The day was lovely, and the passengers stood about on deck holding their noses and admiring the scenery.  You might see a row of them leaning over the side, gazing up at some old ruin or ivied crag, entranced with the romance of the situation, and all holding their noses with thumb and finger.  The sweet Rhine!  By and by somebody discovered that the odor came from a pile of cheese on the forward deck, covered with a canvas; it seemed that the Rhinelanders are so fond of it that they take it with them when they travel.  If there should ever be war between us and Germany, the borders of the Rhine would need no other defense from American soldiers than a barricade of this cheese.  I went to the stern of the steamboat to tell a stout American traveler what was the origin of the odor he had been trying to dodge all the morning.  He looked more disgusted than before, when he heard that it was cheese; but his only reply was:  “It must be a merciful God who can forgive a smell like that!”

II

The above is introduced here in order to illustrate the usual effect of an anecdote on conversation.  Commonly it kills it.  That talk must be very well in hand, and under great headway, that an anecdote thrown in front of will not pitch off the track and wreck.  And it makes little difference what the anecdote is; a poor one depresses the spirits, and casts a gloom over the company; a good one begets others, and the talkers go to telling stories; which is very good entertainment in moderation, but is not to be mistaken for that unwearying flow of argument, quaint remark, humorous color, and sprightly interchange of sentiments and opinions, called conversation.

The reader will perceive that all hope is gone here of deciding whether Herbert could have written Tennyson’s poems, or whether Tennyson could have dug as much money out of the Heliogabalus Lode as Herbert did.  The more one sees of life, I think the impression deepens that men, after all, play about the parts assigned them, according to their mental and moral gifts, which are limited and preordained, and that their entrances and exits are governed by a law no less certain because it is hidden.  Perhaps nobody ever accomplishes all that he feels lies in him to do; but nearly every one who tries his powers touches the walls of his being occasionally, and learns about how far to attempt to spring.  There are no impossibilities to youth and inexperience; but when a person has tried several times to reach high C and been coughed down, he is quite content to go down among the chorus.  It is only the fools who keep straining at high C all their lives.

Mandeville here began to say that that reminded him of something that happened when he was on the—­