CONVERSATION.

Nam neque me tantum venientis sibilus austri,
Nec percussa juvant fluctû tam litora, nec quæ
Saxosas inter decurrunt flumina valles.

VIRG. Ecl. 5.

THE ARGUMENT.

Conversation a gift, but dependent on culture, 1-To talk not always to converse, 8-Results often worthless, 15-Impure conversation reprobated, 31 -Profane swearing condemned, 55—Unprofitable debates, 81-Dogmatism and sophistry, 91-The scrupulously cautious in conversation, 119– Opposite error of positive assertion, 145-Point of honour erroneously deemed useful, 163-Duelling savage and dastardly, 171-Encounters with fists recommended in preference, 195-Tiresomeness of long tales, 203Truthfulness enforced, 217-Judicious story-telling, 235-Smoking condemned, 245-Emphatic speakers, 269-Coxcombry of different sorts, 283 -State of health made a subject of conversation, 311-Fretful tempers, 325-Bashfulness, 347-Often the effect of vanity, 363-Its influence, 379 -The sportsman, 405-True idea of conversation, 427-Corrupted by fashion, 457-Converse on the way to Emmaus, 505-Such as God approves, 537-Divine truth the only lasting subject of conversation, 547— Objections made to it, 575-The result of ignorance, 587-Christian converse, 595-Age mellows the speech, 639-Fanaticism, 651-Communion of the good, 679-Conversation should be spontaneous, not forced, 703-True religion suspected and branded as hypocrisy, 719-Vindicated from the charge, 749-Apology for digressing, 789-The poet's ignorance of the world may have led him into error, 798-Conversation refined and purified by religion, 887.

THOUGH Nature weigh our talents, and dispense
To every man his modicum of sense,
And Conversation, in its better part,
May be esteem'd a gift, and not an art,
Yet much depends, as in the tiller's toil,
On culture, and the sowing of the soil.
Words learn'd by rote, a parrot may rehearse,
But talking is not always to converse;
Not more distinct from harmony divine,
The constant creaking of a country sign.

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As alphabets in ivory employ,

Hour after hour, the yet unletter'd boy,
Sorting and puzzling with a deal of glee
Those seeds of science call'd his A B C;
So language in the mouths of the adult-
Witness its insignificant result-
Too often proves an implement of play,
A toy to sport with, and pass time away.
Collect at evening what the day brought forth,
Compress the sum into its solid worth,
And if it weigh the importance of a fly,
The scales are false, or algebra a lie.
Sacred interpreter of human thought,
How few respect or use thee as they ought!
But all shall give account of every wrong,
Who dare dishonour or defile the tongue;
Who prostitute it in the cause of vice,
Or sell their glory at a market price;
Who vote for hire, or point it with lampoon,

The dear-bought placeman, and the cheap buffoon.
There is a prurience in the speech of some,

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Wrath stays him, or else God would strike them dumb;
His wise forbearance has their end in view,

They fill their measure, and receive their due.
The heathen lawgivers of ancient days,

Names almost worthy of a Christian's praise,
Would drive them forth from the resort of men,
And shut up every satyr in his den.
Oh come not ye near innocence and truth,

Ye worms that eat into the bud of youth!
Infectious as impure, your blighting power
Taints in its rudiments the promised flower;
Its odour perish'd and its charming hue,
Thenceforth 'tis hateful, for it smells of you.

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Not even the vigorous and headlong rage
Of adolescence or a firmer age,
Affords a plea allowable or just,

For making speech the pamperer of lust;

But when the breath of age commits the fault,
'Tis nauseous as the vapour of a vault.
So wither'd stumps disgrace the sylvan scene,
No longer fruitful, and no longer green ;
The sapless wood, divested of the bark,
Grows fungous, and takes fire at every spark.
Oaths terminate, as Paul observes, all strife-
Some men have surely then a peaceful life.
Whatever subject occupy discourse,

The feats of Vestris, or the naval force,
Asseveration blustering in your face
Makes contradiction such a hopeless case:
In every tale they tell, or false or true,
Well known, or such as no man ever knew,
They fix attention, heedless of your pain,
With oaths like rivets forced into the brain ;
And even when sober truth prevails throughout,
They swear it, till affirmance breeds a doubt.
A Persian, humble servant of the Sun,
Who, though devout, yet bigotry had none,
Hearing a lawyer, grave in his address,
With adjurations every word impress,
Supposed the man a bishop, or at least,
God's name so much upon his lips, a priest;
Bow'd at the close with all his graceful airs,
And begg'd an interest in his frequent prayers.
Go, quit the rank to which ye stood preferr'd,
Henceforth associate in one common herd;
Religion, virtue, reason, common sense,
Pronounce your human form a false pretence,-

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A mere disguise, in which a devil lurks,

Who yet betrays his secret by his works.

Ye powers who rule the tongue, if such there are,
And make colloquial happiness your care,

Preserve me from the thing I dread and hate,
A duel in the form of a debate.

The clash of arguments and jar of words,
Worse than the mortal brunt of rival swords,
Decide no question with their tedious length,
For opposition gives opinion strength,
Divert the champions, prodigal of breath,
And put the peaceably-disposed to death.
Oh, thwart me not, Sir Soph, at every turn,
Nor carp at every flaw you may discern ;
Though syllogisms hang not on my tongue,
I am not surely always in the wrong!
'Tis hard if all is false that I advance,

A fool must now and then be right by chance.
Not that all freedom of dissent I blame;
No there I grant the privilege I claim.
A disputable point is no man's ground;
Rove where you please, 'tis common all around.
Discourse may want an animated-No,
To brush the surface, and to make it flow;
But still remember, if you mean to please,
To press your point with modesty and ease.
The mark at which my juster aim I take,
Is contradiction for its own dear sake.
Set your opinion at whatever pitch,

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Knots and impediments make something hitch

;

Adopt his own, 'tis equally in vain,

Your thread of argument is snapp'd again;

The wrangler, rather than accord with you,

Will judge himself deceived,—and prove it too.

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Vociferated logic kills me quite,-
A noisy man is always in the right;

I twirl my thumbs, fall back into my chair,
Fix on the wainscot a distressful stare,

And, when I hope his blunders are all out,
Reply discreetly-To be sure-no doubt!

DUBIUS is such a scrupulous good man-
Yes you may catch him tripping, if you can.
He would not, with a peremptory tone,
Assert the nose upon his face his own;
With hesitation admirably slow,

He humbly hopes-presumes-it may be so.
His evidence, if he were call'd by law
To swear to some enormity he saw,
For want of prominence and just relief,
Would hang an honest man and save a thief.
Through constant dread of giving truth offence,
He ties up all his hearers in suspense;
Knows what he knows, as if he knew it not;
What he remembers, seems to have forgot;
His sole opinion, whatsoe'er befall,
Centering at last in having none at all.

Yet, though he tease and balk your listening ear,
He makes one useful point exceeding clear;

Howe'er ingenious on his darling theme
A sceptic in philosophy may seem,
Reduced to practice, his beloved rule
Would only prove him a consummate fool.
Useless in him alike both brain and speech,
Fate having placed all truth above his reach;
His ambiguities his total sum,

He might as well be blind, and deaf, and dumb.
Where men of judgment creep and feel their way,
The positive pronounce without dismay;

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