tragedy, and, indeed, of all the old literature, is that the persons speak simply, speak as persons who have great good sense without knowing it."* Nothing astonishes men so much as common sense and plain dealing. Earnestness and simplicity carry all before them. On Thiers's first appearance in the French Chamber, he experienced an almost universally un favorable reception, from certain personal peculiarities, over the effect of which he soon triumphed. In person Thiers is almost diminutive, with an expression of countenance, though intellectual, reflective, and sarcastic, far from possessing the traits of beauty. The face itself, small in form, as befits the body, is encumbered with a pair of spectacles so large, that when peering over the marble edge of the long narrow pulpit, called the tribune, whence all speakers address the Chamber, it is described as appearing suspended to the two orbs of crystal. With such an exterior, presenting something of the ludicrous, so fatal to the effect, especially in volatile France, M. Thiers, full of the impassioned eloquence of his favorite revolutionary orators, essayed to impart those thrilling emotions recorded of Mirabeau. The attempt provoked derision, but only for a moment. In his new sphere, as in the others he had passed through, he soon outshone competition. Subsiding into the oratory natural to him, simple, vigorous, and rapid, he approved himself one of the most formidable of parliamentary champions.

Bentham has made a wise remark on prolixity which may teach the student a just use in the measure of words. Prolixity," says Bentham, "may be where redundancy is not. Prolixity may arise not

* Emerson.

only from the multifarious Insertion of unnecessary articles, but from the conservation of too many necessary ones in a sentence; as a workman may be overladen not only with rubbish, which is of no use for him to carry, but with materials the most useful and necessary, when heaped up in loads too heavy for him at once. The point is, therefore, to distribute the materials of the several divisions of the fabric into parcels that may be portable without fatigue. There is a limit to the lifting powers of each man, beyond which all attempts only charge him with a burden to him. immovable. There is in like manner a limit to the grasping power of man's apprehension, beyond which if you add article to article, the whole shrinks from under his utmost efforts." "Too much is seldom enough," say the authors of "Guesses at Truth." "Pumping after your bucket is full prevents it keeping so."

Proportion of time as well as proportion of parts is essential, both for the sake of the speaker's strength, as well as the hearer's patience. Whitefield is reported to have said, that a man, with the eloquence of an angel, ought not to exceed forty minutes in the length of a sermon, and it is well known that Wesley seldom exceeded thirty. "I have almost always found," says another eminent preacher, "that the last fifteen minutes of a sermon an hour in length was worse than lost, both upon the speaker and congregation." There is practical wisdom in these remarks. A man who determines to speak but a short time is more likely to command the highest energy for his effort, and to speak with sustained power. Half an hour is time enough for immortality. Mirabeau achieved it by efforts of less duration.

Here it may be observed that a man who intends to be brief and comprehensive will seldom need notes to assist him. In cases where time cannot be commanded to master the subject in the memory, notes are better than the risk of anxiety or forgetfulness. Generally speaking, a subject deeply felt and fully understood will make itself a place in the memory.

The chief quality in the success of the late Sir William Follett consisted in his confining himself to what he understood. This was the basis on which his tact rested. He knew where his strength lay, and kept there. Of the "Lowell Offering," published by Knight some time since, the "Times" said: "It is the production of factory girls in Lowell, the American Manchester, and we much doubt if all the duchesses in England could write as much and so seldom offend against good taste. The secret of these girls' success in writing arises from their writing only about what they know-common life and their own affairs." He who seeks any kind of effectiveness will do well to remember the incidental lesson conveyed in these words. A frequent cause of failure with young lecturers, is neglecting to find a point of common understanding between themselves and their auditors. They do not comprehend the philosophy of exordium. Much rhetorical wisdom may be gathered from the mathematician's example. We know that the geometer would in vain reason with others unless axioms were previously agreed upon for reference. So with an audience. If they do not agree with the speaker as to the premises from which he reasons, the audience have no standard by which they can test his conclusions. Hence, though he

may confound them, yet he will never convince

them.

It is in this sense that those who would improve the public must "write down" to the public. They may, and they ought to elevate the public by their sentiments, but they must found their reasoning on what the populace understand and admit, or they reason in vain. The people must be taken at what they are, and elevated to what they should be.

Young men, poetical from ardor and enthusiastic from passion rather than principle, will often rush from libraries crammed with lore, with which nobody else is familiar, and pour out before an audience what the speaker believes to be both sublime and impressive, but which his hearers cannot understand. They grow listless and restless, and he retires overwhelmed with a sense of failure. A. B., a young friend of considerable promise, thus failed in my presence. I endeavored thus to divert his despond

ency.

"Failures," I urged, "are with heroic minds the stepping-stones to success."

"Why have I not succeeded?" he asked; "I can never hope to say better things of my own than I said to-night of others."

"The cause of your non-success is obvious; you commenced by addressing your auditors as men, and you left them as children.

"A young preacher who had ascended the pulpit. with great confidence, but who broke down in the middle of his sermon, was met by Rowland Hill as he was rushing from the pulpit. 'Young man,' said Rowland, had you ascended the pulpit in the spirit in which you descended, you would have descended

be men.

in the spirit in which you ascended.' Something of this kind will explain your case. In In your exordium you should address your auditors as though they were children, state your arguments as though they were learners, and in your peroration only assume them to On the threshold of a new subject men are as children; during its unfoldment they are learners: only when the subject is mastered are they as men with manhood's power to execute their convictions. Had it struck you that probably no man of your audience was familiar with the habits of society in the days of Spenser's 'Faery Queene,' or with the high and mystic imaginings of the solitary Paracelsus, would not the thought have caused you to recast your whole lecture? Take care that you do not render yourself amenable to the sarcasm of Swift, who, when Burnet said, speaking of the Scotch preachers in the time of the civil war, 'The crowds were far beyond the capacity of their churches, or the reach of their voices,' Swift added, 'And the preaching beyond the capacity of the crowd. I believe the church had as much capacity as the minister.""

The error of A. B. became evident to him. It is an error that many perpetually commit. In courts of equity the judges first distinguish by their approval those young barristers who unfold a case with simplicity, and make lucid the points at issue. Auditors are the judges in popular assemblies, and their first applause is bestowed on the clear-headed speaker.

Another source of failure is, that the young, lecturer is too little impressed with the wide application of the philosophy of controversy. The discipline of debate should enter into every oration.