a room by rule, or gives you the common salutation of civility by rule, shows you that he is a rustic, practising the lessons of politeness. Is politeness then without rules?-No; the gentleman is such, not from mechanical application of these rules, but because they have been gradually inwrought into his habits, by intercourse with cultivated society. In the same way the orator is formed, not accidentally, not mechanically; but by the gradually transforming influence of practice. This enables him to correct what is amiss, and to confirm what is right in his elocution; and to speak spontaneously as the best rules require without recollecting, at the time, that such rules exist. But this supposes much practice. No man overcomes a bad habit as to voice or gesture, or forms a good one, without systematic and persevering effort.

Heretofore, theological students, living with private teachers, have had no opportunity for preparatory practice in speaking, except perhaps the attention, (in many cases certainly, the very inadequate attention,) which they had given to the subject in their academical course. Hence the habits with which they entered the pulpit have cleaved to them for life. Here and there one has had soul enough to burst through all difficulties; -while some from indolence, some from diffidence, and some from serious persuasion, that all attention to manner, is beneath the business of an ambassador from heaven, have never attempted to speak well;—-or have tamely relinquished the desire of improvement, after a few feeble and fruitless endeavors.

Secondly,-Aim to choose a subject in which you feel, at least for the time being, a strong interest. Such a subject you ought to find, or you will not speak earnestly. Such a subject you can find, certainly two or three times in a year, or you ought not to be a minister in the nineteenth century.

Thirdly,-When you have chosen your subject, take some happy moment, in which the mind is awake, and write upon it. Do this at least one fortnight before you are to speak. Not to dwell on the advantages of prompt and seasonable preparation in cases of this sort, let me only say, that by delaying to write

till the last moment, you gain nothing in time, and you lose much in other respects. Because it is too late to commit your composition to memory, you read it; or else speak with such laborious recollection, as withdraws your whole mind from the sentiment, and fixes it in anxious suspense on the hazard of losing the order of words. This is the worst predicament, in which a student of oratory can place himself. To read in such a case is bad enough, but to speak with a hesitating memory, is the certain way to make no advances except in bad habits. Yet not a few Christian students keep their minds in this sad condition from year to year, that they are never ready for an exercise till the hour comes, or perhaps till a week afterwards.

Fourthly,-Cultivate susceptibility of emotion, or the habit of commanding and concentrating your powers at pleasure. Keep your intellect and heart in the state of good fuel, ready to take fire and blaze where there is occasion. The man who is so sluggish in temperament, that he cannot enter with strong interest into the feelings of Brutus or Anthony, at the funeral of Caesar, cannot be eloquent.

Fifthly,-Study directness of address, as a habit. Speak as though words were confined to move in right lines, the shortest course to their object. It is said of Massillon that in his greatest efforts, "every expression was a javelin thrown at the heart." To attain this quality, study the Bible, study men, study yourself.

Sixthly,-Cultivate a manly desire to improve by the friendly remarks of others. A fastidious self-complacency, or a sickly delicacy, that cannot be told a fault, forbids manly effort, and valuable improvement in speaking.

Finally,-Resolve to be a good speaker, and act accordingly. The same pride that refuses to correct faults by any proess that exposes them, often betrays its weakness by looking with an eye of affected and self-complacent scornfulness on the efforts for their correction, which are made by others. But this is not the spirit that has made eminent men in any profession. In war, in politics, in Christian enterprise, it is a maxim worthy

of this age,"Expect great things, attempt great things." And surely it cannot be thought unworthy of the Christian scholar to aim, and to declare that he does aim, to acquire an impressive elocution, when all admit that this, in the pulpit, is the prime instrument of his usefulness, and most admit that he must acquire it in early life or never.

LECTURE VIII.

STRENGTH OF VOICE.

INCONVENIENCES OF A FEEBLE VOICE.

ON WHAT STRENGTH OF VOICE DEPENDS.

Among the prime requisites of a good delivery, it is essential that the speaker be heard with ease and pleasure. To accomplish this, he must employ a proper strength of enunciation. When I speak of a strong voice, however, I must not be understood to confound vociferation with eloquence. This absurd mistake, though often made by speakers and hearers of a certain class, is seldom made by men of discernment.

That voice is loud enough, in any given case, which perfectly reaches a whole assembly, with a reserve of strength to enforce an energetic passage, in a manner corresponding with the emotions of the speaker. We will now enquire in the

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FIRST place, what are some of the inconveniences to which a feeble voice subjects a public speaker?

When he labors under this difficulty to a considerable extent, either he will not be heard at all, and so his discourse will be absolutely lost, or what is more common, he will be heard partially and with difficulty.

Now laborious listening excites impatience in a hearer, that often amounts to vexation. It gives pain by sympathy; as he who listens shares in the fatigues which is apparently endured by the speaker. It gives pain too as a mental labor, in which the invention and industry of the hearer, are kept on the stretch to make out by construction, the sense of that which was uttered so imperfectly, as to reach his ear only in disjointed parts.

When this difficulty is perceived to result from the want of vital strength, it awakens pity. When it is supposed, as it commonly is, and often with too much reason, to result from a sluggish soul, it awakens feelings of another sort, differing in degree from uneasiness to indignation. I have known more than one instance, where a young man, in his first public performance as a speaker, perhaps in a commencement oration, failed so utterly in powers of voice, as to produce not only sneers at the time, but a permanent disgust, which the hearers afterwards associated with the recollection of his name. The rule of the Roman critic as to perspicuity of style, common sense applies to the voice of a speaker; it should not only be possible to hear him, (excepting indeed those who are deaf,) but impossible not to hear him.

Besides the pleasure which a powerful voice gives to an assembly, for reasons implied in the above remarks, it is associated with impressions of dignity and weight. Its grave and manly tones seem better adapted to the character of an orator, than those which are shrill and feeble.

But there are several circumstances, from which the inconvenience of a weak voice is liable more especially to be felt.

One is the injudicious structure of churches, and other edifices, the primary design of which is to accommodate an assembly in listening to one speaker. On a thorough examination of this subject, to which I was called many years ago, I was surprised to find that edifices of this sort, have generally been erected with very little intelligent regard to the principles of acoustics; so that no architect with whom I conversed, even pretended to know why one edifice designed for public speaking, is more favorable to the sound of the voice, than another; except that size was generally regarded as having an important influence in the case. Doubtless this is important, for the immoderate compass to which these buildings are sometimes extended, through ostentation or bad judgment, renders it impossible that their remotest parts should be reached, by a voice of any ordinary power. But this is not the whole ground of difficulty;