yard or two from Mr. Honey's grave, might be heard both by those within the building, and by those seated on the scattered tombstones of the churchyard. A hum in the crowd (I now speak on the authority and almost in the words of an eyewitness), and a melancholy tolling of the bell, announced the approach of the preacher, who seated himself for a minute or two in an old elbow-chair, took the psalm-book from a little table before him, turned hastily over a few of the leaves, and then rose in the most awkward and even helpless manner. Before he read the lines which were to be sung, his large and apparently leaden eyes were turned towards the recent grave, with a look wildly pathetic, fraught with intense and indescribable passion. The psalm was read with no very promising elocution; and while the whole mass of the people were singing it, he sunk into the chair, turned seemingly into a monumental statue of the coldest stone, so deadly pale was his large broad face and forehead. The text was read: Deut. xxxii. 29—“O that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!" The doctrinal truth which he meant to inculcate being established on a basis of reasoning so firm that doubt could not move or sophistry shake it, he bounded at once upon the structure which he had reared; and by that inborn and unteachable power of the spirit, which nature has reserved for the chosen of her sons, and which shakes off all the disadvantages and encumbrances of figure, and voice, and language, as easily as the steed shakes the thistle-down from his side, carried the hearts and the passions of all who heard him with irresistible and even tremendous sway. "It strikes me," said the preacher-and as the words were spoken there was a silence among the living almost as deep as that which reigned among the dead who lay beneath-" It strikes me as the most impressive of all sentiments, that it will be all the same a hundred years after this. It is often uttered in the form of a proverb, and with the levity of a mind that is not aware of its importance. A hundred years after this! Good heavens! with what speed and with what certainty will those hundred years come to their termination! This day will draw to a close, and a number of days makes up one revolution of the seasons. Year follows year, and a number LORD BROUGHAM ON PUBLIC SPEAKING. 85 of years makes up a century. These little intervals of time accumulate and fill up that mighty space which appears to the fancy so big and so immeasurable. The hundred years will come, and they will see out the wreck of whole generations. Every living thing that now moves on the face of the earth will disappear from it. The infant that now hangs on his mother's bosom will only live in the remembrance of his grandchildren. The scene of life and of intelligence that is now before me will be changed into the dark and loathsome forms of corruption. The people who now hear me will cease to be spoken of; their memory will perish from the face of the country; their flesh will be devoured with worms; the dark and creeping things that live in the holes of the earth will feed upon their bodies; their coffins will have mouldered away, and their bones be thrown up in the newmade grave. And is this the consummation of all things? Is this the final end and issue of man? Is this the upshot of his busy history? Is there nothing beyond time and the grave to alleviate the gloomy picture, to chase away these dismal images? Must we sleep for ever in the dust, and bid an eternal adieu to the light of heaven ?” LORD BROUGHAM ON PUBLIC SPEAKING. The following is an extract from a letter of Lord Brougham, to Zachy. Macaulay, Esq., father of Lord Macaulay : : NEWCASTLE, March 10, 1823. MY DEAR FRIEND,-My principal object in writing to you to-day is to offer you some suggestions, in consequence of some conversation I have just had with Lord Grey, who has spoken of your son (at Cambridge) in terms of the greatest praise. What I wish to inculcate especially, with a view to the great talent for public speaking which your son happily possesses, is that he should cultivate that talent in the only way in wh.ch it can reach the height of the art; and I wish to turn his attention to two points: 1. The first point is this: the beginning of the art is to acquire a habit of easy speaking; and in whatever way this can be had (which individual inclination or accident will generally direct, and may safey be allowed to do so), it must be had. Now, I differ from all other doctors of rhetoric in this; I say, let him first of all learn to speak easily and fluently, as well and as sensibly as he can, no doubt; but at any rate let him learn to speak. This is to eloquence or good public speaking what the being able to talk in a child is to correct grammatical speech. It is the requisite foundation, and on it you must build. Moreover, it can only be acquired young, therefore let it by all means, and at any sacrifice, be gotten hold of forthwith. But in acquiring it every sort of slovenly error will also be acquired. It must be got by a habit of easy writing (which, as Wyndham said, proved hard reading); by a custom of talking much in company; by debating in speaking societies, with little attention to rule, and mere love of saying something at any rate, than of saying anything well. I can even suppose that more attention is paid to the matter in such discussions than to the manner of saying it; yet still to say it easily, ad libitum, to be able to say what you choose, and what you have to say. This is the first requisite, to acquire which everything else must for the present be sacrificed. 