You understand, doubtless, the wide distinction that exists between
modesty and shyness. Modesty is always self-possessed, and therefore
clear-sighted and cool-headed. Shyness, on the contrary, is too confused
either to see or hear things as they really are, and as often assumes
the appearance of forwardness as any other disguise. Depriving its
victims of the power of being themselves, it leaves them little freedom
of choice, as to the sort of imitations the freaks of their animal
nature may lead them to attempt. You feel, with deep annoyance, that a
paroxysm of shyness has often made you speak entirely at random, and
express the very opposite sentiments to those you really feel,
committing yourself irretrievably to, perhaps, falsehood and folly,
because you could not exercise self-control. Try to bring vividly before
your mental eye all that you have suffered in the recollection of past
weaknesses of this kind, and that will give you energy and strength to
struggle habitually, incessantly, against every symptom of so painful a
disease. It is, at first, only the smaller ones that can be successfully
combated; after the strength acquired by perseverance in lesser efforts,
you may hope to overcome your powerful enemy in his very stronghold.

Even in the quietest family life many opportunities will be offered you
of combat and of victory. False shame, the fear of being laughed at now,
or taunted afterwards, will often keep you silent when you ought to
speak; and you ought to speak very often for no other than the
sufficient reason of accustoming yourself to disregard the hampering
feeling of "What will people say?" "What do I expose myself to by making
this observation?" Follow the impulses of your own noble and generous
nature, speak the words it dictates, and then you may and ought to
trample under foot the insinuations of shyness, as to the judgments
which others may pass upon you.