oneself to indicate and even express the sympathy one feels; and the experimentalist will soon become aware how welcome such unobtrusive sympathy is.  He will be amazed at first to find that, instead of being tolerated, he will be confided in; he will be regarded as a pleasant adjunct to a party, and he will soon have the even pleasanter experience of finding that his own opinions and adventures, if they are not used to cap and surpass the opinions and adventures of others, but to elicit them, will be duly valued.  Yet, alas, a good many shy people never reach that stage, but take refuge in a critical and fastidious attitude.  I had an elderly relative of this kind—­who does not know the type?—­who was a man of wide interests and accurate information, but a perfect terror in the domestic circle.  He was too shy to mingle in general talk, but sat with an air of acute observation, with a dry smile playing over his face; later on, when the circle diminished, it pleased him to retail the incautious statements made by various members of the party, and correct them with much acerbity.  There are few things more terrific than a man who is both speechless and distinguished.  I have known several such, and their presence lies like a blight over the most cheerful party.  It is unhappily often the case that shyness is apt to exist side by side with considerable ability, and a shy man of this type regards distinction as a kind of defensive armour, which may justify him in applying to others the contempt which he has himself been conscious of incurring.  One of the most disagreeable men I know is a man of great ability, who was bullied in his youth.  The result upon him has been that he tends to believe that most people are inspired by a vague malevolence, and he uses his ability and his memory, not to add to the pleasure of a party, but to make his own power felt.  I have seen this particular man pass from an ungainly speechlessness into brutal onslaughts on inoffensive persons; and it is one of the most unpleasant transformations in the world.  On the other hand, the modest and amiable man of distinction is one of the most agreeable figures it is possible to encounter.  He is kind and deferential, and the indulgent deference of a distinguished man is worth its weight in gold.

I was lately told a delightful story of a great statesman staying with a humble and anxious host, who had invited a party of simple and unimportant people to meet the great man.  The statesman came in late for dinner, and was introduced to the party; he made a series of old-fashioned bows in all directions, but no one felt in a position to offer any observations.  The great man, at the conclusion of the ceremony, turned to his host, and said, in tones that had often thrilled a listening senate:  “What very convenient jugs you have in your bedrooms!  They pour well!” The social frost broke up; the company were delighted to find that the great man was interested in mundane matters of a kind on which every one might