He is uniformly moderate and polite. He is
a rare combination of oil, milk, and rose-water. He would not harm a
syllable of the English language. His talking has a soporific effect. It
acts as a lullaby. His speech is low and gentle. He never speaks an
ill-considered word. He chooses his words with measured caution. He is
what is known as a smooth talker.
The torpedo talker is of the rapid fire explosive variety. He bursts
into a conversation. He scatters labials, dentals, and gutturals in all
directions. He is a war-time talker,--boom, burst, bang, roar, crash,
thud! He fills the air with vocal bullets and syllabic shrapnel. He is
trumpet-tongued, ear-splitting, deafening. He fires promiscuously at all
his hearers. He rends the skies asunder. He is nothing if not
vociferous, stentorian, lusty. He demolishes every idea in his way. He
is a Napoleon of words.
The tangled talker never gets anything quite straight. He inevitably
spoils the best story. He always begins at the wrong end. Despite your
protests of face and manner he talks on. He talks inopportunely. He
becomes inextricably confused. He is weak in statistics. He has no
memory for names or places. He lacks not fluency but accuracy. He is a
twisted talker.
The triumphant talker lays claim to the star part in any conversation.
He likes nothing better than to drive home his point and then look about
exultingly. He says gleefully, "I told you so." That he can ever be
wrong is inconceivable to him.
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