Class -JLOJfe 
 
 CopytightN?_ 
 
 CDEffiFGHT DEPOSm 
 
THE SPOKEN WORD 
 
 A MANUAL OF STORY-TELLING 
 AND PUBLIC SPEAKING, IN- 
 CLUDING DEBATING 
 
 BY JOHN HENRY EVANS, A. B., 
 
 Head of the Department of English, Latter-day Saints 
 
 University, Salt Lake City, Utah 
 
 " The first duty of man is to speak." — Stevenson 
 
 SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH 
 
 THE DESERET NEWS 
 
 1916 
 
*0 
 
 -rv 
 
 BOOKS BY JOHN HENRY EVANS 
 
 Black Gypsy and Other Stories 
 How to Teach Religion (Joint Author) 
 One Hundred Years of Mormonism 
 The ' Spoken Word 
 The Life Story of John Henry Smith 
 (In preparation) 
 
 Copyrighted, I916, kiJ^HN Henry Evans 
 
 ftp* 
 
 OCT 23 I9I6 
 
 ©CI.A438999 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This book was written at the suggestion of 
 Mr. Oscar Kirkham, Field-secretary of the 
 Young Men's Mutual Improvement 'Associ- 
 ation. It was read in manuscript by Mr. 
 Edward H. Anderson, for the Young Men's, 
 and by Miss Clarissa Beesley, for the Young 
 Ladies' organization, to whom I express my 
 appreciation for their approval. 
 
 In writing the book, therefore, I had in 
 mind primarily the contests in the Improve- 
 ment Associations in story-telling, public 
 speaking, and debating. But I have tried to 
 make the work of wider general service. 
 Hence I have had (in mind, secondly, the 
 young missionary who has to speak in public 
 and the religious teacher who is required to 
 tell stories to her class in the Sunday School, 
 the Primary Association, or the Religion 
 Class. To these, I hope, "The Spoken 
 Word" may be of some little value. 
 
 As to the sources of my information, I 
 have drawn freely, but not without due ac- 
 [ 3 ] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 knowledgment, from such general works on 
 the subjects treated as are before the pub- 
 lic. In an appendix I have given the prin- 
 cipal works which I have consulted. I wish 
 here to express my thanks to Elder Orson 
 F. Whitney for the use of one of his ad- 
 dresses. 
 
 JOHN HENRY EVANS. 
 Salt Lake City, August, 1916. 
 
 [ 4 j 
 
TOPICAL CONTENTS 
 
 Introduction 9 
 
 Practice necessary 9 
 
 In story-telling , 9 
 
 In public speaking 10 
 
 In debating 11 
 
 Study of principles necessary 12 
 
 In every activity of life 12 
 
 In the art of speech especially IS 
 
 Self-criticism necessary 16 
 
 Through one's own observation 16 
 
 Through the criticism ,of others 18 
 
 Through application 18 
 
 Story-Telling 21 
 
 Preliminaries 23 
 
 Use of the oral story 
 
 In the family 23 
 
 In the class-room 24 
 
 In public 25 
 
 Revival of the oral story 26 
 
 The oral story in ancient times 26 
 
 The oral story to-day 28 
 
 Training necessary for story-telling. ... 30 
 
 Conditions in the early days 30 
 
 Conditions now 31 
 
 Essentials in training 32 
 
 Study 32 
 
 Practice 32 
 
 The Audience 34 
 
 Children under twelve 34 
 
 Young men and women 41 
 
 The general audience 42 
 
 The Story 46 
 
 Where to get suitable stories 46 
 
 Essentials of a good story 47 
 
 Interest 47 
 
 Moral significance 48 
 
 Art in the telling 49 
 
 [ 5 ] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 Place to get stories 51 
 
 The Bible 51 
 
 The Book of Mormon 51 
 
 Church history 51 
 
 Other sources 51 
 
 Structure of the story 52 
 
 Value of a knowledge of structure 52 
 
 The beginning 
 
 Must awaken interest 54 
 
 Must carry hearer quickly into action 54 
 
 The middle 
 
 Must have a theme to develop 57 
 
 Must develop that theme 58 
 
 Must rise to a climax 58 
 
 Structure illustrated 60 
 
 Kinds of stories 64 
 
 Fables — should they be used? 64 
 
 Fairl-tales — should they be told? 66 
 
 Legends — their uses 69 
 
 The Story-Teller 71 
 
 Feel just right as to 
 
 Wanting to know your story 71 
 
 Wishing to do well 73 
 
 Working hard 73 
 
 Things not to do 75 
 
 Don't read your story 76 
 
 Don't memorize your story 76 
 
 Don't get the children to help you — out 
 
 loud 77 
 
 Don't talk down to the children 78 
 
 Don't explain, or comment, overmuch... 79 
 
 Don't wander 79 
 
 Things to do 80 
 
 Use good language 80 
 
 Make important things stand out 81 
 
 Use conversation where you can 81 
 
 Make judicious use of the pause 82 
 
 Public Speaking 85 
 
 Value of public speaking. 87 
 
 It trains the mind to think 87 
 
 It helps men to be useful 89 
 
 [ 6 ] 
 
Topical Contents 
 
 Trimming down a subject 92 
 
 Have something to say 92 
 
 Say only one thing 93 
 
 Try to be original 95 
 
 How a theme grows 98 
 
 Think yourself empty 
 
 By thinking yourself 98 
 
 By forming the habit 
 
 Of seeking clearness 100 
 
 Of seeking order 101 
 
 Of seeking independent conclusions. 102 
 
 Read yourself full 104 
 
 Then read specific works. ... 104 
 
 Talk yourself clear 105 
 
 How talking helps 105 
 
 How others have done it 106 
 
 The Divisions of a Speech 108 
 
 The beginning should be 
 
 Striking 108 
 
 Brief 109 
 
 Interesting 110 
 
 The Middle should 
 
 Progress with the idea 110 
 
 Give a clear impression of progress Ill 
 
 The conclusion should 
 
 Conclude, really and truly 115 
 
 By merely concluding 116 
 
 By summing up 117 
 
 By making an appeal 117 
 
 Debating 118 
 
 Helpful Suggestions 173 
 
 Subjects for speeches 174 
 
 Questions for debate 175 
 
 List of reference books 177 
 
 Value of debating 
 
 In training the mind 118 
 
 In practical use 120 
 
 Wording of a question 121 
 
 Gathering material 122 
 
 Studying the question as a whole 123 
 
 Looking into your mind 123 
 
 [ 7 ] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 Getting your issues 123 
 
 Arguing a proposition 125 
 
 Opening statement 125 
 
 Argument proper 127 
 
 Conclusion — rebuttal 127 
 
 What proof is 128 
 
 Facts and evidence 128 
 
 Reasoning experience 128 
 
 Making a brief 133 
 
 What a brief is 134 
 
 Illustration of brief 134 
 
 Management of a debate 136 
 
 Teams 136 
 
 Parts of 136 
 
 Order of speaking 137 
 
 Chairman's duties 137 
 
 Salutation 137 
 
 Judges 138 
 
 Delivery 
 
 Where to carry a speech 139 
 
 Conversational delivery 141 
 
 Illustrations of a speech 
 
 Address by O. F. Whitney 147 
 
 Part of Speech by Burke 160 
 
 [ 8 ] 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 THE USE OF THE TONGUE 
 
 To become proficient in story-telling and 
 public-speaking, including the debate, three 
 things are indispensable : abundant practice, 
 a careful study of the general principles of 
 the art of speech, and constant and persistent 
 self-criticism with a view to improvement. 
 
 Practice Much. 
 
 The first of these — plenty of practice — 
 lies ready to the hand of any young person 
 in the Church who is at all ambitious to suc- 
 ceed in the art of speech. 
 
 Consider, first of all, the opportunities our 
 young men and women have for the use of 
 the story-teller's art. If they are Sunday 
 school teachers or teachers in the Primary 
 Association, the Religion Class, or one of 
 the Improvement organizations, they will 
 [ 9 ] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 be called upon to test their ability as a story- 
 teller very frequently, and more frequently 
 as time goes on, since the story is increas- 
 ingly regarded as one of the most popular 
 and powerful means of entertainment and 
 instruction at our disposal. And nearly 
 every adult among us, as a matter of fact, 
 is in one or more of these organizations. 
 Besides, the home is made more of by us 
 than by most other people, and who 
 that has anything to do with children in 
 the home circle, whether in the capacity of 
 parent or uncle or aunt or just a friend to 
 the youngsters, but has a heavy tax levied 
 upon his gift of story-telling? 
 
 And what mere layman of any other reli- 
 gious denomination has so many opportuni- 
 ties for public speaking as does the average 
 member of the "Mormon" Church? Our 
 preaching being done mainly by the lawyer, 
 the doctor, the teacher, the business man, 
 the farmer, the mechanic, and the man of no 
 particular calling, instead of by a class of 
 men who make preaching a profession, every 
 one in the Church with the least disposition 
 [10] 
 
The Use of the Tongue 
 
 to do so, even women, may obtain practice 
 in this activity out of all proportion to his 
 special training in this art. In the sacra- 
 ment meetings, in the mission-field at home 
 and abroad, there is a very great demand 
 for public speaking. And not only so, the 
 demand is increasing every year for both 
 quantity and quality. 
 
 Finally, there is debating. If we use the 
 word in its broad sense, there is even more 
 debating within the Church, and always has 
 been, than of story-telling or of preaching 
 as it is generally understood in other 
 churches. "Mormonism", being new to the 
 world, has had to fight its way as no other 
 religious organization has done since the 
 primitive Church, and, fighting its way 
 everywhere, it has developed a strong argu- 
 mentative tone. Almost every gospel con- 
 versation is sure to grow into a miniature 
 debate if it continue long enough. Indeed, 
 "Mormon" discourses when closely exam- 
 ined reveal more argument than narration 
 or description or even exposition. Every 
 Latter-day Saint who uses his tongue at all 
 [11] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 in defense of his faith indulges in informal 
 debate. 
 
 Here, then, lie opportunities for the prac- 
 tice of the art of oral speech that are not 
 offered so numerously to young people of 
 any other community. No wonder a non- 
 "Mormon" business man in Utah said before 
 an audience the other day that he believed 
 he would join the "Mormon" Church, if for 
 no other reason than to get practice in pub- 
 lic speaking and thus overcome his embar- 
 rassment every time he spoke in public. If 
 any young person in the Church, therefore, 
 wishes to excel in the various forms of this 
 art of using the tongue let him avail him- 
 self of every chance that comes in his way 
 to practice it. 
 
 Study Principles 
 
 But practice alone is not enough, else the 
 Latter-day Saints would be the best story- 
 tellers, the best preachers, and the best de- 
 baters in the world. One must also study 
 the principles of these arts, for there are 
 effective and ineffective ways of doing them. 
 [12] 
 
The Use of the Tongue 
 
 Why do you listen like a two years' child 
 to the telling of a story by one person and 
 turn a deaf ear to that of another? Why 
 do you strain your attention when this man 
 preaches and fall asleep over the preaching 
 of that one, or bring on a nervous break- 
 drown by trying out of courtesy to keep 
 awake? Partly because of that mysterious 
 something we call personality; for, primar- 
 ily, Captain Delightful pleases us in story 
 or sermon for the simple reason that he is 
 Captain Delightful and not Theophrastus 
 Dryasdust. But it is partly too because he 
 who pleases us in the employment of the art 
 of speech observes, whether he knows it or 
 not, certain basic principles that lie at the 
 foundation of the art. 
 
 For there are in all arts, not the least 
 in the art of speech, fundamental princi- 
 ple^, to observe which is absolutely neces- 
 sary if we would be proficient therein. 
 
 Take farming, for instance. What boots 
 
 it to love the farm never so ardently, to 
 
 plant yourself on a quarter-section of land 
 
 with animals and the necessary implements, 
 
 [13] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 and to plug away till you wear yourself to 
 the bone trying to wrest a living from the 
 earth, if you do not know something about 
 the chemistry of the soil, the behavior of 
 plants, the economy of effort and product, 
 the availability of the market, and the means 
 and the laws of transportation? I am not 
 saying how you shall obtain this knowledge ; 
 I am merely insisting that you must have it 
 in order to succeed on the farm to-day. Put 
 two men at work in the field, one with and 
 the other without such knowledge, and you 
 will quickly see the difference working itself 
 out in the situation. 
 
 What is true of farming is true of any 
 piece of work at which the hand of man ex- 
 pends effort. Can the carpenter build a 
 house without first having learned? Does 
 a shoemaker cobble by instinct rather than 
 by study and practice? Would you trust a 
 watchmaker to take out your appendix? 
 These things are so obvious that they have 
 merely to be mentioned for the general idea 
 to be seen and acknowledged. To learn to 
 do well anything done with the hand, then, it 
 [14] 
 
The Use of the Tongue 
 
 is necessary not only to practice doing it 
 but along with the practice to study the 
 principles that lie at the heart of whatever 
 we are trying to do. 
 
 And does any one suppose that it is differ- 
 ent in respect to the use of the tongue? Be 
 not deceived : whatsoever a man soweth, that 
 shall he also reap — in speech as in conduct. 
 There is a difference between using the 
 tongue and using it well. In speech as in 
 everything else that we do there are certain 
 great underlying laws, which one must ob- 
 serve in order to be effective in this art. Of 
 two persons who speak in public, for in- 
 stance, one is effective, others things being 
 equal, because he observes these laws, and 
 the other is ineffective because he does not 
 observe them. This is the simple truth. And 
 again I do not say how or where the suc- 
 cessful preacher shall find these laws, I am 
 but emphasizing the fact that use them he 
 must. And I do not know that there is a 
 better way to do a thing than to be aware 
 of how it is to be done. Nor is it any dif- 
 ferent with the other forms of art we 
 [15] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 are discussing here. Of course, some public 
 speakers and story-tellers, like some farmers, 
 pick up the essentials of these arts as they 
 go, without any study of principles. That, 
 however, is a long, a hard, a costly, and gen- 
 erally an ineffective way of acquiring them. 
 A farmer may require ten years to discover 
 by this means what his son learns at school 
 in a single recitation or experiment. And 
 so it is in the art of using the tongue. One 
 may blunder along the way to success 
 through a series of painful embarrassments, 
 whereas he might attain a higher goal 
 sooner and with less effort by taking advan- 
 tage of the blunders and successes of those 
 who have gone before. 
 
 Criticise Yourself 
 
 The third requisite to effectiveness in the 
 
 spoken word is self-criticism looking toward 
 
 improvement. 
 
 To attempt a piece of work one wishes to 
 do, even though one should utterly fail, al- 
 ways whets the appetite for any bit of 
 knowledge that may be of aid in a second 
 [16] 
 
The Use of the Tongue 
 
 attempt. It makes the eyes keen to see, to 
 weigh and consider, to apply. 
 
 Self-criticism implies, first of all, that a 
 standard of excellence in the various phases 
 of the art of speech has been accepted. This 
 standard is, of course, derived from the 
 practice of the best story-tellers and speak- 
 ers. Nothing- short of the best should sat- 
 isfy us. And we may know this best partly 
 through a study of books on these subjects 
 and partly through our own observation of 
 what those do whom it is our fortune to 
 hear. Nor should we be content with a 
 vague, general notion of what constitutes 
 good story-telling and good public speaking. 
 Our ideas on these uses of the tongue should 
 be clear and distinct. 
 
 Self-criticism implies, secondly, that we 
 ascertain what our own practice of these arts 
 is, with a view to measuring it by this stand- 
 ard. We may discover our own practice in 
 two ways. We may ourselves see the merits 
 and the defects of our speech. Some per- 
 sons are not naturally critical. They do not 
 observe carefully. They take things tor 
 [17] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 granted. But observation and reflection are 
 indispensable to improvement in any line of 
 activity. It is especially so in the arts we are 
 considering here. We should notice in what 
 respects we are doing well, as compared with 
 others, and in what respects we are doing 
 badly. And then, again, we may learn our 
 virtues and defects from our friends. Gen- 
 erally speaking, people of the artistic tem- 
 perament are more or less inclined to resent 
 criticism by others unless that criticism is 
 favorable. This is a mistake. Blessed is he 
 who has a frank, critical friend, and profits 
 by his criticism. Emerson once thanked a 
 friend who pointed out that this great 
 writer had used a certain word too often in 
 one of his essays — a fact that had escaped 
 Emerson's eye. Our own observation, then, 
 and the observation and criticism of our 
 friends ought to serve pretty well to enable 
 us to ascertain wherein we are short and 
 wherein we are long in this matter of speech. 
 Self-criticism, thirdly, implies a strong 
 desire to correct one's defects and to culti- 
 vate one's virtues. It is of no value to rec- 
 [18] 
 
The Use of the Tongue 
 
 ognize a praiseworthy thing in our speech 
 if we do not intend to improve it. Similarly 
 it is worse than useless to know our short- 
 comings without following up that knowl- 
 edge by overcoming them. All growth in 
 these matters consists in alteration for the 
 better. Demosthenes, it is said, observing 
 that he had a bad habit of shrugging his 
 shoulders, that he stuttered, and that his 
 voice was weak, practiced speaking before 
 the boisterous seawaves, his mouth half filled 
 with pebbles, and the sharp point of a sword 
 just above his shoulder. Thus, by persistent 
 attention to a standard of oratory, on the 
 one hand, and to his defects, on the other 
 hand, with a view to their removal, this 
 noted Grecian became the greatest of the 
 world's orators. 
 
 A word of caution is necessary here. It 
 is possible to become too critical. Always 
 one's standard is higher than one's practice. 
 Too much attention, therefore, upon the dif- 
 ference between attainment and the standard 
 to be attained is likely to paralyze all effort. 
 I once knew a student in composition whose 
 [19] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 theory ran so far ahead of his practice as 
 to discourage him completely from writing- 
 themes. The safest thing to do perhaps is 
 to steer between the scylla of no self-criti- 
 cism at all and the charybdis of too much 
 self-criticism. 
 
 Thus we have the circle complete — prac- 
 tice, study, self-criticism, and practice 
 again in an improved form. Practice of any 
 art shows us where we lack, a study of the 
 principles of the art informs us how to 
 supply this lack, and the natural desire for 
 efficiency through the art will enable us to 
 apply these principles in our subsequent 
 practice. Here lies the road to an effective 
 use of the tongue. 
 
 [20] 
 
PART ONE 
 
 STORY-TELLING 
 
 Let me tell the stories and I care not who 
 writes the text-books. — G. Stanley Hall. 
 
CHAPTER ONE 
 
 PRELIMINARIES 
 
 It is doubtful whether there is in all the 
 world another community which has so large 
 a use for the oral story as do the Latter-day 
 Saints. 
 
 Uses of the Oral Story 
 We are essentially, to begin with, a peo- 
 ple of large families. An educational sur- 
 vey of Salt Lake City, made in 1915, shows 
 that this city must provide fifty per cent 
 more teachers and buildings per one thou- 
 sand of its total population than do such 
 cities as Seattle, Portland, Sacramento, or 
 San Francisco, and thirty per cent more than 
 Tacoma or Denver. And it is probable that 
 the percentage is greater in communities 
 wholly "Mormon." For babies are proverb- 
 ially Utah's best crop. 
 
 But children in the home have a craving 
 [23] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 for the oral story. In truth, this is where it 
 first manifests itself. Nowhere else is the 
 demand of childhood so insistent. They 
 therefore levy a heavy tribute on the story- 
 telling gift in whoever is around them — 
 parent, uncle or aunt, or the kindly stranger 
 that is within their gates. It is difficult to 
 imagine a more beautiful and wholesome 
 scene than one where all the members of the 
 family are gathered round the hearth listen- 
 ing to stories told by father or mother or one 
 of the older children. And there is perhaps 
 more of this to be found in Latter-day Saint 
 homes than elsewhere partly because there 
 are always enough persons there to make a 
 circle (even four cannot form a circle, you 
 know) and partly because there have been 
 established in many wards what is called the 
 home night, when story-telling comes much 
 into requisition. 
 
