For instance, he would say eagerly, excitedly, "I once knew a man
in New Zealand who hadn't a tooth in his head"--here his animation
would die out; a silent, reflective pause would follow, then he
would say dreamily, and as if to himself, "and yet that man could
beat a drum better than any man I ever saw."
The pause is an exceedingly important feature in any kind of story,
and a frequently recurring feature, too. It is a dainty thing,
and delicate, and also uncertain and treacherous; for it must
be exactly the right length--no more and no less--or it fails
of its purpose and makes trouble. If the pause is too short the
impressive point is passed, and the audience have had time to divine
that a surprise is intended--and then you can't surprise them,
of course.
On the platform I used to tell a negro ghost story that had a pause
in front of the snapper on the end, and that pause was the most important
thing in the whole story. If I got it the right length precisely,
I could spring the finishing ejaculation with effect enough to make
some impressible girl deliver a startled little yelp and jump out
of her seat--and that was what I was after. This story was called
"The Golden Arm," and was told in this fashion. You can practice
with it yourself--and mind you look out for the pause and get it right.
THE GOLDEN ARM
Once 'pon a time dey wuz a momsus mean man, en he live 'way out in de
prairie all 'lone by hisself, 'cep'n he had a wife.
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