When arguments are strong and satisfactory, the more they are separated the better. Each can then bear to be introduced alone, placed in its full light, amplified and contemplated. But, when they are of a doubtful or presumptive nature, it is safer tó crowd, them together, to form them into a phalanx, that though individually weak, they may naturally support cach other..

Arguments should never be extended too far, nor multiplied too much. This serves rather to render a cause suspicious, than to increase its strength. A need less multiplicity of arguments burdens the memory, and diminishes the weight of that conviction which a few well chosen arguments produce. To expand them also beyond the bounds of reasonable illustration, is al ways enfeebling. When a speaker endeavours to ex-pose a favourable argument in every light possible, fatigued by the effort, he loses the spirit, with which he set out, and ends with feebleness, what he began with force....

Having attended thus far to the proper arrangement of arguments, we proceed to another essential part of a discourse, the pathetic'; in which, if any where, clo quence reigns and exerts its power. On this head the following directions appear useful.

Consider carefully whether the subject admit the pathetic, and render it proper; and, if it do, what part of the discourse is most fit for it. To determine these

points belongs to good sense. Many subjects admit not the pathetic; and even in those that are susceptible of it, an attempt to excite the passions in a wrong place may expose an orator to ridicule. It may in general be observed, that if we expect any emotion which we raise, to have a lasting effect, we must secure in our favour the understanding and judgment. The bearers must be satisfied that there are sufficient grounds for their engaging in the cause with zeal and ardour. When argument and reasoning have produced their full effect, the pathetic is admitted with the greatest force and propriety.

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A speaker should cautiously avoid giving his hearers warning that he intends to excite their passions. Every thing of this kind chills their sensibility. There is also a great difference between telling the hearers that they ought to be moved, and actually moving them. To every emotion or passion nature has adapted certain corresponding objects; and without setting these before the mind, it is impossible for an orator to excite that emotion. We are warmed with gratitude, we are touched with compassion, not when a speaker shows us that these are noble dispositions, and that it is our duty to feel them; nor when he exclaims against us for our indifference and coldness. Hitherto he has addressed only our reason or conscience. He must describe the kindness and tenderness of our friend; he must exhibit the distress suffered by the person

for whom he would interest us. Then, and not before; our hearts begin to be touched, our gratitude or compassion begins to flow. The basis, therefore, of all suc cessful execution in pathetic oratory, is to paint the object of that passion which we desire to raise, in the most natural and striking manner; to describe it with such circumstances as are likely to awaken it in the minds of others.

To succeed in the pathetic, it is necessary to attend to the proper language of the passions. This, if we consult nature, we shall ever find is unaffected and simple. It may be animated by bold and strong fi gures, but it will have no ornament, nor finery. There is a great difference between painting to the imagina tion and to the heart. The one may be done with de liberation and coolness; the other must always be rapid and ardent. In the former, art and labour may be suffered to appear; in the latter no proper effect can be produced, unless it be the work of nature only. Hence all digressions should be avoided which may interrupt or turn aside the swell of passion. Hence comparisons are always, dangerous, and commonly quite improper in the midst of the pathetic. It is also to be observed, that violent emotions cannot be lasting. The pathetic therefore should not be prolonged too much. Due regard should always be preserved to what the bearers will bear; for he who attempts to carry them farther incpassion than they will follow him, frustrates his pur

pose. By endeavouring to warm them too much, he takes the surest method of freezing them completely.

Concerning the peroration or conclusion of a dis course, a few words will be sufficient. Sometimes the whole pathetic part comes in most, properly at the conclusion. Sometimes, when the discourse has been al together argumentative, it is proper to conclude with summing up the arguments, placing them in one view, and leaving the impression of them full and strong on the minds of the hearers. For the great rule of a conclusion, and what nature obviously suggests, is, place that last on which you choose to rest, the strength of your cause.

In every kind of public speaking it is important to hit the precise time of concluding; to bring the discourse just to a point; neither ending abruptly and unexpect edly, nor disappointing the expectation of the hearers, when they look for the end of the discourse.

The speaker should always close with dignity and spirit, that the minds of the hearers may be left warm, and that they may depart with a favourable impression of the subject and of himself.

THE great objects to which every public speaker should direct his attention in forming his delivery, are,

first, to speak so as to be fully and easily understood by his hearers; and next, to express himself with such grace and energy as to please and to move them.

To be fully and easily understood, the chief requisites are, a due degree of loudness of voice, distinctness, slowness, and propriety of pronunciation.

To be heard is undoubtedly the first requisite. The 'speaker must endeavour to fill with his voice the space occupied by the assembly. Though this power of voice is in a great measure a natural talent, it may receive considerable assistance from art. Much depends on the proper pitch and management of the voice. Every man has three pitches in his voice; the high, the middle, and the low. The high is used in calling aloud to some one at a distance; the low approaches to a whisper; the middle is that which is employed in common conversation, and which should generally be used in public speaking. For it is a great error to suppose that the highest pitch of the voice is requisite to be well heard by a great assembly. This is confounding two things materially different, loudness or strength of sound with the key or note on which we speak. The voice may be rendered louder without altering the key; and the speaker will always be able to give most body, most persevering force of sound, to that pitch of voice to which in conversation he is accustomed. Whereas, if he beT gin on the highest key, he will fatigue himself, and speak with pain; and, wherever a man speaks with pain

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