 And then, too, we Latter-day Saints have 
 more educational institutions in our Church 
 than any other religious denomination. In- 
 deed, almost the entire machinery of the 
 Church is educational in its aim. There are 
 [24] 
 
Preliminaries 
 
 the Sunday Schools, including persons of all 
 ages from the kindergarten to the parents' 
 department ; the Primary Association and 
 the Religion Class, enrolling children be- 
 tween four and fourteen; the Mutual Im- 
 provement Associations, whose membership 
 comprises young men and women above the 
 age of fourteen; and, finally, the quorums 
 of priesthood, including boys and men from 
 the deacon to the high priest. In all of 
 these organizations there is teaching done, 
 more or less by means of the oral story. 
 
 In addition, however, to the home and the 
 class recitation held in the various organiza- 
 tions named above, there are other occasions 
 for the use of oral story-telling among us. 
 One of these is the social gathering, which 
 is as common with us as with other people. 
 And who is in greater demand in the social 
 circle than he who can tell a story well ? An- 
 other is the public rostrum. We do more 
 preaching than any other church. With us 
 all are expected to do more or less public 
 speaking. Now, the story, although not so 
 much used by us in sermons as by other 
 [25] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 preachers, and not so much used as it should 
 be, constitutes really an essential part of all 
 public address. Lastly, there is ward teach- 
 ing, a distinctively "Mormon" institution. 
 While no use to speak of has been made of 
 the oral story in this religious activity, there 
 is not only no reason why it should not be 
 used, but a very excellent reason why it 
 should be. For the ward teacher is supposed 
 to entertain and instruct the children in the 
 families whom he visits as well as the father 
 and the mother, the youth and the maiden. 
 
 When, therefore, we look about us and 
 see the ever-increasing opportunities for the 
 use of the story-telling gift among our peo- 
 ple, we begin to wonder at the prospect for 
 the art there is in all our communities. 
 
 Revival of the Oral Story 
 
 As a matter of fact, not only here but 
 
 throughout the United States and the 
 
 world, the oral story is at last coming to its 
 
 own. 
 
 Once upon a time, when the race was in 
 its childhood and adolescence, oral story-tell- 
 [26] 
 
Preliminaries 
 
 ing was almost the only educational means 
 available. Our forefathers, in those remote 
 days before the invention of printing and 
 before schools were established, gathered 
 their children about them and told then 
 stories of the chase and of whatever else they 
 wished handed down to posterity for their 
 edification and entertainment. The early 
 history of every nation of which we have 
 any knowledge is full of stories that went 
 from mouth to mouth, as witness the bard in 
 ancient Greece, the gleeman in early Eng- 
 land, the troubadour in France, and the min- 
 nesinger in Germany. Jesus was the master 
 story-teller of ancient times, and that is why, 
 for one thing, "the common people heard 
 him gladly." 
 
 Nor has the practice died out among such 
 primitive peoples as exist to-day. Up 
 there in the land of the Eskimo the story 
 is still the chief instrument of transmitting 
 from father to son the heroic deeds of these 
 blubber-eating, walrus-fighting folk. Only, 
 the circle of hearers there includes the older 
 members of the community as well, and the 
 [27] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 tale is stretched out for days and months, 
 after the fashion of our printed serials. 
 Lummis tells us that the tribes of the Pueblo 
 Indians "have regular story-tellers, men who 
 have devoted a great deal of time to learning 
 the myths and stories of their people and 
 who possess, in addition to a good memory, 
 a vivid imagination. The mother sends for 
 one of these, and having spread a feast for 
 him, she and her little brood, who are curled 
 up near her, await the fairy stories of the 
 dreamer, who after his feast and smoke en- 
 tertains the company for hours." 
 
 But as our race grew into bumptious 
 manhood it became absorbed in more serious 
 things, as it thought, and so left off the culti- 
 vation of the story-teller's art, except as a 
 source of amusement when the long winter 
 evenings bore down heavily upon its spirits. 
 Now, however, that the age of the child 
 has dawned upon us, there is naturally a re- 
 turn to the oral story as a means to some- 
 thing higher than mere entertainment. 
 
 The revival was begun by Froebel. Story- 
 telling forms a large and indispensable part 
 [28] 
 
Preliminaries 
 
 of his educational system. And to-day the 
 ability to tell a story well is generally re- 
 garded as a necessary qualification of the 
 teacher of children. The Sunday School 
 throughout the world, not to be behind-hand, 
 has adopted the story as a means of inculcat- 
 ing moral and religious truth, thus laying a 
 new obligation upon the teachers in this 
 great organization. Such noted preachers 
 as Spurgeon, Talmage, Moody, and 
 Beecher used the story freely in their ser- 
 mons. So, too, do modern public speakers 
 generally, whether to relieve the hearers' 
 minds in the midst of weighter forms or to 
 point a truth. Classes are formed in schools 
 and libraries to train teachers in story- 
 telling and to entertain and instruct children. 
 Books and periodicals are published every 
 year giving information on this subject. 
 
 Among our own people, too, there has 
 been an awakening in this respect, but it is 
 doubtful whether we are yet more than half 
 aware of the high educational value of the 
 story and of the necessity of cultivating the 
 art of telling stories. 
 
 [29] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 Training Necessary 
 
 It is surprising, when you stop to think of 
 it, how little the art of story-telling has been 
 cultivated among us. And this fact is the 
 more surprising in view of our great need 
 for it, the excellent material we have always 
 had at our command, and the alertness we 
 have generally shown for effective means of 
 conveying our message to others. Our 
 preachers have made far less use of the story 
 than one would have expected under the cir- 
 cumstances. Pulpit energy has been ex- 
 pended mostly in exposition and argument. 
 Our auxiliary organizations, to be sure, 
 have always -made more or less use of the 
 story-telling art. But who, until very re- 
 cently, has regarded any special training as 
 necessary to the proper telling of stories? 
 Said an influential man the other day to a 
 friend of mine who writes : "Why do you 
 waste your talent writing stories for chil- 
 dren? Why don't you write something 
 higher ?" For many of the older generation, 
 being practical, as they say, look upon the 
 maker of stories, especially for children, as 
 [30] 
 
Preliminaries 
 
 distinctly inferior in calling to the man who 
 cans milk or raises hogs. 
 
 The reason for our not having taken 
 earlier to the cultivation of this art is not far 
 to seek. Most of the early Saints were New 
 Englanders, who time out of mind had cul- 
 tivated a sober outlook on the world. And 
 joining "Mormonism", they found, called 
 for courage; and the faith being unpopular, 
 required as much courage to remain with it. 
 They were, therefore, sober, earnest men 
 and women who connected themselves with 
 the new religion. Then, again, our people 
 from the first were driven from pillar to 
 post, and later planted in an inhospitable 
 country, where it demanded every effort to 
 wrest a bare subsistence from the soil. Hence 
 there was no leisure, during these years, to 
 reflect that art is ever the handmaid of truth 
 and that an idea may be made more attract- 
 ive by taking thought as to its form. 
 
 But happily that time is gone. We are 
 now free from opposition, we are prosper- 
 ous and at peace, and we have some leisure 
 for the cultivation of the mind. There is no 
 [31] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 reason, therefore, why all the forms of art 
 — sculpture, architecture, painting, litera- 
 ture, and music — should not receive the 
 share they deserve of this spare time. And 
 not the least of the art forms should be that 
 of telling a story. 
 
 For there is an art of the oral story. 
 The telling of a story by one person is effect- 
 ive and by another person ineffective. There 
 are some things to learn. If one is to tell 
 stories to children, one should know the 
 characteristics and instincts that make their 
 appearance at various stages of childhood. 
 For the same story will not necessarily suit 
 all ages. Then one who aims to excel as a 
 story-teller ought to know how a story is 
 put together. Finally, the prospective story- 
 teller should learn some of the faults that 
 creep into story-telling in order to avoid 
 them, and he should study the devices of 
 voice and manner and form which success- 
 ful story-tellers have found useful in their 
 practice. Of course, one may acquire a cer- 
 tain amount of proficiency in this art by ob- 
 servation and practice, especially if he have 
 [32] 
 
Preliminaries 
 
 a good deal of native ability to begin with; 
 but conscious art — conscious in the sense 
 that it knows what it is doing and why it is 
 doing it — is the most successful in the long 
 run. And then there must be a great deal 
 of persistent practice in story-telling. Who- 
 ever desires to succeed as a story-teller must 
 make up his mind to become thoroughly fa- 
 miliar with the story before he tells it, to 
 give himself wholly to the story and to the 
 audience, to make it the possession not of the 
 memory merely, but of the heart as well. 
 
 [33] 
 
CHAPTER TWO 
 
 THE AUDIENCE 
 
 A story-teller naturally shrinks from boring 
 his audience. The first requisite, therefore, 
 to all good story-telling is to have an appro- 
 priate and entertaining story to tell. But 
 how is one to know beforehand what stories 
 will hold the attention of any particular 
 group ? The answer is simple : Consider the 
 natural interests of your hearers and the 
 particular conditions under which the story 
 is to be given. 
 
 Stories for Children 
 
 First of all, stories will be told to children, 
 either in the home or in the organizations of 
 the Church,. 
 
 Children under twelve years of age are 
 "the echoes of the vaster, richer life of the 
 remote past." They love the field, the for- 
 [34] 
 
The Audience 
 
 est, the water, flowers, and animals. Books 
 are usually distasteful to them. Their bodies 
 cry out for the open air and for the object- 
 ive life it offers. Living in the plane of the 
 instincts and the imagination, they do not 
 trouble their heads about distinctions be- 
 tween the real and the unreal, the true and 
 the untrue, which are so bothersome to 
 grown-ups. Moreover, their minds are ever 
 exploring the world of nature and of men, as 
 of one who would get information and ex- 
 perience first-hand. 
 
 These native desires and primitive condi- 
 tions pre-determine the kinds of stories they 
 like. 
 
 They are fond of stories about other chil- 
 dren. This fact is confirmed not only by 
 specialists in child psychology, but by com- 
 mon observation. Stories from the Old 
 Testament, like the infancy of Moses ; stories 
 from the New Testament, like the childhood 
 or Jesus and stores from our own Church 
 history, of which there is a great abundance, 
 all find a ready and instinctive response in 
 children of this period. 
 [35] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 They like stories of animals and out-of- 
 doors. "Kittens, dogs, squirrels, birds, in- 
 sects make a fascinating appeal to their at- 
 tention, and plants, stars, clouds, and winds 
 really stir the same kind of interest, for 
 the child endows them all with life and feel- 
 ing like his own. It is because of this ani- 
 mistic tendency of the child that stories of 
 the persevering raindrop and the benevolent 
 sunbeam kind do not repel him as they do 
 his older brother or sister." 
 
 They like stories of wonder and miracle. 
 It is a matter of common observation that 
 stories of primitive conditions, whether of 
 the imagination or of actual fact, are found 
 interesting at this age — myths, fairy-tales, 
 and legends. And this is the case not be- 
 cause of the supernatural or miraculous ele- 
 ment in them, for this sort of thing is of one 
 texture with the normal life of the child un- 
 der twelve. Fairies, gnomes, giants "are 
 really but children masquerading in other 
 forms." It is the same with stories of the 
 miraculous from sacred literature. Children 
 of this period find little or no difficulty in the 
 [36] 
 
The Audience 
 
 story of Jesus feeding the multitude with a 
 few fishes and loaves of bread, or in the nar- 
 rative of the finger of God touching the 
 stones Jared's brother had prepared and 
 making them luminous, or in Moroni and 
 the book of the golden plates. 
 
 In this stage of children's lives, especially 
 the oral story should, first, feed that passion 
 already in them for dramatic joy; secondly, 
 develop their sense of humor, without which 
 they will never be able to see life in its true 
 proportions; thirdly, train in them the all 
 too undeveloped sense of causality, that 
 every act is followed by its consequences ; 
 fourthly, place before them in a form that 
 they can grasp — that is, concretely in char- 
 acters acting out their parts — ideals which 
 will presently be realized in their own lives ; 
 and lastly, cultivate their imagination, by 
 which alone one is able to enter sympathet- 
 ically into another person's life. In a word, 
 the story ought to give the children as many 
 vicarious experiences as possible of a large, 
 varied, and useful character. 
 
 [37] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 Stories for Boys and Girls 
 After the period of childhood comes the 
 period of adolescence. There are two of 
 these stages, more or less distinct: early 
 adolescence and late. Let us take each of 
 these separately. 
 
 The early adolescents include persons, 
 roughly speaking, in their teens. This is 
 often termed the egoistic stage. It is a period 
 when the new self is born. The social in- 
 stincts do not appear to any great extent till 
 toward the end. It is a time of self-confi- 
 dence, when the youth "is able to do single- 
 handed what the world's wisest have some- 
 how failed to reach." Nature's aim during 
 this period "seems to be chiefly to develop 
 virtues of the more egoistic type." Uncon- 
 sciously to the boy and girl the instincts are 
 reaching out for models that are to shape 
 character more or less permanently. Al- 
 though a period of great danger, it is never- 
 theless one of great opportunity. 
 
 The central element in the stories told 
 during this period of life should involve 
 heroism in some form or other. This is 
 [38] 
 
The Audience 
 
 true of both girls and boys, but especially 
 of boys. They do not like the commonplace 
 in life, whether actual or imaginative. The 
 sensational is apt to be in great demand. 
 Nor is the taste for heroic qualities likely 
 to be very discriminating just at this time. 
 In the absence of stories of the better class 
 the boy of this period will most probably 
 take to narratives of the pugilist, the bandit, 
 and the highway robber, particularly in the 
 early teens. Boys and girls of this stage 
 are not, as some appear to think, disinclined 
 to stories that show heroism at its best. As 
 a matter of fact, they prefer such stories, 
 provided their taste for the other sort has 
 not been allowed to run riot. But the story 
 must be one that stirs the enthusiasm of 
 young manhood and womanhood. 
 
 "In these stories," says Professor St. John, 
 "concreteness should be the aim, but the real 
 emphasis should be on the character that in- 
 spires the deed rather than on the act itself 
 or even the consequences that follow it. 
 Particularly in the latter part of the first 
 stage of adolescence, when biographical 
 [39] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 stories will be especially prominent, the focus 
 of attention should further be shifted from 
 the traits of character to the struggles and 
 choices which shape the character itself. This 
 will be accomplished largely by telling of 
 the really critical events of a life and giving 
 clear indication of the alternative lines of 
 conduct that are open. Thus the youth is 
 helped to see how victories over self are usu- 
 ally the key to victories over men." 
 
 Material for such stories, whether in the 
 raw or the finished form, is abundant. One 
 may wish to tell stories to be found in classic 
 legend, in fiction, in history, or in modern 
 biography. Or one may prefer to tell stories 
 from the Bible and the Book of Mormon, 
 not to speak of the mine of unworked nar- 
 rative in our own religious history. No bet- 
 ter opportunity could be desired for intro- 
 ducing young people to religion than to tell 
 them of the heroism which, in Christian his- 
 tory and later in our own day, has been ex- 
 hibited by men and women for their convic- 
 tions. Gradually, as this stage draws to a 
 close, the stories told should possess an in- 
 [40] 
 
The Audience 
 
 creasing element of self-sacrifice, social serv- 
 ice, even love of enemies. 
 
 Stories for Young Persons 
 Young persons between the teens and about 
 twenty-five years constitute, speaking gen- 
 erally again, the third group — the later ado- 
 lescents. 
 
 The dominant interest in this period cen- 
 ters in love. This shows itself in the latter 
 part of the earlier stage, and appears sooner 
 in girls than in boys, but it develops mainly 
 in this period. "Interest in purely unselfish 
 life of service for others," says Professor St. 
 John, "finds considerable manifestation in 
 middle adolescence, but it is after the seven- 
 teenth or eighteenth year that it reaches its 
 larger development. So strong is the in- 
 stinctive tendency toward altruism that often 
 self-sacrifice becomes a pleasure, and is 
 sought almost as an end in itself." 
 
 Accordingly, the stories that are liked dur- 
 ing this period are those where the element 
 of love in one form or another and of serv- 
 ice and devotion to an ideal is strong. Here 
 ]41] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 is where narratives of the great religious 
 teachers find a ready response. There is no 
 better time than this for the life of our 
 Savior. If fiction be desired, preference 
 should be given to that sort which finds an 
 appeal to wholesome sentiment rather than 
 romantic sentimentality, which has its basis 
 in solid reality, and which depicts moral 
 cleanliness rather than the morbid and gross 
 phases of passion so common in fiction now- 
 adays. 
 
 The General Audience 
 
 There are other audiences, however, besides 
 children and young persons before which it 
 may be necessary for the story-teller to ap- 
 pear. Indeed, the contests in story-telling, 
 recently begun in the Improvement Associa- 
 tions, give a distinct turn to this art as a 
 popular means of entertainment, and as such 
 it should be encouraged. 
 
 One of these may be a group of kindred 
 spirits met to spend the time in a more prof- 
 itable way than card-playing. Such per- 
 sons may be young or old, their purpose may 
 [42] 
 
The Audience 
 
 be serious or light, but in any event the aim 
 they have in gathering will be an index to 
 the kind of stories which ought to be told 
 there. 
 
 Or again, it may be a popular audience 
 that the story is to be told to. 
 
 Why should we not have and encourage 
 professional story-tellers, just as we now 
 have and encourage professional singers, 
 actors, readers, and speakers ? Surely there 
 is as much pleasure and benefit to be derived 
 out of public story-telling as out of any of 
 these forms of public entertainment, and 
 surely there is as good a field for this activ- 
 ity in our "Mormon" communities as can 
 be found anywhere else in the world. Nor 
 is there any doubt that we have the talent 
 necessary to success in this kind of public 
 work, if properly trained. Young persons 
 hereabouts frequently spend money and time 
 learning to sing, to play a musical instru- 
 ment, and to read before the public, not be- 
 cause they expect to make a livelihood out 
 of it, but because exhibiting their talents in 
 these ways gratifies a natural and beneficent 
 [43] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 instinct in them and in us all for public ap- 
 pearance. Why has no one among our peo- 
 ple studied the art of story-telling as they 
 have music and elocution and public speak- 
 ing ? I commend this suggestion to the con- 
 sideration of our young men and women. 
 
 Since a popular audience is likely to be 
 composed of persons of all ages, one must 
 have some other guide to the selection of 
 stories to tell on such occasions than that 
 which I have already given for children and 
 adolescents. That guide lies in this prac- 
 tical rule : those stories that have an appeal 
 to the deeper, and therefore universal, qual- 
 ities in human nature, rather than to those 
 characteristics that are the result of educa- 
 tion and environment. 
 
 Any story, other things being the same, 
 which appeals strongly to the instinct of love 
 is likely to interest a popular audience. Love 
 of parent for child, love of the sexes for each 
 other, love of friends, love for the truth, love 
 of country — all these are basic in their ap- 
 peal and grip our deepest feelings. Again, 
 the love of battle is a strong instinct, and 
 [44] 
 
The Audience 
 
 therefore universal. We like to see a strug- 
 gle, physical, mental, or moral. Especially 
 do we like a contest where evil is pitted 
 against good, and where the better forces 
 triumph. This is what the motion picture 
 men call punch. If the elements of love 
 and conflict are united, as is generally done, 
 interest is greatly increased. Hence, the 
 more the fundamental feelings in us are ap- 
 pealed to, the more likely the story is to in- 
 terest all classes. 
 
 Examine the most popular, lasting stories 
 and see if this is not the case: Joseph in 
 Egypt, "Ruth", Esther", "Judith", "The 
 Ugly Duckling", "The Other Wise Man", 
 "Where Love Is There God Is Also", and 
 many others that could be named. The se- 
 cret of the universal interest in Homer, in 
 the writers of the Bible, and in Shakspere 
 lies in the fact that these authors depict lu- 
 cidly the primary qualities and motives of 
 action in man. It is a good practice to read 
 stories for the purpose of ascertaining the 
 range of their appeal. 
 
 [45] 
 
CHAPTER THREE 
 
 THE STORY 
 
 Having in mind the audience before which 
 you are to appear, whether it is composed 
 of children in a class, young people in a 
 social gathering, or the general public, you 
 now look about for a story that will answer 
 your purpose. But this and the telling of 
 a story implies that you know where to get 
 suitable stories, that you know how to 
 choose among them, and that you know 
 something about the way stories are put to- 
 gether. These points, therefore, I shall con- 
 sider in this chapter. 
 
