of literary men, but highly acceptable to those who are less biased by the authority of a standard taste and established models. We need not go to the extreme of Chalmers-for there is no necessity for inaccuracy, bombast, or false taste-but we should doubtless gain by adopting his principle. The object is to address men according to their actual character, and in that mode in which their habits of mind may render them most accessible. As but few are thinkers or readers, a congregation is not to be addressed as such; but, their modes of life being remembered, constant regard must be had to their need of external attraction." forgets that the intellectual man is not very easy of access, and must be approached through the senses, and affections, and imagination. There was a class of rhetoricians and orators at Rome in the time of Cicero, who were famous for having made the same mistake. They would do everything by a fixed and almost mechanical rule, by calculation and measurement. Their sentences were measured, their gestures were measured, their tones were measured; and they framed canons of judgment and taste, by which it was pronounced an affront on the intellectual nature of man to assail him with epithets, and exclamations, and varied tones, and emphatic gesture. They censured the free and flowing manner of Cicero as 'tumid and exuberant,' nec satis pressus, supra modum exultans et super--whether intellectually eminent or notfluens. They cultivated a more guarded and concise style, which might indeed please the critic or the scholar, but was wholly unfitted to instruct or move a promiscuous audience; as was said of one of them, oratio-doctis et attente audientibus erat illustris; a multitudine autem et a foro, cui nata eloquentia est, devorabatur. The taste of the multitude prevailed, and Cicero was the admiration of the people, while those who pruned themselves by a more rigid and philosophical law, 'Coldly correct and critically dull,' were frequently deserted by the audience in the midst of their harangues."* The most popular preachers of any period, it will be found, are such as, by the impetuosity of their feelings, or the power of their genius, break over most of these professional habits. Whitefield, we may suppose, was the greatest pulpit orator of modern ages. Middleton's Life of Cicero, iii, 324. Look around you and see who are the most interesting preachers-most interesting to the masses. Are they not such as substitute, in the place of the stereotyped mannerisms of the pulpit, their own natural characteristics? Even if some of these characteristics are defects, yet by being personal rather than functional, by their naturalness they take hold on the interest of the people, and by securing that they secure attention and effect. What is thus true of individuals is true also of denominations. The Christian bodies which have greatest sway of the popular mind are those whose ministries are least habituated to artificial homiletic restraints; such as itinerate, preaching in camp-meetings, private houses, barns, &c., and are therefore less trammeled by the prescriptive decorums of the pulpit; such as extemporize, and are therefore more natural in style; such (it must be acknowledged) as are not professionally educated, and therefore if destitute of many mental advantages, have yet the great one of being themselves, and not copies of scholastic and Procrustean models. The fact is unquestionable; it is written out on the whole geography of our own land. It implies no reflection against ministerial education, but only against ministerial miseducation. One more view of the subject. It will hardly be denied that the moral power of the pulpit is nothing like what, à priori, we should suppose it ought to be. Decided as many of our remarks may have seemed on the subject of these papers, the reader will do us the justice to acknowledge that we have been disposed to give them all due qualification. In referring to the present point we would not speak unguardedly; we believe the Christian ministry has exerted, and is exerting, a salutary and incalculable influence on the mind of all Protestant countries, and especially of our own. Without political support, it has covered the land with religious institutions. If at any one time it can be said that religion makes but little relative progress among us, still it is a mighty service to maintain it in its wonted status, and this is done, officially, at least, by the Christian ministry. No professional men, actually in service, receive a less average salary.* None do harder work-none wield a more positive and salutary influence. Whatever may be said to the contrary, the candid observer cannot deny that they give impulse and guidance to most, if not all, the charities and beneficent enterprises of the people. Still, is it not the case that most of this invaluable influence flows from extra pulpit labors? Does the pulpit, in itself considered, exert the power which its commanding position justifies? We reply with an unhesitating and emphatic negative. What is that position? The pulpit is omnipresent among the people. Its batteries cover with their evangelic fire almost every point of the moral field of the land. They stand on a basis of and cast down all public evil influences; that it would exhibit an heroic example of self-conscious strength and independence of public prejudices; that its verdict uttered on any public question which involved moral relations would be irresistibly decisive, and that its thunders would beat down and dispel everywhere oppression, war, intemperance, the rife corruptions of business, of fashionable, and even of political life? that it would, in fine, do what its great founder expressly designed it should do-morally renovate mankind? Does it do so? Will it ever do so without being first renovated itself? We have thus answered somewhat our first question respecting the actual character of the pulpit. It does not wield its legitimate moral power; it is deficient in popular interest; it contributes little of intrinsic value to literature; it needs improvement in much of the subject-matter, and in the critical form of its discussions. Why is it so is a question which remains to be considered. 