and discrimination in the choice of words and induces brevity and directness of expression. One has not time to say as much when writing longhand as when dictating, and so chooses his phrases and his ideas more carefully, plans his ideas more thoughtfully, and says more effectively what he has to say.
I was to make an after-dinner speech not long ago, and while I was dressing, my wife, who is naturally interested in my postprandial success, asked.
"What are you going to say tonight?"
"I haven't the least idea," I replied truthfully, trusting in Providence, as most men do in such a situation, that something clever would come into my mind at the last minute.
"Oh, dear," she exclaimed, with a sort of hopeless note in her voice, "you'll talk a long time then." And it is as true of writing as it is of speech that the man who makes no preparation, who "takes his pen in hand" with no definite plan in his mind when he begins to write is likely to wander on for a long time without getting anywhere.
I think we all realize the possibilities of
