Talkers - With Illustrations

John Bate

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• Publié par: mosog
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 19
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, Talkers, by John Bate This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Talkers With lIlustrations Author: John Bate Release Date: January 31, 2010 [eBook #31143] Language: English Character se tencodingI :SO-8859-1 ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALKERS***   E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Stephanie Eason, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)         TALKERS: With Illustrations.   BY JOHN BATE, Author of “Cyclopædia ofI llustrations of Moral and Reilgious Truths, ”etc. ,etc.   “Sacred interpreter of human thought, How few respect or use thee as they ought.”—C OWPER .     LONDON: ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.; AND SOLD AT 66, PATERNOSTER ROW. 1878.     Hazel,l Watson, and Viney ,Printers ,London and Aylesbury.     PREFACE. T th H e E     a p b o s w en er c   e t   o o  t  f a w lk i , s  l d ik o e m  e i n v   e it r s y     g ot o h v e e r r   n n m at e u n r t al  i , po  tf w a e lis r   t o o f  f  m ul a ifl n  e  , i i t s h   e d r. esigned for proift and pleasure; bu tin The revelations of human life in the past show that the improper employment of this power has brought upon individuals, famiiles ,churches, and empires some o ftheir mos tgrievous evils .The revelaitons of human ilfe in the present show that this power is stlil unwisely used ,and the cause of simliar lamentaitons and woes .Every mani n his own circle, to go no farthe,r may learnt he sad effects following the abuse o fthe faculty o fspeech. Tha tmember o fthe body, when “se ton ifre o fhel”l (and how ofteni s this!) wha tconlfagraitons it birngs abou twherever its sparks and flames are spread! As a lucifer match in the hands of a madman, when struck, may be the occasion of blowing up castles or burning down cities, so the tongue may “set on ifret he course o fnature.” No tonly are talkers the cause o fevlis on such a large scale, but o fevils which ,while not so distinguished, are still evils—annoyances that mar the happiness and disturb the peace o findividuals and societies—thorns in the lfesh—contagion in the atmosphere, which, i fthey do not create disease, cause fear and alarm .Any one ,therefore ,who contirbutes to the lessening of these evlis ,does a beneficent work, and deservest he patronage and co-operaiton of all lovers o fhis species. The prominence given to the use and abuse of the power of speech, in the Scirptures ,at once shows the importance of the subject. The connection between talkers and Chirstianity teaches tha tthis book belongs as much to Chirstianity in its interests as to ethics in its interests. fI in any oft hei llustraitonst here may seemt o be an excess of colouring, the readeri s al tibertyt o modify them in his own mind as much as he may desire; only let him not forget that “fact is stranger than fiction,” andt ha twhat may no thave come withint he range o fhis experience, others may be famliiar with.  tImay be that the style in which some of the characters appear wil lno tplease the taste of every one. tI would be a wonder of wonders if i tdid. Taste in respect to style in wiritng differs, perhaps, as much as tastei n respec tto stylei n dress .By the bye ,onel ikes D.r Johnson’s idea o fdress ,which is, that a man or a woman ,in her sphere, should wear nothing which is calculated to attrac tmore atteniton and observaiton than the person who wears it. This is the author’s idea of style in writing ;whether he has embodied it in the following pages others must judge. His aim has been to show the character  more than the dress in which it appears. fIi n two or three instances a simliarity of character should be observed,l eti  tbe remembered tha titi si n talkers in society as in pictures in an album, in general features they are ailke ,bu tin particular expression each onei s disitnclty himself and no tanothe.r Should it be though tthat the number of talkers migh thave been reduced ,the answer is, that diiffcutly has been expeirenced in keeping them within the number given .One after another has risen in such rapidity, that a selection has only been made. Some have not been admitted which claimed sympathy and patronage among the res.t The author has no tpurposely introduced any talker whose fautls were unavoidable through defec tof nature or providential circumstances. The faults described are such as have been acquired; such as might have been escaped; such as each is responsible for. Let not the readeri magine that because the wirter has dea tlso freely with the fautls o ftalking in others, he thinks himsel fperfec tin this art .Far from it .Did he know the writer as we llas the writer knows himself ,he would perhaps have litlte difficutly in recognizing him as one of the number whom he descirbes. I tmay be observed by