Are You a Bromide? Part 4

But the theory is constructive rather than destructive. It makes for content, and peace. By this philosophy one sees one's friends revealed.

Though the Bromide will never say whether he prefers dark or white meat; though he inflict upon you the words, "Why, if two hundred years ago people had been told that you could talk through a wire they would have hanged the prophet for witchcraft!" though he repeats the point of his story, rolling it over on his tongue, seeking for a second laugh; though he says, "Dinner is my best meal"--he cannot help it. You know he is a Bromide, and you expect no more.

You will notice, also, in discussing this theory with your friends, that the Bromide will take up, with interest, only the bromidic aspect of life. The term will amuse him, and, never thinking that it should be applied to himself, he will use the word "Bromide" in season and out of it. To the Sulphite, however, Sulphitism is a thing to be watched for, cultivated, and treasured. He will search long for the needle in the haystack, and leave the bromidiom to be observed by the careless, thoughtless Bromide. And, as the supreme test, it may be remarked that, should b.u.t.tons be put on the market, bearing the names "Bromide" and "Sulphite" in blue and red, a few minutes' reflection will convince the Sulphite that, before long, all the Bromides would be wearing the red Sulphite b.u.t.tons, and all the Sulphites the blue Bromide. Such is the rationale of the perverse.

Bromides we may love, and even marry. Your own mother, your sister, your sweetheart, may be bromidic, but you are not less affectionate.

They are restful and soporific. You may not have understood them; before you heard of the Sulphitic Theory you were annoyed at their dullness, their dogmas, but, with this white light illuminating them, you accept them, now, for what they are, and, expecting nothing original from them, you find a new peace and a new joy in their society. "You may estimate your capacity for the Comic," says Meredith--and the statement might be applied as well to the Bromidic--"by being able to detect the ridicule of them you love, without loving them less."

The Bromide has no salt nor spice nor savor--but he is the bread of Society, the veriest staff of life. And if, like Little Jack Horner, you can occasionally put in your thumb and pull out a sulphitic plum from your acquaintance, be thankful for that, too!