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 tolerable talkers.  A friend of my acquaintance confesses that a device she has occasionally employed is to think of subjects in alphabetical order.  I could not practise this device myself, because when I had lighted upon, we will say, algebra, archery, and astigmatism, as possible subjects for talk, I should find it impossible to invent any gambit by which they could be successfully introduced.

The only recipe which I would offer to a student of the art is not to be afraid of apparent egotism, but to talk frankly of any subject in which he may be interested, from a personal point of view.  An impersonal talker is apt to be a dull dog.  There is nothing like a frank expression of personal views to elicit an equally frank expression of divergence or agreement.  Neither is it well to despise the day of small things; the weather, railway travelling, symptoms of illness, visits to a dentist, sea-sickness, as representing the universal experiences and interests of humanity, will often serve as points d’appui.

Of course there come to all people horrible tongue-tied moments when they can think of nothing to say, and, feel like a walrus on an ice-floe, heavy, melancholy, ineffective.  Such a catastrophe is almost invariably precipitated in my own case by being told that some one is particularly anxious to be introduced to me.  A philosopher of my acquaintance, who was an admirable talker, told me that on a certain occasion, an evening party, his hostess led up a young girl to him, like Iphigenia decked for the sacrifice, and said that