is so refreshing to meet a man from whom you draw the
feeling that he is as deep and as full as the seven seas.

This will never be drawn from any man whose talk is continuous, no
matter if he is an encyclopedia of information and a battery of
brilliancy. A man may be as comprehensive and profound as the oceans;
the point is, that other men will not easily be made to believe it.
His continued sparkle suggests a champagne bottle with its
limitations, rather than the illimitable deep. A good deal of this is
unjust, and comes from the universal egotism of mankind. Most men like
to feel themselves both brilliant and copious; and they want _you_ to
listen to _them_. Very well--_you_ do it; _you_ listen to them.

There is a suggestion of wisdom in reserve of speech which may be
altogether out of proportion to the facts. Are we not all continually
quoting with approval Sir Walter Raleigh's line:

"The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb."

Many a silent man is as shallow as he is silent--but he _may_ be as
deep also; and because he gives no sign as to whether he is deep or
shallow, and because his silence offends no one and is not in the way
of those who want to talk, he is given credit for profundity.

We all know the story of the worn-out, world-tired club-man who said
he was looking for a man who was really wise, really experienced, and
really deep. At last he felt that he had found him in another
club-man--very handsome, especially full of forehead and broad between
the eyes, perfectly groomed, and silent to the point of stillness. The
Searcher for a Wise Man tried to engage him in conversation on a
hundred different subjects. His attempts met with failure; which made
a still deeper impression.

But at a certain dinner one night, where both of these men were
guests, the club-man arranged to have the silent one sit next to him.
Every attempt was still a failure. Nothing more than "Yes" or "No"
could be gotten from the deep one. But when shrimps were brought on,
the supposedly great man colored with pleasure, and said: "Hey,
shrimps! Them's the dandies!" The illusion dissolved.

I do not know whose story this is, but it illustrates my point so well
that I appropriate it. In other words, your permanent attitude, your
continuous impression on the world, is one of your assets, just as
your ability is, just as your character is; and discretion in speech
is a matter of great moment as affecting this impression. I use