It is only to the two or three friends with whom we "think aloud," that we write with perfect freedom. Most of our correspondence must be limited; and the limitations make it, as a form of training, most valuable. We generally have a definite object in writing - a particular errand to put on paper. There is one thing which a business man wishes us to tell him; he cannot stop to read anything else. Our writing must have unity and brevity. Our success, therefore, often depends largely on our ability to understand the wishes of the person whom we are addressing.

At another time we have a favor to ask. Again we study our man. He may be easy to antagonize. We must at any rate expect him to be busy; we have no right to waste his time. Hence the need of making him understand us readily and fully - of expressing ourselves so clearly that he may not misunderstand us.

There is an advantage in having to interest only one man. Our problem seems much more specific when we have a definite explanation to make to a definite reader. We can easily see, however, that when we have learned to satisfy one man, we have learned to satisfy many others. Whereas a talk to nobody in particular may interest nobody, a speaker who talks to one man in his audience may give most of his audience the impression that he is talking to each one of them. It was said of the late Dr. Babcock, pastor of the famous old Brick Church in New York, that "there is the feeling during his preaching that Dr. Babcock has you individually by the arm and is talking to you earnestly, quietly, and impressively."