Part 45

I am inclined to think, however uncharitable my thinking may seem, that this is the chief cause of his fault. I think so because I have frequently noticed him saying as soon as he has begun, "Have not I told you this before?" and I have answered, "Yes, you have;" still he has gone on with the old yarn, telling it precisely in the same way as before; as the aforesaid instrument plays its old tunes without variation right through to the end.

The affliction would not be so bad to bear if he cut his stories short; but, unfortunately, he does not, and I verily believe cannot, any more than the parson who has repeated his sermons a hundred times can curtail, or leave out some of the old to substitute new. Not only so; another addition to the burden one has to endure is, that he always repeats his stories with such apparent self-satisfaction--a smile here, a laugh there, a "ha-ha-ha" in another place; at the same time you feel he is a bore, and wish his old saws were a hundred miles away.

One has been reminded, in hearing him talk, of what Menander says about the Dodonian brass, that if a man touched it only once it would continue ringing the whole day in the same monotonous tone. Thus this talker, touch him on the story-key, and he plays away until you are jaded in listening.

"His copious stories, oftentimes begun, End without audience, and are never done."

Is there a remedy for this talker? I fear not. He has practised so long--for he generally is sixty or seventy years old--that little hope can be entertained of his cure. He will have to wear out. This, however, you can do for yourself; only go into his company once, and you will not be afflicted with his repetition; and if he would go into the same company only once, it would secure to him a more enduring reputation.

Cowper, in his day, it would seem, met with such a talker as I have been describing. He thus refers to him:--

"Sedentary weavers of long tales Give me the fidgets, and my patience fails. 'Tis the most asinine employ on earth, To hear them tell of parentage and birth, And echo conversation dull and dry, Embellished, with, He said and so said I. At every interview their route the same, The repetition makes attention lame; We bustle up with unsuccessful speed, And in the saddest part cry, Droll indeed!"

After thus expressing his own experience under the rod of this talker, he suggests the way in which he should exercise himself in his vocation:--

"A tale should be judicious, clear, succinct; The language plain, and incidents well linked; Tell not as new what everybody knows, And new or old still hasten to a close; There centring in a focus round and neat, Let all your rays of information meet. What neither yields us profit nor delight Is like a nurse's lullaby at night; Guy Earl of Warwick and fair Elenore, Or giant-killing Jack would please me more."

III. THE CARELESS.--This talker is heedless of what, and how, and to whom he talks. He consults no propriety of speech; he has no respect of persons. He never asks, "Will it be wise to speak thus at this time? Is this the proper person to whom I should say it? Shall I give offence or deceive by speaking in this way? What will be the consequence to the absent of my making this statement concerning them? Is Tittle-Tattle, or Rumour, or Mischief Maker, or Slanderer, or Blabber in this company, who will make capital out of what I say?"

I do not mean that one should be always so precise in speaking, that what he says should be as nicely measured and formed as a new-made pin. This, however, is one thing, and to speak without thought or consideration is another.

The careless talker would save others as well as himself from frequent difficulties if he would get into the way of pondering, at least somewhat, the things which he has to say, so as to be sure that what he says will not injure another more than he would like to be injured himself.

I will give one illustration of this careless and thoughtless way of talking.

In a gathering of friends belonging to a certain church in N---- the minister's name came up as the subject of conversation. Many eulogiums were passed upon his character, among others one expressive of his high temperance principles, and the service he was rendering to the temperance cause in the town.

There happened to be present in the company a young gentleman of rather convivial habits, who assented to their compliments of the minister. He thought he was a very excellent man and a pleasant companion. "In fact," he said, "it was only the other day when he and I drank brandy and water together."

What a compliment this to give to a minister and a teetotaller! Of course the particulars were not inquired into there and then; but Miss Rumour, who was present, made a note of it in her mind, and as soon as she left the company she spread it abroad until the statement of the thoughtless young gentleman came to the ears of the deacons of the church, who solemnly arraigned the minister before them, and summoned the accuser into their presence.

He declared that what he had said was positively true, but had evidently been misunderstood. "Your excellent minister," he said, "and I have drunk brandy and water together; but then I drank the brandy, and he drank the water."

IV. THE EQUIVOCATOR.--He speaks in such a way as to convey the impression that he means what he says and at the same time leaves himself in his own mind at liberty to go contrary to what he says, without considering himself guilty of breach of truth should he do so. He speaks so as to give you reason for believing him; and then, if he fail to verify your faith, he tells you he did not say so positively. Hence his chief phrases of speech are, "May be so;" "It is more than likely I shall;" "There is little doubt upon the question;" "It is more than probable it will be so." He means these phrases to have the same effect upon you as the positive or imperative mood; and yet if you take them in this sense, and he does not act up to them, he says, "O, I did not say I would."

Much evil has been done by this way of talking in business, in families, in the social circle. How many a tradesman has lost valuable hours in waiting and expecting some one who has promised him by, "It is more than probable," that he would meet him at such an hour. And when reminded of his failure, he said, "I did not promise."

With a similar understanding based on a promise of the same kind, how frequently has the housewife made ready her person, her children, her rooms, and her larder, to receive guests on a day's visit! Disappointment has been the result; perhaps hard thoughts, if not harder feelings, have been felt, and it has been a long time ere any preparation has been made for the same guests again.

A mother in a family says to her little son, "Now, John, you be a very good boy, and give your sister Betsy no trouble while I am gone to see your Aunt Charlotte, and may be I will bring you back a Noah's ark."

The mother goes to see Aunt Charlotte; meanwhile John is trying in all his strength to be a "good boy, and to give his sister Betsy no trouble."

Little Johnny is wishing his mother would return. The hour is getting late. He is becoming heavy with sleep. He says to his sister,--

"I am so tired. I do want mother to come home and bring me the nice present she promised. O how glad I shall be to have a Noah's ark!"

At last mother enters the house, and her little boy rushes to meet her, asking as the first thing,--

"Mother, have you brought the present you promised?"

"What present, my boy?" the mother asks.

"Noah's ark, mother."