 Where to Get Stories 
 
 And first as to where to look for stories. 
 
 The easiest way to get a story is to ask 
 
 someone to select one for you. But this, 
 
 like all other easiest ways, is also the laziest 
 
 and, generally, the most unsatisfactory 
 
 [46] 
 
The Story 
 
 way. The only real service in this respect 
 that others can be to us is to tell us where 
 stories or the material for stories may be 
 found. You should, knowing this, do your 
 own reading and picking. Time ? Well, life 
 is not so short as some people make out, 
 when you garner the odd moments. Use 
 some of these in which to stock your mind 
 with good stories to tell. And it will be the 
 more necessary for you to do this if you 
 are to accomplish much in the telling of 
 stories. So, then, my first counsel is to read 
 much and widely. 
 
 But it is often not easy to tell a good 
 story when one sees it. A story is worth 
 while when it answers two tests — content 
 and form; that is, what is it about? and how 
 is it worked up? Form I shall not concern 
 myself with here, not only because it is not 
 of great practical utility and is besides evas- 
 ive, but especially because it can usually be 
 determined by who wrote it? But content 
 I shall consider, as being more important 
 and easier to comprehend. 
 
 A good story, in addition to being inter- 
 im ] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 esting, must mean something, have a moral 
 significance. Especially is this true of stories 
 that are intended for children and young 
 persons. Mr. Galsworthy makes one of his 
 characters in his "Island Pharisees" say of 
 a certain story with a thrilling plot that "it 
 had been contrived to throw light on nothing 
 whatever". Stories that are worth telling 
 throw light on something. Few serious- 
 minded persons have any patience with peo- 
 pleo who talk glibly about "art for art's sake" 
 (whatever this may mean) in connection 
 with story-telling. True art is ever the hand- 
 maid of science, of substance, form has no 
 meaning apart from content. The best pic- 
 tures, the best sculpture, the best music, 
 mean something. So, too with the best 
 stories. Poe is probably the greatest represen- 
 tative in American literature of the doctrine 
 of the inutility of the artistic, and his writ- 
 ings exemplify this idea. In the "Raven", 
 the "Bells", and the Gold Bug", which are 
 among his most popular works, there is 
 either no significance at all or — what 
 amounts to the same thing — the significance 
 [48] 
 
The Story 
 
 is so hidden as to escape the average reader. 
 Hawthorne, on the other hand, is the best 
 type of men of letters in this country who 
 unite the artistic with the useful, as witness 
 "The Great Stone Face" and the "Scarlet 
 Letter." And Hawthorne is viewed in Eu- 
 rope as one of two American writers that 
 have made contributions to world literature. 
 The best stories are, to be sure, artistic, 
 but they are also the most moral. I do not 
 mean, of course, that they were written to 
 preach a sermon, for Burroughs's command- 
 ment, "Thou shalt not preach !" is carefully 
 obesrved by the good story-teller. Never- 
 theless they abound in sermons, or rather, 
 their readers' minds abound in sermons. 
 Take Shakspere's "Macbeth", for instance. 
 This wonderful play was not, most likely, 
 written to show that the virus of evil brings 
 a man inevitably to death and the worms 
 whenever he attempts to rise into power in 
 the teeth of the eternal verities. Yet this, or 
 something like this, every one gets who reads 
 this great drama as its meaning. And some 
 such hidden significance every important 
 [49] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 work of lierary art expresses. So, let me re- 
 peat, every story you tell, especially to those 
 whose ideals are forming, should have an 
 uplift. 
 
 Moreover, this meaning should be obvious 
 to the hearer. Sometimes the fault of ob- 
 scurity lies in the nature of the material we 
 are endeavoring to work up into a story, 
 sometimes in the way this material is laid be- 
 fore the class or the general public. There 
 are few things more annoying than to be told 
 a story we do not understand the meaning of, 
 or, understanding, we do not consider worth 
 the telling. But neither should the meaning 
 be too obvious. The hearer likes to gather 
 this significance from a story as he does from 
 life, instead of being told it outright. And 
 this suggestive way of keeping the signifi- 
 cance under the surface can be managed 
 with just a little art in the telling. 
 
 Akin to this is that we should be sure 
 that we are giving the right meaning. Felix 
 Adler instances such a misinterpretation in 
 connection with the telling of the fable of 
 the Oak and the Reed. "The fable teaches," 
 [50] 
 
The Story 
 
 he says, "the policy of utter, uncomplaining 
 submission. The oak refuses to bend, and 
 is broken. The supple reed yields to the 
 blast, and is safe. Is it not a little aston- 
 ishing that this fable should so often be re- 
 lated to children as if it contained a moral 
 which they ought to take to heart? To 
 make it apply at all, it is usually twisted from 
 its proper signification and explained as 
 meaning that one should not be fool-hardy, 
 not attempt to struggle against overwhelm- 
 ing odds." 
 
 As to the source of stories and of material 
 for stories, a word will suffice. 
 
 A vast amount of material for stories of 
 a religious and moral nature can be found 
 in the Bible, in the Book of Mormon, the 
 History of the Church in six volumes, with 
 more to follow, and in the biographies of 
 our leading men. Whoever, therefore, 
 wishes to stock up with this kind of stories 
 should become familiar with these volumes. 
 
 Material for other stories may be found in 
 lists published by various institutions. "In- 
 dex to Stories", by Grace E. Salsbury and 
 [51] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 Marie E. Beckwith (Rowe, Peterson and 
 Co.) : "A List of Good Stories to Tell Chil- 
 dren Under Twelve", published by the Car- 
 negie Library of Pittsburg-; "Finding List of 
 Fairy Tales and Folk Stories", published by 
 the Boston Public Library — these will afford 
 ample sources for a certain class of stories. 
 As for other stories, there is "The Ameri- 
 can Short-story Classics", published by Col- 
 liers ; there is the "Library of American 
 Stories" and the "Library of English Sto- 
 ries", by the Success Publishing Co. ; and 
 there is a series of short-stories put out by 
 Scribners. Of course, no one who intends 
 to do much in story-telling will neglect the 
 current magazines, although these must be 
 read with discrimination; as also must the 
 separate authors who write and publish vol- 
 umes of short-stories, like "O. Henry", 
 Mark Twain, Kipling, and others. 
 
 How to Begin a Story 
 
 The story-teller, whether he retells or works 
 
 up stories, should know the structure of a 
 
 story. 
 
 [52] 
 
The Story 
 
 There are three parts to a story : the be- 
 ginning, the middle, and the ending, each of 
 which bears a definite relation to the other 
 parts, and performs a clearly-defined func- 
 tion in the development. 
 
 Of what use is it to know how a story is 
 put together? "The power quickly and ac- 
 curately to analyze a story into its essential 
 elements", says Professor St. John, "is the 
 most fundamental and the most important 
 part of the story-teller's theoretical training. 
 It offers the certain means of determining 
 whether a story is worth telling at all. It 
 makes its retention by the memory a com- 
 paratively simple matter. It makes it easy 
 to condense a story that is too long, and fa- 
 cilitates the successful expansion of one that 
 is too brief. The importance of persistent 
 drill in the performing of this process can 
 hardly be over-emphasized." 
 
 Every story must have a beginning. This 
 statement appears so obvious as to seem un- 
 necessary; but it is not, to judge by the 
 way in which stories are sometimes told. 
 "Though the beginning cannot be omitted 
 [53] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 it may be easily bungled. And it is as true 
 of story-telling as of racing that a bad start 
 means a handicap that cannot be overcome. 
 It is because so few persons consider the 
 way the story begins that so many fail at just 
 this point." 
 
 A story tells what happens to somebody 
 somewhere. In other words, a story must 
 have characters to whom something hap- 
 pens, plot or a succession of happenings to 
 these characters, and a situation where these 
 occurrences take place — all of which, to- 
 gether with a purpose in their setting forth, 
 constitute the essential elements of a story. 
 
 "The opening event", says Pitkin, "has 
 two functions : it must awaken the reader's 
 interest in the story and it must carry him 
 quickly into the latter. Either function alone 
 is easily managed, but to handle both at once 
 demands considerable skill and frequently 
 much experimenting." Yet the best-written 
 and -told stories usually manage these two 
 functions. And generally, too, the best stories 
 have as short a beginning as is consistent 
 with interest, clearness, and completeness. 
 [54] 
 
The Story 
 
 Poe, the great law-giver in the realm of the 
 short-story, declares that the very first sen- 
 tence should strike the keynote of the theme. 
 Perhaps this is too rigid for the oral story, 
 but certainly this keynote should come in the 
 first paragraph. One remembers with de- 
 light the satirical opening of Irving's "Knick- 
 erbocker's History of New York", which de- 
 tails the creation of the earth and the dis- 
 covery of America, on the grounds that if 
 these events had not occurred there would 
 not have been any New York for him to de- 
 scribe. But the story-teller will not imitate 
 this sort of opening, although I have heard 
 some openings perilously near it. Rather he 
 will make his beginning as short as he can. 
 
 There are five ways mentioned by Pro- 
 fessor Pitkin of beginning a story. First, it 
 may introduce the main characters, give the 
 setting, and suggest the theme; secondly, it 
 may introduce the main characters only; 
 thirdly, it may give the setting only ; fourth- 
 ly, it may suggest the theme only ; and, fifth- 
 ly, it may start with a general statement of 
 which the story is the concrete development. 
 [55] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 These are given in the order of their import- 
 ance, the first being the best. It is a good 
 practice to study the openings of as many 
 stories as possible of the sort one is going 
 to tell. 
 
 Here are two instances of beginnings : 
 
 Once upon a time, there was a Man and his 
 Wife, and a Tertium Quid. 
 
 All three were unwise, but the Wife was the un- 
 wisest. The Man should have looked after his 
 wife, who should have avoided the Tertium Quid, 
 who, again, should have married a wife of his 
 own, after clean and open flirtation, to which no- 
 body can possibly object, round Jakko or Ob- 
 servatory Hill. 
 
 That is from Kipling. All the characters 
 are introduced here. The theme is also given 
 — perhaps too palpably, as Professor Pitkin 
 observes. The opening does not occupy 
 more than sixty-six words. The next is 
 from Hans Christian Anderson's "Silver 
 Shilling" : 
 
 There was once a shilling which came forth 
 from the mint springing and shouting, "Hurrah! 
 Now I am going out into the wide world." 
 
 This beginning is even shorter than Kip- 
 [56] 
 
The Story 
 
 ling's, but answers the two purposes of an 
 opening — it awakens the hearer's interest 
 and carries him at once into the action. 
 
 How to Go on With a Story 
 
 In the middle of a story there are three things 
 
 to be looked after. 
 
 In the first place, the story-teller must see 
 to it that he has a theme to develop. In the 
 short-story proper the principle is very rigid 
 that there must be a single effect produced. 
 Although this principle is operative also in 
 stories that are told to children, still, as 
 Felix Adler advises, it is not a good thing to 
 make such stories taper toward a single 
 point, the moral point. "You will squeeze 
 all the juice out of it if you try. Do not 
 subordinate the purely fanciful and natural- 
 istic elements of the story, such as the love 
 of mystery, the passion for roving, the sense 
 of fellowship with the animal world, in order 
 to fix attention solely on the moral element. 
 On the contrary, you will gain the best moral 
 effect by proceeding in exactly the opposite 
 way. Treat the moral element as an inci- 
 [57] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 dent; emphasize it, indeed, but incidentally." 
 Every story, in the second place, must 
 have a sucession of events by which this 
 theme is developed. If you study carefully 
 any well constructed story, you will observe 
 that the theme is developed by two or more 
 incidents, according to its nature. Thus in 
 the "Proud Cock", given in the next section 
 but one, the theme is developed by means of 
 three incidents. It is very essential that these 
 events or incidents be presented in an order- 
 ly manner. In any given story there is a 
 sequence which serves best to bring out the 
 theme of that story. Find it if you are tell- 
 ing a story of your own invention; if not, 
 follow the order of the story you are telling. 
 It is provoking, to say the least, to hear a 
 story-teller say a little way in the action, 
 "Oh, I forgot to tell you — ." This is an 
 awkward admission that something essen- 
 tial has been left out of the earlier part, some 
 fact or incident placed out of its natural 
 order. Such bungling as this can be reme- 
 died by careful study beforehand and abund- 
 ant practice. 
 
 [58] 
 
The Story 
 
 In the third place, these events should lead 
 inevitably to a climax. A string- of incidents 
 is not a story, no matter how closely they 
 are connected. They must be arranged in 
 such a way as to lead somewhere. The 
 mind needs to be made to look forward all 
 the time till the very end. And this is done 
 by means of selecting the incidents that are 
 to develop the theme and then of ordering 
 them with a veiw to developing this theme. 
 
 How to End a Story 
 
 The ending of a story requires a little spe- 
 cial attention. 
 
 First, there should be an ending. Some 
 people do not know this. It is a great temp- 
 tation to some story-tellers to wander on and 
 on without ever being able apparently to 
 come to an end. But this should not be 
 done, even if, like the little girl Professor 
 St. John tells about, one has to resort to — 
 "And one beautiful morning, as they were 
 walking down the path to the front gate, 
 they all died." 
 
 Secondly, the ending should be natural. 
 [59] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 In other words, the conclusion must be an 
 outgrowth of the events of the story. It 
 must, moreover, give satisfaction to the mind 
 as an ending. 
 
 Thirdly, the ending must be hidden as 
 much as possible from the hearer. It is al- 
 most impossible, of course, altogether to 
 hide the ending. But it should be, at best, 
 only guessed at by him. This may be done 
 by carefully watching our words in the tell- 
 ing of the story, that we do not forecast 
 too much how the tale is to terminate. 
 
 Parts of a Story Illustrated 
 In order to make perfectly clear the always 
 difficult thing of the story's growth, I give 
 in full "The Proud Peacock", from the 
 Spanish and quoted in Shedlock's "The Art 
 of the Story-teller", with my finger-post re- 
 marks afterward : 
 
 THE PROUD PEACOCK 
 
 There was once a cock who grew so dreadfully- 
 proud that he would have nothing to say to any- 
 body. He left his house, it being far beneath his 
 dignity to have any trammel of that sort in his 
 
 [60] 
 
The Story 
 
 life, and as for his former acquaintance, he cut 
 them all. 
 
 One day, while walking about, he came to a 
 few little sparks of fire which were nearly dead. 
 
 They cried out to him, "Please fan us with 
 your wings, and we shall come to the full vigor 
 of life again." 
 
 But he did not dain to answer, and as he was 
 going awsy one of the sparks said, "Ah well, we 
 shall die, but our big brother, the Fire, will pay 
 you out for this one day." 
 
 On another day he was airing himself in a 
 meadow, showing himself off in a very superb 
 suit of clothes. A voice calling from somewhere 
 said, "Please be so good as to drop us into the 
 water again." 
 
 He looked about and saw a few drops of water. 
 They had got separated from their friends in the 
 river, and were pining away with grief. "Oh!" 
 they said, "please be so good as to drop us again 
 into the water." But without any answer, he 
 drank up the drops. He was too proud and a 
 great deal too big to talk to a poor little puddle 
 of water. But the drops said, "Our big brother, 
 the Water, will one day take you in hand, you 
 proud and senseless creature." 
 
 Some days afterwards, during a great storm of 
 rain, thunder, and lightning, the cock took shelter 
 in a little empty cottage, and shut to the door. 
 And he thought, "I am clever; I am in comfort. 
 What fools people are to stop out in a storm like 
 
 [61] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 this! What's that?" thought he. "I never heard a 
 sound like that before." 
 
 In a little while it grew louder, and when a few 
 minutes had passed, it was a perfect howl. "Oh!'' 
 thought he, "this will never do. I must stop it 
 somehow. But what is it I have to stop?" 
 
 He soon found it was the wind, shouting 
 through the keyhole. So he plugged up the key- 
 hole with a bit of clay, and then the wind was 
 able to rest. He was very tired with whistling 
 so long through the keyhole, and he said, "Now, 
 if ever I get a chance of doing a good turn to 
 that princely domestic fowl, I will do it." 
 
 Weeks afterwards, the cock looked in at a 
 house door. He seldom went there, because the 
 miser to whom the house belonged almost starved 
 himself, and so, of course, there was nothing over 
 for anybody else. 
 
 To his amusement the cock saw the miser 
 bending over a pot on the fire. At last the old 
 fellow turned round to get a spoon with which to 
 stir his pot, and then the cock, waking up, looked 
 in and saw that the miser was making oyster- 
 soup, for he had found some oyster-shells in an 
 ash-pit, and to give the mixture a color he had 
 put in a few halfpence into the pot. 
 
 The miser chanced to turn quickly round, while 
 the cock was peering into! the saucepan, and, 
 chuckling to himself, he said, "I shall have some 
 chicken broth after all." 
 
 He tripped up the cock into the pot and shut 
 the lid on. The bird, feeling warm, said, "Water, 
 
 [62] 
 
The Story 
 
 water, don't boil!" But the water only said, "You 
 drank up my young brothers once; don't ask a 
 favor of me." 
 
 Then he called out to the fire, "Oh! Kind fire, 
 don't boil the water." But the fire replied, "You 
 once let my young sisters die; you cannot expect 
 any mercy from me." So he flared up and boiled 
 the water all the faster. 
 
 At last, when the cock got unpleasantly warm, 
 he thought of the wind, and called out, "Oh, 
 Wind, come to my help!" And the wind said, 
 "Why, there is that noble domestic bird in trouble. 
 I will help him." 
 
 So he came down the chimney, blew out the 
 fire, blew the lid off the pot, and blew the cock 
 far away into the air, and at last settled him on 
 the steeple, where' the cock has remained ever 
 since. And people say that the halfpence which 
 were in the pot when it was boiling have given 
 him a queer brown color he still wears. 
 
 The beginning of this story is the first 
 paragraph, the ending is the last paragraph, 
 and the development is all between these two. 
 The theme, which is, That one gets what he 
 gives, is developed by four incidents — the 
 fire, the drops, the wind, and the miser and 
 his pot. The first three of these tie things 
 up, as they say, while the other unties the 
 knot and shows us how the story will end. 
 [63] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 The beginning introduces the main char- 
 acter and suggests the theme. Indeed, the 
 theme is hinted at in the title. The conclu- 
 sion is short and tells what became of the 
 cock. Observe that the order in which the 
 fire, the drops, and the wind come in the 
 first part is the same as that in which they 
 are given in the second part. Note, too, that 
 what took place between the cock and the 
 other characters is given in the form of con- 
 versation. This both enlivens the narrative 
 and makes the characters more real. It may 
 also be noted that the theme is not the high- 
 est, for it expresses what is called in the New 
 Testament "an eye for an eye, and a tooth 
 for a tooth" ; whereas returning good for evil 
 is a nobler sentiment. But it is not fair, per- 
 haps, to criticize a story for what it is not. 
 
 Fables and Fairy-tales 
 
 A question is often asked as to whether 
 fairy-tales, fables, and folk-stories should be 
 told to children, and if so what is the best 
 way to handle them? 
 
 Whenever objection is made to fairy-tales 
 [64] 
 
The Story 
 
 it is on moral grounds — that, since they are 
 the product of the imagination and are ob- 
 viously not true, they should not be told at 
 all to children. But this objection is based 
 on a fallacy as to what is true and what is 
 not true, and also on a misconception as to 
 the nature of childhood. 
 
 There is a difference between a fact and a 
 truth. Fact is what happens. Subjected to 
 the test of fact, the fairy-tale would go 
 down ; but it may be true for all that. Meas- 
 ured by this test, would not the "Prodigal 
 Son", the "Good Samaritan", and the para- 
 ble of the Vineyard in the Book of Mor- 
 mon fall short, too? For is there any one 
 who knows for certain that these are actual 
 happenings in the form in which they ap- 
 pear in these books ? I submit that the truth 
 expressed in these narratives is wholly inde- 
 pendent of their historical value. And so it 
 is of every fairy-story that is proper to tell 
 at all. Besides, as I have already hinted, 
 the child does not at first observe any distinc- 
 tions between what is a fact and what is 
 not. Later on, to be sure, it wants to know 
 [65] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 if such and such a story is "true", even when 
 it loves to hear stories that obviously did not 
 happen; but this query, even where it is 
 asked of stories about Jesus, need give no 
 alarm, for the child merely wishes to know 
 that it may properly place the narrative in 
 its mind. 
 
