and four thousand of his fellow Whigs went out to meet him. Drawing himself up to his loftiest proportions, his brow charged with thunder, before that sea of human faces, he said: 'Gentlemen, I am a Whig, a Massachusetts Whig; a Faneuil Hall Whig; a Revolutionary Whig; a constitutional Whig; and if you break up the Whig party, where am I to go?' 'We held our breath,' says Lowell, 'thinking where he could go. If he had been five feet three, we should have said, "Who cares where you go?""'

"Well, O'Connell had all that. There was something majestic in his presence before he spoke, and he added to it what Webster had not, the magnetism and grace that melts a million souls into his.

"Then he had a voice that covered the gamut. Speaking in Exeter Hall, London, I once heard him say, 'I send my voice across the Atlantic, careering like the thunderstorm against the breeze, to tell the slaveholder of the Carolinas that God's thunderbolts are hot, and to remind the bondman that the dawn of his redemption is already breaking,' and you seemed to hear his voice reverberating and reechoing back to London from the Rocky Mountains. Then, with the slightest possible Irish brogue, he would tell a story that would make all Exeter Hall laugh. The next moment, tears in his voice, like an old song, and five thousand men wept. All the while no effort he seemed only breathing,

'As effortless as woodland nooks

Send violets up, and paint them blue.''

3. From an Address to the Jury at the White Murder Trial, by Daniel Webster:

"The circumstances now clearly in evidence spread out the whole scene before us. Deep sleep had fallen on the destined victim and on all beneath his roof. A healthful old man to whom sleep was sweet, the first sound slumbers of the night held him in their soft but strong embrace. The assassin enters, through the window already prepared, into an unoccupied apartment. With noiseless foot he paces the lonely hall half lighted by the moon. He winds up the ascent of the stairs and reaches the door of the chamber. He enters and beholds his victim before him. The face of the innocent sleeper is turned from the murderer, and the beams of the moon, resting on the gray

locks of the aged temples, show him where to strike. The fatal blow is given. Without a struggle or a motion the victim passes from the repose of sleep to the repose of death. The murderer retreats, retraces his steps to the window, passes out through it as he came in, and escapes."

DESCRIPTIONS

4. The Home and the Republic, from an address delivered at Elberton, Georgia, in June, 1889, by Henry W. Grady:

"I went to Washington the other day, and as I stood on Capitol Hill my heart beat quick as I looked at the towering marble of my country's Capitol. The mist gathered in my eyes as I thought of its tremendous significance, the army, the Treasury, the courts, Congress, the President, and all that was gathered there. I felt that the sun in all its course could not look down upon a better sight than that majestic home of the Republic that had taught the world its best lessons in liberty.

"Two days afterwards I went to visit a friend in the country, a modest man, with a quiet country home. It was just a simple, unpretentious house, set about with great big trees, encircled in meadow and field rich with the promise of harvest. The fragrance of pink and hollyhock in the front yard was mingled with the aroma of the orchard and of the garden. The air was resonant with the cluck of poultry and the hum of bees. Inside was quiet, cleanliness, thrift, and comfort. Outside there stood my friend- master of his land and master of himself. There was his old father, an aged, trembling man, happy in the heart and home of his son. I saw the night come down on that home, falling gently as from the wings of an unseen dove. The old man, while a startled bird called from the forest, and the trees shrilled with the cricket's cry, and the stars were swarming in the sky, got the family around him, and taking the old Bible from the table, called them to their knees, while he closed the record of that simple day by calling down God's blessing on that family and that home.

"While I gazed, the vision of the marble Capitol faded. Forgotten were its treasures and its majesty, and I said, 'O, surely, here in the hearts of the people at last are lodged the strength and responsibilities of this government, the hope and promise of this Republic.""

5. Description of Robert E. Lee, by John W. Daniel:

"In personal appearance General Lee was a man whom once to see was ever to remember. His figure was tall, erect, well proportioned, lithe, and graceful. A fine head, with broad, uplifted brows, and features boldly yet delicately chiselled, bore the aspect of one born to command. His whole countenance bespoke alike a powerful mind and an indomitable will, yet beamed with charity, benevolence, and gentleness. In his manners, quiet reserve, unaffected courtesy, and native dignity made manifest the character of one who can only be described by the name of gentleman.”

6. Description of Havana, by Senator A. B. Cummins:

"General Lee, after a cheery conversation, parted the window curtains and invited his visitors to a tiny balcony overhanging the the street. The view was enlivening. The Prado was bathed in the effulgence of electric lights, and the statue of Isabella adorning the oblong park fronting the hotel looked like an alabaster figure. All was life and activity. A cool breeze came from the ocean. A stream of well-dressed ladies and gentlemen poured along the Prado – the dark-eyed señoras and señoritas with coquettish veils, volunteers, regulars, and civil guards, in tasty uniforms, and a cosmopolitan sprinkling of Englishmen, Germans, French, Italians, and other nationalities, Americans being conspicuous. Low-wheeled carriages rattled over the pavements in scores, many filled with ladies en masque on their way to the ball. Occasionally the notes of a bugle were heard, and anon the cries of negro newsboys, shouting ‘La Lucha!'" 7. "A Vision of War," by Robert G. Ingersoll:

"The past rises before me like a dream. Again we are in the great struggle for national life. We hear the sounds of preparation – the music of boisterous drums — the silver voices of heroic bugles. We see thousands of assemblages, and hear the appeals of orators. We see the pale cheeks of women, and the flushed faces of men; in those assemblages we see all the dead whose dust we have covered with flowers. We lose sight of them no more. We are with them when they enlist in the great army of freedom. We see them part with those they love. Some are walking for the last time in quiet woody places, with the maidens they adore. We hear the whisperings and

the sweet vows of eternal love as they lingeringly part forever. Others are bending over cradles, kissing babes that are asleep. Some are receiving the blessing of old men. Some are parting with mothers who hold them and press them to their hearts again and again and say nothing. Kisses and tears, divine mingling of agony and love! Some are talking with wives, and endeavoring with brave words, spoken in old tones, to drive from their hearts the awful fear. We see them part. We see the wife standing in the door with the babe in her arms standing in the sunlight sobbing. At the turn of the road, a hand waves she answers by holding high in her loving arms, the child. He is gone, and forever.”

CHAPTER IX

HOW TO PLAN A STORY OR A DESCRIPTION

Introduction. A good speaker uses many short stories and descriptions. These two forms of discourse are powerful because they make mental pictures. Dickens, as we saw in an earlier chapter, made a deeper impression by his picture of the sufferings of one little child in Edinburgh than he did by the statement that there were thousands of miserable children in London.

A speaker's purpose in using these forms may be to arouse feeling, as in the case just cited, or it may be merely to make his idea more clear and impressive. Wendell Phillips, for instance, quoted the story of Webster for the purpose of showing that a large man would have more power over his audience than a small one. Grady used a description to make it clear that the strength of the nation is to be found in its homes.

A good story or description has the same three qualities that are found in a good exposition or argument, namely, unity, coherence, and emphasis. In this chapter we shall learn how to get these three qualities when we make a plan.

I. NARRATION

Unity. A short story, in order to have unity, must consist of a single incident. This is merely one way of saying that it should occur within a brief space of time, that the action should center about one particular place, and that there should be a central character.