Daily Press

Among the minor arts of great importance is the self cure of stammer- ing, which comes upon so many in early youth. In the memoir of the author of "John Inglesant," which his widow prepared, we read a rather touching confession. "I contracted the habit of stammering," wrote Mr. Shorthouse to Lady Welby, "as a delicate little boy of three at a large day school. It was not such a misfortune as might be supposed. For without this thorn in the flesh 'John Inglesant' would never have been written or conceived, and much which is very dear to me in philosophy would have been unknown." Few stammerers can bring forth a classic from their affliction, and some would even refuse the author's fame at the price of the speaker's embarrassments.

In many cases the self cure of stammering is easy. The present writer was a sufferer when a boy at a day school. He set himself to invent the cure. It was absolutely necessary, he found, that the opening syllable of a sentence should be said several times before the sentence was under way (just as the billiard player waggles his cue before the correct stroke). It occurred that the stammering might be done silently. So that little boy stammered firmly to himself with tightly closed lips, imagining himself to be speaking. It was easy enough, when the requisite number of "tut-tut-tuts" or "gug-gug-gugs" had been achieved in silence to start the sentence. Since then he has never stammered aloud. - London Chronicle.