One of the most conspicuous differences between the American and the Briton is that the former, take him for all in all, is distinctly the more articulate animal of the two.  The Englishman seems to have learned, through countless generations, that he can express himself better and more surely in deeds than in words, and has come to distrust in others a fatal fluency of expressiveness which he feels would be exaggerated and even false in himself.  A man often has to wait for his own death to find out what his English friend thinks of him; and

    “Wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us
    To see oursels as others see us,”

we might often be surprised to discover what a wealth of real affection and esteem lies hid under the glacier of Anglican indifference.  The American poet who found his song in the heart of a friend could have done so, were the friend English, only by the aid of a post-mortem examination.  The American, on the other hand, has the most open and genial way of expressing his interest in you; and when you have readjusted the scale of the moral thermometer so as to allow for the change of temperament, you will find this frankness most delightfully stimulating.  It requires, however, an intimate knowledge of both countries to understand that when an Englishman congratulates you on a success by exclaiming, “Hallo, old chap, I didn’t know you had it in you,” he means just as much as your American friend, whose phrase is:  “Bravo, Billy, I always knew you could do something fine.”

That the superior powers of articulation possessed by the American sometimes takes the form of profuse and even extreme volubility will hardly be denied by those conversant with the facts.  The American may not be more profound than his English cousin or even more fertile in ideas, but as a rule he is much more ready and easy in the discussion of the moment; whatever the state of his “gold reserve” may be, he has no lack of the small counters of conversation.  In its proper place this faculty is undoubtedly most agreeable; in the fleeting interviews which compose so much of social intercourse, he is distinctly at an advantage who has the power of coming to the front at once without wasting precious time in preliminaries and reconnaissances.  Other things being equal, the chances of agreeable conversation at dinner, at the club, or in the pauses of the dance are better in the United States than in England.  The “next man” of the new world is apt to talk better and to be wider in his sympathies than the “next man” of the old.  On the other hand, it seems to me equally true that the Americans possess the defects of their qualities in this as in other respects; they are often apt to talk too much, they are afraid of a conversational lull, and do not sufficiently appreciate the charm of “flashes of brilliant silence.”  It seemed to me that they often carried a most unnecessary amount of volubility into their business life; and I sometimes wondered whether