 Whether fairy-tales are good for chil- 
 dren or not depends upon the particular 
 fairy-tale. Five-dollar pieces are five-dollar 
 pieces — but some of them are bogus. So 
 with fairy-tales — some are good, and some 
 are bad. Felix Adler places "the whole 
 brood" of step-mother stories in the class 
 that is objectionable, for the reason that it is 
 not desirable to teach children "to look on 
 step-mothers in general as evilly disposed." 
 Similarly he would rule out such stories as 
 the "Wolf and the Seven Little Goats" on 
 the ground that fear is demoralizing. "It is 
 time enough", he thinks, for children to 
 familiarize themselves later on "with the fact 
 that evil of a sinister sort exists within hu- 
 man society and outside of it. And it will be 
 safe for them to face this fact then onlv, 
 [66] 
 
The Story 
 
 when they can couple with it the conviction 
 that the forces of right and order in the 
 world are strong enough to grapple with the 
 sinister powers and hold them in subjec- 
 tion." 
 
 Fairy-tales, then, are to be told to chil- 
 dren only when the effect on them will be 
 wholesome, and this test is to be applied to 
 each tale separately. 
 
 Concerning fables also Mr. Adler warns, 
 us, and at the same time offers a classification 
 that throws a light on the method of hand- 
 ling them. 
 
 The main thing to keep in mind respect- 
 ing fables, he thinks, is that they are of 
 Asiatic origin. "They depict a state of so- 
 ciety in which the people are cruelly op- 
 pressed by tyrannical rulers, and the weak 
 are helpless in the hands of the strong. The 
 spirit which they breathe is, on the whole, 
 one of patient and rather hopeless submis- 
 sion. The effect * * is very saddening." 
 Some fables have for their theme the char- 
 acter of the strong as exhibited in their deal- 
 ings with the weak ; as, for example, the 
 [67] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 Kite and the Pigeons, the Wolf in Sheep's 
 Clothing-, the Sick Lion and the Fox, and 
 King Log and King Stork. A second group 
 have for their theme that the weak ought to 
 pacify the strong or to flee or to submit un- 
 complainingly ; as witness the Oak and the 
 Reed, the Old Woman and the Maids, and 
 the Wanton Calf. A third group has for its 
 general subject the consolations of the weak; 
 for instance, the Lion and the Mouse, which 
 teaches that even tyrannical masters are to a 
 certain extent dependent on their inferiors ; 
 the four bulls, which aims to show that dis- 
 sensions creep in among the mighty; and 
 the Horse and the Ass, which exhibits the 
 fickleness of fortune. 
 
 Mr. Adler then instances the following as 
 among the fables that are useful to-day : The 
 Kite and the Wolf, as showing injustice; 
 the Ant and the Grasshopper, improvidence; 
 the Snake warmed in the Breast, ingrati- 
 tude; the Stag and the Fawn, cowardice; 
 the Crow who lost his Cheese, vanity; the 
 Hare and the Tortoise, contemptuous self- 
 confidence; the Husbandman and the Stork. 
 [68] 
 
The Story 
 
 the evil influence of bad company; the 
 Fowler and the Ring, cruelty to animals ; the 
 Dog and the Shadow, greediness; the Boy 
 who cried "Wolf!" lying; the Ass in the 
 Lion's Skin, bragging; the Fox without a 
 Tail, deceit; the Sour Grapes, disingenuous- 
 ness ; the Peacock's Complaint, a discontent- 
 ed spirit; the Dog in the Manger, malice; 
 the Traveler and the Bear, breaking faith. 
 
 Much of what has been said of the fable 
 and the fairy-tale holds equally true of the 
 legend, or folk-story, handed down from 
 generation to generation in the olden time 
 by word of mouth. They have, speaking 
 generally, a mythological background, situ- 
 ations which center in the phenomena of the 
 storm, in the battles between the sun and the 
 clouds, and in the struggle of the spring god 
 with the dark winter demon. They come to 
 us from a time "when the world was 
 young", and therefore they appeal to men 
 and women who are youthful. They are per- 
 vaded by "the poetry of the forest life, are 
 full of the sense of mystery and awe, which 
 is apt to overcome one on penetrating 
 [69] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 deeper and deeper into the woods, away from 
 human habitations" ; they present "glowing 
 pictures of sheltered firesides, where man 
 finds rest and security from howling winds 
 and nipping cold" ; they make us feel a com- 
 radeship with trees and flowers and animals 
 and even the stars. 
 
 [70] 
 
CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 THE STORY-TELLER 
 
 The story-teller, having chosen his 
 story with a view to the nature of the tale 
 itself and the persons to whom he is to 
 tell it, must be aware of and practice cer- 
 tain things in the telling of it. 
 
 Know Your Story Well 
 
 First of all he must "saturate himself 
 
 with the idea" of the story. 
 
 What Henry James said of the writer 
 of tales is even more true of the teller of 
 tales with the tongue : "The fault in the 
 artist which amounts most competely to 
 failure of dignity is the absence of satura- 
 tion with this idea. When saturation fails, 
 no other real presence avails, as when, on 
 the other hand, it operates, no failure of 
 method fatally interferes." 
 [71] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 By "saturation of idea" James meant 
 that the idea of the story must take pos- 
 session of the mind, that the story-teller 
 must be carried away with the thing he is 
 telling. Miss Shedlock gives an interest- 
 ing illustration from her own experience 
 of the effect produced by an inexperienced 
 girl on a group of very small children. 
 "When she began, I felt somewhat hope- 
 less, because of the complete failure of 
 method. She seemed to have all the faults 
 most damaging to the success of a 
 speaker. Her voice was harsh, her ges- 
 tures awkward, her manner was restless 
 and melodramatic; but as she went on I 
 soon began to discount all these faults 
 and, in truth, to soon forget about them, 
 for so absorbed was she in her story, so 
 saturated with her subject, that she 
 quickly communicated her own interest 
 to her audience, and the children were ab- 
 solutely spellbound." 
 
 Another qualification of the story-teller 
 is necessary. This is a disposition to take 
 pains enough before the telling of the 
 [72] 
 
The Story-teller 
 
 story to insure effectiveness. To do this 
 two things are necessary. 
 
 The first is a strong, well-defined de- 
 sire to tell a story well. Such a desire 
 perhaps will be present in a contest in 
 story-telling, although I have known of 
 persons entering a contest of this kind 
 with no particular wish to tell the story 
 well. And this absence of desire is rather 
 common — the desire, I mean, which is 
 willing to take pains in preparing for it. 
 But if one is to tell a story, certainly if one 
 is to represent an organization in a con- 
 test, the least one can do is to be eager 
 to take one's part with credit. 
 
 But a mere wish to do so, however 
 ardent, is not enough. Faith without 
 works, the good Book tells us, is dead. 
 Just as I have known of persons entering 
 a contest without seeming to want to do 
 well, so I have known of others who, 
 possessing a keen sense for the outcome 
 of the contest, have nevertheless gone to 
 it with the most slip-shod, higgledy- 
 piggledy preparation. And, again, this 
 [73] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 superficial preparation for story-telling on 
 the part of teachers is exceedingly com- 
 mon among us. But if the story is im- 
 portant at all in class work, then it is im- 
 portant enough to be told as well as one 
 can tell it. 
 
 There must therefore be a great deal 
 of practice in story-telling. Professor St. 
 John, after discussing the things that one 
 ought to know before attempting to use 
 the art, advises the beginner to "tell the 
 story again and again" by way of prepara- 
 tion. And he goes on to say: "It is not 
 possible to carry this too far. The aim is 
 largely to provide for perfect familiarity 
 with the content and form, but there are 
 other advantages of great importance. 
 Asi one gains familiarity with the story 
 there is less of self-consciousness. One 
 learns to give oneself wholly to the story 
 and the audience. Again, there is a reac- 
 tion to the hearers, and the form improves 
 as a result. There is also a gain growing 
 out of the response of the story-teller to 
 the story itself. More and more, as a 
 [74] 
 
The Story-teller 
 
 result of this repetition, it becomes a per- 
 sonal possession and is told not from 
 memory but really from the heart. This 
 is the principle that lies back of the old 
 saying that a man may tell a lie until he 
 believes in himself! Let us make use of 
 this psychological fact, for it will aid us 
 to gain success. It is after the story has 
 been told twenty times, and it may be to 
 the same audience if they are children, 
 that there will be most frequent requests 
 that it be told again." 
 
 Things Not to Do 
 
 It is perhaps objectionable on general 
 principles to formulate negative rules, al- 
 though I have an excellent precedent in 
 the Ten Commandments, since a don't is 
 likely to suggest an idea to the mind, as 
 when the good-wife on going away 
 warned her children against putting beans 
 up their noses and found them on her re- 
 turn testing the effect of this new sug- 
 gestion, most of the little nostrils being 
 full of these inconvenient vegetables. But 
 [75] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 the objection is over-ruled in the event 
 that the practices (forbidden, as 'in this 
 case of mine, are common. So I venture 
 upon the following prohibitoins. 
 
 Don't read your story. May be you 
 have noticed that when the audience is 
 listening to a story every eye seeks the 
 speaker. But there is little to satisfy this 
 search when the story-teller has his face 
 hidden in a book. Much of the effect of 
 the words is therefore lost if the story be 
 read. An audience, large or small, wants 
 to see the story dramatized more or less ; 
 it craves the look of the eye as the words 
 pour forth, the posture of the whole body, 
 the gesture of the hands — all, of course 
 as the fit expression of the story itself. 
 But these effects are lost otherwise. 
 
 Don't memorize the story, unless you 
 are in a declamation contest and not a 
 story-telling contest. The same rule ap- 
 plies with even more force if you are 
 teaching a class. It may be that by mem- 
 orizing a story certain faults of expression 
 will be avoided, but certain other, and 
 [76] 
 
The Story-teller 
 
 greater, faults will likely be incurred ; for 
 smooth and graceful and correct language 
 is not a sufficient compensation for de- 
 ception and a mechanical delivery. If you 
 pretend to retell a story in your own 
 language, observe the rules of the contest, 
 and retell it in your own words as they 
 come to you on the spur of the moment. 
 
 Don't, if you are telling a story to chil- 
 dren, get them to help you in telling it. 
 "I was once telling the exciting tale of the 
 Shepherd's Child lost in the mountains," 
 says Kate Douglas Wiggin, "and of the 
 sagacious dog who finally found him. 
 When I reached the thrilling episode of 
 the search, I followed the dog as he 
 started from the shepherd's hut with the 
 bit of breakfast for his little master. The 
 shepherd sees the faithful creature, and 
 seized by a sudden inspiration follows in 
 his path. Up, up the mountain sides they 
 clmb, the father full of hope, the mother 
 trembling with fear. The dog rushes 
 ahead, quite out of sight; the anxious vil- 
 lagers press forward in hot pursuit. The 
 [77] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 situation grows more and more intense; 
 they round a little point of rocks, and 
 there, under the shadow of a great gray- 
 crag, they find — 'What do you suppose 
 they found?' 'Fi' cents!' shouted Benny 
 in a transport of excitement. 'Bet yer 
 they found fi' cents !' You would imagine 
 that such a preposterous idea could not 
 find favor in any sane community; but so 
 altogether seductive a guess did this ap- 
 pear to be, that a chorus of 'Fi' cents ! 'Fi' 
 cents!' sounded on every side; and when 
 the tumult was hushed, the discovery of 
 an ordinary flesh and blood child fell like 
 an anti-climax on a public thoroughly in 
 love with its incongruities." 
 
 Don't, if you are telling a story to chil- 
 dren, talk down to them. Children are 
 very quick to detect any signs of artifi- 
 ciality — and to resent it. Use such lan- 
 guage as they will understand — words not 
 beyond their comprehension, and sen- 
 tences that will not puzzle their minds or 
 tax them to follow you. Affectation, as 
 of one who is conscious that he is speak- 
 [78] 
 
The Story-teller 
 
 ing to children, is abominably common 
 among us. 
 
 Don't explain and comment overmuch. 
 In fact, do so as little of it as you can. Be- 
 cause we are unable to look into other 
 people's minds, we are apt to take too 
 little for granted as to their power to 
 read between the lines. The truth is that 
 the mind of the hearer is very busy as he 
 listens, guessing, looking behind, trying 
 to peep ahead, filling in details. Let as 
 much of this work as possible be done. 
 Don't stop to tell the meaning of this or 
 that look or act or word. Your hearers 
 will get that anyway. Don't describe any 
 more than you have to. Tell of the ac- 
 tion — what the characters say and do and 
 how they look. 
 
 Don't wander into irrelevent details. 
 If you know your story well, you are 
 aware of the end from the beginning. 
 Keep that end in mind all the time and 
 tell only such details as make straight for 
 it, with such leeway as I have already 
 said is allowable. The temptation to 
 [79] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 introduce needless details manifests itself 
 oftenest perhaps in description and expla- 
 nation — both of which are in themselves 
 dry. Keep to the main line therefore, 
 just about as you would if you were going 
 from one town to another. But the temp- 
 tation appears also in a tendency in some 
 persons to be needlessly accurate in de- 
 tals that do not matter at all to the story, 
 as in the case of forgetting whether a 
 character was So-and-so's brother, when 
 you could as well omit it altogether — brother 
 and all. 
 
 Things to Do 
 
 The story-teller should be careful to use 
 choice language. Slang, of course, ought 
 to be studiously avoided, not only be- 
 cause it shuts out better words, but be- 
 cause it lowers the tone of a dignified 
 narrative. I have already suggested the 
 necessity oi[ using easy words. Senten- 
 ces, as a rule, should be short. Nor 
 should these be strung out by a succes- 
 sion of "ands," like beads on a cord. 
 [80] 
 
The Story-teller 
 
 The story-teller should be careful to 
 subordinate such details as should be kept 
 down. Not everything is of the same 
 importance with everything else. De- 
 termine just what is important and what 
 is not, and make the subordination ac- 
 cordingly. Any two ideas connected by 
 "and" are of the same rank. "I was walk- 
 ing down the road, and I met Alice," 
 makes equally promiment two ideas, one 
 that I walked down the road and the other 
 that I met Alice. If meeting Alice is the 
 main idea, then the sentence should read, 
 "As I was walking down the street, I met 
 Alice." 
 
 The story-teller should, where he can, 
 adopt conversation. Instead of saying, 
 "a shilling came forth from the mint 
 springing and shouting that it was going 
 out into the world," Anderson says, 
 "shouting, 'Hurrah! Now I am going 
 out into the wide world.' " The second 
 way is more lively, striking, and dramatic 
 than the first. Of course, not everything 
 lends itself to this form, but where it can 
 [81] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 be used it makes the story more interest- 
 ing. Conversation also adds variety to 
 statements, and thus increases interest. 
 
 The story-teller should make judicious 
 use of pauses. Miss Shedlock values 
 this device very highly, placing it "first 
 and foremost" among the devices for 
 holding attention. "I have tried this sim- 
 ple art of pausing with every kind of au- 
 dience," she says, "and I have rarely 
 known it to fail. * * * In Hans 
 Christian Anderson's 'Princess and the 
 Pea' the king goes down to open the door 
 himself. Now, one may make this point 
 in two ways. One may either say : 'And 
 then the king went to open the door, and 
 at the door there stood a real Princess,' 
 or, 'And then the king to the door, and at 
 the door there stood — a real Princess.' 
 It is difficult to exaggerate the difference 
 of effect produced by so slight a pause. 
 With children it means an unconscious 
 curiosity which expresses itself in a sud- 
 den muscular tension. There is just time 
 during that instant's pause to feel, al- 
 [82] 
 
The Story-teller 
 
 though not to formulate, the question: 
 'What is standing at the door?' By this 
 means, half your work of holding the at- 
 tention is accomplished." 
 
 83] 
 
PART TWO 
 PUBLIC SPEAKING 
 
CHAPTER ONE 
 
 THE VALUE OF PUBLIC 
 SPEAKING 
 
 Before we can bring ourselves to that point of 
 exertion where we make genuine progress in 
 the art of public speaking, it is usually ne- 
 cessary these days first to convince ourselves 
 that we are going to have use for it, that 
 our efficiency in whatever vocation we may 
 have chosen will be increased by its cultiva- 
 tion. Of what value, then, will public speak- 
 ing be to the average Latter-day Saint young 
 man or woman? 
 
 It Trains the Mind 
 
 First of all, it is an excellent means of train- 
 ing the mind to think quickly and clearly. 
 
 There are no callings in life nowadays 
 where quickness and clearness in thinking 
 are not essentials to success therein. In 
 some vocations, of course, they are more 
 necessary than in others, but in all vocations 
 the lack of these qualities of mind is a more 
 [87] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 or less serious handicap. Most persons do 
 not think at all. To be sure, there are goings- 
 on up there in the region of the brain, but 
 the process no more resembles thinking than 
 the movements of a caged bird resembles 
 progress in the air. The mine-owner in 
 Pennsylvania, for instance, who found that 
 for every five hundred thousand tons of coal 
 he took out he lost eleven workers by acci- 
 dent, did not think or he would have looked 
 for the cause and removed it. Afterwards, 
 when the workmen were unable to get 
 whisky and beer and only one of their num- 
 ber, during this period of sobriety, lost his 
 life in the mining of this same amount of 
 coal, the owner came to the conclusion that 
 the cause of it was drink. But he did not 
 think himself into the conclusion: he stum- 
 bled upon it. Then, again, many persons 
 who endeavor to think do so very muddily. 
 Their brains are mixed up with sediment, 
 which prevents the mind from acting freely. 
 And so it needs clarifying. 
 
 Now, there is nothing that contributes to 
 clear-headedness like public speaking. When 
 [88] 
 
Value of Public Speaking 
 
 you get up on your legs before a body of 
 your equals in the attempt to say something, 
 the mental processes are forced to act and 
 to act quickly. There is no getting out of it. 
 Talking oneself into clearness, is a common 
 phrase and an old one. The mere act of put- 
 ting our thought into words helps the mat- 
 ter of clearness, but the compulsion brought 
 on in the act of speaking before an audience 
 greatly accelerates the clarifying process. 
 Other things remaining the same, the men 
 who do most public speaking are the clear- 
 est thinkers and the quickest. 
 
 Public Speaking Is of Use 
 Secondly, to be able to express oneself well 
 in public is of practical use to every one who 
 aspires to anything more than mediocrity. 
 
 It is of use to the farmer and the business 
 man. There are important meetings held, 
 where the best methods of conducting indus- 
 tries and business enterprises are discussed. 
 But they are necessarily discussed only by 
 those who can talk on their feet. No one 
 else is ever selected either to act as the pre- 
 [39] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 siding officer of such a gathering or to take 
 part on the program. Whoever can not ex- 
 press himself on such occasions must be con- 
 tent to be a mere listener, and listening is 
 rarely so interesting and beneficial as taking 
 part in a discussion. Besides, many valu- 
 able ideas are lost to the public through the 
 inability of men to think and speak standing. 
 Public speaking is of use to the man or 
 woman who aspires to take part in public 
 affairs. Indeed, to such a one it is indispens- 
 able. The lawyer cannot get along without 
 it, and the greater ability he has in this line 
 the more successful he will be. The physi- 
 cian who aims to be more than a mere prac- 
 titioner, who wishes to be of general service 
 in his community, particularly in a "Mor- 
 mon" community, will have abundant use 
 for this art. Every government requires of- 
 ficers to carry it on — presidents, governors, 
 legislators, judges, and manipulators of po- 
 litical parties — all of whom rise into power 
 largely through the use of public speech. 
 And how could one ever hope to be a suc- 
 cessful teacher without the ability to think 
 [90] 
 
Value of Public Speaking 
 
 clearly, to arrange his thoughts systematic- 
 ally, and to put these ideas effectively, be- 
 fore an audience ? In a democracy like ours, 
 where there are great reforms to champion 
 and public offices to hoid, public address is 
 one of the surest and quickest ways to recog- 
 nition and influence. 
 
