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 it must be made. We have only to watch them, to listen--and to pity. But stay! If there is anything in heredity, women should be most sulphitic. For of all Bromides Adam was the progenitor, while Eve was a Sulphite from the first! Alice in Wonderland, however, is the modern type--a Bromide amidst Sulphites. * * * * *