66 divine authority. They are "I men who are mostly trained expressly for their position, and who avowedly enter upon it with the spirit of self-sacrificeof moral heroism-and, if need be, of martyrdom. They have one-seventh, and generally more, of the time of the people in which to utter to them their appeals. These appeals take hold upon all the great solicitudes of life, death, and eternity. The moral constitution of human nature instinctively recognizes them. Under such circumstances what ought to be the power, the sublime demonstrations of the pulpit? If such a theater of eloquence and influence had been hypothetically described to Cicero or Demosthenes, what would have been his judgment of its capacity for popular effect? Would he not suppose that its sublime, its universal, and ever reiterated appeals would resound like trumpets from heaven through a nation; that it would dominate over A WIFE'S INFLUENCE. 6 NOTICED," said Franklin, "a mechanic, among others, at work in a house erected near my office, who always appeared to be in a merry humor, and had a kind word and a cheerful smile for every one he met. Let the day be ever so cold, gloomy, or sunless, a happy smile danced like a sunbeam on his cheerful countenance. Meeting him one morning, I asked him to tell me the secret of his constant happy flow of spirits. No secret, doctor,' he replied; 'I have got one of the best of wives, and when I go to work she always has a kind word of encouragement for me, and when I go home she meets me with a smile and a kiss; and she is sure to be ready, and she has done so many things during the day to please me, that I cannot find in my heart to speak unkind to anybody.' What influence, then, hath woman over the heart of man, to soften it and make it the fountain of cheerful and pure emotions! Speak gently, then; a happy smile and a kind word of greeting, after the toils of the day are over, cost nothing, The average salary of clergymen in the and go far toward making a home happy United States is estimated at $350. and peaceful." The words were kindly spoken, and the poor woman looked thanks to the young man, who, for his part, seemed rather to enjoy the pelting rain, which succeeding a hot July day, was laying the dust of the broad turnpike road, and stirring up a refreshing scent from the meadows and hedges which lined it. Our story is of the by-gone days, when railroads, as traveling roads, were only beginning to be talked of, and were the standing joke of travelers, reviewers, and theoretical philosophers. "Beautiful! grand!" exclaimed the young man, suddenly, before the driver had time to reply to his question, as a vivid flash of forked lightning, followed by a loud peal of thunder, caused the high-bred horses to plunge in their traces, and proved the coachman's anticipations to be correct and in course of speedy fulfillment. The same flash and peal which startled the horses and excited the admiration of the young traveler, drew from the poor woman just behind him a faint cry of alarm; and on turning his head, Arthur saw that she was pale and trembling, and that the infant she carried was convulsively clasped to her bosom. He saw, too, that the slight summer cloak she wore, and the additional shawl which she had drawn over her bonnet and spread around her baby, were an insufficient protection from the rain, which was now coming down in right earnest. 66 66 Surely you will let her get inside," he said compassionately; poor thing! she and her child will be wet through in another five minutes." "We shall change horses directly," replied the coachman; "and then I will see what I can do; but our governors are VOL. IV., No. 2.—L The coach drew up to the inn door, even as the coachman was speaking; and while the four panting, steaming horses were exchanged for a team fresh from the stable, the young woman and her infant were, much to their comfort, transferred from the outside to the inside of the coach. The storm increased in its fury as the evening drew on. The lightning was fearfully brilliant and almost incessant, the thunder was terrific, and the rain poured down in torrents. The three or four outer passengers, wrapping themselves up in comfortable waterproof coats and cloaks, and pulling their hats over their eyes, silently wondered when it would be over, only now and then expressing a fear, which seemed not without foundation, that the horses would not stand it much longer, and that the off-leader, especially, would bolt "before one could say Jack Robinson." But there was no such catastrophe; and another stage was accomplished. The thunder-storm had partially abated; but the rain still poured down heavily as the coachman threw "the ribbons" to the horsekeeper, and a waiter from the inn ventured out upon the now muddy road to announce that the coach would remain there half an hour, and that a supper was on the table, if the passengers would please to alight. "Glad to change his position, and not unmindful of the demands of a youthful and sharp appetite, Arthur Sutherland had accepted the invitation, and was entering the supper-room, when a loud and angry altercation at the inn-door arrested his attention and his steps. "Is she an inside passenger, I ask? that 's all I want to know :" the voice was domineering and fierce. "No, sir, she is not "-this was the coachman: "but she has got an infant, and is going all the way to Birmingham, and is n't over and above well clothed for the journey, night traveling and all; and as there was n't any one inside, and the storm came on, I thought there wasn't any harm The coachman was interrupted in his apology and explanation by a coarse oath, and a declaration that if he did n't mind what he was about, the Emerald should soon have another driver, with an insinuation that there was some understanding between him and the woman about an extra fee, but that he (the angry speaker) would be one too many for him (the accommodating coachman) this time. "There is n't anything of the sort," replied the coachman bluntly; "and here's a gentleman," pointing to Arthur, who had come forward a few steps, "that can tell you so. He knows when and why I put the woman inside." The young gentleman, thus appealed to, briefly explained that at his earnest solicitation the poor woman was accommodated with an inside place when the storm came on. "She would have been drenched to the skin by this time," he added, "if she had retained her former seat on the top of the coach." "That does n't signify," retorted the other, who was evidently one of the coach proprietors, upon whom the Emerald had lighted somewhat unexpectedly, and upon whose overbearing and defiant address the outward costume of a gentleman sat misfittingly, while his temper was probably roughened by the light load of the Emerald that night; "it does n't signify; if the woman goes inside, she must pay inside fare, that's all;" and returning to the coach door, he in a few words placed the alternative before the traveler.