the least, an uninteresting manner of addressing their audience.

Unhappily the study of elocution is not only unprovided for in the preparatory exercises of candidates for orders, but even labours under a considerable degree of reproach which it by no means deserves. Hence it has become almost a proverb, that the English Clergy are the best writers of sermons, and the worst readers of them in all Christendom.' This censure is doubtless much exaggerated, as antithetical proverbs usually are: yet it is very certain that our country is not remarkable for general eloquence, and that in the Church it is less visible than either in the Senate or at the Bar. Much of the disesteem in which the cultivation of this useful talent is held, arises from a false supposition that by eloquence is meant an affected and artificial manner of speaking: or, what is worse, the mere trick of making the worse appear the better reason,' by the blandishments of a meretricious oratory. From such eloquence may we ever be preserved ! But the eloquence which arises from an appropriate unsophisticated mode of speaking-and which not merely tunes the organ of speech to an agreeable modulation, but allows the speaker to follow the dictates of nature in reciting energetically what he feels strongly-deserves to be assiduously cultivated.

But another current, and far more weighty objection to the cultivation of just elocution by young men intended for the sacred profession, is, that it is inconsistent with the simplicity and sincerity of their vocation as ministers of Christ. St. Paul is often quoted as an authority to decide this question and because he abjured "the enticing words of man's wisdom," and "determined to know nothing among men but Jesus Christ, and him

M

crucified;" it is argued, that the rules of forcible composition and just enunciation are unbecoming the study of a Christian teacher? But it is very clear, that the reprobation expressed by the apostle was levelled at that spurious oratory which prevailed both among the Greeks and the Romans at the time when he wrote, and has nothing to do with a sober view of the present question. Many of the classic rhetoricians, it is well known, taught little else than dialectic subtilty and sophistry : too often they instructed their pupils how to speak either for or against a question, without any reference to truth or moral feeling; and were content with the triumph of their art, independently of any valuable end to be obtained by its exertion. It was against such practices that the great apostle of the Gentiles so zealously remonstrated. Very different was his own style of eloquence, "not with wisdom of words," but "in demonstration of the Spirit and of power." Yet who was a greater master of true eloquence? Who knew better how to convince and persuade?' "Who felt his subject more deeply, or knew how to convey his conceptions more forcibly to others? '1

But whilst the Editor feels the importance of directing the attention of the young preacher to a subject too frequently neglected and contemned by those whom it chiefly concerns, he almost shrinks from the delicate and difficult task of offering suitable direction and advice. It is in vain, however, to wish that the task had fallen into abler hands, and that the grave propounder had been at the same time, the successful exemplar of his rules. He cannot pretend to construct any new system of instruction, or to enter into any elaborate discussion. The

1 Wilkes's Correlative Claims.

utmost at which he aims, is to offer a few practical directions which occur to him as the result of his reading, his observation of other preachers, and his own experience during a ministry of nearly twenty years standing.

The first direction which he would suggest is of a preliminary, but most important character, viz. that pains should be taken to acquire the art, and cultivate the habit of READING WELL.

To read in silence so as to understand the meaning of an author, and thereby to increase our intellectual stores is one thing; to read aloud so as to unfold that meaning, and communicate that knowledge to our hearers with perspicuity and force is another. The former is an attainment which is almost universal-the latter is possessed by comparatively few. But whilst the number who can aspire to read remarkably well, involving as it does a rare combination of physical and mental qualifications, will always be small, there is no room for discouragement. Between mediocrity and perfection, there is a wide interval, in which various degrees of excellence may be attained by the diligent and observant student. There are not wanting many valuable treatises on the art, among which may be specially mentioned those of Sheridan and Walker. But written rules alone will not suffice: there must be added the example of a 'living voice.' Let the young student then notice and remember the manner in which a good reader proceeds.

Let him mark the distinctness of his articulation, the propriety of his emphasis, the correctness of his pronunciation, the ease and force with which he completes every sentence which drops from his lips. Then, if he possesses a tolerable ear, he will be able to enter with intelligence and interest into the written directions of the

rhetorician. A considerable part of the task of learning to read well, will be found to consist in unlearning to read ill. Bad habits, begun probably in the nursery, increased at school, and perpetuated at the University, are like a threefold cord, not easily broken. Before, indeed, the attempt can be made, the individual must become acquainted with his own peculiar faults. Let him seek then to have them pointed out to him whilst he is young-whilst his organs of speech are pliable, and his habits have not yet assumed the character of a second

nature.

With this view he should request some judicious friend to remind him from time to time of any impropriety into which he may fall when he reads before him in public or in private. Tell me,' he should say, not only when I fail to convey to you the true meaning of my author, but every instance in which I pronounce a word improperly, or lay a false emphasis. Mark also my tones and inflexions, my pauses, and pitch of voice, and fail not to apprize me in every instance of what appears unnatural, or stiff, or feeble, or affected.' His friend's compliance with such requests as these will prove, perhaps at first, a source of considerable surprize, if not of some little mortification; for, strange as it may seem, whilst few men read well, there are still fewer who think they read ill: and none are commonly so unconscious of their imperfections as those in whom they most abound. But let him not be discouraged by the long catalogue which may be presented to him of his rhetorical delinquencies: to understand the disease is more than half the cure.' Let him proceed at once to the necessary task of eradicating every fault which has been pointed out to him, and of supplying every defect. By the exercise of vigilant self-inspection and persevering efforts

in compliance with the rules of some well written work on Elocution, he will, in all probability, soon acquire the ability to read comparatively well.

But let him not suppose when he has arrived at a considerable measure of excellence in the art of reading, that he has nothing more to acquire with a view to pulpit delivery. True, it is an important, not to say, indispensable preliminary; but it is only a preliminary. Reading is not preaching. A sermon may be read from the pulpit with much propriety and correctness- there may be no false quantities, nor provincial accents, nor erroneous emphasis-the tones may be agreeable, the inflexions correct, the harmony of every sentence carefully preserved—and yet after all, the sermon may not have been preached, it may not have conveyed for one moment the idea suggested by the term employed by our Lord and his apostles, кnpuyμa, a proclamation, a message of importance from a Sovereign to his people. The distinction is not between the delivery of written and unwritten discourses, but between the mere reading of a written sermon, and the preaching of a written sermon. An ex-temporary discourse may be as remote from preaching, as the tamest and most uninteresting reading of one previously composed: for if there be no lifestirring sympathy between the words and affections of the speaker, it is at best but the cold essay of a fluent tongue. The preacher is a κŋpu—an ambassador, a herald; and he bears with him tidings in which he is most deeply and intimately concerned in common with those to whom he announces them; hence, whether his sermon be written or unwritten, he preaches it—he proclaims it--he publishes it abroad with corresponding life and energy. There is, in short, a reality in the matter to which mere reading, however excellent or even fault