some tha tthree or four lliustrations have been used which have already appearedi n pirntt ,he authorship o fwhich could not be ascertained. tIi s hoped tha tthis book wlli find its way chielfy into the hands of young talkers .The old are so  fixed and estabilshed i n their way of talk, that, however their fautls may be shown, they wli lno tbeil kely to reform. It is seldom that a tongue which has been accustomed to talk for many years in a certain way can be changed to talk in an opposite one .There may be modiifcaitons o fthe evi ,lbu tfew real cures .Buti n the case o fyoung folk it is differen .tThey ,being somewha tpilable in that member of the body, may ,by seeing the faul tportrayed in others, so dislike i tas not to fall into i,t and covet earnestly the more “excellen tway” o fspeech. “But might you no thave effected your purpose better by presenting examples of talkers withou tfautl? Would not old and young more readily have been corrected and improved?” This might have been done ,bu tfor two simple obstacles in the way .Firs ,tthe impossibiilty o fifnding the talkers without faul;t and then, the almost certain fact that no one would have imitated them, had they been found. The defects of talkers are noitced with greater quickness o fpercepiton than their excellencies ,and more is otfen learned from the former than from the latter. Cato says tha t“wise men learn more from fools than fools from wise men.” Montaigne tells us that “Pausanias, an ancient player on the lyre, used to make his scholars go to hear one thail tved near him ,and playedlli , tha tthey migh tlearn to hate discords.” He says again o fhimsel,f “A clownish way of speaking does more to reifne mine than the mos telegan.t Every day the fooilsh countenance of another is adveritsing and advising me. Profiting ilttle by good examples , Imake use of them tha tare lli ,which are everywhere to be found .I endeavour to render mysefl as agreeable as  Isee others fickle ;as affable as I see others rough ;and as good as I see others evi.l” Should such use be made of the fautls o ftalkers as Montaigne would doubltess have made ,much good may be expected to arise from their study. When it is remembered that Scripture affirms the man who offends not in word is a “perfec tman,” the author feels that he has aimed at a laudable object in writing this book. Should there only one  perfect man airse in society through his effort ,he flatters himse fltha ta work will have been done which thousands of books havef ailed to accompilsh .Bu ,tont he other hand ,should  every reader lay aside his book no ta “perfec tman,” he wil lonly fulfli the words o fthe same Scripture ,which say“The tongue can , no man tame.” “Then if the tongue cannot  be tamed, why attemp tthe task?” The answer to this is :a litlte evli is better than a big one ;and a tongue partially tamed is better than a tongue atlogether wlid .Therefore, while the author has no expectation of taming any man’s tongue altogether , he has the hope of taming a great many a litlte , and ,in the aggregate, of doing something towards elevating the talking civiilzaiton o fthe nineteenth century. “Wli lyou have al ittle tongue?” asked al ady o fa gentleman one day a tthe dinner-table. “I will ,ma’am, if i tis cured,” was the answer. Alas! tongue wli lbe a timmense discount in the wolrd if it is not received untli i tis “cured.” One must be conten tto take it as near “cured” as it can be obtained. No tonly must there be mutual efforts to cure one another’s, but each must try to cure his own . And now, reader, the author asks you to peruse his book, and to make the best use you can of it; and he suggests, when you have done this ,be careful that you do no tso talk about it as to illustrate some one or more of the characters within it . J. B. November , 1877.     CONTENTS.     PAGE I. THE MONOPOLIST 1 II . THE FALSE HUMOURIST 18 III. THE FLATTERER 22 IV. THE BRAWLER 35 V. THE MISCHIEF-MAKER 38 VI. THE PLEONAST 55 VII. THE SELF-DISPARAGER 62 V III . THE COMMON SWEARER 71 IX. THE AFFECTED 85 X. THE STULTILOQUIST 94 X .I THE SLANDERER 101 XII. THE VALETUDINARIAN 111 X III . THE WHISPERER 119 XIV. THE HYPERBOLIST 124 XV. THE INQUISITIVE 133 XVI. THE PEDANT 142 XVII. THE DETRACTOR 154 XV III . THE GRUMBLER 164 XIX. THE EGOTIST 174 XX. THE TALE-BEARER 189 XX .I THE ASSENTER 203 XX II . THE LIAR 208 XXII.I THE CENSORIOUS 227 XXIV. THE DOGMATIST 236 XXV. THE ALTILOQUENT 244 XXV.I THE DOUBLE-TONGUED 253 XXVII. THE DUBIOUS 262 XXVI.II THE SUSPICIOUS 266 XXIX. THE POETIC 273 XXX. “YES” AND “NO” 279 XXX.I A GROUP OF TALKERS 286  1. The Misanthrope, p. 286 .  2. The Story-Teller, p. 287 .  3. The Careless, p. 290 .  4. The Equivocato,r p . 292 .  5. The Absent-Minded, p. 294 .  6. The Bustling, p. 296 .  7. The Contradictory, p. 298 .  8. The Technicails,t p . 300 .  9. The L ili pu it an, p. 301 .  10. The Envious, p. 302 .  11 .The Secret-Teller, p. 302 .  12. The Snubber, p. 303 .  13. The Argumentative, p. 306 .  14. The Religious, p. 310 .  