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tones。 The rest of us had been soberly sipping our tea； and when the
Doctor and the Annexes stopped talking there was one of those dead
silences which are sometimes so hard to break in upon； and so awkward
while they last。 All at once Number Seven exploded in a loud laugh；
which startled everybody at the table。
What is it that sets you laughing so？ said I。
〃I was thinking；〃 Number Seven replied； 〃of what you said the other
day of poetry being only the ashes of emotion。 I believe that some
people are disposed to dispute the proposition。 I have been putting
your doctrine to the test。 In doing it I made some rhymes；the
first and only ones I ever made。 I will suppose a case of very
exciting emotion； and see whether it would probably take the form of
poetry or prose。 You are suddenly informed that your house is on
fire； and have to scramble out of it； without stopping to tie your
neck…cloth neatly or to put a flower in your buttonhole。 Do you
think a poet turning out in his night…dress； and looking on while the
flames were swallowing his home and all its contents； would express
himself in this style？
My house is on fire！
Bring me my lyre！
Like the flames that rise heavenward my song shall aspire！
He would n't do any such thing； and you know he wouldn't。 He would
yell Fire！ Fire！ with all his might。 Not much rhyming for him just
yet！ Wait until the fire is put out； and he has had time to look at
the charred timbers and the ashes of his home； and in the course of a
week he may possibly spin a few rhymes about it。 Or suppose he was
making an offer of his hand and heart； do you think he would declaim
a versified proposal to his Amanda； or perhaps write an impromptu on
the back of his hat while he knelt before her？
My beloved； to you
I will always be true。
Oh； pray make me happy； my love； do！ do！ do！
What would Amanda think of a suitor who courted her with a rhyming
dictionary in his pocket to help him make love？〃
You are right； said I；there's nothing in the world like rhymes to
cool off a man's passion。 You look at a blacksmith working on a bit
of iron or steel。 Bright enough it looked while it was on the
hearth； in the midst of the sea…coal； the great bellows blowing away；
and the rod or the horse…shoe as red or as white as the burning
coals。 How it fizzes as it goes into the trough of water； and how
suddenly all the glow is gone！ It looks black and cold enough now。
Just so with your passionate incandescence。 It is all well while it
burns and scintillates in your emotional centres； without articulate
and connected expression； but the minute you plunge it into the
rhyme…trough it cools down； and becomes as dead and dull as the cold
horse…shoe。 It is true that if you lay it cold on the anvil and
hammer away on it for a while it warms up somewhat。 Just so with the
rhyming fellow；he pounds away on his verses and they warm up a
little。 But don't let him think that this afterglow of composition
is the same thing as the original passion。 That found expression in
a few oh； oh's； eheu's； helas； helas's； and when the passion had
burned itself out you got the rhymed verses； which； as I have said；
are its ashes。
I thanked Number Seven for his poetical illustration of my thesis。
There is great good to be got out of a squinting brain； if one only
knows how to profit by it。 We see only one side of the moon； you
know； but a fellow with a squinting brain seems now and then to get a
peep at the other side。 I speak metaphorically。 He takes new and
startling views of things we have always looked at in one particular
aspect。 There is a rule invariably to be observed with one of this
class of intelligences： Never contradict a man with a squinting
brain。 I say a man； because I do not think that squinting brains are
nearly so common in women as they are in men。 The 〃eccentrics〃 are；
I think； for the most part of the male sex。
That leads me to say that persons with a strong instinctive tendency
to contradiction are apt to become unprofitable companions。 Our
thoughts are plants that never flourish in inhospitable soils or
chilling atmospheres。 They are all started under glass； so to speak；
that is； sheltered and fostered in our own warm and sunny
consciousness。 They must expect some rough treatment when we lift
the sash from the frame and let the outside elements in upon them。
They can bear the rain and the breezes； and be all the better for
them； but perpetual contradiction is a pelting hailstorm； which
spoils their growth and tends to kill them out altogether。
Now stop and consider a moment。 Are not almost all brains a little
wanting in bilateral symmetry？ Do you not find in persons whom you
love； whom you esteem； and even admire； some marks of obliquity in
mental vision？ Are there not some subjects in looking at which it
seems to you impossible that they should ever see straight？ Are
there not moods in which it seems to you that they are disposed to
see all things out of plumb and in false relations with each other？
If you answer these questions in the affirmative； then you will be
glad of a hint as to the method of dealing with your friends who have
a touch of cerebral strabismus； or are liable to occasional paroxysms
of perversity。 Let them have their head。 Get them talking on
subjects that interest them。 As a rule； nothing is more likely to
serve this purpose than letting them talk about themselves； if
authors； about their writings； if artists； about their pictures or
statues； and generally on whatever they have most pride in and think
most of their own relations with。
Perhaps you will not at first sight agree with me in thinking that
slight mental obliquity is as common as I suppose。 An analogy may
have some influence on your belief in this matter。 Will you take the
trouble to ask your tailor how many persons have their two shoulders
of the same height？ I think be will tell you that the majority of
his customers show a distinct difference of height on the two sides。
Will you ask a portrait…painter how many of those who sit to hint
have both sides of their faces exactly alike？ I believe he will tell
you that one side is always a little better than the other。 What
will your hatter say about the two sides of the head？ Do you see
equally well with both eyes； and hear equally well with both ears？
Few persons past middle age will pretend that they do。 Why should
the two halves of a brain not show a natural difference； leading to
confusion of thought； and very possibly to that instinct of
contradiction of which I was speaking？ A great deal of time is lost
in profitless conversation； and a good deal of ill temper frequently
caused； by not considering these organic and practically insuperable
conditions。 In dealing with them； acquiescence is the best of
palliations and silen