to one's deepest thoughts, shall one say nothing? You may
reasonably be supposed to care something for the sympathy of those whom
you have accompanied hither; and sympathy, though not entirely dependent
on words, naturally seeks some words to express itself, and is injured
when that expression is restrained.

But now I fancy you replying to all this,--"You do not hit my
difficulty. I have no trouble in talking with a chosen companion. My
friend 'draws me out,' because I am his friend. In his presence my
tongue is easily loosed, I have no hesitation in saying exactly what I
wish, and there are innumerable things that I wish to say. But the great
majority of men 'shut me up.' All my fluency departs when they enter.
There is an indescribable awkwardness in our interview. We belong to
different spheres, and it is mere pretence to affirm that we have
anything to communicate to each other."--Here I am willing to admit that
you have touched upon a very important consideration, although it by no
means justifies all that you would build upon it. I am myself conscious
that with some persons it is an effort to talk, and with others a
delight; nor can I always understand whence this difference. It is
certainly not owing to the length or shortness of acquaintance. It has
been no infrequent experience with me, to meet persons who at the first
interview broke down all my natural reserve. And on the other hand, I
have known men all my life with whom it is still a study what I shall
say when we meet. Who shall tell us what this magic is? Who shall give
us the "open sesame" to every heart? We name it "sphere,"
"organization," "sympathy," or what not, to cover our ignorance: all I
insist upon is, that you will not name it _fate_. Pride or indolence is
always suggesting that these lines of demarcation are fixed and
unalterable. Beware of entertaining that suggestion! Were two of the
most uncongenial persons in the world to be thrown together on a desert
island, would they have nothing to say to each other? Would they not
learn by the necessities of the case to communicate more and more? Would
it not probably be a constant discovery, that they had vastly more in
common than either had ever dreamed? I think so, at least. Well, if mere
external necessity can surmount these natural barriers, may not a
determined will, backed by a strong sense of moral obligation, do the
same? Let me tell you this also, as one of my experiences: that I have
no