 But especially is this art of practical serv- 
 ice to the young Latter-day Saint who ex- 
 pects to become active in his Church. And 
 every one ought so to expect. I have already 
 said something of this in the Introduction. 
 Let me add here that this is one of the best 
 means of serving our people not only abroad 
 as missionaries but also at home as workers. 
 Nor should one who wishes to perform this 
 service be content with doing it in a mechan- 
 ical and superficial manner. If the work be 
 worth doing at all, it is worth doing well — 
 worth doing in such a way as will bring 
 honor both to him who does it and to his 
 people. Than religious truth there is noth- 
 ing higher, and so the medium through 
 which this truth is conveyed should be the 
 choicest. 
 
 [91] 
 
CHAPTER TWO 
 
 TRIMMING DOWN A SUBJECT 
 
 Before we can make a speech, we must have 
 something to say. I shall, therefore, in this 
 chapter, explain the interesting process by 
 which a general subject becomes a theme. 
 
 Have Something to Say 
 
 And first as to the theme of an address. 
 
 The most important thing to keep in mind 
 in speech-making is this : Say just one 
 thing. Said one woman to another not long 
 ago, after a young ladies' meeting, "How do 
 you manage to make your point always, 
 whereas I never seem able to make mine?" 
 The other answered, "I don't know, unless 
 it is that you try to make too many points 
 in the same talk, while I try to make only 
 one." And that, if not the reason, was cer- 
 tainly a reason, and a very good one, too. 
 A shotgun is not likely to bring down big 
 game, but melt the little leaden beads into 
 one bullet, and you may then shoot to some 
 [92] 
 
Trimming Down a Subject 
 
 purpose. So it is in public speaking. Say a 
 dozen things, and your hearers are likely to 
 go away wondering what they have got 
 from your discourse; say one thing only, 
 and they will leave with a definite impression 
 of what you have said. 
 
 Say But One Thing 
 
 But how are you to get this one thing? 
 
 Unity of impression does not consist 
 nearly so much in the fact that you do not 
 include different items in your speech as it 
 does in the fact that you tie these topics into 
 one whole by means of general statements. 
 This may sound like a contradiction of what 
 I have just said. But it is not. Concrete, 
 brick, lumber, and what not, do not give you 
 a single impression while they are lying in 
 the yards of various dealers, but assemble 
 these materials according to a given plan and 
 fasten them together with nails, mortar, and 
 other connecting substances, and they do 
 give you an impression of being one thing — - 
 a house. Baptism, the sacrament, healing 
 the sick, confirmation — these do not appear 
 [93] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 to belong in the same sermon, and ordinarily 
 if they were so included they would make a 
 very scattered impression, if they made any 
 impression at all. But suppose you tied them 
 together by some such statement as this : 
 "The Church of Christ has some very defi- 
 nite ordinances, which it is necessary to em- 
 brace in order to be saved." By this simple 
 device you have brought these otherwise dis- 
 connected items into order and unity, just as 
 the word of a commander might turn a body 
 of scattered men into a marching regiment. 
 These general statements act as a kind of a 
 glue in our speech, a sort of finger-post, 
 pointing the way. Look for their presence 
 or their absence in the next address you 
 hear. 
 
 Another way of securing a single impres- 
 sion in a speech, and perhaps a more com- 
 mon one, is to include in the speech but one 
 thought elaborated and opened up before 
 the audience. Instead of taking all of the 
 subjects mentioned in the preceding para- 
 graph, suppose you take but one. The 
 chances are that your sermon would give 
 '[94] 
 
Trimming Down a Subject 
 
 something like a total impression, if for no 
 other reason than that all you said was on 
 the same general subject. A good question, 
 then, to ask ourselves when we are looking 
 for a subject, and to ask whenever we hear 
 others speak in public, is this : Is this ad- 
 dress about one thing or more than one 
 thing? 
 
 Two ways, then, of obtaining unit) - or a 
 total effect in a speech are, first, to see that 
 we have only one thing or subject to talk 
 about, and, secondly, if we have more than 
 one thing or subject in our speech, to be sure 
 that we use plenty of the nails and glue of 
 words — general statements. 
 
 Be Original 
 
 But I would go even further than this. 
 
 The trouble with many speeches given by 
 the inexperienced is that the subject is either 
 too broad or two abstract or both. Baptism, 
 for instance, is very broad, and it would be 
 difficult for us to say anything to the point 
 on the subject unless we had more time than 
 is usually alloted to a discourse. Perhaps, 
 [95] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 on second thought, we should find a single 
 phase of it sufficient — that baptism is essen- 
 tial to salvation, for example, or that the 
 proper mode of baptism is immersion. Again, 
 "Community Welfare" is ordinarily too 
 broad to allow of adequate treatment. "The 
 Value to the Community of Good Roads" 
 would be better, or, better still, "The Road 
 between Dash and Blank should be Macad- 
 amized". Then, too, a subject should not be 
 too general. How could an ordinary per- 
 son hope to say anything adequate or to the 
 point on such a topic as "Honor", or 
 "Truth", or "Duty", or "Labor"? Besides, 
 these are altogether hackneyed. Avoid 
 them. 
 
 To be sure, on occasions it becomes neces- 
 sary to speak on broad subjects. Before an 
 audience composed of persons who are un- 
 acquainted with the subject, "Mormonism" 
 may be perfectly proper as the material for 
 an address or lecture, the understanding be- 
 ing that only the general features will be 
 given. And so with other subjects to be 
 treated on special occasions or under peculiar 
 [96] 
 
Trimming Down a Subject 
 
 conditions. But certainly, for contests in 
 the Improvement Associations as well as for 
 the average religious discourse, the narrow, 
 specific subject is always preferable to the 
 broad, general subject. 
 
 A very practical way of getting a definite, 
 specific theme for a speech is to set down in 
 writing as many complete sentences about 
 any given subject as we can. This will also 
 give us a variety of themes to choose from. 
 But I would add another bit of advice: Try- 
 to think of some original themes, themes 
 you have never heard treated. No doubt this 
 will be hard at first. The ordinances in re- 
 ligion have been discussed until they are 
 thoroughly threadbare. But not long ago I 
 saw treated in an essay an original aspect of 
 this general subject. It was on the religious 
 ordinance as a sign and the necessity of signs 
 in human society. The way to be original 
 is to think about our subject, to look at it 
 from as many different angles as we can, 
 and to take what appears to be the newest — 
 in a word, to use our own brains instead of 
 someone else's. 
 
 [97] 
 
CHAPTER THREE 
 
 HOW A THEME GROWS 
 
 Having chosen a theme, your next step is to 
 develop it. Developing a theme requires, 
 first, that you "think yourself empty", sec- 
 ondly, that you "read yourself full", and, 
 thirdly, that you "talk yourself clear". 
 
 Thinking Yourself Empty 
 And first as to thinking. 
 
 "I insist upon original effort", says Bur- 
 ton, in his Yale Lectures, "that, rather than 
 reading, to begin with. In every mental act 
 there are two factors involved: the think- 
 ing mind, and the external material which 
 it manipulates ; and men may be classified as 
 original and productive thinkers, or as copy- 
 ists, plagiarists, and forms of echo, accord- 
 ing as they dominate this their material or 
 are dominated by it. But the most ignomin- 
 ious person in all the world, if so be that 
 [98] 
 
How a Theme Grows 
 
 he have one remaining spark, or last flicker, 
 of manliness in him, desires to be a man of 
 supreme generative force and not an echo 
 ever; and this he can secure only as, in the 
 handling of subjects, he thinks with all his 
 might before he reads." 
 
 A good way to generate thought is to ask 
 as many questions as you can about your 
 subject — to surround it with interrogation 
 points. It makes little difference that you 
 are unable to answer the questions. The 
 mere process of asking them indicates that 
 your mind is at work, and that is the main 
 thing. Suppose, for instance, that you are 
 trying to develop a theme concerning reve- 
 lation. You might ask yourself such ques- 
 tions as these : What is revelation ? Is there 
 any difference between revelation and inspi- 
 ration? Do I know any instances of each? 
 What part does the mind of man play in each 
 process? Has there always been inspira- 
 tion? revelation? How may revelation be 
 given? Why is revelation needed in the 
 Church? Why did revelation cease in the 
 Christian Church? What? how? why? — 
 [99] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 these are the starters of thought. Surround- 
 ing your theme with questions, besides mak- 
 ing your mind alert, also reveals to you 
 whether you have much or little material and 
 exactly what material you need to obtain. 
 
 As to the process of thought itself, Pro- 
 fessor Genung says that the habit of medita- 
 tion is the result of three other habits. 
 
 The first of these is "the habit of seeking 
 clearness". Nearly always when a subject is 
 first presented to the untrained mind it is 
 "apt to be cloudy. Sometimes the gist of the 
 whole matter may flash upon the mind at 
 once. But this is not often, except to the 
 practiced thinker". Others, for the most 
 part, must work out an idea, slowly and 
 gradually, from haziness to clearness. And 
 this must be done anew with every subject 
 till the habit is fixed upon the mind and be- 
 comes a second nature. The effect of con- 
 stantly seeking clearness will be, first, to 
 keep the mind from "lazy or sloppy or hur- 
 ried thinking" and, secondly, to keep it from 
 attacking subjects that are beyond its reach. 
 Abraham Lincoln has told us that even 
 [100] 
 
How a Theme Grows 
 
 when a boy he could never rest or sleep if 
 he heard anything discussed which was dif- 
 ficult for him to understand, till he had 
 thought it all out clearly by himself. This 
 habit it was, no doubt, that made him one 
 of the clearest-headed men of his generation. 
 The second is the habit of seeking order. 
 This aspect will come up again, but some- 
 thing must be said of it here. In seeking to 
 be orderly one strives to answer the ques- 
 tion, What comes first, what second, what 
 third? Clearness requires that you see; or- 
 der requires that you arrange what you see. 
 Order demands that you look for the rela- 
 tion of one idea to another, "noting what is 
 principal and what subordinate, seeing parts 
 in a kind of perspective, wherein effect 
 stretches out from cause and concrete details 
 from central principles." This habit, too, 
 comes from effort, long-continued and con- 
 stantly applied. As a result, planning of ma- 
 terial becomes less and less a drudgery, and 
 the thinker becomes less and less content 
 with superficial and hasty results. "It is the 
 trained intellect, intolerant of distorted or 
 [101] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 permanent and satisfying work." 
 
 The third is the "habit of seeking inde- 
 pendent conclusions. This habit it is which 
 is the foundation of originality", of which 
 I have already spoken in part. "It may not 
 lead to better views of truth than are al- 
 ready extant; it may not lead to new con- 
 clusions, in the absolute sense" ; its virtue is 
 that you do j^our own thinking and reach 
 your own conclusions. The results of this 
 habit are that one develops confidence in 
 one's own well-considered opinions and that 
 "one's work carries the note of conviction 
 and authority". For the most part, this is 
 "an age of second-hand thinking. We all 
 ask for our milk malted, for our meats pep- 
 tonized, for our books digested. Short cuts 
 are the mania of the age." 
 
 Make up your mind, then, to do your own 
 thinking — to seek clearness, to seek order, 
 to be original, and thus form the habit of 
 meditation. Your own thinking, mind you. 
 For the temptation will be ever present to 
 appropriate both the thought and the words 
 [102] 
 
How a Theme Grows 
 
 of others and palm them off as your own. 
 This is plain stealing. You must never be- 
 gin the practice of plagiarism, as literary 
 theft is called. To take the work of a man's 
 brain is just as bad, to say the least, as to 
 take the work of a man's hand. If the indi- 
 vidual should be punished who puts his fin- 
 gers into your pocket unawares and steals 
 your month's hard earnings, should not he 
 be punished also who steals the product of 
 your brain? 
 
 Not, to be sure, that we are not to make 
 use at all of others' mental labor. It would 
 be too much to expect a person to weave his 
 web, like the spider, from his own bowels. 
 Borrowing is perfectly legitimate, but not 
 stealing. All that we are required to do is 
 to give proper credit for what we borrow. 
 On this basis it is not wrong, though it 
 would be inconceivably silly, to borrow an 
 entire speech. Now, credit for literary bor- 
 rowings is given, in writing, by the usual 
 quotation marks ; and, in oral speech, by an 
 acknowledgment of the words as a quota- 
 tion. To avoid even unconscious plagiarism 
 [103] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 it is best, in taking notes, to set everything 
 down in one's own words rather than in the 
 words of the book. 
 
 Reading Yourself Full 
 
 Having thought yourself empty, the next 
 
 step is to "read yourself full". 
 
 Reading should proceed usually from the 
 general to the specific. That is to say, if you 
 wish to read up on a particular subject — 
 say, irrigation — it would be well to read 
 first an article on the subject in an encyclo- 
 pedia. This will give you a bird's eye view, 
 so to speak, of the whole field of irrigation. 
 After that you might take up whatever 
 aspects of the subject you wish to — the his- 
 tory of irrigation, the beginnings of irriga- 
 tion in the United States, the latest methods 
 oi applying water to the soil, and so on. 
 
 The extent of one's reading on any given 
 subject depends upon the nature of the 
 theme, the time it is to occupy, and the occa- 
 sion that calls for the address. It is best al- 
 ways to be widely read on various aspects of 
 the general subject in order to be full of it. 
 [104] 
 
How a Theme Grows 
 
 For if our material "be not thoroughly as- 
 similated, instead of furnishing intellectual 
 and oratorical pabulum, it will clog the free 
 operation of the mind and induce mental dys- 
 pepsia. Howsoever complete the reading, it 
 should be, above all things, suggestive and 
 stimulating, setting the speaker's own mind 
 and imagination in motion and arousing the 
 oratorical spirit to action." 
 
 Talking Yourself Clear 
 
 Lastly you should "talk yourself clear". 
 
 There is nothing so clarifying to the mind 
 as to tell others the thoughts that are as 
 yet but dim in our own mind. Every one 
 who has taught a class in any subject knows 
 this. The interplay of minds tends to bring 
 ideas to the surface where they may be 
 looked at and turned over. In much counsel 
 there is wisdom, as the old adage has it. 
 Now, it does not greatly matter whether the 
 conversation be one-sided, two-sided, or 
 many-sided. Nor does it matter whether 
 the persons with whom we converse for the 
 purpose of clearing our own minds, agree 
 [105] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 with us for not. Indeed, the chances are 
 that disagreement, provided it be honest, will 
 bring greater clarity and more ideas than 
 where there is only agreement. 
 
 Men of prominence in public speaking 
 have often made use of this method of get- 
 ting their ideas clear. Sidney Smith, it is 
 said, used to go to the blacksmith shop, after 
 he had thought out a sermon, and talk it 
 over indirectly with the loungers there. 
 Charles Sumner tells us that Daniel Webster 
 highly commended conversation to him as 
 a means of getting knowledge. "Converse, 
 converse, converse with living men, face to 
 face, and mind to mind, — that is one of the 
 best sources of knowledge." Lincoln, too, 
 used this method to get his ideas on slavery 
 clarified. Inviting his friend Swett to come 
 to Washington from his home in Illinois, the 
 President talked over the emancipation 
 proclamation about to be issued in all its 
 phases, and then dismissed his guest without 
 asking him to say one word on the subject. 
 It was an instance of "stating conclusions 
 aloud, not that they might convince another, 
 [106] 
 
How a Theme Grows 
 
 or be combated by him, but that the speaker 
 might see for himself how they looked when 
 taken out of the region of mere reflection 
 and embodied in words." 
 
 Thinking, reading, and conversing — these 
 are the means by which we gather whatever 
 material we need in order to develop a 
 theme; and the greatest of these is think- 
 ing. 
 
 [107] 
 
CHATER FOUR 
 
 THE DIVISIONS OF A SPEECH 
 
 A speech, or address, has three parts, com- 
 monly known as the Introduction, the Dis- 
 cussion, and the Conclusion. In less formal 
 terms they are the Beginning, the Middle, 
 and the End. These are natural divisions, 
 not something arbitrarily thrust upon us by 
 teachers of public speaking. There is a place 
 where you are getting started, there is a 
 place where you are going on, and there is 
 a place where you are rounding off what you 
 have said, drawing in the threads of your 
 discourse. 
 
 The Beginning 
 
 The Beginning, or Introduction, leads up 
 to the theme, the thought or idea which you 
 wish to leave with your audience. You have 
 something to say on which you have been 
 meditating. Very well, but your audience 
 [108] 
 
Divisions of a Speech 
 
 has been thinking of a thousand other and 
 different things, probably never having once 
 even touched any part of your theme. This 
 gulf it is the work of your introduction to 
 bridge over so that your thought may get 
 across. Sometimes the beginning is long, 
 sometimes short, the length depending upon 
 the audience, the subject, and the occasion; 
 and sometimes there is no introduction at 
 all, as when the subject is "in the air." If 
 there be a beginning, it should bear a proper 
 proportion to the rest of the speech. A five 
 minute introduction is too long for a ten 
 minute address. 
 
 A good beginning makes a good impres- 
 sion and wins the favor of an audience. You 
 have to begin somehow. If you begin poorly, 
 you make a bad impression ; if well, a good 
 impression. Therefore attend to your intro- 
 duction. 
 
 Make your introduction as short as you 
 can consistently with other qualities. The 
 tendency in 'beginners is to say too much 
 before they come to their central idea. If 
 there have been other speakers, what you 
 [109] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 say may very easily be made to grow out 
 of what they have said. But in any event, 
 your beginning should be brief and to the 
 point. 
 
 Make your introduction interesting. Try 
 to catch attention at once. Lawrence 
 Stearne often began his sermon by quoting 
 a familiar saying and then adding, "This I 
 deny!" If the occasion will permit, begin 
 with an appropriate anecdote. "By charm of 
 manner, by felicity of phrase, by earnestness 
 of spirit, by aptness and appropriateness of 
 thought — by every honeslt means," let the 
 speaker "seek at the outset to win the at- 
 tention, the respect, the confidence, the sym- 
 pathy, the favor of the audience. If he suc- 
 ceed in this attempt, the victory is half won. 
 Thenceforward he can march straight on- 
 ward to his goal." 
 
 The Middle 
 
 Two things we must look to in the Discus- 
 sion, or the Middle, of a discourse. They 
 are, first, that our thought shall go on, make 
 progress, and, secondly, that the audience 
 [110] 
 
Divisions of a Speech 
 
 shall be unmistakably aware that our thought 
 is going on. Of course, this takes it for 
 granted that we have some central thought 
 or idea to go on. 
 
 You cannot progress if you have too many 
 subjects. And here we hark back to a point 
 already treated. A dictionary has no pro- 
 gress for the same reason that some dis- 
 courses lack it. One sermon, at least, de- 
 livered not long ago in my hearing, included 
 the following subjects : The sacrament, the 
 favorable circumstances under which the 
 Saints in this particular ward met as com- 
 pared with earlier days, making the best of 
 one's opportunities, the kind of God wor- 
 shiped by the "Mormons," humility, the 
 sacrament again, the speaker's pride in being 
 a Latter-day Saint, teaching by example and 
 by precept, spending time in the Lord's ser- 
 vice, and finally the sacrament once more. 
 There is no forward movement here, only a 
 kind of marking of time. Such a sermon 
 is thoroughly disjointed and scrappy, mak- 
 ing no headway at all. The preacher could 
 have stopped anywhere or he might have 
 [111] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 gone on till now. A modern audience chafes 
 under this sort of public speaking - . It im- 
 plies absolutely no thought as to structure, 
 like the earth before the creation. Having 
 introduced his subject, the speaker should 
 make that subject grow under his hands. 
 He should know where he is going from 
 the time he starts, and forthwith go there. 
 
 Ordinarily this should not be found dif- 
 ficult. A theme for a speech may be divided 
 into various parts. We say to ourselves, "I 
 shall treat of this first and then of that and 
 that." When we do this we get our material 
 into shape for development according to the 
 principles of order. Then, again, we may 
 say about one of these subdivisions, "This 
 statement needs an illustration or some con- 
 crete details to make it clear ; I shall use this 
 or that." All of this conduces to progress, 
 development. But observe that we have to 
 think all of this order and going on before 
 the speech is delivered. And that is ithe 
 right way. 
 
 Merely to go on, however, is not enough. 
 The audience must be made to feel that we 
 [112] 
 
Divisions of a Speech 
 
 are going* on. Now, this is done by what 
 are called transitions, either phrases or sen- 
 tences. I have just said that a good speech 
 proceeds by easy stages or phases. Now, 
 when we tell our hearers that we are dealing 
 with this phase now or that we are leaving 
 this one and going to that, we are using 
 words that enable them to keep track of what 
 we are doing. 
 
