"But might you not have effected your purpose better by presenting examples of talkers without fault? Would not old and young more readily have been corrected and improved?" This might have been done, but for two simple obstacles in the way. First, the impossibility of finding the talkers without fault; and then, the almost certain fact that no one would have imitated them, had they been found. The defects of talkers are noticed with greater quickness of perception than their excellencies, and more is often learned from the former than from the latter. Cato says that "wise men learn more from fools than fools from wise men." Montaigne tells us that "Pausanias, an ancient player on the lyre, used to make his scholars go to hear one that lived near him, and played ill, that they might learn to hate discords." He says again of himself, "A clownish way of speaking does more to refine mine than the most elegant. Every day the foolish countenance of another is advertising and advising me. Profiting little by good examples, I make use of them that are ill, which are everywhere to be found. I endeavour to render myself as agreeable as I see others fickle; as affable as I see others rough; and as good as I see others evil." Should such use be made of the faults of talkers as Montaigne would doubtless have made, much good may be expected to arise from their study. When it is remembered that Scripture affirms the man who offends not in word is a "perfect man," the author feels that he has aimed at a laudable object in writing this book. Should there only _one_ perfect man arise in society through his effort, he flatters himself that a work will have been done which thousands of books have failed to accomplish. But, on the other hand, should _every_ reader lay aside his book not a "perfect man," he will only fulfil the words of the same Scripture, which say, "The tongue can no man tame." "Then if the tongue _cannot_ be tamed, why attempt the task?" The answer to this is: a little evil is better than a big one; and a tongue partially tamed is better than a tongue altogether wild. Therefore, while the author has no expectation of taming any man's tongue _altogether_, he has the hope of taming a great many a _little_, and, in the aggregate, of doing something towards elevating the talking civilization of the nineteenth century. "Will you have a little tongue?" asked a lady of a gentleman one day at the dinner-table. "I will, ma'am, if it is cured," was the answer. Alas! tongue will be at immense discount in the world if it is not received until it is "cured." One must be content to take it as near "cured" as it can be obtained. Not only must there be mutual efforts to cure one another's, but each must try to cure his _own_.