I observed a young man twenty-eight or thirty years of
age standing around looking on, and once when I was near him I noticed
that he stammered very badly.
I carefully avoided saying anything to that young man, because, I, too,
at times, had a rather bad impediment in my speech. It asserted itself
especially when I heard any one else stutter, or when the weather was
going to change; the men who knew me well said they could always
foretell a storm by my inability to talk. From my own experience,
however, I knew that when a stammerer heard another man stammer, he
imagined that he was being made fun of, and all the fight in him came at
once to the surface; and as this young man was about twice my size, I
did my best to keep away from him. But in a few moments he came over to
where I was and said to me, "A-a-a-sk 'DS' t-t-t-t-o s-s-s-end out
m-m-m-y r-r-ain c-c-c-c-oat on th-th-th-irteen." Every other word was
followed by a whistle.
My great help in stammering was to kick with my right foot. I knew what
was coming, and tried my best to avert the trouble. I drew in a long
breath and said: "Who sh-sh-sh-all I s-s-s-ay y-y-y-ou are?" and my
right foot was doing great execution.
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