We have all been victims of a certain type of public speaker who begins
by saying, "Now I don't want to bore you with a long story, but this is
so good, etc.," or "An incident occurred at the American Consulate in
Shanghai, which reminds me of an awfully good story, etc." When a
speaker prefaces his remarks with some such sentences as these, we know
we are in for an uncomfortable time.

As far as possible a story should be new, clever, short, simple,
inoffensive, and appropriate. As such stories are scarce, it is
advisable to set them down, when found, in a special note-book for
convenient reference. It is said that Chauncey M. Depew, one of the most
gifted of after-dinner speakers, was for many years in the habit of
keeping a set of scrap-books in which were preserved stories and other
interesting data clipped from newspapers and magazines. These were so
classified that he could on short notice refresh his mind with ample
material upon almost any general subject.

Anyone who essays to tell a story should have it clearly in mind. It is
fatal for a speaker to hesitate midway in a story, apologize for not
knowing it better, avow that it was much more humorous when told to him,
and in other ways to announce his shortcomings. If he cannot tell a
story fluently and interestingly, he should first practice it on his own
family--provided they will tolerate it.

Some stories should be committed to memory, especially where the point
of humor depends upon exact phraseology. In such case, it requires some
training and experience to disguise the memorized effort. A story like
the following, for obvious reasons, should be thoroughly memorized:

The longest sermon on record occupied three hours and a half. But the