Choose subject of mutual interest.

He.—And here we are again at one of your charming "at homes," and I, as usual, am the only guest.

It is delightful of you to select for my visits those evenings where there is no possibility of our being interrupted while discussing our favorite topic.

She.—If I were "not at home" on these occasions, we should have very little opportunity to talk about the subjects in which we are mutually interested. It is decidedly paradoxical, is it not, to be at home under the circumstances?

He.—It is, to say the least, decidedly pleasant; for, otherwise, how should you be able to teach me that delightful art—the Art of Conversation? I am just selfish enough to exult in my being the only diplomat at your "salons."

She.—What is that line about conversation's being like an orchestra where all the instruments should bear a part, but where none should play together?

He.—To my thinking, conversation is most delightful when it is most unlike an orchestra. For my part, I prefer those charming duos where the sweet voice of the soprano rises "far above the organ's swell."

She.—Conversation is more often like an orchestra where all the instruments play together, and where no particular one can be heard. I see that a conversation in which many take part is not to your liking.

He.—As in music, so with my friends, I prefer to follow the individual; to come into harmony with his thoughts and feelings. The trite saying that corporations have no souls can be applied with equal propriety to a body of individuals at a social function, where the bored look on their faces shows that they have failed to find a subject of general interest, and are in consequence suffering in durance vile.

She.—Conversation is enjoyable only when the participants are equally interested in the subject under discussion; and while it is not difficult for two persons to find topics of mutual interest, it is not so easy for several individuals to "hit upon" some topic in which all are equally interested; consequently, there is much greater opportunity for enjoyment in social converse where only two are "gathered together."

He.—Yes, I know; no matter how apparently dry a subject is to me, it might be of keen interest to some one else.

She.—Certainly. Only a few evenings since, I noticed, at a social function, a lady and gentleman deeply engaged for a long time, in the discussion of some topic in which each was apparently vitally interested. I learned afterwards that the gentleman was the editor-in-chief of a new dictionary recently compiled, and that the lady was the teacher of English in a college. They were discussing the relative merits of the diacritical markings of the Century, Standard, and International dictionaries compared with those of "old Webster."

He.—I should call that an extremely dry subject.

She.—Oh! they found it fascinating. They really became excited—not impolitely so—but deeply absorbed in following each other through the maze of half circles and dots, straight lines and curved.

He.—That is why people whom we meet—polite and kindly people—try "to draw us out," to find what we are interested in, so as not to hinge the conversation on politics when it should be on potatoes or on poetry.

She.—The whole secret of pleasant social converse lies in the participants' finding subjects of mutual interest. Why, I have heard two persons discuss by the hour the feasibility of raising ducks as a means of livelihood; others, that of manufacturing a washing-machine that would wash and boil clothing at the same time. So you see, it doesn't matter whether the topic is politics or poetry; the latest work in science or in fiction; whether it is music or painting; the main point is that the subject shall be of mutual interest to those discussing it.

He.—Then we may add another rule to our list—Golden Rule Number VII.: Choose subjects of mutual interest. Don't discuss politics when you should be talking about poetry; fact, instead of fiction; science, instead of sunsets.

She.—Yes; and be sure that both are equally interested or else one or the other will have that bored look to which you referred a short time since.

He.—People sometimes appear interested when they are not.

She.—Yes; but the keen observer will detect whether the smile extends farther than the parted lips. If people would be genuine, and less artificial, after a pleasant evening spent in social converse, there would linger with one a memory as pleasing and as refreshing as is the sweet fragrance wafted from country clover fields to the traveler on the dusty road. In our social intercourse with one another let us omit all unpleasant topics, and choose only those in which both are equally interested.