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 the term continuous attitude and impression, because it is a small matter what your temporary and transient impression is.  If it becomes necessary, talk to any extent required, no matter what the immediate impression may be.  But it is the stream and continuity of your life of which I am now speaking.

The three distinguished successes cited a moment ago in financial and political life do not drink, smoke, or swear.  Mark that latter fact—­they do not swear.  I repeat again that this is no Sunday-school lecture, but the plainest kind of a talk on practical methods of success.  The money you will lay aside in bank, or the property you will accumulate, is one kind of an asset; but the respect of men, the confidence of a community, is an asset also, and a more valuable one.  Very well.  An oath never yet created respect for any man who used it.