it is after all only one point of view, and that there is probably
much to be said on the other side. The unhappiest feature of
drifting into a habit of positive and continuous talk is that one
has few friends faithful enough to criticise such a habit and tell
one the unvarnished truth; if the habit is once confirmed, it
becomes almost impossible to break it off. I know of a family
conclave that was once summoned, in order, if possible, to
communicate the fact to one of the circle that he was in danger of
becoming a bore; the head of the family was finally deputed to
convey the fact as delicately as possible to the erring brother. He
did so, with much tender circumlocution. The offender was deeply
mortified, but endeavoured to thank his elderly relative for
discharging so painful a task. He promised amendment. He sate glum
and tongue-tied for several weeks in the midst of cheerful
gatherings. Very gradually the old habit prevailed. Within six
months he was as tedious as ever; but what is the saddest part of
the whole business is that he has never quite forgiven the teller
of the unwelcome news, while at the same time he labours under the
impression that he has cured himself of the habit.

It is, of course, useless to attempt to make oneself into a
brilliant talker, because the qualities needed--humour, quickness,
the power of seeing unexpected connections, picturesque phrasing,
natural charm, sympathy, readiness, and so forth--are things hardly
attainable by effort. But much can be done by perseverance; and it
is possible to form a deliberate habit of conversation by
determining that however much one may be indisposed to talk,
however unpromising one's companions may seem, one will at all
events keep up an end. I have known really shy and unready persons
who from a sheer sense of duty have made themselves into very