15. The Prejudiced, p. 312 .  16. The Boaste,r p . 314 .  17. The Quarrelsome, p. 316 .  18. The Profound, p. 317 .  19. The Wonderer, p. 320 .  20 .The Termagan,t p . 325 . XXXII. A MODEL TALKER 328     I. THE MONOPOLIST. “Gratiano speaks an inifnite deal of nothing: more than any man in Venice; his reasons are as two grains of wheat hidi n two bushels of chaff ;you shall seek al lday ere you find them; and when you have them, they are not worth the search.”—S HAKESPEARE . T o H bt E a   i M ne o d n   o a p  r o o li y s a  t l  e p nt a e t r e s n   t i   n t t o o     d c o o   n s v o e .  r H sa e t   i t o al n k   s w   it w h i   t p h l o e u n t i   t m ud u e c   h o  r  f e s g p a e r e d c  t h o     e w n h o a ug  th h  e t   o s   a m y a s k  , e o   r  o h n o e  w t   h h in e  k  s h a e y   s h  i a t. s Give him your atteniton in the least degree ,and he wli lshow no lack of w llior power to surfei tyou. It is not because he has anything to say worth your heairng tha the keeps up his talk ,bu tonly from his strange love o ftalking .His conversation consists mainlyi n the exercise of his tongue, as the facuitles of his mind are generally dorman tin proportion as tha tworks .He talks so much tha tyou need do nothing bu tilsten. He seldom asks questions ,and i fhe does, he canno ttarry for answers. While one is speaking he either breaks in upon his discourse, heedless of what he is saying; or he employs himself in gatheirng words to commence talking again. And scarcely has the speaker ifnished his utterance ere he begins and goes on a ta rate that taxes both the ears and paitence o fhis ilstene.r A tthe fesitve board he is not content to do one thing at a time. He fills his mouth with food for his stomach, and with windy words for the company; which two acts done at the same time prevent necessary mastication, and produce at emporary colilsion oft he contrary elements in his guttural organs. Monopoilsi ts at alker with whom  Iam somewha tacquainted. I have on different occasions me twith him, and am, therefore, prepared to speak of him as I have found him. Some fifteen or sixteen years ago, as my memory serves, in the middle of a severe winter, I met this genlteman as I was going to see a firend about some business o fpressing importance . Itold him my business required haste, and he must excuse me stopping just then. But taking me by the hand, he held on unitl he was failry on the track of talking. What he talked about  Icannot remember ,though  Iam pretty sure there was very little conneciton or sense in what he said .He spoke in such a rapid manner that al lI could say was “Yes,” “No,” “Ah,” “Eh,” “Indeed,” “Is it possible?” and some o fthese, too ,only hafl uttered because of the rapid lfow of his words in my ears .I did try once to make a remark in response to a question he huriredly asked ;but I had scarcely spoken three syllables (being slow o fspeech as I am) when he began a tan express rate to te lla story of a friend o fhisi ,n which I fel tno morei nteres tthan the man in the moon. I remember how  Ishivered with cold; shuflfed to keep myself warm, and made frequen tattempts to leave him, while with one hand he held the button of my coa,t and with the other wiped the perspiration from his brow . Iifnally took advantage of a suspense while replacing his handkerchief; so abruptly wishing him “good-bye,” I went on my way, leaving him to resume his discourset o himse .flHowl ong he stoodt alking after l Ie tfhim he nevert old me. One morning, not long ago, when in a studious mood upon a subject I was anxious to complete, my wife informed me a certain gentleman had called to see me .On entering the room, I saw ,to myi nner sorrow, the very idenitca lperson who ,above al lothers ,I cared the leas tto see at tha titme .Had he possessed a grain o fordinary discernmen ,twhich the Monopolist does no ,the would have seen from my manner I was little inclined to give him even a courteous reception, not to say a long interview. In fact I gave him severa lbroad hints I was very busy, and couldi  llspare much time in his company .But what did he care for hints? He had commenced his talking journey, and must go through with it; so away he went in his usua lstyle, talking abou teverything in genera land nothing in particular ,unt lihe had out-talked the morning hours ,and allayed my menta lafflatus by the voca leffusions o fhis inane ,twaddilng loquacity. He then took a lingeirng departure ,bid me “good-bye ,hopingt hat he had noi tntruded upon my duties of the morning.” Alas! About a year or so after the incident referredt o abovei I ,nvited af ew selec tfriendst o spend an evening at my house. Among the number were the Rev. Mr. Peabody and Mrs. Peabody, Professor Jones, of Merton College, and Mrs. Jones ,M.r and Mrs .Hungerford, Mr. and Mrs .Thuckton, with others I .was very pleased with the character of my company ,and anitcipated considerable pleasure duirng the evening. Mr. Peabody, Professor Jones ,and M .rHungerford were genltemen o fmore than ordinary attainments, and capable of communicating much varied and interesting intelligencei n conversaiton. The ealry par to fthe evening passed in a manner apparenlty agreeable to all present .But, alas ,the happiness was destined to be shortil-ved! for who should be ushered into the room by the servan tbut an unexpected caller?  