 An illustration will make both of these 
 ideas clear at the same time. Burke, in his 
 great speech on "Conciliation with Amer- 
 ica," is urging that Parliament make peace 
 with the Colonists on the ground, partly, that 
 "a fierce spirit of liberty" has grown up in 
 the New World which cannot be trifled with. 
 And he goes on to explain this temper and 
 character under six heads. You can see that 
 he is making progress, for he takes each of 
 these headings by itself and is at a different 
 place when he ends than he was at the be- 
 ginning. Here is how he makes us aware 
 of his progress : "First, the people of the 
 colonies are descendants of Englishmen." 
 To this phase he gives nearly five hundred 
 [113] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 words. He then says, "They were further 
 confirmed in this pleasing error by the form 
 of their provincial legislative assemblies." 
 To this phase he devotes barely fifty words. 
 "If there were anything wanting to this 
 necessary operation of the form of govern- 
 ment," he goes on, "religion would have 
 given it a complete effect." Three hundred 
 words. His next point is introduced by the 
 following sentence : "Permit me, Sir, to add 
 another circumstance in our colonies, which 
 contributes no mean part towards the growth 
 and effect of this intractable spirit." His 
 next transition is, "The last cause of this 
 disobedient spirit in the colonies is hardly 
 less powerful than the rest. * * * 
 Three thousand miles of ocean lie between 
 you and them." This point needs two hun- 
 dred fifty words. The fourth I have omitted 
 on account of its length. These transition 
 sentences make it easy to follow this part 
 of the speech, whereas if they were absent, 
 even though the phases were given in exactly 
 the same order, the development of the 
 thought would be difficult to keep track of. 
 [114] 
 
Divisions of a Speech 
 
 Two suggestions arise from the preceding 
 paragraph. One is the rule of Proportion, 
 which requires that items in a discourse be 
 given space according to their importance. 
 The more words you devote to any given 
 topic the more importance it has in your 
 speech. A common practice among begin- 
 ners is to tell all they know about aspects 
 concerning which they have considerable in- 
 formation, and let the /rest, even though 
 more important, go with little or no consider- 
 ation. This violates the law of proportion. 
 The other suggestion is that there should 
 be some variety in the transitions, if smooth- 
 ness be very desirable. No two of Burke's 
 transitions are alike. 
 
 The Ending 
 
 "The conclusion," says Professor Brink, 
 "may be explained as that part of the oration 
 in which the thoughts, arguments, emotions, 
 appeals, and general significance of the entire 
 discourse are gathered together and so used 
 with reference to the audience, occasion, and 
 purpose, as to make upon the minds, hearts, 
 [115] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 determination of those that hear, a single, 
 definite, profound, and indelible impression. 
 Thus the conclusion is the focus of all that 
 precedes, in which the various elements of ef- 
 fective oratory are centered and where they 
 glow and burn with their greatest intensity." 
 
 A good conclusion always concludes. Have 
 you ever heard a speaker hint that he was ap- 
 proaching the end of his discourse only to go 
 on with a thought that had just occurred to 
 him ? If you have, you know what to avoid 
 in your own discourse. "We should be care- 
 ful to finish the discussion of our theme be- 
 fore we indicate that the conclusion has been 
 reached. And if, at the moment of finishing, 
 we happen to think of anything, however 
 vital, it had better be left to another time 
 and place altogether." 
 
 In general three principal ways of closing 
 an address may be noted. One is to close 
 abruptly. Not every address therefore re- 
 quires a formal conclusion. "The full de- 
 velopment of the discourse is thus made its 
 ending, care being taken that the last item 
 shall be of weight and dignity. This is by no 
 [116] 
 
Divisions of a Speech 
 
 means the easiest form of conclusion, but 
 rightly managed it is one of the most ef- 
 fective." Another way is to condense in a 
 few words the whole drift of what has been 
 said. This may be done especially where 
 the speech is intellectual in its nature — where 
 it appeals to the mind. And a third way of 
 closing an address is by an application of the 
 idea advanced. The ideal conclusion, of 
 whatever nature it may be, is the one that 
 leaves either such a question as Peter's au- 
 dience asked on the day of Pentecost, "Men 
 and brethren, what shall we do?" or the 
 answer of the Grecian crowd to Demos- 
 thenes, "Let us go up against Philip !" 
 
 [117] 
 
CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 DEBATING 
 
 A good deal of what I have said thus far 
 applies to debating, but some aspects of this 
 special form of public speaking deserve sep- 
 arate attention. 
 
 Value of Debating 
 
 Debating implies two or more parties to a 
 dispute. A debate may be formal, as when 
 two organizations argue a proposition; or it 
 may be informal, as a discussion in a legis- 
 lative assembly. 
 
 This form of public address calls for pe- 
 culiar mental traits. It requires the ability 
 to see clearly a point, to segregate this point 
 and hold it up before the mind, and to mar- 
 shal reasons for or against it. But it de- 
 mands more than this. A dispute engenders 
 more or less feeling, except in the! trained 
 [118] 
 
Debating 
 
 disputant. Hence the debater, more than 
 the orator, needs to keep his head. 
 
 Debating, however, more than other forms 
 of public speaking, is attended 'by certain 
 abuses peculiar to this form of address. 
 One of these is that it is likely to make a per- 
 son contentious, inclined to quibble, to lose 
 track of important points in the chase after 
 trifles. Another is that it is apt to lend itself 
 to dishonesty in the debater. Being a con- 
 test where a decision is rendered one side or 
 the other, the debater, unless he is careful 
 and conscientious, will find himself thinking 
 more of victory than of truth and using 
 questionable means in order to win the de- 
 cision. This, sometimes takes the form of 
 belittling an opponent's (argument instead 
 of answering it, sometimes that of using the 
 exact language of another without credit, 
 sometimes that of actual misstatement of 
 facts and figures, or the suppression of them, 
 in order to bolster up a weak point. All of 
 which is mean, contemptible, and unfair. It 
 is doubtless this f side of debating that led 
 Colonel Roosevelt to say that he was glad 
 [119] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 he did not while in college "take part in the 
 type of debate in which stress is laid, not 
 upon getting a speaker to think rightly, but 
 on getting him to talk glibly on the side 
 to which he is assigned, without regard to 
 what his convictions are or ought to be." 
 
 But debating has another side, fortunately. 
 The clash involved in debating sharpens the 
 debater's mind. It makes him keen to see 
 not only his own points but also those of his 
 opponent, for see them he must, and that 
 fairly and squarely, before he can answer 
 them. Practical debaters, therefore, unless 
 they are of the captious variety, are apt to 
 see both sides of any question confronting 
 them. It also teaches discrimination. The 
 debater has to tell what is a point from what 
 is not a point, to pick out what will help him 
 and throw out what will not. Again, it 
 trains him in the ordering of material with 
 a view to making the most telling effect on 
 his hearers. It is one thing to have a lot of 
 good points, but quite another to marshal 
 them so as to produce the desired effect. To 
 be sure, there are other forms of discourse 
 [120] 
 
Debating 
 
 that aim at the same result; there is none, 
 however, that does so under such stress and 
 push of the mental powers. Generally not 
 all the truth lies on one side of a question. 
 At all events, no question should be chosen 
 for discussion where the truth is all on one 
 side. So that Mr. Roosevelt's objection is 
 merely leveled at one-sided questions ; it is an 
 objection, not to debating as such, but rather 
 to the way in which it is carred on, to 
 method. 
 
 Wording of a Question 
 
 In public speaking we develop a theme, in 
 
 a debate we argue a question. 
 
 A "question" in daily parlance means that 
 information is called for. Thus, "Are you 
 going to town this morning?" is a question, 
 requires an answer, and is ended by an in- 
 terrogation point. The word 'question" in 
 debating signifies a statement, a proposition, 
 and always closes in a period. Thus, "The 
 United States should prohibit the shipment 
 of war munitions to Europe," is a question. 
 These two meanings should be kept distinct. 
 [121] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 In searching for a question to debate care 
 should be exercised. Religion is not a good 
 subject to debate, because it is one on which 
 people feel intensely. Then, again, it should 
 be one question, not two questions. "Gov- 
 ernment should own and control the rail- 
 roads" is two questions, one involving the 
 ownership, and the other the operation, of 
 railroads. Current questions are more in- 
 teresting than such old questions as that the 
 American Indian has been mistreated by the 
 whites. 
 
 The wording of a question should receive 
 attention. It must be in the form of a state- 
 ment, it must be one question, it should be 
 affirmatively put, and it must have two sides 
 pretty evenly divided. An example of such 
 a question is : "Resolved, That the United 
 States should intervene in Mexico." 
 
 Gathering Material 
 
 When we come to gathering material on a 
 debate, the following points should be help- 
 ful. 
 
 First, be sure you understand the question 
 [122] 
 
Debating 
 
 to be debated. Scrutinize closely the ques- 
 tion as a whole and the various words in the 
 question. Be accurate. Get the exact mean- 
 ing of the words, instead of saying to your- 
 self, "Oh, that's near enough !" Use for this 
 purpose the dictionary and the authorities on 
 the subject of the question. 
 
 Secondly, look for material in your own 
 mind before you go to books and other peo- 
 ple. Don't try at first to get points on your 
 side, but think and read and converse with 
 a view to getting a general understanding 
 of the subject. It will pay you to do this — - 
 you will have a larger grasp of the question 
 than you otherwise would. It places you 
 above your material, not in it. 
 
 Thirdly, get your issues. An issue in de- 
 bate is a fundamental point on which the 
 two sides differ. After you get a bird's-eye 
 view of the whole subject, you are then in a 
 position to set down points to be debated — 
 reasons for your side of the question. 
 Whether these points are issues will depend 
 on certain tests. Ascertain, first, whether 
 your opponent is likely to admit it. If he 
 [123] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 can admit it without hurting his argument, 
 then it is noH an issue. Next, ascertain 
 whether it is a big point ; if so, and it will be 
 disputed, it is most likely an issue. Set down 
 as many of these points as you can discover, 
 reduce them to as few issues as you can, ar- 
 range them in the most telling order, the 
 strongest last — and you are then ready to 
 collect material on each issue by itself. 
 
 Having gathered in a general way ma- 
 terial on the question and decided on the 
 issues to be proved, you should agree with 
 your companions on the division of the is- 
 sues on your particular side. This done, each 
 speaker proceeds to work up his part in the 
 debate. Usually there are three speakers on 
 a side, although there may be more than 
 three or only two. These ought to work so 
 closely in touch with one another as to make 
 of their combined addresses one continued 
 speech, with a beginnig, a middle, and an 
 end. They should, in other words, do good 
 team-work, as this perfect articulation of dif- 
 ferent parts in a debate is called. In order, 
 however, to get this single effect from the 
 [124] 
 
Debating 
 
 three speeches, it will be necessary to dis- 
 tribute the issues. If there are, say, five is- 
 sues and three speakers, one may give the 
 introductory material and one of the points 
 and the other speakers two points each. 
 Each speaker will be required to make a re- 
 buttal. 
 
 Arguing A Proposition 
 Let us discuss each of the parts of the af- 
 firmative or the negative side of a debate 
 viewed as one address, just as we did in the 
 oration proper. 
 
 The opening statement is very important, 
 especially on the affirmative side. Perhaps 
 you may have played marbles in your day 
 and cried out, "Clearance !" before your an- 
 tagonist could shout, "Vent-clearance!" 
 You meant that you wished to remove some 
 obstacle that lay between your hand and the 
 marble in the ring. Well, your introduc- 
 tion to the debate aims to clear away what- 
 ever intervenes between the minds of the au- 
 dience and the precise points to be proved 
 by you. You may have to tell how the ques- 
 [125] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 tion arose, for this often throws light on it; 
 you should separate the points you are will- 
 ing to grant from those you are not, narrow- 
 ing your matter as you go till you reach the 
 precise points in question ; and you may want 
 to inform the audience how your side pro- 
 poses to conduct the discussion. This done, 
 you are ready to give your part of the argu- 
 ment. But you must be careful not to take 
 too much time in this clearing process, else 
 you may have to omit some of the argument. 
 Still you must take enough time to set the 
 proposition to be debated squarely before the 
 minds of your opponents and the audience. 
 Clearness in stating a case is almost an argu- 
 ment in itself ; at any rate, it often does away 
 with the necessity for argument. Abraham 
 Lincoln, for instance, sometimes did not 
 argue, he merely stated the matter in ques- 
 tion so clearly that the jury saw it, and no 
 argument was necessary. The opening 
 speech may, if it is desirable, be written and 
 memorized ; though, in debate, it is better to 
 be so thoroughly prepared that you are full 
 of the subject and can speak freely. 
 [126] 
 
Debating 
 
 Next comes the argument. This easily 
 divides itself into the argument proper set- 
 ting forth your issues and the proofs for 
 them, and the refutation of your opponent's 
 issues. The principal thing, of course, is the 
 building up of your side of the question, 
 especially if you are on the affirmative side, 
 for "he who asserts must prove," is the great 
 rule in debate. To be sure, you should re- 
 fute the points brought up by the other side, 
 but you must build up your own side. Refu- 
 tation is perhaps of more consequence to neg- 
 ative speakers, for, although they may and 
 often do construct an argument of their own, 
 all they really need to do is to show by refu- 
 tation that the affirmative speakers have not 
 proved their case. The work of refutation 
 may either be distributed throughout the 
 main speeches or be collected and given in 
 one place, as may seem best under the cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 The conclusion in debating is called re- 
 buttal. Each speaker is supposed to rebut 
 the points brought against the issues he dis- 
 cusses. The work of rebuttal is two-fold. 
 [127] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 On the one hand, it gathers in brief, compact, 
 clarified form the whole strength of your ar- 
 gument, or, if you are the last speaker on 
 your side, and, on the other hand, it sum- 
 marizes the whole case for the opposition, 
 and holds these up for contrast before the 
 audience and the judges. It is especially de- 
 sirable here to be perfectly fair in stating 
 your own case so as not to overestimate your 
 arguments, and also in stating the other side 
 so as not to underestimate its points. John 
 Stuart Mill, it is said, always put the case of 
 the opposition even stronger than they were 
 able to put it themselves before demolishing 
 it. 
 
 What Proof Is 
 
 Before actually delivering the argument you 
 have prepared, you ought to re-examine your 
 material to make sure that you really have 
 proof instead of only assertion. 
 
 "Now it is clear," says Mr. Lyon most ad- 
 mirably, in his "Elements of Debating," 
 "that neither the audience nor the judges 
 can be led to agree with us and to accept our 
 [128] 
 
Debating 
 
 issues as proved, by our telling them that we 
 should like to have them believe in the sound- 
 ness of our views. Neither can we succeed 
 in convincing them by telling them that they 
 ought to believe as we wish. The modern 
 audience is not to be cajoled or browbeaten 
 into belief. How, then, are we to persuade 
 our hearers to accept our assertions as true? 
 The method is to give them what they de- 
 mand — reasons. We must tell them why 
 every statement is true. This process of tell- 
 ing why the issues are true so effectively that 
 the audience and judges believe them to be 
 true is called proof. 
 
 "Naturally, the reasons that we give in 
 support of the issues will be no better than 
 the issues themselves, unless we know what 
 reasons the audience will believe. And 
 how are we to know what reasons the au- 
 dience will believe? We can best answer 
 that! question by determining why we our- 
 selves believe those things which we accept. 
 Why do we believe anything? We believe 
 that water is wet; the sky, blue; fire, hot; 
 and sugar, sweet, because in our experience 
 [129] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 we have always found them so. These 
 things we believe because we have expe- 
 rienced them ourselves. There are other 
 things that we believe in a similar way. We 
 believe that not every newspaper report is 
 reliable. We believe that a statement in the 
 Outlook, the Reviezu of Reviezvs, or the 
 World's Work is likely to be more trust- 
 worthy than a yellow headline in the Morn- 
 ing Bugle. Our own experience, plus what 
 we have heard of the experience of others, 
 has led us to this belief. But there are still 
 other things that we believe although we 
 have not experienced them at all. We be- 
 lieve that Columbus visited America in 1492, 
 that Grant was a great general, that Wash- 
 ington was our first president. Directly, 
 these things have never been experienced by 
 us, but indirectly they have. Others, within 
 whose experience these things have fallen, 
 have led us to accept them so thoroughly that 
 they have become our experience second 
 hand. 
 
 "If we are told that a man who was in the 
 Iroquois Theater was seriously burned, it 
 [130] 
 
Debating 
 
 seems reasonable to us because our exper- 
 ience recognizes burning as the result of such 
 a situation. But if we are told that a man 
 who fell into the water emerged dry, or that 
 a general who served under Washington 
 was born in 1830, we discredit it because such 
 statements are not in accord with our ex- 
 perience. We are ready, then, to answer 
 our questoin : 'What reason will those in 
 the audience believe?' They will believe 
 those statements which harmonize with their 
 own experience, and will discredit those 
 which are at variance with their experience. 
 This experience, we have seen, may be first 
 hand, or direct; or it may be second hand, 
 or indirect. 
 
 'In every case, the speaker's argument 
 must base every issue upon reasons that rest 
 on what the hearers believe because of their 
 own direct or indirect experience. Sup- 
 pose I assert: 'John Quinn was a danger- 
 ous man.' Someone says : 'Prove that state- 
 ment.' I answer : 'He was a thief.' Some- 
 one says : 'If (that is true he was a bad 
 man, but can you prove him a thief?' Then 
 [131] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 I produce a copy of a court record which 
 states that, on a certain day, a duly consti- 
 tuted court found John Quinn guilty of rob- 
 bing a bank. All my hearers now admit, not 
 only that he wasf a thief, but also that he 
 was a dangerous person. I have given them 
 a reason for my statement, and a reason for 
 that reason, until at last I have shown them 
 that my assertion that John Quinn is a 
 dangerous citizen, rests on what they them- 
 selves believe — that a court record is re- 
 liable." 
 
 These reasons constitute evidence. But 
 evidence, whether direct or indirect, some- 
 times needs to be tested, either in itself or in 
 its source. The sources of evidence are read- 
 ing and observation. If we wish to quote 
 authority in support of one of our issues, or 
 if our opponent does so, and we desire to 
 test this evidence, we ascertain, first, 
 whether the person quoted really is an au- 
 thority — that is, whether he has had unusual 
 experience or unusual opportunities with re- 
 spect to the matter in question — and, sec- 
 ondly, whether, if so, he is generally recog- 
 [132] 
 
Debating 
 
 nized in his field of investigation. We must 
 be very careful of the authority we use as 
 evidence, and we must also be careful of the 
 authority we accept from our friends of the 
 opposition. Or, again, we may wish to ex- 
 amine the evidence which rests on some one's 
 observation. If so, these are the questions 
 we ask : "Are there any physical defects, 
 such as poor eyesight, hearing, and so forth, 
 that impair accuracy of observation? Are 
 there any mental defects, such as imperfect 
 memory, eccentricities of mind, or inability 
 to express clearly the idea in mind, that 
 might give a false impression? Are there 
 any moral defects shown by lying, exaggera- 
 tion, interest in the outcome of the contro- 
 versy, that might lead to distortion of the 
 truth?" The evidence itself may be tested 
 by asking whether it is consistent with itself, 
 with ordinaryi human experience, and with 
 other known facts of the case. 
 
 Making a Brief 
 
 The best way to make sure that the issues we 
 
 have to prove are substantiated by evidence 
 
 [133] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 that will stand the test is to make what is 
 called in debating parlance a brief. 
 
 Now, a brief is merely an outline, after a 
 certain approved pattern, of all the material 
 we are to present. Youthful debaters it is 
 sometimes hard to convince that it is neces- 
 sary to make a brief, since it requires a good 
 deal of time and thought. They prefer to 
 run the risk of not being found out in their 
 lack of complete preparation or they think 
 they can prepare sufficiently without the aid 
 of a brief. The experience of the best de- 
 baters is to the effect that a good brief really 
 saves time, for it conduces to clearness and 
 thoroughness in the preparation, just as get- 
 ting brick, lumber, concrete, and other ma- 
 terial used in building when put in the right 
 form help the contractor when he comes to 
 erect the structure. A brief is a concise and 
 logical arrangement of the material to be 
 used in the debate. 
 