* Without any further reply than that she was unable to accede to the demand, the young mother was about to step out into the soaking rain, when the youth-for Arthur Sutherland could by no means have lawfully claimed to be considered a man— gently interfered. "You surely do not mean to turn the poor woman and her baby out into the rain, sir? It may cause her death to be exposed to it through the whole night. I dare say she is not much used to traveling; and she has nothing to wrap round her but a thin shawl." "I can't help that," said the proprietor, sharply; for he seemed to think the interference of the young traveler a piece of gratuitous impertinence to be resented; "the young woman should have taken care of that herself." As the reader may reasonably doubt whether any person in such circumstances could act so brutally, the writer has to say that he was on the coach-top that night, and witnessed the scene described, and has given a mild version of the "gentleman's" behavior. "I did not think of its being such a night when the coach started,” the woman said, in a soft gentle voice; “and if I had known it, I had nothing warmer to put on; but I dare say I shall do very well,” she added, resignedly; "at least, if it was n't for the poor baby." And, wrapping this object of her solicitude as warmly as she could in her shawl, she was stepping from the coach, when the young man again interfered. "It is a great shame," he said, indignantly; "and I should n't have expected "I should like to know what business you have to interfere, sir," said the proprietor, hotly: "you had better pay the inside fare for her yourself, if you think so much about it." "Very well, I will then," returned the young man: "please to keep your seat, my good woman, and I'll make it all right." "I could n't think of it, sir," she said; but before she could frame a remonstrance in suitable words, the proprietor and her young champion had both disappeared; and while she was hesitating what to do next, the coachman came forward and informed her that she was to keep her inside place the rest of the way. This settled the matter. "Thank you," replied Arthur; "but I am not going to take supper this evening." The extra fare had dipped deeply into a purse not very well lined. If the "poor woman " had known the penance to which her young champion doomed himself as the price of his generosity, and how, in the drenching rain, which lasted all the remainder of the journey, he was fain to content himself with munching and mumbling a dry biscuit, just to amuse his internal economy with the hope of something better to follow, she would not, I think, have passed the night so comfortably as, in her ignorance, she did. But however this might be, in due time, or within half an hour of it, the Emerald drove up to the office of the " Hen and Chickens," where, in the early morning, a pleasant-looking, manly young mechanic was, among others, I "Bless you, Edith! you here? thought you would n't have come in such weather, and I did n't think to look for you inside, anyhow." "O, I wanted to get home so badly," said the young traveler, putting her infant into its father's arms; whereupon it began to kick and crow 66 a good-un," as he said afterward; "and beside," she added, "it did n't seem like rain when we left London, or perhaps I might n't have come." 99 A few weeks afterward, one Sunday morning, as Arthur Sutherland, with his sister, was walking toward church, he passed a respectable young couple, in one of whom he recognized the " poor woman his traveling companion. It was plain that he too was remembered, for in another minute the man had turned and was at Arthur's elbow. "Excuse my freedom, sir," he said; "but I wish to thank you for your kindness to my Edith-my wife, I mean-that terrible night she came down from London." "Then, sir, I must thank you for it, and hope to be able to return the kindness some other way;" and the man rejoined his young wife. "That's young Sutherland," he said. "His father's a regular screw, they say; but this one has got a good name, as far as he can do anything. If the old gentleman had been on the coach that night instead of the young one you might have been wet through fifty times before he would have said a word for you, Edith." "What new friend have you picked up now, Arthur?" asked his sister when the short conference was ended; "and what is that about the coach? I guess now why you had to borrow of me the day after your journey, to make up your book, as you said?" "Well, never mind now, Jessy; I'll tell you all about it another day," said Arthur. Years passed away, and Arthur Sutherland, now a man in his own right, was again a traveler from London to Birmingham, but by a different mode of conveyance. It was on a dark afternoon in winter that he entered a second-class carriage at Euston-square, and, wrapping around him a railway blanket, and exchanging his hat for a fur cap which he took from his pocket, he leaned back in a comfortable corner, and, half closing his eyes, waited patiently the signal for starting. Arthur was in that kind of dreamy mood in which little note is taken of surrounding objects. He had that same day landed in England, after a long and stormy voyage, and an absence from home of two or three years. Physically, he was wellinclined to sleep through the five hours of monotonous dullness which were, for that time at any rate, to wind up his journey "Don't speak a word about it," replied the youth; "I am glad I was able to give a little assistance; but it is n't worth mentioning. I hope your wife did n't get any harm; for she had some of the storming experiences; but, mentally, he was as it was. "Not the least in the world, sir; but she might have got a good deal if she had never more wakeful. It might be sufficient to account for this that images of home rose up before him, one after an |