A knowledge of the human heart is just as ne cessary to a Preacher, as that of the Holy Scriptures. The human heart is a difficult book, and if we do not read, carefully, every page, we ought, at least, to study the principal chapters: it will prevent us from erring, by describing an imaginary, in the place of a real, being, and will supply us with that information, which will enable us to know, what is of all things the most difficult-ourselves.

For want of society, which is, in this respect, the best school for a Preacher, but which we cannot always frequent, he should study the most celebrated moralists: let him, above all, read that celebrated orator, Massillon, from whom nothing that concerned the human heart was concealed. I am not ashamed to recommend to his perusal. works of imagination, which are distinguished by purity of morals, and detail of character, designed at once, to interest the affections, and improve the understanding.

There is not a subject within the sphere of an orator, which does not demand a certain diversity of thoughts, the solution of which requires care, and exercises judgment, together with an order and method, in the arrangement of them. There is, moreover, a certain quality, valuable in itself, and indispensable to an orator, which animates and inspires all his discourses, and which displays its intuitive power more fully in some per

sons than others; this quality is inherent in the soul; it cannot be acquired by diligence: I describe it in one word-sensibility.

If an orator has not sensibility, he cannot attain the highest end of his labours, which is to affect the heart, whilst he informs the understanding. There is no emotion produced by eloquence, which does not spring from sensibility. It was that which inspired Fenelon, Bossuet, Flechier, Massillon, Saurin, the Abbe Poul, in some of their finest passages, He, who is so phlegmatic, as always to leave his hearers unaffected, is in want of an oratorical requisite, for which no learning can atone, and which no diligence will supply.

What then shall we say of those Preachers, who, far from transforming into sentiment, the abstract principles of morality, even speak in the language of metaphysics? Would an orator, endowed with sensibility, pursue so inefficacious a mean of edification? Be a philosopher; but in discourses from the pulpit, assume neither the tone, nor the language, of philosophy.

Sensibility, it is to be observed, has its degrees, and may increase by exercise. Thus, I would not prevent a man from becoming a Preacher, because he discovers no more than a spark of it, or because his attempt to introduce it into his discourses is fee. ble, and in consequence unsuccessful. It is sufficient

to be not absolutely devoid of sensibility, provided we can, by the force of application, excite in ourselves a certain degree of energy. For that purpose, shun those exhibitions which harden the heart; frequent no spectacles which do not give soft impressions; let your time be employed in that course of reading, which inspires virtue, whose natural delineations affect the breast with gentle emotions, without rending it. When this power has taken possession of the heart, it will shew itself in your public discourses. You have then only to yield to its impressions; and when you come to deliver your subject from the pulpit, your enunciation, whilst it evinces your meaning, will communicate your portion of sensibility to your auditory.

In order that your Sermons may produce the effect intended by them, you must endeavour to rehearse them from memory. Have you then a memory adapted to that purpose? Can you, without occupying too much time, and giving too great diligence, learn your Sermon, so as to deliver it with ease, and repeat it without embarrassment? Memory is, like sensibility, strengthened by exercise. I know it. You cannot have finished your academical studies, without having frequently exerted your memery, and tried its power. You can, therefore, form, in this respect, a tolerably competent judgment of yourself.

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If your memory be treacherous, and you cannot depend upon it-how will you be distinguished in a profession, of which it is a principal requisite ? you attempt to repeat your Sermon, and do not perfectly recollect it, you occasion great distress to your audience: and how can you give that freedom to your utterance, and that action to your elocution, which are indispensable towards producing a high effect? If you hesitate, you deprive your delivery of the advantages it has over reading. In that case, rather read, than attempt to repeat; or, I would say, rather give up the pulpit for ever, where there is a barrier to your success, and which, if you have any attachment to your profession, or respect for yourself, will produce in you only uneasiness and mortification.*

But in vain do you possess an unruffled memory, if your audience lose any parts of your discourse, through the weakness of the organ which is to transmit it to them. A clear loud voice, which can, without straining or effort, be distinctly heard by a nu

* To address the congregation, is the mode of speaking both the most pleasing and useful to the auditory, and at the same time, the most natural and satisfactory to the orator; by which, I mean, the directing his voice both to the right and left: to be able to do this oratorically, he must know his Sermon thoroughly, and by glancing his eye upon it, as he turns his head from one side to the other for there should be scarce any motion of his person-he will have the appearance of repeating, whilst he possesses the advantage of frequent recourse to his manuscript.

merous assembly, is a happy and an invaluable quality in an orator. A powerful voice commands the attention, and prevents the distraction of mind, which is, alas! too prevalent in the best disposed congregations. It is not only requisite, that every individual should, without being eagerly intent, and throughout every part of the Church, hear the Preacher; but it is also requisite, that it should be impossible not to hear him; and that the sound should be clear and full, even when he is giving the utmost melody to his periods.

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It is not always that a voice is of sufficient extent, and it is not always that a public speaker is an orator. It has happened to me, more than once, to have been present at a Sermon, and not to have heard it: many others were in the same predicament. What signified it, therefore, whether the Sermon was good or bad? The Preacher may, under shelter of one defect, conceal many.

Monotony is one of the natural and unhappy attendants upon a feeble enunciation. The orator, possessing only a small compass of voice, cannot vary his cadence. It is still worse if he make any efforts to be heard: he then does not speak; he only squeaks; his voice becomes unnatural; he has only one tone, and it offends the ear.

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Exercise, it is said, strengthens the voice, gives power and extent; this is true, when the weak