Funeral oration over the Princess Henrietta.

Marseilles Hymn.

the short but brilliant career of the princess, every heart was borne along upon the full tide of his words. But the interest which the successive events of her life excited, when portrayed in the lovely light of his well-known eloquence, only served to make the catastrophe to which he was approaching more terrible, and as he came to utter that passage, “when, like a peal of thunder, the dreadful words-' Henrietta is dying-Henrietta is dead,'-burst upon us, nothing was discernible but grief, despair, and the image of death;" the effect was overwhelming; the whole audience rose from their seats, and Bossuet himself was so much affected that for some moments he was unable to speak.

It is only by experience in those emotions which eloquence is capable of producing that we can form any conception of its nature. He who has felt it, and has a heart to appreciate it, alone has the key that unlocks the mystery of its power. There are certain tones of the voice that have a wonderful effect upon the human soul. It is said that the singing of the Marseilles Hymn in the streets of Paris brought on the French Revolution. Those electric tones which thrilled the nerves of the young Frenchman, which filled his heart with desire for glory, which fired his passions with hatred and revenge for his oppressors, and which inspired a love for liberty

Speaker an exponent of thought. Incident of the clergyman. Demosthenes.

and equal rights, nerved his soul to fight in their defense-to bare his bosom to that terrible death-storm that swept the continent of Europe-and with his dying breath exclaim

"Ye sons of France, awake to glory!"

The speaker is but the exponent of the thoughts and feelings of those whom he addresses. If his feelings are thoroughly aroused, if he is fully in earnest, he will be likely to imbue the breasts of his hearers with the emotions of his own heart. "A clergyman of our country states that he once told an affecting incident to Mr. Whitefield, relating it, however, with but the ordinary feeling and beauty of a passing conversation; when afterward, on hearing Whitefield preach, up came his own story, narrated by the preacher in the pulpit with such native pathos and power that the clergyman himself, who had furnished Whitefield with the dry bones of illustration, found himself weeping like a child."*

It is interesting to observe with what varied effect different men may pronounce the same sentence. Every school-boy has read how Demosthenes, after having been unsuccessful in his first attempt at public speaking, retiring from the assembly in despair, was

*Todd's "Girl at School," page 141.

Dull speaker.

Archbishop Whately.

Sympathy with the speaker.

met by a friend who spoke to him some encouraging words, and requesting him to recite a few sentences of a familiar poet, repeated them in tones so distinct, and with such force of utterance, that Demosthenes could not believe it the same passage.

There are some public speakers who come before us and read beautifully written pieces. The argument is well planned, and constructed upon sound principles. The reasoning is perfectly accurate. The imagery is beautifully wrought, and introduced where Archbishop Whately himself would approve. Combined, it is a perfect piece, and its delivery is well toned. And yet, faultless as it is, it fails to attract attention. No interest is excited. The speaker does not enlist our sympathies. We strive in vain to accompany him upon the velvet lawn he treads. The monotony induces stupor. It is by an effort that we arouse to a sense of the proprieties of the occasion, and we are relieved when the speaker closes his discourse,

"So coldly sweet, so deadly fair."

The contrast is agreeable when we are brought into sympathy with one who inspires us with a fervor of feeling which we can not resist. His words. come warm from a feeling heart. He is full of passion as well as argument and imagery. He not only teaches, but he greatly moves the minds of his hear

Speaker believes his own words.

Incident of the farmer.

ers. That feeling which he possesses he transfers to them. Our minds are taken captive; we hear every word; we watch every action; we laugh when he laughs; we weep when he weeps. We feel no fatigue, no weariness, and we regret when he is through that he has no more to say.

Thought in the hands of such a man has life and power. We feel in his presence as though he were the ruling spirit; we realize the value of his thoughts as he does himself. But it often happens that the impression is felt among those who are endeavoring to listen, that the speaker himself is not interested in what he is saying, that he does not appreciate the force of his own words, and leaves it doubtful whether he believes them. It is related that a farmer in the country once had a friend visiting him from the city, and on the Sabbath took him to church with him. When they were at home again and seated by the fire, the old man, fond of having his minister praised, asked his guest how he liked the preaching. The friend replied, "tolerably well.” The old man, piqued at the slur cast upon the minister, turned with some warmth and inquired, "Did he not tell the truth ?" "Yes," answered his friend, "he told the truth, and he would have told the truth had he got up and declared all the forenoon that his name was John."

แ

Mission of the preacher.

Hindrances.

Remark of Mr. Giles.

The minister of the gospel has, perhaps, of all other classes of public speakers, the most difficulties and discouraging circumstances to encounter. Dr. Campbell, in his Philosophy of Rhetoric, lays down this general principle: "that the more mixed the auditory, the greater is the difficulty of speaking with effect; and that we may justly reckon a Christian congregation in a populous and flourishing city, where there is a great variety in rank and education, of all audiences the most promiscuous." When the Spirit of God moves the heart of the preacher of the gospel, when he fully appreciates the greatness of his calling, when he feels the stirring nature of the message which he is delegated to proclaim to the world, and the consequences which must result from his labors, there can be no mission on earth more inspiring. But this inspiration does not always operate upon the followers of the humble fishermen. The ministry are human, and are subject to the weaknesses and depressions of spirit that are incident to us all; and the trials and difficulties which they have to encounter often press upon them with overwhelming power. Mr. Giles, in his essay on the pulpit, observes that "the necessity of periodical composition is, in itself alone, no slight aggravation of ministerial toil. Who, that has ever experienced the necessity of stated intellectual preparation, will not understand