Iknew him well a tifrs tsigh .tHe stepped into the room with his usual display of self-assurance and self-gratulation. Atfert he ceremony oi fntroduction to those who did no tknow him, he took his seat in the most conspicuous part of the company.  Ithough tto myself, “The pleasure o fthe evening is now a tan end ,excepting what he will havei n heairng himsefl talk.”  Icould see in the very expression o fhis face tha the was fu-llprimed, and ready for a long discharge. There was a shor tpause after he had taken his seat (as there generally is in all company atfert hei ntroduciton o fa stranger) ;bu tno tbeing accustomed tot his sort o fthing ,he began with a rapid utterance o fsome common-place observaitons ,which eilcited no response ,excepting a gentle bend of the head from Mr. Thuckton ,to whom he seemed more paritculalry to direct his atteniton .This was enough to assure him what he had said met with approva.l He now commenced in good earnest, and wen ton so fas tand so long, one wondered how the effor twas sustained by the ordinary voca lpowers and breathing funcitons o fa mere morta.l Every now and then the thought seemed to cross his mind, “Now I have something to say of great importance.” A twhich itme he threw his head back, winked with his letf eye ,cas ta significant glance at M .rHungerford ,and said, “Mark, sir ,what I am going to say:” then, bending forward, placed his hands on his knees ,and lot he “mountain inl abour broughf torth a mouse.”

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He had a most singular way o fsnapping with his thumb and finge ,raccording to the nature of his talk; and when he reached a climax in an argument, or made a statement with emphasis, he brought down his hands with such violence on his knees as to make one fear the consequences. The gentlemen smiled at the snapping and thumping. The ladies were annoyed at his want of decorum and good breeding, and my son, a boy six years old ,asked in his innocence, “Who in the room is leittng off pop- guns?” A tthis juncture he gave himself a respitet ,hinking, perhaps ,common decency calledf ori ,t sot hat some one else migh thave a chance of speaking as wel las himsefl. But the fact was he had talked a llthe talk out of the company, and no one cared to enter on the arena o fconversation to bei nstanlty pushed off by his egregious monopoly. He was, however ,determined there should be talk ,eveni f he did i tal lhimse.fl He asked Mr. Thuckton a quesiton ,but before he had time to give an answe ,rMonopoilst was half-way through his own views on the subjec .tHe then appealed to M.r Hungerford as to the correctness of a certain sentiment he had expressed a momen tbefore ,and whlie Mr .Hungerford was cautiously replying ,he se tof fin a circuitous route to show he was unquestionably irghi tn wha the had affirmed .He proposed a quesiton to Professor Jones upon a scienitfic difficulty .The Professor began calmly to answer ,and al lthe itme he was speaking , Iobserved Monopolis tifdgety to go on, and ere he had ifnished he broke out of his restrain tand found relie fin heairng himself say his own thoughts on the subjec.t His conduct was becoming unbearable. I had never seen him in such an objectionable light. I almost wished he had gone to Bombay rather than have called at my house that evening.  Iexpected an intellectual “feas tof fat things” from my friends, and just as  Iwas in the ac tof tasitngi ,n came this talker and substituted his ifddle-faddle o fsaws and stoires ,which he had repeated, perhaps, a hundredt imes. We were jaded with his superfluity of loquaciousness ,and were no tsorry when the itme o fdeparture arirved .He was last of the company to retire, and he did so with much sefl-complacency ,doubtless thinking to himself, as he walked home, “How great are my powers of conversation! I have talked more than the Rev .Peabody ;more than Professor Jones ;more than M.r Hungerford ,or any o fthe company. They scarcely talked at all. I am surprised they had so little to say. I wonder what they thought of my powers.” Such probably were the reflections with which he entertained himself after he left my house that evening. The next day  Imet M.r Hungerford, and almost theif rs tthing he said was,— “Whati s the name ot fhat individual who called upon youl as tnight?” “Hei s called Monopoils.t ” “A very appropriate name indeed ;for he is the greates tcase o fmonopoly in conversaiton I ever met with or heard of .He is insufferable, unpardonable. He did nothing bu ttalk ,talk ,talk, to the almost absolute exclusion of every one else,— ‘He was tedious As ait r’d horse, a railing wife; Worset han a smoky chimney’.”   “ Iknow him o fold ,M .rHungerford .I regretted very much his call at tha titme ;bu t Idid hope for once he would restrain himself and keep within the bounds of propriety. But I do think he went beyond anything I have seen of him on any former occasion.” “fI you are a firend of Monopolist,” said Mr .Hungerford ,l“et me sugges ttha tyou give him some suitable advice upon the subject.” “I tis what he needs,”I  remarked ,“and whenI  meet with him again  Iw llibear it in mind.” Some time after this  Ime tProfessor Jones .He had no tforgotten Monopoilst .In course o fconversation he said,— “Mr .Golde ,rist hat genlteman who called a tyour house the lastt ime  Ihad the pleasure o fvisiitng you yet ilving?” “Yes, sir ,he is sitlll ivingf ,or anything I know to the contrary.” “Well ,si,r I have thought and spoken of him many itmes since that evening. He certainly exceeded on that occasion anything I ever heard in talkativeness. I should no tilke again to endure the tormen tI suffered after his entrancei nto the company tha tnigh.t  Ido no tconsider mysefl very slow o fspeech; but you know how difficult it was for me to interject even a sentence after he came. And my friend, Mr. Peabody ,with a llhis intelligence and natura lcommunicaitveness ,was placed in the same dilemma. Neither of us was quick enough to compete with him .Everybody ,in fac,t was crowded ou tby his incessant talking; and ,atfer al ,lwhat did i tamount to? ‘Talking, he knew not why, and car’d not what ’” .   “ Ithink equally as strong as you do ,Professor ,respecitng him ,and I am determined the firs topportunity  Ihave to lay before him a few counsels, whichi f he take wil lbe of service to him in the correciton o fhis grea ft au .tl ” My reader must not think the conduc tof Monopoilst, as above descirbed ,peculiar to the times and occasions mentioned. I have only spoken of him as he appeared to me. I do not speak for any one else. Yei t fso disposedI  could relate facts heard from others equalt o ,if not surpassingt ,hose given above. As  Ihave promised to give Monopoilst ail ltte advice , Iwli lnow enter upon my task. I hope he will mortify that talking member o fhis body for a few moments whlie  Iam discharging this necessary duty .After I have done he may speak ont o his hear’ts content ,that is,i n my absence. M.r Monopolist,— tIis an old maxim tha ta man has two ears and bu tone mouth ,to teach him tha the should hear twice as much as he should talk .This is a very wise maxim, and worthy your seirous meditaiton .You have doubltess heard it before, but not attended to it .Would i tno tbe much to your credii tn company, and much to the comfort o fthose with whom you converse ,if you allowed this maxim to have its due weight upon your mind? Common sense, if such you have, must certainly intimate when you exceed the bounds of propriety in the volume of your talk. How would you like another to impose his talk upon you to the extent you impose your talk upon him? When you talk I have noticed you are so pleased with yourself as to think veryil ttle of what you say, or o fhow people hea.r I fyou talked abou tiftfy or seventy-five per cent.l ess than you do, you would be welcomedi nto the circles o fsociety with iftfy or seventy-five per cent. greater pleasure than you are. Do not imagine, because people seem to listen, therefore they like  to hear you talk .tI is nothing o fthe kind .They must at least have a  show  of good behaviou.r Were they to forge ttheir manners in beingl isltess, as you doi n talking so much ,there would be an end to all decorum. (Do not be impatient. Do be quiet for once.) Have you not sometimes seen one or more got o sleep in company whlie you have beent alking? Did nott hat show they were unable to resis tthe soothing inlfuence o fyour long-conitnued and thoughltess words? And have you not sometimes talked upon subjects in such a peculiar and protracted manner that when you have done, your hearers have been so absent-minded that they have not known anything you have said? Has not this taught you that you have been a drag upon their mental powers? Have they not said in the words of Job, “O that you would altogether hold your peace, and it should be your wisdom”? (Job xiii. 5.) Conversation is a means of mutua linterchange o fthough tand feeilng upon subjects which may be introduced. And if the right subject be brought forward, each one could contribute his quota to the general stock. But to do so we must talk with people and not at  them .We mus tbe willing to hear as well as to be heard. We must give others credi tto know something as well as ourselves .We must remember it is not he who talks most that talks best. One man may give a long, wordy, dry essay on a topic of conversation, and another may speak a sentence of a score words which shall contain far more sense than his long discourse. “Words learned by rote a parrot may rehearse, But talking is not always to converse. Not more disitnctf rom harmony divine, The constant creaking of a country sign.” · · · · “Ifi n talking from morning itll nigh,t A sign of our wisdom it be, The swallows are wiser by righ,t Fort hey prattle much faster than we.”   “The talking lion of the evening circle,” observes an English writer ,“generally plays off his par tas obviously to his own satisfaction as to the nausea of the company who forbear to hear him. Were he a distinguished and illustirous talker like Johnson and Coleirdge, he migh tbe excused, though in their case they laid too much embargo upon the interchange of though;t but when the mind is an ordinary one ,the offencei si nsufferable ,if no tunpardonable .Those that talk much canno totfent alk well. Therei s generally the leas tof originailty and interes tabout wha tthey say. I tis the dry, old ,otf-repeated things which are nealry as well stereotyped upon the minds o fthe hearers as they are upon their own .And even those who have the gift of talking sensibly as well as loquaciously should remember that few people caret o be eclipsed, and that a supeirority of sensei s asli lt o be borne as superioirty o ffortune.” “He tha tcanno trefrain from much speaking,” says Sir W. Raleigh ,i“s ilke a city withou twalls ,and less pains in the world a man cannot take, than to hold his tongue; therefore i fthou observes tthis rule in all assembiles thou shal tseldom err ;restrain thy choler ,hearken much and speak litlte ,for the tongue is the instrument of the greatest good and greatest evil that is done in the world.” “As i tis the characteirstic,” says Lord Chesterfield, “of great wits to say much in few words, so it is of small wits to talk much and say nothing. Never hold any one by the button or the hand in order to be heard ou;tf ori  fpeople are unwilling to hear you, you had better hold your tongue thant hem.” “The evil of this” (much speaking), says Bishop Taylo ,r“is very considerable in the accounts of prudence ,and the effects and plaisance o fconversaiton: and the ancients descirbed its evli well by a proverbial expression; for when a sudden silence arose, they said that Mercury was entered, meaning tha,t he being their ‘loquax numen’, their ‘prating god,’ ye tthat quitted him not, but all men stood upon their guard, and called for aid and rescue, when they were seized upon by so tedious an impertinence. And indeed ,there are some persons so ful lo fnothings ,that, ilke the strait sea o fPontus ,they perpetually empty themselves by their mouth, making every company or single person they fasten on to be their Propontis, such a one as was Anaximenes, who was an ocean of words, but a drop of understanding.” You would do well to study the lesson, When to talk, and when to be silent  .Silence is preferred by the wise and the good to superfluity of talking. You may read strange stories of some of the ancients, choosing silence to talking. S.t Romualdus maintained a seven years ’silence on the Syrian mountains.  tIis said o fa reilgious personi n a monasteryi n Brabant, that he did not speak a wordi n sixteen years. Ammona ilved with three thousand brethreni n such slience as though he was an anchore.t Theona was silen tfor thirty years together .Johannes ,surnamed Slientairus, was silent for forty-seven years.  Ido not mention these as examples for your imitation, and would not have you become such a recluse. These are cases of an extreme kind,—cases of moroseness and sullenness which neither reason nor Scripture justify .“This was,” as Taylor observes ,“to make amends for committing many sins by omitting many duites ;andi ,nstead o fdigging out the offending eye ,to pluck out both, that they migh tneither see the scandal nor the duty ;for fear of seeing what they should no ,tto shu ttheir eyes against al lilgh.t” The wiser course for you to adopti st he practice of silence for a itme ,as a discipilnef ort he correciton ot fhe faul tinto which you have fallen. Pray as did the Psalmis ,t“Pu ta guard ,O Lord ,unto my mouth, and a door unto my lips.” “He did not ask for a wall,” as St. Gregory remarks, “but for a door, a door that might open and shu.t” tI is said of Cicero ,he never spake a word which himsel fwould fain have recalled ;he spake nothing that repented him. Silence will be a cover to your folly, and a disclosure of your wisdom. “Keept hyil ps with all diligence.” “A man that speaketh too much ,and museth but litlte and ilghlty, Wasteth his mind in words, and is counted a fool among men: But thou when thou hast thought, weave charliy the web of meditation, And clothe the ideal spirit in the suitable garments of speech.”   