"It's bad enough to see a man drunk—but, oh! a woman!"

XXI.

"It's a mistake for a woman to marry a man younger than herself—women age so much faster than men. Think what she'll be, when he's fifty!"

XXII.

"Of course if you happen to want a policeman, there's never one within miles of you."

XXIII.

"It isn't so much the heat (or the cold), as the humidity in the air."

XXIV.

"This tipping system is terrible, but what can one do about it?"

XXV.

"I don't know what we ever did without the telephone!"

XXVI.

"After I've shampooed my hair I can't do a thing with it!"

XXVII.

"I never read serials."

XXVIII.

"No, let me pay! I've got to change this bill anyway."

XXIX.

"You're a sight for sore eyes!"

XXX.

"Come up and see us any time. You'll have to take pot-luck, but you're always welcome."

XXXI.

"There are as many chances to get rich in real estate as there ever were—if you only knew where to find them."

XXXII.

"I'd rather have a good horse than all the automobiles made."

XXXIII.

"The price of autos is bound to come down sooner or later, and then you won't see horses except in menageries."

XXXIV.

"I'd rather go to a dentist than have my photograph taken."

XXXV.

"Did you ever know of a famous man's son who amounted to anything?"

XXXVI.

"The most ignorant Italian laborer seems to be able to appreciate art."

XXXVII.

"I want to see my own country before I go abroad."

XXXVIII.

"Yes, but you can live in Europe for half what you can at home."

XXXIX.

"You can live twenty years in New York and never know who your next door neighbor is."

XL.

"No, I'd just as lief stand; I've been sitting down all day."

XLI.

"Funny how people always confide their love-affairs to me!"

XLII.

"I'd rather be blind than deaf—it's such a tax on your friends."

XLIII.

"I haven't played a game of billiards for two years, but I'll try, just for the fun of it."

XLIV.

"If you could only write stories the way you tell them, you'd make your fortune as an author."

XLV.

"Nothing can stop a cold, unless you take it right at the start."

XLVI.

"He's told that lie so often that he believes it himself, now."

XLVII.

"If you stay here a year you'll never want to go back."

XLVIII.

"Don't worry; that won't help matters any."

* * * * *

Sulphites are agreed upon most of the basic facts of life, and this common understanding makes it possible for them to eliminate the obvious from their conversation. They have found, for instance, that green is restful to the eyes, and the fact goes without saying, in a hint, in a mere word. They are aware that heat is more disagreeable when accompanied by a high degree of humidity, and do not put forth this axiom as a sensational discovery. They have noticed the coincidences known as mental telepathy usual in correspondence, and have long ceased to be more than mildly amused at the occurrence of the phenomenon. They do not speak in awe-struck voices of supernatural apparitions, for of all fiction the ghost story is most apt to be bromidic, nor do they expect others to be impressed by their strange dreams any more than with their pathological symptoms. Hypnotism, they are convinced, has attained the standing of a science whose rationale is pretty well understood and established, and the subject is no longer an affording subject for anecdote. Sulphites can even listen to tales of Oriental magic, miraculously-growing trees, disappearing boys and what-not, without suggesting that the audience was mesmerized. Above all, the Sulphite recognizes as a principle that, if a story is really funny, it is probably untrue, and he does not seek to give an adjuvant relish to it, by dilating with verisimilitude upon the authenticity of the facts in the case. But your Bromide is impressive and asserts, "I knew the man that died!" The Sulphite, too, has little need for euphemisms. He can speak of birth and death without metaphor.

But to the Bromide all such matters of fact and fancy are perpetually picturesque, and, a discoverer, he leaps up and shouts out enthusiastically that two and two are four, and defends his statement with eloquent logic. Each scene, each incident has its magic spell—like the little woolly toy lamb, he presses the fact, and "ba—ba" the appropriate sentiment comes forth. Does he have, back in the shadows of his mind, perhaps, the ghost of a perception that the thing has been said before? Who can tell! But, if he does, his vanity exorcises the spirit. Bromides seldom listen to one another; they are content with talk for talk's sake, and so escape all chance of education. It is this fact, most likely, which has endowed the bromidiom with immortality. Never heard, it seems always new, appropriate, clever.

No, it Isn't so much the things they say, as the way they say them! Do you not recall the smug, confident look, the assurance of having said a particularly happy thing? They come inevitably as the alarm clock; when the hands of circumstance touch the hour, the bromidic remark will surely go off.

* * * * *

But, lest one make too much of this particular symptom, let us consider a few other tendencies. The Bromide has no surprises for you. When you see one enter a room, you must reconcile yourself to the inevitable. No hope for flashes of original thought, no illuminating, newer point of view, no sulphitic flashes of fancy—the steady glow of bromidic conversation and action is all one can hope for. He may be wise and good, he may be loved and respected—but he lives inland; he puts not forth to sea. He is there when you want him, always the same.

Bromides also enjoy pathological symptoms. They are fond of describing sickness and death-bed scenes. "His face swelled up to twice its natural size!" they say, in awed whispers. They attend funerals with interest and scrutiny.

* * * * *

We are all born with certain bromidic tendencies, and children are the greatest bromides in the world. What boy of ten will wear a collar different from what his school-mates are all wearing? He must conform to the rule and custom of the majority or he suffers fearfully. But, if he has a sulphitic leaven in his soul, adolescence frees him from the tyrannical traditions of thought. In costume, perhaps, men still are more bromidic than women. A man has, for choice, a narrow range in garments—for everyday wear at most but four coats, three collars and two pairs of shoes.

Fewer women become Sulphites. The confession is ungallant and painful, but