Speaking mannerisms are of two kinds, those of manner, of course, and those which by a metaphorical use of the term may be called mannerisms of matter.

“The memory,” said the quaint old Fuller, “must be located in the back of the head, because there men dig for it.” Some speakers appear to imagine it can be found in the links of a watch chain, or observed in the chinks in the ceiling.

Most mannerisms are undesirable and very few have any value. As they are usually formed early, one should look out for them at the outset and nip them in the bud, before they have a chance to become fixed habits.

I often notice myself running my fingers through my hair about the opening sentence, as though I could thereby loosen up my brain.

Debs speaks a good deal doubled up like the corner of a square—a mannerism that probably has its origin, partly in a body weary from overwork, and partly from a desire to get closer to the auditors on the main floor.Mannerisms of matter are very common and many speakers seem to take no trouble to avoid them.

Many speakers become so addicted to certain hackneyed phrases that those used to hearing them speak can see them coming sentences away. One of the hardest ridden of these is, “along those lines.” I have heard speakers overwork that sentence until I never hear it without a shudder and if I used it myself it would be to refer to car lines, and even then I should prefer “those tracks.”

G. W. Woodbey, our colored speaker of “what to do and how to do it” fame, never speaks an hour without asking at least thirty times, “Do you understand?” but the inimitable manner in which he pokes his chin forward as he does so usually convulses his audience and makes a virtue of what would otherwise be a defect. The veteran speaker Barney Berlyn says, every little while, “you understand,” but he is so terribly in earnest, and so forceful in his style, that no one but a cold blooded critic would ever notice it.

Another speaker I know in the west, asks his audience about every ten minutes, “Do you get my point?” This is very irritating, as it is really a constant questioning of the audience’s ability to see what he is driving at. It would be much better to say, “Do I make myself understood?” and put the blame for possible failure where it usually belongs. If an audience fails to “get the point” it is because the speaker failed to put it clearly.

A terribly overworked word is “proposition.” It is a good word, but that is no reason why it should be treated like a pack mule.

Hackneyed words and phrases are due to laziness in construction and a limited vocabulary.

The remedy is to take pains in forming sentences, practice different ways of stating the same thing, increase your stock of words by “looking up” every new one.

The lecturer should always have a good dictionary within reach, especially when reading, if he has to borrow the money to buy it.