Note we llthe  discreiton o fslience . Wha tman ever involved himsel fin dififculites through slience? Who thinks another a fool because he does no ttalk? Keep quie ,tand you may be looked upon as a wise man; open your mouth and all may see at once that you are a simpleton. Ben Jonson, speaking of one who was taken for a man of judgment while he was silent, says, “This man might have been a Counsellor of State, tlil he spoke ;bu thaving spoken, not the beadle ot fhe ward.” Lord Lytton tells of a groom who married a rich lady ,and was in fear as to how he might be treated by the guests of his new household ,on the score o fhis oirgin and knowledge: to whom a clergyman gave this advice, “Wear a black coat, and hold your tongue.” The groom acted on the advice, and was considered a genltemanly and wise man. The same author speaks of a man of “weighty name,” with whom he once met, but of whom he could make nothing in conversation. A few days after, a gentleman spoke to him about this “superior man,” when he received for a reply ,“We ,ll Idon’ tthink much o fhim. I spent the other day with him, and found him insufferably dull.” “Indeed,” said the gentleman, with surprise; “why, then  Isee how i tis :Lord —— has been posiitvelyt alking to you.” This reminds one o fthe story told o fColeridge .He was once sititng at a dinner-table admiirng a fellow guest opposite as a wise man, keeping himself in solemn and stately reserve, and resisting all inducements to join in the conversaiton o fthe occasion, until there was placed on the table a steaming dish o fapple-dumpilngs ,when the first sigh to fthem broke the seal of the wise man’s intelligence, exclaiming with enthusiasm, “Them be the jockeys for me.” Gayi ,n his fables, addressing himsel fto one oft heset alkers ,says,— “Had not thy forward, noisy tongue Proclaim’d thee always in the wrong, Thou migh’ts thave mingled witht he res,t And ne’ert hyf ooilsh sense confess’d; But fools, to talking ever prone, Are sure to make their follies known.”   Mr .Monopolist, can you refrain a ilttle longer while I say a few more words? I have in my possession several recipes for the cure of much talking, that I have gathered in the course of my reading, four of which  Iwill kindly lay before youf or consideration. 1. Give yoursel fto pirvate writing ; and thus pour out by the hand the floods which may drown the head. If the humour for mucht alking was partly drawnf orthi nt his way, that which remained would be sufficient to drop out from the tongue. 2. In company with your supeirors in wisdom ,gravity, and circumstances, restrain your unreasonable indulgence of the talking facutly. I tis though tthis might promote modes tand becoming silence on all other occasions. “One of the gods is within,” said Telemachus; upon occasion of which his father reproved his talking. “Be thou silent and say ilttle ;le tthy sou lbe in thy hand, and under command ;for this is the rite of the gods above.” 3. Read and ponder the words of Solomon, “He that hath knowledge spareth his words; and a man of understandingi s o fexcellent spiirt .Even a foo lwhen he holdeth his peace is counted wise: and he that shutteth his ilps is esteemed a man of understanding” (Prov. xvii .27 ,28). Also the words o fthe Son of Sirach, “Be swift to hea ,rand i fthou hast understanding, answer thy neighbour ;if no ,tlay thy hand upon thy mouth .A wise man wli lhold his tongue till he see opportunity ;bu ta babbler and a foo lw lliregard no time. He that useth many words shal lbe abhorred ;and het ha ttaketh to himse flauthority therein shal lbe hated” (Ecclesiasticus v .11-13) .“In the mutlitude of words  THERE   WANTETH   NOT   SIN ” (Prov. x. 19). 4. Attend more to business and action .tI is thought tha ta diligen tuse of the muscles in physical labour may detrac tfrom the disposiiton ,itme ,and power o fexcessive speech. Pau lgives a simliar suggestion, “And that ye study to be quie ,tand to do your own business, and to work with your own hands as we commanded you” (1 Thes. iv. 11). With these few words of advice  Inow leave you ,my friend Monopoilst ,hoping they may have their due effect upon your talking faculty, and that when  Imeet you again in company  Ishal lifnd you a “new edition, much amended and abirdged:” “the ha flbettert han the whole.”     II. THE FALSE HUMOURIST. “There are moref autls in the humourt hani n the mind.”—L A R OCHEFOUCAULD . MONG the various kinds of talk there is, perhaps, none in which talkers are more liable to fail than A in humou .rtI is tha tin which most persons ilke to excel ,but which comparatively few attain. It is not the man whose imagination teems with monsters ,whose head is filled with extravagant concepitons, tha tfurnishes innocen tpleasure by humour. And yet there are those who claim to be humouirsts ,whose humour consists only in wild irregular fancies and distortions of thought. They speak nonsense, and think they are speaking humou.r When they have pu ttogether a round of absurd,i nconsisten tideas ,and produce them ,they cannot do it withou tlaughing . Ihave sometimes met with a poriton of this class that have endeavouredt o gaint hemselvest he reputaiton o fwits and humourists by such monstrous conceits as almos tqualiifed them for Bedlam ,rather than refined and intelilgent society. They did no tconsider tha thumour should always ile under the check o freason; and requires the direciton of the nicest judgmen ,tby so much the more i tindulges in unrestrained freedoms. There is a kind