  Make your speech in harmony with your surroundings. He.—Let us walk along the shore—away from our friends at the hotel. The night is far too beautiful to spend in discussing the merits of biscuit and honey compared with those of strawberries and cake. She.—And with such a sky and such a scene before them! And the day—how perfect it has been! He.—Oh! they're not thinking of the sea nor of the sky. Although when I saw one of the ladies gazing intently at the moon, I thought that she, like you and me, had succumbed to the influence of its magic beams; but I very soon She.—Her thoughts were evidently relevant, as the moon probably suggested to her, green cheese, and from that, it was only a step to the toasted article. I dislike to hear a person express a fondness for food. I know that it is correct to use "fond" in this way; but to me "fondness" should be used only with reference to one's friends; but to be fond of "Welsh rarebit"! I should prefer to use another expression. He.—Of course you aren't fond of anything but flowers, and books, and music,—Oh! and the moon. She.—And people; they come first. He.—Everybody? She.—Not everybody, only a few. He.—Including—— She.—I think that we should go back to our friends. He.—And discuss "Welsh rarebit"? Let us take this boat and glide over the "silvery lake." We can find more interesting subjects to talk about than edibles; and, if we cannot, we can at least be silent and let the glorious night speak for us. She.—Because of just such nights, I come here every year. He.—But the moon, like the sun, shines everywhere for all. She.—Yes, but not everywhere alike. There must be trees with branches outspread to catch its silvery beams, and giant hills in the distance to form a heavy background. The full moon shining on our great Lake Michigan is a glorious sight, but that which is needed to make the scene perfect is not there. But here—nothing is wanting. O beauteous Lake! How radiantly dost thou wear thy jewels Upon thy bosom fair,—made fairer still By Luna's silvery beams. Luna's silvery beams How radiantly dost thou wear thy jewels Upon thy bosom fair,—made fairer still By Luna's silvery beams. He.—The poet is nature's interpreter. He expresses what we feel; what we should wish to say, were we able to express our thoughts in poetic language. But sometimes he does not interpret truly. Wasn't it Browning who said: "Never the time and the place And the loved one altogether"? She.—I don't see the relevancy of the He.—But you haven't heard my lesson yet, as we used to say in school. I have to recite all the golden rules, and add our new one. What shall it be? She.—Rule Number IX.: One's speech should be in harmony with one's surroundings. He.—In other words, a person should not talk about cheese when the moon would be a more fitting topic. She.—Or, when it might be more fitting to remain silent. He.—Some one has said, "Silence is the virtue of the feeble," but it is probably as often the virtue of the wise. She.—It was Carlyle who said: "Consider the significance of SILENCE: it is boundless, never by meditating to be exhausted, unspeakably profitable to thee: Cease that chaotic hubbub, wherein thy own soul runs to waste, to confused suicidal dislocation and stupor; out of Silence comes thy strength. 'Speech is silvern, Silence is golden; Speech is human, Silence is divine.'" |
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