yet it was but a few hours of simplest pleasure; we wandered pathlessly through the sylvan calm of those dear places which seemed that day to be full of a great friendliness; uncle blair sauntered along behind us, whistling softly; sometimes he talked to himself; we delighted in those brief reveries of his; uncle blair was the only man i have ever known who could, when he so willed, " talk like a book, " and do it without seeming ridiculous; perhaps it was because he had the knack of choosing " fit audience, though few, " and the proper time to appeal to that audience.