 In making a brief this is the approved 
 form, which I take from Mr. Lyon's book: 
 Introduction. 
 
 ■■ I. Definition of terms. 
 [134] 
 
Debating 
 
 II. Restatement of question in light of 
 these terms. 
 
 III. Determination of issues. 
 
 1. Statement of what both sides 
 admit. 
 
 2. Statement of what is irrelevant. 
 
 IV. Statement of issues. 
 Proof. 
 
 I. The first issue is true, for : 
 
 1. This reason, which is true, for: 
 
 (1) This reason. 
 
 (2) This reason. 
 
 2. This reason, for : 
 
 (1) This evidence. 
 
 (2) This testimony. 
 
 (3) This authority. 
 II. This second issue is true, for : 
 
 1. This reason, for : 
 
 (1) This reason. 
 
 2. This reason, for : 
 
 (1) This reason. 
 
 (2) This reason. 
 III. The third issue is true, for : 
 
 1. This reason, etc. 
 
 [135] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 IV. The fourth issue is true, for: 
 1. This reason, etc. 
 Thus the proposition that John Quinn was 
 a dangerous man may be briefed as follows : 
 1. He was a thief, for: 
 
 ( 1 ) The state court found him guilty 
 of robbing a bank, for : 
 
 (a) See 111. Court Re- 
 ports, Vol. X., p. 83. 
 
 Management of a Debate 
 
 Just a word, finally, about the management 
 
 of a debate. 
 
 As stated, a team in debating may consist 
 of two, three, or even more speakers. A 
 team of three is better than any other num- 
 ber because there can be given practice in de- 
 bating for more people and at the same time 
 not tire an audience of an evening. 
 
 Each speaker is allowed time for a main 
 speech and a rebuttal. The rebuttal is usu- 
 ally one-half as long as the main speech. 
 Thus, if the main speech is twelve minutes 
 in length, the rebuttal ought to be six min- 
 utes. 
 
 [136] 
 
Debating 
 
 The order of speaking, where there are 
 three speakers on a side, is this : First, af- 
 firmative; second, negative; third, affirma- 
 tive ; fourth, negative ; fifth, affirmative ; and 
 sixth, negative. The order for the rebuttals 
 is : First, negative ; second affirmative, and 
 so on, the affirmative to close the debate. 
 
 A chairman presides, whose duty it is, be- 
 sides calling the meeting to order, to an- 
 nounce the question, introduce the speakers, 
 and read the decision of the judges. There 
 should also be two timekeepers, representing 
 both sides of the debate. The timekeepers 
 tap at the expiration of each speaker's time 
 and also give warning a minute or so, ac- 
 cording to the desire of the debaters, before 
 the expiration of the time. 
 
 The customary form of salutation by the 
 speaker is, "Mr. Chairman, worthy oppon- 
 ents, honorable judges, ladies and gentle- 
 men." They may, however, omit, if they 
 choose, the second and third, since they are 
 really included in the last. In referring to 
 the other speakers, a debater should never 
 say, "He said," or "Mr. Walton said," but 
 [137] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 rather, "The first speaker on the affirmative 
 said," or "The gentlemen of the negative 
 said." Debaters should always be respectful 
 and courteous to one another, whatever dis- 
 turbances of temper they may feel. 
 
 Generally there are three judges. The 
 more judges there are, the more likely they 
 are to represent the opinions of the audi- 
 ence. The judges ought, of course, to be 
 competent and free from any personal inter- 
 est in who wins the debate. It is coming 
 more and more to be believed that the ideal 
 debate should be a non-decision debate, for 
 it is usually the decision that creates feeling 
 afterwards in the debaters and their friends. 
 But perhaps we have not Arrived at this 
 ideal stage yet. 
 
 [138] 
 
CHAPTER SIX 
 
 DELIVERY 
 
 We come now to the matter of delivering a 
 speech before an audience. What is said here 
 is intended to apply to the delivery of an 
 oration, address, sermon, or an argument in 
 a debate. 
 
 Where to Carry a Speech 
 A speech is really not a speech at all until it 
 is delivered. It may have been written with 
 that intention, and as such may be very good 
 literature. But it is not, properly speak- 
 ing, a speech till its message, coming from 
 the living heart and going to living hearts, 
 is communicated by means of the voice. 
 
 There are, in the phrase of Professor 
 Lawrence, but two places for a man to carry 
 a speech, one in his head and the other on 
 paper. No one who has ever heard a speech 
 read, no matter how well the job has been 
 done, can have any lingering doubt that the 
 better of these two places is the head. But 
 [139] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 there are two ways by which one may carry 
 an address in his head. Either he may 
 memorize the discourse, entire or in part, 
 or he may carry there only the thought, 
 trusting to the occasion for the clothing of 
 that thought in words. And again, whoever 
 has heard the two methods of delivery will 
 have little difficulty, in ordinary cases, in de- 
 ciding in favor of the latter. 
 
 "An extemporaneous speaker," says Pro- 
 fessor Lawrence, "gathers his material and 
 stores it in the recesses of his brain until it 
 is required; he forms his method of speech 
 from a study of the literature of all ages ; 
 he enriches his vocabulary by paying atten- 
 tion to how other men have produced effects 
 by the expressive use of words; he studies 
 the sciences, arts, and letters" — and I would 
 add, theology and religion ; — "he practices 
 to make his voice a fitting vehicle to convey 
 the knowledge he has thus gained, and, when 
 the occasion arises for him to give utter- 
 ance to his ideas, they come 'like the out- 
 breaking of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, 
 original, native force.' " 
 [140] 
 
Delivery 
 
 In the "Mormon" Church the method 
 universally adopted is the extemporaneous. 
 Indeed, there is a very strong prejudice 
 against any other. This arises partly by rea- 
 son of the long practice by our speakers of 
 this method but partly by reason of the ap- 
 plication of a phrase in the New Testament, 
 repeated in one of the revelations to the 
 Prophet Joseph Smith, about not "taking 
 thought" as to what the apostles should say. 
 But neither this phrase nor the practice of 
 speakers generally among us or in the world 
 precludes the advisability of preparation be- 
 forehand, not of course to the extent of mem- 
 orizing words, but certainly of getting ideas. 
 The Holy Spirit can operate as freely, to 
 say the least, on a full mind as He can on an 
 empty. At all events, the extemporaneous 
 is very properly encouraged among the Lat- 
 ter-day Saints. 
 
 Conversational Delivery 
 "Public Speaking," says Professor Winans, 
 in a luminous chapter in his "Public Speak- 
 ing" recently published, "is a perfectly na- 
 [141] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 tural act, which calls for no strange, artifi- 
 cal methods, but only for an extension and 
 development of that most familiar act, con- 
 versation." 
 
 The style in vogue nowadays is the con- 
 versational. Formerly — and an echo of this 
 still lingers in the practice of the immature — 
 there was a pulpit style that was pompous, 
 artificial, often ranting. This, however, has 
 long since gone out of fashion, thanks to 
 Wendell Phillips, whose style of oratory is 
 characterized by Thomas Wentworth Hig- 
 ginson as "essentially conversational — the 
 conversational raised to its highest power;" 
 and it has been supplanted by an easier, more 
 natural manner. 
 
 The conversational style of public speech 
 is not conversational in that it is ordinarily 
 just like conversation, as Professor Winans 
 takes care to point out. The public speaker, 
 for instance, stands before an audience or a 
 group of persons, whereas the converser does 
 not. Also the orator speaks louder in the 
 pulpit than he would in the parlor. And it 
 is not true, of course, that one "speaks to an 
 [142] 
 
Delivery 
 
 audience just as to one person." We are not 
 to suppose, when we are advised to be con- 
 versational in our public speaking, that we 
 are to make it sound like conversation, that 
 we are to be less careful, dignified, strong, 
 or eloquent than we should be otherwise, that 
 we are to adopt "a style," properly called, or 
 that we are to be 'natural" in the sense that 
 we are not to cultivate the art of speech. 
 Not at all. On the contrary, we are to un- 
 derstand, first, that we are toi have, when 
 we speak in public, " a full realization of the 
 content of words," and, secondly, "a lively 
 sense of communication." To be conversa- 
 tional, then, in public speaking is to have 
 the same attitude of mind that we have in 
 good conversation. 
 
 "Young speakers too often look upon pub- 
 lic speaking as an exhibition; and older 
 speakers frequently fall into a perfunctory 
 manner, especially those who speak fre- 
 quently and in a routine way. Moreover, 
 many of those who do in a measure fulfil 
 the conversational conditions, suffer from a 
 wrong start. The man who begins his career 
 [143] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 as a speaker because he has something to 
 say which he wishes very much to say, and 
 continues for the same reason until his habits 
 are fixed, and who has no false notions of 
 speaking - , may come naturally to a genuine 
 delivery. But if a speaker begins with the 
 notion that he speaks to make an exhibition 
 of his delivery, or that delivery is an exter- 
 nal, mechanical thing to be manipulated ac- 
 cording to rule, or in imitation of a model, 
 he will probably develop a conventional tone 
 and other bad habits that will resist the force 
 of even a strongly felt message and an eager 
 audience." The counsel, therefore, to be 
 conversational in public speaking resolves 
 itself into this: Think and feel on your 
 feet, instead of merely saying words. 
 
 How to do this is an important question. 
 To summarize much of what has already 
 been said : You must, first of all, have some- 
 thing to say which you think is ■, worth 
 saying and which the particular audience will 
 be glad to hear, or, if not glad to hear, ought 
 to know. This is absolutely the first requi- 
 site. Burke and Webster and the rest of the 
 [144] 
 
Delivery 
 
 great orators could not be eloquent if they 
 did not have a message. Then, secondly, you 
 must prepare thoroughly before you speak. 
 Reading, reflection, writing, conversation, 
 and speaking much in public — these will fill 
 the mind, /making it ready and exact in 
 speech. Thirdly, there will follow this 
 abundant preparation a readiness to think 
 of the ideas, the message, rather than of 
 words. And, lastly, a keen, lively sense that 
 we are communicating something besides 
 words. If this does not produce a direct, 
 conversational delivery, then nothing can. 
 Says Professor Titchner in a private letter 
 to Professor Winans and quoted in the lat- 
 ter's book : "The one prime requisite is self- 
 forgetfulness, absorption in the subject for 
 its own sake, — such forgetfulness as shall 
 leave one as unconcerned before an audience 
 as in one's study. * * * I know of no 
 golden rule, still less of any royal road. In- 
 accuracy, carelessness, half-devotion, — these 
 are the bane of our students ; once a man is 
 earnest enough to forget himself, to be ready 
 to laugh at himself with the audience without 
 [145] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 losing his head, to forget how he looks and 
 feels, he is successful and persuasive with 
 or without technical knowledge and practice ; 
 though of course these things are assets, if 
 he has them." 
 
 It must not be taken for granted, however, 
 that a conversational delivery is necessarily- 
 good. This, although deeply fundamental, is 
 not the only quality necessary to effective 
 delivery. A delivery may be conversational 
 and at the same time have defects that tend to 
 counteract the good effects of this larger 
 quality — such, for example, as faulty pro-. 
 nunciation, indistinct enunciation, and 
 throaty tones. Hence the necessity, in addi- 
 tion to being conversational, of cultivating 
 other qualities of public speaking. 
 
 [146] 
 
CHAPTER SEVEN 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Following are two speeches, the first of an 
 address proper and complete in itself, the 
 second, which is only a part of a speech, of 
 an argument. Study them carefully. 
 
 "MORMONISM" AND ITS PURPOSE 
 Orson F. Whitney 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 If you will pardon me, I will relate a little 
 anecdote. 
 
 Two Irish soldiers were once practicing 
 with a cannon, and in order to economize and 
 not waste their ammunition, one of them, 
 while his friend stood at the breech of the 
 gun to touch it off, planted himself squarely 
 in front of it, with a brass kettle in which 
 to catch the ball. Said he to the man at the 
 breech : "Touch it off aisy, Pat." 
 
 And so I say to my critics : Gentlemen, 
 if you must fire at me, touch it off easy, and 
 if I cannot catch your cannon balls, I will 
 at least try to endure them. 
 [147] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 I am expected to speak upon the sub- 
 ject of "Mormonism and Its Purposes." 
 
 DISCUSSION 
 
 1. Let me first inform you that we do 
 not recognize the term "Mormonism" as the 
 proper title of our religion. It is only a nick- 
 name bestowed upon the faith of the Latter- 
 day Saints, just as the name "Christian" was 
 given in derision to the followers of Jesus 
 of Nazareth by the unbelievers of Antioch. 
 
 But names matter very little; it is prin- 
 ciples we are discussing. A jewel covered 
 with cobwebs and dust is still a jewel, and 
 truth is truth whatever it may be called, and 
 is not to be disposed of by pelting it with 
 epithets. "Mormonism", to me, is but an- 
 other name for God's truth, and to find the 
 fulness of that truth we would have to bring 
 together and aggregate the truth of all re- 
 ligions, adding thereto all others that God 
 would or could reveal. 
 
 2. This religion called "Mormonism" is 
 no new thing. According to our view it is 
 the oldest of all religions. It has been upon 
 
 [148] 
 
Whitney 
 
 the earth in different ages, being revealed 
 from heaven from time to time as often as 
 it became necessary to renew the sacred fire 
 upon the altar of the human heart, and to 
 revive in men's souls the knowledge of truth 
 which they had turned from and forgotten. 
 3. Its object from the first has been man's 
 salvation — the salvation of all men, who are 
 universally the children of God. You who 
 have supposed that "Mormonism" is a nar- 
 row and exclusive faith, have not under- 
 stood it aright. If I knew of a religion that 
 was broader and better, I would embrace it. 
 But to me it is the broadest, the best, the 
 most reasonable of all religions, and conse- 
 quently I remain a "Mormon". My religion 
 proposes to save all men, but to save them 
 upon just and consistent principles; not the 
 rewarding of one soul for the good done by 
 another, nor the punishment of the innocent 
 for the misdeeds of the guilty, nor the never- 
 ending punishment of any soul ; but the judg- 
 ing of all men according to their works, and 
 their salvation according to their merits in 
 different degrees of glory. 
 [149] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 4. "Mormonism" teaches that God was 
 once like ourselves, that the Eternal was 
 enshrined in mortal flesh, subject to mortal 
 ills and earthly pains and toils. I do not 
 refer to the experience of the Savior in the 
 meridian of time. I mean that in the far 
 away aeons of the past God once dwelt upon 
 an earth like this, and through its trials and 
 vicissitudes and the experience they afforded, 
 ascended finally, by obedience to certain prin- 
 ciples ennobling- and exalting in their nature, 
 to the plane which He now occupies. 
 
 5. These truths, forming the ladder up 
 which He climbed to celestial heights, up 
 which we too are expected to climb from 
 earth to heaven, from mortality to immortal- 
 ity, from a world where grief and sorrow 
 reign, to a better and brighter sphere where 
 sorrow and '(Suffering are unknown — these 
 truths are jself-exiistent and eternal. God 
 did not create them. Intelligence, the light 
 of truth, cannot be created. But by means 
 of His superior intelligence, which is His 
 glory and which makes Him God, He insti- 
 tuted laws whereby the rest, the lesser intelli- 
 
 [150] 
 
Whitney 
 
 g'ences, might advance like Himself. These 
 laws we call the Gospel, the plan of salva- 
 tion, formulated in the heavens before this 
 world was, and revealed again and again to 
 the children of Adam for their salvation. 
 
 6. We hold that men are literally 
 the sons and daughters of God; that He in- 
 tends we shall become like Him; and it is 
 certainly reasonable to expect that the child 
 will eventually develop to the status of the 
 Parent. We are divine beings in embryo, 
 and it is only a question of time when we 
 shall blossom in perfection. 
 
 7. We believe that in that pre-existent 
 life, where the spirits of all men once dwelt, 
 a Savior was prepared, pre-ordained to die 
 for the salvation of the world. We also be- 
 lieve that other great and noble ones were 
 selected — prophets, poets, philosophers, re- 
 formers, painters, sculptors — and sent into 
 the world to play their parts, to hold aloft 
 the torch of God-given genius to illumine the 
 pathway leading to perfection. 
 
 All good gifts are from God, from Him 
 who sent us forth into this school to learn 
 [151] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 life's lessons, to assist each other to learn, 
 and, having gained our education, to return 
 to Him perfected, and dwell in peace eter- 
 nally. All things sent forth will again seek 
 their origin, as naturally as the raindrops 
 sprinkled upon the hills trickle back to the 
 ocean whence they came. 
 
 8. We believe that Adam was pre-or- 
 dained to fall, and that it was part of the 
 eternal plan that he should fall. "Adam fell 
 that man might be", says "Mormonism" ; 
 became mortal for our sakes, that our spirits 
 might tabernacle in the flesh, and work our 
 way back through thorns and briers to the 
 glorious gardens of Paradise. The fall of 
 Adam was as necessary in the divine plan as 
 the redemption wrought by Jesus Christ. 
 
 9. But to Adam was revealed the Gos- 
 pel, and by means of it he regained Para- 
 dise, or the presence of his Maker, from 
 which, for a wise purpose, he had been tem- 
 porarily banished — eternally banished but 
 for the atonement of the Savior. To Enoch 
 also was given the same Gospel, either by 
 transmission from Adam or by direct reve- 
 
 [152] 
 
Whitney 
 
 lation from the Almighty. Noah also had a 
 dispensation of the Gospel committed to 
 him, and no doubt transmitted its truths to 
 his posterity — to the nations which sprang 
 from him. 
 
 I was conversing once with a gentleman, 
 with whom I have been more or less intimate, 
 and he was seeking to prove to me that Jesus 
 of Nazareth was not the original thinker 
 that men suppose Him. He showed that 
 Confucius, the Chinese sage, taught long 
 before Christ, that it was right for one to 
 do unto others as he would wish others to 
 do unto him, and he thought this proved 
 Jesus to be a plagiarist. To me it proved 
 nothing of the kind. It indicated that 
 Confucius had become possessed of a portion 
 of the old Gospel, the same yesterday, to-day, 
 and forever, either by inheritance from Noah, 
 whom the Chinese claim as their great an- 
 cestor, or by direct inspiration from heaven. 
 And the fact that Jesus afterwards taught a 
 similar doctrine when He introduced the 
 Gospel in the meridian of time does not prove 
 Him a plagiarist, but rather a restorer — a 
 [153] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 restorer of that which was previously pos- 
 sessed by Noah, Abraham, and Moses, but 
 which had been lost and forgotten so long by 
 their descendants that when preached to the 
 Jews by Jesus they were "astonished at his 
 doctrine". 
 
 Would not the similarities that exist be- 
 tween some Christian and some heathen doc- 
 trines indicate that both had a common 
 origin? Our Salt Lake is supposed to be the 
 residue of a great inland sea that once surged 
 against the mountain sides, making islands 
 of the loftiest summits, covering the whole 
 area of the Great Basin and communicating 
 with the Pacific Ocean. That sea gradually 
 diminished until the lake of to-day, though 
 similar in character, is but a mere pond by 
 comparison. May not the religions of Asia, 
 though differing in some respects from 
 Christianity, the ancient Gospel of which I 
 have been speaking, and yet containing 
 truths belonging to it, be as so many pools of 
 water caught in the hollows of the ground 
 or in holes of the rock as the great flood of 
 truth rushed by? The truths of these re- 
 [154] 
 
Whitney 
 
 ligions have doubtless been mixed with the 
 doctrines of men, but so are the truths of 
 Christianity. We are all apt to depart from 
 the truth in its primitive purity; hence the 
 need of continued restorations. 
 
 10. We hold that in these latter times 
 God has again restored to earth the everlast- 
 ing Gospel, that this is the dispensation of 
 the fulness of times into which flow all 
 former dispensations, like rills and rivers 
 emptying into the ocean ; that "He who scat- 
 tered Israel will gather him and keep him as 
 a shepherd doth his flock;" that Zion will be 
 built up on this continent and Jerusalem re- 
 built in the land of Palestine ; that all things 
 in Christ, both in heaven and on earth, are to 
 be gathered in one, according to the predic- 
 tion of Paul the Apostle. It is the purpose 
 of "Mormonism", which heralds the second 
 coming of Christ, to prepare the world for 
 that coming. 
 
