30 Life and Sport on the Pacific Slope 



talk. In England, even amongst men of mark, 

 niceties of speech are banned and barred. The 

 phrase-maker is commonly a prig, the precisian in 

 grammar is despised as a pedant. The American 

 on the contrary, has found out that a well-sharpened 

 tongue is more reliable than a six-shooter. But it 

 must be noted that (regarding the tongue as a 

 weapon) conversation in America is necessarily ag- 

 gressive and competitive. Club talk in England is 

 narcotic in quality, in the West it is stimulant. I 

 have met vampire talkers, who seemed to suck from 

 the brains of others vigour and vitality. Some im- 

 press one painfully as struggling against odds too 

 great to be overcome. Up to the neck in a quag- 

 mire of words, they finally sink into silence, defeated 

 but not disgraced. 



I remember meeting a friend who had been 

 elected a state senator, and asking him how he 

 had fared at Sacramento. " First rate," he replied, 

 taking hold of the lapel of my coat. "Yes, first 

 rate. I was really scared out of my wits, but 

 I didn't wilt. And I rehearsed carefully my 

 own little song and dance. You read my maiden 

 speech? Yes: good — eh? My boy, I practised 

 it in front of my mirror. Yes, I did ! And I 

 gave 'em a little of everything : a dash of Mill, a 

 teaspoonful of Spencer, Shakespeare, the Bible, and 

 a line from the Mikado. It was great, great ! It 

 hit 'em all. I tell you — don't give me away — 

 that the western orator's vade mecum, his staff, 

 his shield, his cruse of oil, is — a Dictionary of 

 Quotations." 



Nothing upsets the equanimity of a Califomian 



