ginian.

When Montaigne mentions GAYETY as the third clement of satisfying
discourse, I fancy he does not mean mere fun, though that has its value
at the right time and place. But there is another quality which is far
more valuable and always fit. Indeed it underlies the best fun and makes
it wholesome. It is cheerfulness, the temper which makes the best
of things and squeezes the little drops of honey even out of
thistle-blossoms. I think this is what Montaigne meant. Certainly it is
what he had.

Cheerfulness is the background of all good talk. A sense of humour is a
means of grace. With it I have heard a pleasant soul make even that
most perilous of all subjects, the description of a long illness,
entertaining. The various physicians moved through the recital as
excellent comedians, and the medicines appeared like a succession of
timely jests.

There is no occasion upon which this precious element of talkability
comes out stronger than when we are on a journey. Travel with a
cheerless and easily discouraged companion is an unadulterated
misery. But a cheerful comrade is better than a waterproof coat and a
foot-warmer.

I remember riding once with my lady Graygown fifteen miles through a
cold rainstorm, in an open buckboard, over the worst road in the world,
from LAC A LA BELLE RIVIERE to the Metabetchouan River. Such was the
cheerfulness of her ejaculations (the only possible form of talk)
that we arrived at our destination as warm and merry as if we had been
sitting beside a roaring camp-fire.

But after all, the very best thing in good talk, and the thing that
helps it most, is FRIENDSHIP. How it dissolves the barriers that divide
us, and loosens all constraint, and diffuses itself like some fine old
cordial through all the veins of life--this feeling that we understand
and trust each other, and wish each other heartily well! Everything into
which it really comes is good. It transforms letter-writing from a task
into a pleasure. It makes music a thousand times more sweet. The people
who play and sing not at us, but TO us,--how delightful it is to listen
to them! Yes, there is a talkability that can express itself even
without words. There is an exchange of thought and feeling which is
happy alike in speech and in silence. It is quietness pervaded with
friendship.

Having come thus far in the exposition of Montaigne, I shall conclude
with an opinion of my own, even though I cannot quote a sentence of his