 The prophets and the poets of the past 
 
 have spoken of a time to come when the 
 
 earth should rest, and nation should war no 
 
 more against nation; when men, as Burns 
 
 [155] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 says in beautiful simplicity, would "broth- 
 ers be and a' that" ; and when, as Tennyson 
 prophetically declares, the war drum shall 
 throb no longer, and the battle flags be 
 furled 
 
 In the parliament of man, 
 The federation of the world. 
 
 When white-winged peace would spread her 
 wings abroad, and grim-visaged war would 
 sit at her feet and learn wisdom for a thou- 
 sand years. We think that time is draw- 
 ing nigh; that the Almighty has set His 
 hand to accomplish just such a work ; that we 
 are living in the Saturday night of the 
 world's history, near the end of that week 
 of Time, each day of which is a thousand 
 years; and that the seventh day, or Sabbath, 
 will be the day of rest, the Millennium, the 
 reign of peace and righteousness which the 
 prophets and the poets have predicted. 
 
 The Almighty, I believe, began this phase 
 
 of His work when He sent Columbus across 
 
 the sea to unveil this hidden hemisphere. 
 
 He it was who nerved the arm and fired the 
 
 [156] 
 
Whitney 
 
 soul of a Washington to fight and win free- 
 dom's battle on this chosen land, and who in- 
 spired the pen of a Jefferson to write in 
 words of flame the declaration of American 
 Independence. I revere the Constitution as 
 an emanation of Divinity and, I believe, we 
 will yet see the principles upon which this 
 great government was founded — principles 
 of justice, freedom, and equality — prevail the 
 wide world over. God did not found this na- 
 tion for a mere handful of His children. He 
 founded it for all mankind. And when He 
 bound together these United States, it was 
 but a type, a symbol and a foreshadowing 
 of a united world. All nations will yet join 
 hands as these States have done, and this, in 
 my opinion, will only be the prelude to a 
 work still greater, lifting from earth that 
 curse which has so long rested upon it, and 
 uniting it as a glorious link in the grand 
 chain of redeemed worlds that circle about 
 the throne of their Creator. 
 
 COMMENT AND ANALYSIS 
 
 Situation: This address was delivered as 
 [157] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 "the principal feature of the proceedings of 
 the Unitarian conference" in Salt Lake City, 
 at the invitation of the Reverend Dr. Utter, 
 and was to be discussed at the same session 
 by Dr. Utter and others. 
 
 Theme: Such being the conditions under 
 which the address was delivered, the theme 
 is necessarily general in its nature — a bird's- 
 eye view of "Mormonism". The subject as 
 assigned beforehand was, "Mormonism and 
 Its Purposes". It does not therefore go into 
 details. 
 
 Introduction: It begins interestingly — 
 with an anecdote, which catches the spirit 
 of the gathering and at the same time hints 
 at the tenor of the theme, its strangeness to 
 the audience. The theme is specifically men- 
 tioned. The introduction is also short and 
 to the point. 
 
 Discussion: First, each of the ten phases 
 is discussed by itself, and all that is needed 
 given at the time. Secondly, all the topics 
 are obviously related, each growing natur- 
 ally out of the preceding. Thirdly, the topics 
 are connected by such words as "but" in the 
 [158] 
 
Whitney 
 
 second paragraph of topic 11, "this religion" 
 in topic 2, and "these truths" in the fifth. 
 Fourthly,space is given according to the new- 
 ness of the idea to the audience and the need 
 for explanation. 
 
 Conclusion: There is no formal conclu- 
 sion — none is needed. The theme naturally 
 ends by coming back to the point of begin- 
 ning. 
 
 Style: The address is expository rather 
 than narrative or argumentative, although 
 there is some argument in it, as where Elder 
 Whitney asks whether it is not reasonable 
 to believe that all religions are related. The 
 address, like all of this great preacher's ser- 
 mons, abounds in comparisons, which are 
 very luminous ; as, for instance, where he 
 speaks of the Salt Lake. Notice that the tone 
 is elevated throughout, in strict keeping with 
 the high thoughts expounded. After the 
 theme is once launched, there is no dropping 
 in a single word. 
 
 [159] 
 
CONCILIATION WITH AMERICA 
 
 Burke 
 
 This fierce spirit of liberty is stronger in 
 the English colonies probably than in any 
 other people of the earth; and this from a 
 great variety of powerful causes; which, to 
 understand the true temper of their minds, 
 and the direction which this spirit takes, it 
 will not be amiss to lay open somewhat more 
 largely. 
 
 First, the people of the colonies are de- 
 scendants of Englishmen. England, Sir, is a 
 nation, which still I hope respects, and form- 
 erly adored, her freedom. The colonists 
 emigrated from you when this part of your 
 character was most predominant; and they 
 took this bias and direction the moment they 
 parted from your hands. They are there- 
 fore not only devoted to liberty, but to lib- 
 erty according to English ideas, and on Eng- 
 lish principles. Abstract liberty, like other 
 mere abstractions, is not to be found. Lib- 
 [160] 
 
Burke 
 
 erty inheres in some sensible object; and 
 every nation has formed to itself some favor- 
 ite point, which by way of eminence becomes 
 the criterion of their happiness. It hap- 
 pened, you know, Sir, that the great contests 
 for freedom in this country were from the 
 earliest times chiefly upon the question of 
 taxing. Most of the contests in the ancient 
 commonwealths turned primarily on the 
 right of election of magistrates; or on the 
 balance among the several orders of the state. 
 The question of money was not with them so 
 immediate. But in England it was other- 
 wise. On this point of taxes the ablest pens, 
 and most eloquent tongues, have been exer- 
 cised ; the greatest spirits have acted and suf- 
 fered. In order to give the fullest satisfac- 
 tion concerning the importance of this point, 
 it was not only necessary for those who in 
 argument defended the excellence of the 
 English constitution, to insist on this privi- 
 lege of granting money as a dry point of fact, 
 and to prove, that the right has been ac- 
 knowledged in ancient parchments, and blind 
 usages, to reside in a certain body called a 
 [161] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 House of Commons. They went much 
 farther; they attempted to prove, and they 
 succeeded, that in theory it ought to be so, 
 from the particular nature of a House of 
 Commons, as an immediate representative 
 of the people; whether the old records had 
 delivered this oracle or not. They took in- 
 finite pains to inculcate, as a fundamental 
 principle, that in all monarchies the people 
 must in effect themselves, mediately or im- 
 mediately, possess the power of granting 
 their own money, or no shadow of liberty 
 could subsist. The colonies draw from you, 
 as with their life-blood, these ideas and prin- 
 ciples. Their love of liberty, as with you, 
 fixed and attached on this specific point of 
 taxing. Liberty might be safe, or might be 
 endangered, in twenty other particulars, 
 without their being much pleased or alarmed. 
 Here they felt its pulse; and as they found 
 that beat, they thought themselves sick or 
 sound. I do not say whether they were right 
 or wrong in applying your general argu- 
 ments to their own case. It is not easy in- 
 deed to make a monopoly of theorems and 
 [162] 
 
Burke 
 
 corollaries. The fact is, that they did thus 
 apply those general arguments; and your 
 mode of governing them, whether through 
 lenity or indolence, through wisdom or mis- 
 take, confirmed them in the imagination, that 
 they, as well as you, had an interest in these 
 common principles. 
 
 They were further confirmed in this pleas- 
 ing error by the form of their provincial 
 legislative assemblies. Their governments 
 are popular in a high degree; some are 
 merely popular; in all the popular represen- 
 tative is the most weighty ; and this share of 
 the people in their ordinary government 
 never fails to inspire them with lofty senti- 
 ments, and with a strong aversion from 
 whatever tends to deprive them of their chief 
 importance. 
 
 If anything were wanting to this necessary 
 operation of the form of government, re- 
 ligion would have given it a complete effect. 
 Religion, always a principle of energy, in 
 this new people is no way worn out or im- 
 paired; and their mode of professing it is 
 also one main cause of this free spirit. The 
 [163] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 people are Protestants; and of that kind 
 which is the most adverse to all implicit sub- 
 mission of mind and opinion. This is a per- 
 suasion not only favorable to liberty, but 
 built upon it. I do not think, Sir, that the 
 reason of this averseness in the dissenting 
 churches, from all that looks like absolute 
 government, is so much to be sought in their 
 religious tenets, as in their history. Every 
 one knows that the Roman Catholic religion 
 is at least coeval with most of the govern- 
 ments where it prevails ; that it has gener- 
 ally gone hand in hand with them, and re- 
 ceived great favor and every kind of sup- 
 port from authority. The Church of Eng- 
 land too was formed from her cradle under 
 the nursing care of regular government. But 
 the dissenting interests have sprung up in 
 direct opposition to all the ordinary powers 
 of the world; and could justify that opposi- 
 tion only on a strong claim to natural liberty. 
 Their very existence depended on the pow- 
 erful and unremitted assertion of that claim. 
 All Protestantism, even the most cold and 
 passive, is a sort of dissent. But the re- 
 [164] 
 
Burke 
 
 ligion most prevalent in our northern colo- 
 nies is a refinement on the principle of re- 
 sistance; it is the dissidence of dissent, and 
 the Protestantism of the Protestant religion. 
 This religion, under a variety of denomina- 
 toins agreeing in nothing but in the com- 
 munion of the spirit of liberty, is predomi- 
 nant in most of the northern provinces; 
 where the Church of England, notwithstand- 
 ing its legal rights, is in reality no more than 
 a sort of private sect, not composing most 
 probably the tenth of the people. The colo- 
 nists left England when this spirit was high, 
 and in the emigrants was the highest of all ; 
 and even that stream of foreigners, which 
 has been constantly flowing into these colo- 
 nies, has, for the? greatest part, been com- 
 posed of dissenters from the establishments 
 of their several countries, and have brought 
 with them a temper and character far from 
 alien to that of the people with whom they 
 mixed. 
 
 Sir, I can perceive by their manner, that 
 some gentlemen object to the latitude of this 
 description ; because in the southern colonies 
 [165] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 the Church of England forms a large body, 
 and has a regular establishment. It is cer- 
 tainly true. There is, however, a circum- 
 stance attending these colonies, which, in my 
 opinion, fully counterbalances this differ- 
 ence, and makes the spirit of liberty still 
 more high and haughty than in those to the 
 northward. It is, that in Virginia and the 
 Carolinas they have a vast multitude of 
 slaves. Where this is the case in any part of 
 the world, those who are free, are by far the 
 most proud and jealous of their freedom. 
 Freedom is to them not only an enjoyment, 
 but a kind of rank and privilege. Not see- 
 ing there, that freedom, as in countries 
 where it is a common blessing, and as broad 
 and general as the air, may be united with 
 much abject toil, with great misery, with all 
 the exterior of servitude, liberty looks, 
 amongst them, like something that is more 
 noble and liberal. I do not mean, Sir, to 
 commend the superior morality of this senti- 
 ment, which has at least as much pride as 
 virtue in it ; but I cannot alter the nature of 
 man. The fact is so ; and these people of 
 [166] 
 
Burke 
 
 the southern colonies are much more 
 strongly, and with a higher and more stub- 
 born spirit, attached to liberty, than those 
 to the northward. Such were all the ancient 
 commonwealths; such were our Gothic an- 
 cestors ; such in our days were the Poles ; and 
 such will be all masters of slaves, who are 
 not slaves themselves. In such a people, the 
 haughtiness of domination combines with the 
 spirit of freedom, fortifies it, and renders it 
 invincible. 
 
 Permit me, Sir, to add another circum- 
 stance in our colonies, which contributes no 
 mean part towards the growth and effect of 
 this untractable spirit. I mean their educa- 
 tion. In no country perhaps in the world is 
 the law so general a study. The profession 
 itself is numerous and powerful ; and in most 
 provinces it takes the lead. The greater 
 number of the deputies sent to the congress 
 were lawyers. But all who read, and most 
 do read, endeavor to obtain some smattering 
 in that science. I have been told by an emi- 
 nent bookseller, that in no branch of his 
 business, after tracts of popular devotion, 
 [167] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 were so many books as those on the law ex- 
 ported to the plantations. The colonists have 
 now fallen into the way of printing them for 
 their own use. I hear that they have sold 
 nearly as many of Blackstone's Comment- 
 aries in America as in England. General 
 Gage marks out this disposition very par- 
 ticularly in a letter on your table. He states, 
 that all the people in his government are law- 
 yers, or smatterers in law; and that in Bos- 
 ton they have been enabled, by successful 
 chicane, wholly to evade many parts of one 
 of your capital penal constitutions. The 
 smartness of debate will say, that this knowl- 
 edge ought to teach them more clearly the 
 rights of legislature, their obligations to obe- 
 dience, and the penalties of rebellion. All 
 this is mighty well. But my honorable and 
 learned friend on the floor, who condescends 
 to mark what I say for animadversion, will 
 disdain that ground. He has heard, as well 
 as I, that when great honors and great emo- 
 luments do not win over this knowledge to 
 the service of the state, it is a formidable 
 adversary to government. If the spirit be 
 [168] 
 
Burke 
 
 not tamed and broken by these happy meth- 
 ods, it is stubborn and litigious. Abenuni 
 studia in mores. This study renders men 
 acute, inquisitive, dexterous, prompt in at- 
 tack, ready in defense, full of resources. In 
 other countries, the people, more simple, and 
 of a less mercurial cast, judge of an ill prin- 
 ciple in government only by an actual griev- 
 ance; here they anticipate the evil, and judge 
 of the pressure of the grievance by the bad- 
 ness of the principle. They augur misgov- 
 ernment at a distance; and snuff the ap- 
 proach of tyranny in every tainted breeze. 
 
 The last cause of this disobedient spirit in 
 the colonies is hardly less powerful than the 
 rest, as it is not merely moral, but laid deep 
 in the natural constitution of things. Three 
 thousand miles of ocean lie between you and 
 them. No contrivance can prevent the effect 
 of this distance in weakening government. 
 Seas roll, and months pass, between the order 
 and the execution ; and the want of a speedy 
 explanation of a single point is enough to de- 
 feat a whole system. You have, indeed, 
 winged ministers of vengeance, who carry 
 [169] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 your bolts in their pounces to the remotest 
 verge of the sea. But there a power steps in 
 that limits the arrogance of raging passions 
 and furious elements, and says, "So far shalt 
 thou go, and no farther." Who are you, that 
 should fret and rage, and bite the chains of 
 nature? Nothing worse happens to you 
 than does to all nations who have extensive 
 empire; and it happens in all the forms into 
 which empire can be thrown. In large 
 bodies, the circulation of power must be less 
 vigorous at the extremities. Nature has said 
 it. The Turk cannot govern Egypt, and 
 Arabia, and Curdistan, as he governs 
 Thrace; nor has he the same dominion in 
 Crimea and Algiers, which he has at Brusa 
 and Smyrna. Despotism itself is obliged to 
 truck and huckster. The Sultan gets such 
 obedience as he can. He governs with a 
 loose rein, that he may govern at all ; and the 
 whole of the force and vigor of his authority 
 in his centre is derived from a prudent re- 
 laxation in all his borders. Spain, in her 
 provinces, is, perhaps, not so well obeyed as 
 you are in yours. She complies too; she 
 [170] 
 
Burke 
 
 submits ; she watches times. This is the 
 immutable condition, the eternal law, of ex- 
 tensive and detached empire. 
 
 Then. Sir, from these six capital sources : 
 of descent ; of form of government ; of re- 
 ligion in the northern provinces ; of manners 
 in the southern ; of education ; of the remote- 
 ness of situation from the first mover of gov- 
 ernment — from all these causes a fierce spirit 
 of liberty has grown up. It has grown with 
 the growth of the people in your colonies, 
 and increased with the increase of their 
 wealth ; a spirit, that unhappily meeting with 
 an exercise of power in England, which, 
 however lawful, is not reconcilable to any 
 ideas of liberty, much less with theirs, has 
 kindled this flame that is ready to consume 
 us. 
 
 COMMENT AND QUESTIONS 
 
 The paragraphs quoted above constitute 
 only one section of Burke's great speech on 
 "Conciliation with America". It will indi- 
 cate, however, the manner in which a propo- 
 sition may be argued and proved. 
 [171] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 Point out in the part quoted ( 1 ) the main 
 proposition proved, (2) the number of dis- 
 stinct points brought forward to prove this 
 proposition, (3) the amount of space de- 
 voted to each of these points together with 
 the probable reason for the difference in the 
 space given them, (4) the main words and 
 sentences that connect these various points 
 and that show he is proving one proposition 
 not two or more, (5) the words in which he 
 ties all these together at the end. Make a 
 brief of the quotation similar to the one 
 shown in the text. Note the order in which 
 the topics come. Can you suggest a reason 
 for this order? 
 
 [172] 
 
CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 HELPFUL SUGGESTIONS 
 
 Finally, it may prove helpful if I sug- 
 gest ways in which the foregoing princi- 
 ples may be put into effect and set down 
 a list of stories that may be told, questions 
 that may be debated, subjects to be worked 
 up into speeches, and) give a list of books 
 that may be studies, as supplementary read- 
 ing, in both story-telling and in debating. 
 
 Subjects for Speeches 
 
 The following suggestive subjects! for 
 addresses should, before being taken and 
 worked up, be carefully considered with a 
 view to seeing whether . they are narrow 
 enough ,to suit the purpose, and time in- 
 volved in the particular speech to be given. 
 
 1. "Mormonism," a Religion, not a sect. 
 
 2. Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, 
 a comparison. 
 
 3. The "Mormon" Ideal of Manhood. 
 
 4. The "Mormon" Ideal of Womanhood. 
 
 [173] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 5. 
 
 What "Mormonism" Has Done for 
 
 Me. 
 
 
 6. 
 
 Free Speech. 
 
 7. 
 
 Capital and Labor. 
 
 8. 
 
 The Saloon Must Go. 
 
 9. 
 
 The Cigarette Advertisement. 
 
 10. 
 
 Charity, Wise and Otherwise. 
 
 11. 
 
 The Ethics of War. 
 
 12. 
 
 The United States and World-peace. 
 
 13. 
 
 Drifting. 
 
 14. 
 
 "Better Be Right than President." 
 
 15. 
 
 Public and Private Justice. 
 
 16. 
 
 Leadership. 
 
 Questions for Debate 
 
 The following are just suggestions for 
 questions to be debated. Before they are 
 debated, they should be properly formed, ac- 
 cording to the suggestions made in the 
 text : 
 
 1. Should the tariff be taken out of 
 politics ? 
 
 2. Should Congress have enacted an eight- 
 hour law for railroads ? 
 
 [174] 
 
Helpful Suggestions 
 
 3. Should cities be managed by a commis- 
 sion or by one man as manager? 
 
 4. Should secret societies be prohibited in 
 public schools? 
 
 5. Should the amusements of a commu- 
 nity be under private or public control ? 
 
 6. Should women get the same wage as 
 men for the same work ? 
 
 7. Should street cars be under private or 
 public ownership? 
 
 8. The same for electric lighting. 
 
 9. The same for railroads. 
 
 10. Should free employment bureaus be 
 provided by the state ? 
 
 11. Should the President of the United 
 States be limited to one term of six years ? 
 
 12. Should the President of the United 
 States be elected by direct vote of the peo- 
 ple? 
 
 13. Should one be a partisan or an inde- 
 pendent in politics? 
 
 14. Should; all our public officers be sub- 
 ject to recall? 
 
 15. Is the boycott a justifiable weapon in 
 the hands of labor? 
 
 [175] 
 
The Spoken Word 
 
 16. Should the middle-man be eliminated 
 from our industrial system? 
 List of Books for Reference: 
 
 "Stories and Story-telling," by Edward 
 Porter St. John. 
 
 "The Art of Story-telling," by Marie L. 
 Shedlock. 
 
 "Public Speaking," by James Albert Win- 
 ans. 
 
 "The Art of Public Speaking," by Es- 
 senwein and Carnagey. 
 
 "Elements of Debating," by Leverett S. 
 Lyon. 
 
 "Manual of Argumentation," by Laycock 
 and Spofford. 
 
 [176] 
 
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