bstituted his fiddle-faddle of saws and
stories, which he had repeated, perhaps, a hundred times. We were jaded
with his superfluity of loquaciousness, and were not sorry when the
time of departure arrived. He was last of the company to retire, and he
did so with much self-complacency, doubtless thinking to himself, as he
walked home, "How great are my powers of conversation! I have talked
more than the Rev. Peabody; more than Professor Jones; more than Mr.
Hungerford, or any of the company. They scarcely talked at all. I am
surprised they had so little to say. I wonder what they thought of my
powers." Such probably were the reflections with which he entertained
himself after he left my house that evening.

The next day I met Mr. Hungerford, and almost the first thing he said
was,--

"What is the name of that individual who called upon you last night?"

"He is called Monopolist."

"A very appropriate name indeed; for he is the greatest case of monopoly
in conversation I ever met with or heard of. He is insufferable,
unpardonable. He did nothing but talk, talk, talk, to the almost
absolute exclusion of every one else,--

'He was tedious
As a tir'd horse, a railing wife;
Worse than a smoky chimney.'"

"I know him of old, Mr. Hungerford. I regretted very much his call at
that time; but I did hope for once he would restrain himself and keep
within the bounds of propriety. But I do think he went beyond anything I
have seen of him on any former occasion."

"If you are a friend of Monopolist," said Mr. Hungerford, "let me
suggest that you give him some suitable advice upon the subject."

"It is what he needs," I remarked, "and when I meet with him again I
will bear it in mind."

Some time after this I met Professor Jones. He had not forgotten
Monopolist. In course of conversation he said,--

"Mr. Golder, is that gentleman who called at your house the last time I
had the pleasure of visiting you yet living?"

"Yes, sir, he is still living, for anything I know to the contrary."

"Well, sir, I have thought and spoken of him many times since that
evening. He certainly exceeded on that occasion anything I ever heard in
talkativeness. I should not like again to endure the torment I suffered
after his entrance into the company that night. I do not consider myself
very slow of speech; but you know how difficult it was for me to
interject even a sentence after he came. And my friend, Mr. Peabody,