He.—"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."
She.—And what suggested the lines from Carlyle?
He.—Oh! I was thinking of one of the extracts in my list of quotations relevant to our subject, "The Art of Conversation." "It is when you come close to a man in conversation that you discover what his real abilities are." One might add, and what they are not.
She.—And I suppose that the line suggested the thought that, in many instances, to quote Carlyle again, "Speech is silvern, silence is golden; speech is human, silence is divine."
He.—Undoubtedly, in many instances, it would be better to preserve a discreet silence than to say that which is disagreeable or untruthful. Of course the tactful person can frequently so turn the conversation as to be obliged to adopt neither alternative.
She.—One should always be truthful, and one should never say that which would be displeasing to the listener,—of course, we must except those semi-disagreeable things which we sometimes feel privileged to say to our relatives or our best friends, on the ground that we are champions on the side of truth.
He.—I have always maintained that it is only a true friend who will tell the unpleasant home truths.
She.—Yes; we can all remember occasions when our expressed resentment at some well-meant criticism offered by a member of the family, for example, was met by the rejoinder that it was the truth.
He.—The "truth" is not always pleasing to the ear, and I agree with you that, except in the case of the privileged few, only the pleasing things should be told.