of nature in this sort o fconversaiton, as well as in other; and a certain regulairty o fthought which must discover the speaker to be a man of sense ,a tthe same itme he appears a man given up to caprice. For my part, when  Ihear the deilirous mirth o fan unskfliu ltalke,r I cannot be so barbarous as to divert mysel fwith i,t but am rather apt to pity the man than laugh at anything he speaks. “tIi si ndeed much easier,” says Addison ,“to descirbe whati s not humour than whati s ;and very diiffcult to define it otherwise than as Cowley has done wi ,tby negaitves. Were I to give my own noitons o fi ,tI would deliver them atfer Plato’s manner ,in a kind o fallegory—and by supposing humour to be a person, deduce to him all his qualifications, according to the following genealogy. Truth was the founder of the family ,and the father of Good Sense. Good Sense was the father of Wi,t who marired a lady of collateral line called Mirth ,by whom he hadi ssue ,Humou .rHumou,rt herefore ,being the younges tof this lilustirous famliy, and descendan tfrom parents o fsuch differen tdispositions ,is very various and unequa lin his temper :someitmes you see him putting on grave looks and a solemn habi ,tsomeitmes airy in his behaviou,r and fantastic in his dress; inasmuch tha ta tdifferent times he appears as seirous as a judge, and as jocular as a merry-andrew. But as he has a great deal of the mother in his constituiton ,whatever mood he is in, he neverf ailst o make his companyl augh.” In carrying on the allegory farther ,he says o fthe false humourists, “But since there is an impostor abroad, who takes upon him the name of this young genlteman ,and would willingly pass for him in the wolrd: to the end tha twel-lmeaning persons may not be imposed upon by cheats, I would desire my readers ,when they mee twitht his pretender ,to look into his parentage and examine him stirctly, whether or no he be remotely allied to truth ,and ilneally descended from good sense ;i fno,t they may conclude him a counterfeit .They may ilkewise distinguish him by a loud and excessive laughter ,in which he seldom gets his company toj oin with him. For as true Humour generally looks serious, while everybody laughs abou thim; false Humouri s always laughing ,whlie everybody about himl ooks serious. I shall only add, if he has not in him a mixture of both parents, that is, if he would pass for the offspring of Wit without Mirth ,or Mirth withou tWi,t you may conclude him to be altogether spuirous and a chea.t The impostor of whom I am speaking descends originally from Falsehood, who was the mother of Nonsense ,who gave birth to a son called Frenzy, who married one o fthe daughters o fFolly, commonly known by the name o fLaughte,rf rom whom camet ha tmonstrous infant of which  Ihave been speaking .I shall set down at lengtht he genealogica ltable of False Humour ,and, at the same itme ,place byi ts side the genealogy of True Humour ,that the reader may a tone view behold their different pedigree and relaitons:— Falsehood. Truth. | | Nonsense. Good Sense. | | Frenzy—Laughter. Wit—Mirth. | | False Humou.r Humou.r  Imigh textend the allegory, by menitoning several of the children o fFalse Humou,r who are more in number than the sands of the sea, and might in paritcular enumerate the many sons and daughters of which he is the actua lparen .tBu tas this would be a very invidious task ,I shal lonly observe in general that False Humour differs from the True, as a monkey does from a man. Firs to fall, he is exceedingly givent o iltlte apish tricks and buffooneires. Secondly, he so much delights in mimicry, that it is all one to him whether he exposes by it vice and folly, luxury and avarice; or, on the contrary, virtue and wisdom, pain and poverty. Thirdly, he is wonderfully unlucky ,inasmuch that he wli lbite the hand that feeds him, and endeavour to irdicule both friends and foesi ndifferently. For, having bu tsma lltalents ,he must be merry where he can, not where he should. Fourthly, being enitrely devoid of reason, he pursues no point either of morailty or instruction, but is ludicrous only for the sake of being so.”     III. THE FLATTERER. “Wholf attersi s of all mankind thel owest, Save him who courts the flattery.”  H ANNAH M ORE . HE Flatterer is a false friend clothed in the garb of a true one. He speaks words from a foul heart T throughf air lips. His eyes affec tto see only beauty and perfection, and his tongue pours ou tstreams of sparkling praises. He is enamoured of your appearance, and your general character commands his admiraiton .You have no fautl which he may correc ,tor deilnquency which he may rebuke .The las ttime he met you in company ,your manners pleased him beyond measure; and though you saw i tno,t yet  he observed how all eyes were brightened by seeing you .fI you occupy a position of authority whence you can bestow a favour which he requires ,you are “most gracious ,powerful ,and good.” His tiltes are alli n

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