are trite and worn; if his attention is drawn off from the salvation of souls, while he preaches or studies to the securing of popular favor, or to his own livelihood; if the great truths of God, eternity, and the soul are not deeply impressed on his mind, his own soul will grow less and less susceptible, and his speaking more and more ineffectual. When he becomes conscious of this lack of feeling, his first expedient will be to raise his voice, throw about his hands, stamp with his foot, or smite with his fist; and thus, by a superabundance of sound and bluster, strive to atone for lack of thought or real feeling. Should this fail, he will probably start a torrent of exclamations, "O, my hearers!" "O, my brethren!" etc., repeated so frequently and with so little emotion that they become insipid. Such unmeaning phrases, and. any sort of clap-trap, used to fill the blanks of thought and real emotion in a discourse, are ridiculous. They discover the nakedness of the land, and show the speaker anxious to be pathetic without the power to be so. Greeks and Romans made but little use of these empty sounds, or of the exclamation; neither have such strong and modern writers as Barrow, Sherlock, and Atterbury. Swift says he knew a man who, when he spied an exclamation point at the end of a sentence skipped the whole sentence. Those speakers might do the same who have to manufacture their feeling to order as they go along with their discourses. Exclamations, personifications, and apostrophes are dangerous in the hands of unskillful workmen, especially such speakers as attempt to warm their lips with words from frozen hearts.

The

The forbearance and kindness of a pious people, and their reluctance to find fault with their ministers, we fear have contributed to a growing self-complacency among the clergy, and moreover to a false view of their real abilities. This doubtless has had considerable influence in producing the deficiency of the modern pulpit. We do not think it uncharitable to say, that with a large class of clergymen there is a sad deficiency in hard consecutive study; in profound original thought; in a clear and

impressive apprehension of divine truth; in a bold, comprehensive, and earnest diction; in a fearless and manly energy, such as a Christian honesty inspires. But instead of this kind of pulpit attraction we have commonplace thoughts, tame and insipid illustrations, a hesitating and patronizing air of delivery, and apparent indifference to probable or possible results. Such public speaking as this is tolerated nowhere else but in the pulpit, and only tolerated there. Under its deadening influence the lawyer would lose his business, the political orator his audience, and the tragedian would be hissed from the stage. These feeble and forceless incumbents seem quite at ease if they have gained the doubtful compliment: "They are good men, though not great preachers." They should know that this is said often, more because nothing else can be said of them, or because this cannot be well disproved, than because they have any special goodness of character.

The speaking of the pulpit, unlike that of the bar and rostrum, does not furnish the speaker with the immediate and ocular proofs of his success or failure. Hence his constant and imminent danger of deceiving himself, alike as to his success and real abilities. This has a tendency to satisfy him with ordinary efforts, and this cannot fail to make him an ordinary man. In ministerial qualifications goodness should surely be held as a sine qua non; but if the days of miracles are past, strength, both human and divine, is its right arm of power, now as of old.

This state of things in the ministerial profession of the present age has had a tendency to invite into it a class of men who are too weak and powerless to get a living in any other way. In all other professions the incumbents must have some talent and vigorous application, or fail; but a young man who has not tact or courage to badger a false witness, or extract a tooth, will do for a minister, for "he is a very good young man." By this means the eloquence of the pulpit is greatly marred. For a discourse superficially studied, made up mostly of commonplace and stale thoughts, with dry and antiquated illustrations, no

man of sense can deliver with interest or enthusiasm to himself; and then he will fall into a dull, empty, and indifferent way of speaking the tomb of all eloquence. But when the speaker feels he has elaborated something new, worthy of himself and his hearers, his eye kindles, his spirit rises, his soul is stirred, his voice adjusts itself to his thoughts, and then he has the people with him, and lo, he is pronounced an eloquent man! Non-progressive, unstudious, and unthinking clergymen are often if not generally monotonous in style. This is a common and ruinous feature in pulpit speaking. So little variations of the voice stupefy the hearers, and obscure the fine thoughts of the speaker, if he utters them. Says one writer: "The monotonous wearisome sound of a single bell might be almost as soon expected to excite moral impressions as the general tenor of our pulpit discourses, which are, with few exceptions, drowsily composed and drowsily delivered."

