that is characteristic of Chesterton, it is that
he always seems genuinely pleased to see you. Many people say they are
pleased to see you, yet at the same time there is the uncomfortable
feeling that they would be much more pleased to see you leaving. This is
not the case with Chesterton: he has the happy advantage of making you
feel that he really is glad that you have come to his house. This is not
so with all great writers. Carlyle, if he liked to see a person, did not
say so; Tennyson did not always trouble to be polite; Swift would
receive his guests with a gloomy moroseness; Dickens was a man of moods;
conversation with Browning was not always easy. Great men do not always
trouble to be polite to smaller ones.

What a wonderful laugh Chesterton has. It is like a clap of thunder that
suddenly startles the echoes in the valley; it is the very soul of
geniality. There is nothing that so lays bare a man's character as his
laugh--it cannot pretend. We can pretend to like; we can pretend to be
pleased; we can pretend to listen; we can't pretend to laugh. Chesterton
laughs because he is amused; he is amused at all the small things, but
he seldom laughs at a thing.

I have often and often sat at his table. He talks incessantly. There is
no subject upon which he has not something worth while to say. His
memory is remarkable; he can quote poet after poet, or compose a poem on
anything that crops up at the table. I do not think it can be said that
Chesterton is a good listener. This is not in any way conceit or
boredom, but is rather that he is always thinking out some new story or
article or poem. Yet he is a good host in the niceties of the table; he
knows if you want salt; he does not forget that wine is the symbol of
hospitality.

It has been said that Chesterton is one of the best conversationalists
of the day. Conversation is a queer thing; so many people talk without
having anything to say; others have a great deal to say and never say
it. Chesterton can undoubtedly talk well; he has a knack of finding
subjects suitable to the company; though he does not talk very much of
things of the day; he is naturally mostly interested in books. Given a
kindred soul the two will talk and laugh by the hour.

Naturally, Chesterton has to pay the price of greatness: he has visitors
who will make any pretence to get into his presence. But many are the
interesting people to be found at his home. I remember one day, some
years ag