rtunity for
expression, in its very repetition; each time that the fisherman came
to the water's edge his chagrin and unwillingness was greater, and his
summons to the magic fish mirrored his feeling. The jingle IS foolish;
that is a part of the charm. But if the person who tells it FEELS
foolish, there is no charm at all! It is the same principle which
applies to any address to any assemblage: if the speaker has the air of
finding what he has to say absurd or unworthy of effort, the audience
naturally tends to follow his lead, and find it not worth listening to.
Let me urge, then, take your story seriously.
Next, "take your time." This suggestion needs explaining, perhaps. It
does not mean license to dawdle. Nothing is much more annoying in a
speaker than too great deliberateness, or than hesitation of speech.
But it means a quiet realization of the fact that the floor is yours,
everybody wants to hear you, there is time enough for every point and
shade of meaning and no one will think the story too long. This mental
attitude must underlie proper control of speed. Never hurry. A
business-like leisure is the true attitude of the storyteller.
And the result is best attained by concentrating one's attention on the
episodes of the story. Pass lightly, and comparatively swiftly, over
the portions between actual episodes, but take all the time you need
for the elaboration of those. And above all, do not FEEL hurried.
The next suggestion is eminently plain and practical, if not an all too
obvious one. It is this: if all your preparation and confidence fails
you at the crucial moment, and memory plays the part of traitor in some
particular, if, in short, you blunder on a detail of the story, NEVER
ADMIT IT. If it was an unimportant detail which you misstated, pass
right on, accepting whatever you said, and continuing with it; if you
have been so unfortunate as to omit a fact which was a necessary link
in the chain, put it in, later, as skillfully as you can, and with as
deceptive an appearance of its being in the intended order; but never
take the children behind the scenes, and let them hear the creaking of
your mental machinery. You must be infallible. You must be in the
secret of the mystery, and admit your audience on somewhat unequal
terms; they should have no creeping doubts as to your complete
initiation into the secrets of the happenings you relate.
Plainly, there can be lapses of memory so comple
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