On the other hand, some fall into the habit of a hurried and impetuous style of speaking. This, though less common, is hardly less disagreeable. It is frequently the result of embarrassment or timidity. A fear of coming to a stop, or being unable to call up words rapidly enough, naturally creates hurry. This will often superinduce some trifling mistake, which is hastily corrected, increasing the hurry and confusion, till it becomes painful to both speaker and hearer.

A desire also to be forcible or impressive tends to this impetuosity of style. A rapid torrent of words is thought by some sufficient to carry away an audience, as the current sweeps all before it. An audience without brains, or heart, might possibly be thus overcome-not otherwise.

A slight difficulty in the articulation of words, or sounds, serves to rush a speaker on as rapidly as possible; and this, too, only augments the evil, as it suppresses, rather than develops the power to articulate. Practice, careful and continued, will soon furnish ability to overcome any such hesitancy in utterance. But such practice requires great deliberation in speaking.

Among the disadvantages of this manner of delivery are the following it injures the organs of speech, and the health; it is annoying to the hearers; it obscures the thoughts of the speaker by covering them over with a stream of words; it destroys the power of emphasis, by a constant exhaustion of breath and voice; it bewilders the attention, and destroys the hearer's power of memory, and thus prevents lasting good results.

To correct this injurious pulpit habit there should be thorough preparation to speak, which will inspire a perfect confidence of the speaker in his ability to proceed. Great care and sufficient time must be taken to enunciate fully and distinctly every word and sound. No long time in this careful practice will be required to obviate wholly the injurious habit of which we complain, provided the correction is undertaken with a truthful view of the existence and extent of the difficulty. No fault of delivery will be eradicated until the erring speaker feels his imperfection, and that particular imperfection, and determines it shall cease.

The basis of delivery in preaching should be a dignified and earnest conversational tone; and there should be no departure from it, except when strong excitement compels it. Let the clerical reader now cast his eye over the circle of his ministerial acquaintances, and ask himself how many of these would, and how many would not be improved by some change in this respect. There is generally too much volume of voice used, too loud and harsh. This diverts attention from the thought of discourse and deadens the feeling. This fault, though common and very detrimental, is easily remedied with care and perseverance. It is said of Cicero, that before he went into Greece he had a rude and coarse voice; but after remaining there for some time, by industry and force of habit he brought it to a charming smoothness and delicacy.

The little attention paid to the voice, its tones and culture, by public speakers, is really surprising. In noticing other

speakers, nothing sooner attracts our attention than the voice. We at once determine whether it is base, tenor, or soprano, as we do also whether it is agreeable or otherwise. The voice is not only susceptible of these essential qualities, but also of various gradations between them. Its flexibility and susceptibility of culture are almost incredible. It can express every emotion of the soul, and every degree of that emotion. More, it is almost sure to utter the speaker's soul whether he will or not! It will not play him false, but may expose his hypocrisy if he has any. Such is the power of the human voice; yet how few public speakers ever attempt in earnest to change their harsh and stupefying tones, tones which not unfrequently utterly ruin their efficiency as speakers; men whose chief business, too, is speaking!

The base voice has great dignity, and is not at first repulsive, nor is it when occasionally used; but it will soon grow heavy, and become monotonous, and when long continued it is sure to produce drowsiness. To listen for an hour to a sermon in a uniformly deep and heavy base voice, is about as entertaining as to listen as long to a solitary base singer.

The tenor voice is the best adapted to public speaking, and hence should be cultivated by those whose voices are base or soprano, as all these tones can with ease be greatly modified. This tenor voice, occupying a middle position between the other two, plays up and down most readily.

This tone is also more persuasive and sympathetic, a secret few understand and none can explain, yet an element of great power in a speaker. It has greater variety, and is less inclined to monotony.

The highest voice is sharp and ungraceful. It is more liable to impair the organs of speech and health, and also to create uneasiness with the hearers. It approaches a scream when long continued. It can be used only occasionally with pleasure to the hearers, or with safety to the speaker, except where it is natural, and even then it is disagreeable to the ear.