'How beautiful is the moonlight!' but in the daytime we say, 'How beautiful are the trees, the fields, the mountains!'–and, in short, all objects that are illuminated; we never speak of the sun that makes them so. Just in the same way, the really greatest orator shines like the sun, making you think much of the things he is speaking of; the second-best shines like the moon, making you think much of him and his eloquence." This sinking of self in one's words and work should be the earnest and constant aim of every student of self-confidence. It is one of the marks of greatness.

"Be gentle, and keep your voice low," says the motto. Self-confidence does not imply that a man should be bold and boisterous, scattering everything around him like "a bull in a china-shop," and intimidating every one who ventures to cross his track. Self-confidence means considerateness and gentleness, a due regard for the rights and feelings of others, and a desire to please as well as to affirm. Balzac says:

"Gentleness in the gait is what simplicity is in the dress. Violent gesture or quick movement inspires involuntary disrespect. One looks for a moment at a cascade, but one sits for hours, lost in thought, and gazing upon the still water of a lake. A deliberate gait, gentle manners, and a gracious tone of voice-all of which may be acquired–give a mediocre man an immense advantage over those vastly superior to him. To be boldly tranquil, to speak little, and to digest without effort are absolutely necessary to grandeur of mind or of presence, or to proper development of genius."

Let the student of self-confidence cultivate a high grade of dignity. Over familiarity may easily result in self-consciousness and embarrassment. We resent the style and manner of certain men who greet you by your first name, slap you on the back, poke you in the ribs, call you a good fellow, inquire into your private affairs, and invite themselves to spend their vacation at your summer home. They call at inopportune times, engage you in long and tedious conversation, make unseasonable comments, while all the while you are mentally planning how most expeditiously to get rid of them.

Learn to greet people pleasantly. Show them at once that you are interested in what they say. Be a willing and sympathetic listener. Give to them the best that is in you. Do not intrude your own affairs, and especially your troubles, upon them. Remember that the more you think and talk about yourself, the less interesting you will be to others. Your constant attitude of mind should be that of a strong, self-confident man, expressing your power not in self-praise, but in deeds.