the structure of it will be present to your mind; if you throw yourself upon the inspiration of the moment, thoughts will arise as they are summoned, and where thoughts are, words will not be wanting.

Do not, as many do, make preparation for your speeches on all occasions, great or little. There is a time for talking, and a time for speaking, and a time for making a set oration. Choose your time and adapt Nothing is more indecorous

yourself to the subject. than a flight of oratory out of place. The occasions that properly demand an oration rarely offer even to the most practised speaker. The larger portion of your speeches will be upon commonplace themes or matters of business, when your address should be but lengthened talk. To do this well is as difficult and almost as rare as to make a great speech on a great topic. I purpose to describe this particularly when I come to treat of the various forms of oratory. The subject at present under consideration is your general practice as a beginner, and how best you may perfect yourself in the art, without reference to the special applications of it, which will come to be considered when we have reviewed the accomplishments you should labour to acquire for the purpose of doing most effectively that which you must be presumed now to have learned to do without positive failure.

LETTER XXXIV.

DELIVERY.

ACQUIRE the art of saying something so as to be understood by your audience without much effort and without hesitation for words or thoughts, before you study how to say it. In the due order of learning, manner should follow matter. If you attempt to leàrn both at the same time, you will probably fail in both. You will find it quite as much as you can do, in the beginning of your practice, to concentrate your mind upon the production of thoughts and words. If to this you add the labour of thinking how you should utter such a sentence, and what action you should assume with another, you will be in danger of losing the thread of your discourse. Not until practice has given you self-command, an orderly flow of ideas, and ready words, should you make a study of manner.

I say, "make a study" of it, because a great deal comes by nature. When you feel, and speak what you feel, there is a natural language of emotion that expresses itself unconsciously: and often most perfectly where there has been the least teaching. But, although

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this will help you to a certain extent, it will not do to rely upon it entirely, and for the reason that a very considerable portion of your oratory will be expended on subjects that do not excite the feelings, in which case your success will depend upon the form wherein you set common-places before your audience. Moreover, the orator endowed with the best natural graces may learn something from art, which is—or ought to be—the lesson of combined experience and reflection. My present purpose is to give you some hints for delivery of a speech, preparatory to the concluding letters on the characteristics of the various kinds of oratory.

The first consideration is, to make yourself heard. This is no such easy matter as you may suppose. Go to any assembly where there is a diversity of speakers, and especially if among them there are many amateurs, and you will find that, standing at a distant part of the room, you can hear nothing but an inarticulate murmur. Even with those whose business it is to be speakers, as clergymen and lawyers, this is a frequent failing. The orators and their friends set it to the account of weak lungs. That is a delusion. Such a physical defect may occur now and then; but in nine cases in ten the lungs have nothing at all to do with it; the fault is wholly in the management of the voice; the notes are there, but the speaker will not open his mouth and send them out.

You must begin by measuring the space you are to fill. To do this there is no need to count by rule, or to say to yourself, "those people are so many yards from me; I must raise my voice so much." There is no scale determining that such a tone is good for so many feet, and such another for so many more. But there is

something better than a rule to guide you. Nature teaches you. If you do not think about it, by a kind of instinct you proportion your voice to the distance from you of the person you address. If, therefore, you would be heard by the whole assembly, look at the most distant person, and address him. In obedience to this law of the voice, it will adapt itself to the distance, and, being heard by him, you must be heard by all.

If, upon trial of this, you find that your voice still fails to be thrown so far, or that it requires a painful exertion on your part, you may know that there is some defect in the management of your voice, and you should proceed to search for it, with resolve to remove it.

First, assure yourself that you are not too loud. There is a degree of loudness that both thickens your own voice and deafens your audience. If the making of the sound is an effort, you may be sure that you are too loud. Remember that you are seeking to convey to your audience articulate sounds, distinguished by the most delicate shades, and these disappear when the voice is raised beyond a certain pitch. The actors in the largest theatres do not speak loud, but they speak out, and they speak clearly, in a key slightly raised above that used in a room. This is your rule also. Speak up; speak out.

Open your mouth; do not speak through your teeth, or your nose; neither mutter, nor whine, nor snuffle. Take especial pains to shun these frequent faults, and invite some honest friend to tell you plainly if he can detect any traces of either in your manner. If so it be, strive earnestly to shake them off at the beginning, for they grow into incurable habits with formidable

rapidity. Continue to consult your friend's ear until every trace of them shall be removed.

There is much in the tone of a speaker's voice; next to words it most influences an audience. The same thing said in two different tones will have entirely different effects, and even convey different meanings. Undoubtedly nature in this is more potent than art. Some voices are naturally incompetent to express great variances of tone, although the failure is more frequently in the feeling than in the voice. The latter is not in the right tone because the former is not in the right place. It is difficult to prescribe any rules for acquiring tone, for it is not so much an art as an instinct. Tone is nature's language. The best advice I can give you is to cultivate it by cultivating the emotions by which it is attained. Cherish fine sympathies with God, and nature, and humanity, with all that is holy, and good, and beautiful, and the feelings so kindled will utter themselves in true tones, that will touch the kindred chords in those who listen to you.

For practice, read aloud passages of oratory, or in the drama, that embody stirring emotions, and thence you will learn confidence in yourself when you require to express the real and not the simulated feeling.

Another rule is to raise your voice at the end of every sentence, instead of dropping it, as is the unpleasant habit of your countrymen. I have already remarked upon this when treating of reading, but I must recur to it here, lest its application to speaking also should be overlooked. It is good for yourself and for your audience. It compels you to maintain an even range of voice, which, if declining at the close of a sentence, is apt to begin the next sentence somewhat lower than