As good correspondence is an art, so a good correspondent is an artist. He is not easy to find. It is as surprising as it is regrettable how few people have taken the trouble really to master the use of the English language. One can more easily find a master of mechanics than a master of words any time. Yet each person owes it not only to his language but to himself to know how to use his native tongue correctly and effectively. In all writing, and especially in writing letters upon which great interests turn, two things are important. One is to say the right thing. The other is not to say the wrong one. The president of a great bank once said to me: “I write my own advertisements and dictate my own letters, not necessarily because I know better than anyone else what to say, but rather because I probably do know better than anyone else what not to say.” The other day I saw a series of collection letters supposed to have been prepared by an expert. They were verbose and flowery. They were supposed to be seasonal—something about which both collector and collectee care exactly nothing. They had a jollying and blarneying tone which is always nauseating. The clear, courteous, definite letter is the one that wins. I once saw an irate letter that came to the director of a money-raising project for a philanthropic interest. It told him plainly that the writer objected to the whole scheme, and would consider it an insult to be asked for a subscription. A secretary answered the letter patiently, courteously, and explainingly, but without asking for a subscription. Return mail brought a letter from the erstwhile objector enclosing a subscription for fifty dollars. The right kind of correspondence will contribute largely toward the success of any business. The Sabbath Desecration (1910)