2. The next step is the grand one-to convert this style of easy speaking into chaste eloquence. And here there is but one rule. I do earnestly entreat your son to set daily and nightly before him the Greek models. First of all he may look to the best modern speeches (as he probably has already); Burke's best compositions, as the Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents; Speech on the American Conciliation, and On the Nabob of Arcot's Debt; Fox's Speech on the Westminster Scrutiny (the first part of which he should pore over till he has it by heart); On the Russian Armament; and On the War, 1803; with one or two of Wyndham's best, and very few, or rather none, of Sheridan's; but he must by no means stop here; if he would be a great orator, he must go at once to the fountain-head, and be familiar with every one of the great orations of Demosthenes. I take for granted that he knows those of Cicero by heart; they are very beautiful, but not very useful, except perhaps the Milo, Pro Ligario, and one or two more; but the Greek must positively be the model; and merely reading it, as boys do, to know the language, won't do at all; he must enter into the spirit of each speech, thoroughly know the positions of the parties, follow each turn of the argument, and make the absolutely perfect, and most chaste and severe composition familiar to his mind. His taste will improve every time he reads and repeats to himself (for he should have the fine passages by heart), and he will learn how much may be done by a skilful use of a few words, and a rigorous rejection of all superfluities. In this view I hold a familiar knowledge of Dante to be next to Demosthenes. It is in vain to say that imitations of these models won't do for our times. First, I do not counsel any imitation, but only an imbibing of the same spirit. Secondly, I know from experience that nothing is half so successful in these times (bad though they be) as what has been formed on the Greek models. I use a very poor instance in giving my own experience; but I do assure you that both in courts of law and Parliament, and even to mobs, I have never made so much play (to use a very modern phrase) as when I was almost translating from the Greek. I composed the peroration of my speech for the Queen, in the Lords, after reading and repeating Demosthenes for three or four weeks, and I composed it twenty times over at least, and it certainly suc ceeded in a very extraordinary degree, and far above any merits of its own. This leads me to remark, that though speaking, with writing beforehand, is very well until the habit of easy speech is acquired, yet after that he can never write too much; this is quite clear. It is laborious, no doubt; and it is more difficult beyond comparison than speaking off-hand; but it is necessary to perfect oratory, and at any rate it is necessary to acquire the habit of correct diction. But I go further and say, even to the end of a man's life he must prepare word for word most of his finer passages. Now, would he be a great orator or no? In other words, would he have almost absolute power of doing good to mankind in a free country or no? So he wills this. he must follow these rules Believe me, truly yours. H. BROUGHAM POETRY. SECTION I.-HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE. I.-BOADICEA. (WILLIAM COWPER.) William Cowper, author of "Table Talk," "The Task," "Tirocinium," and many minor poems, was born at Berkhampstead, in Hertfordshire, in 1731; and died in 1800, after a life of much suffering. Boadicea, queen of the Iceni, who occupied the district now known as the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk, having rebelled against the Romans, was overpowered by Suetonius Paulinus, and in despair committed suicide in A.D. 61, WHEN the British warrior Queen, bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with an indignant mien, counsel of her country's gods: Sage beneath the spreading oak sat the Druid, hoary chief; Every burning word he spoke full of rage and full of grief. Princess! if our aged eyes weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'Tis because resentment ties all the terrors of our tongues. Rome shall perish!-write that word in the blood that she has spilt: Perish, hopeless and abhorred, deep in ruin as in guilt. Rome, for empire far renowned, tramples on a thousand states; Soon her pride shall kiss the ground-hark! the Gaul is at her gates! Other Romans shall arise, heedless of a soldier's name; Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize, harmony the path to fame. Then the progeny that springs from the forests of our land, Armed with thunder, clad with wings, shall a wider world command. Regions Cæsar never knew thy posterity shall sway; Such the bard's prophetic words, pregnant with celestial fire, Bending, as he swept the chords of his sweet but awful lyre. She, with all a monarch's pride, felt them in her bosom glow; Rushed to battle, fought, and died,-dying, hurled them at the foe. Ruffians, pitiless as proud, heaven awards the vengeance due; Empire is on us bestowed, shame and ruin wait for you! II.-HOHENLINDEN. (THOMAS CAMPBELL.) Thomas Campbell, so well known by his "Pleasures of Hope," and his many spirited lyrics, was born in Glasgow in 1777, and died if Boulogne in 1844 The Battle of Hohenlinden (a village in Upper Bavaria) was fought in 1800. The Austrians were defeated by the combined armies of the French and Bavarians. The Iser is a tributary of the Danube; it flows at a considerable distance from Hohenlinden. ON Linden, when the sun was low, But Linden saw another sight, By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, To join the dreadful revelry. Then shook the hills with thunder riven, |