“_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.