this is to use about half a square yard of old flannel, which, at the same time, as it cleanses the skin thoroughly, stimulates it by its peculiar roughness. My remarks upon this subject, perhaps, cannot be better concluded than by suggesting that the erection of some public baths and wash houses would be a great boon to the working classes of this parish. (To be continued.) The Power of Words. BY J. C. TILDESLEY. THE cultivation of any power or talent we may possess ought rightly to be in proportion to the frequency of its use, the extent of its advantages, and its congeniality to our tastes and aspirations. The disregard of this simple rule, is, without doubt, the secret of many lamentable mistakes and miserable failures; for, while admitting the power of perseverance to conquer difficulties, let us not overlook the theory of adaptation. Great men have succeeded, not merely because of their talent, but because they employed it in its proper sphere. Had Tennyson devoted himself to oratory, or Adelina Patti to the stage, or Dickens to the law, the probability is that, although they had given equal energy to these mistaken avocations, as they have to their legitimate callings, they would never have risen to eminence and fame. Where there is a strong inbred predilection in favour of any particular pursuit, it is vain to attempt to turn the current in another channel. It is like trying to make water run up-hill, or to accomplish any other feat opposed to natural law. Many a man, fired by ambition, has forsaken his proper sphere for a loftier and totally unsuitable position, and failure has been the natural result; and, on the other hand, many a man possessed of talents sufficient to raise him high upon the social platform, has been foolishly content to grovel in a lowly sphere, and to let his nobler powers grow wild and unimproved. It follows, then, that next to the possession of talents-be they small or great-the most important thing is to discover which of them are likely to be most profitable, and to bestow upon such the greater amount of zeal and application. There are, however, many agencies of influence and power which enter into, and form a part of, our daily existence, unconfined to men of particular tastes and talents, but universally diffused among humanity, the use of which must either be productive of weal or woe, and the cultivation and improvement of which is the duty of all. Such an one is the subject under consideration. Human nature cannot boast a greater power for good or ill than speech, and yet, strange to say, its influence although generally acknowledged is as generally disregarded. Without aspiring to the height of a philological survey, we simply propose a familiar view of the subject in its public and private aspect, in the hope that it may lead to a wider appreciation of the power, influence, and responsibility of words. Oratorical power is nowhere more strikingly displayed than in the British House of Commons, and it certainly requires more than ordinary eloquence to make an impression upon that august and yet, withal, practical assembly. Poetic imagery and etherial flights of fancy will not succeed there. Mr. Disraeli settled that fact for all time, when, in his maiden speech, he endeavoured to raise his hearers to the Empyrean, but only succeeded in exciting the hilarity of the House, and the bewilderment of somnolent squires. But in no assembly is clear, lucid, earnest speech-the echo of conviction-better received, or more thoroughly appreciated. When a speaker of influence rises, and touches upon subjects that lie dear to the nation's heart, he carries the House with him, and truest eloquence is manifest, not merely in the words of the speaker, but in the enthusiasm of his audience. It is characteristic of Parliamentary speakers that, as a rule, they feel what they say. There are few off-hand expressions, but they seem always sensible of the importance and responsibility of their utterances. As Bulwer Lytton observes in Caxtoniana, "The orator has mentally surveyed, as it were, at a distance, the loftiest height of his argument, and when about to ascend to it, the awe of the altitude is felt." It is this feeling which regulates the spirit of prudence and moderation for which our national assembly is so well renowned. It is related of Lord Brougham, that, on leaving the House one evening, he met some ladies of his acquaintance, who had come for the express purpose of hearing his lordship. Seeing their evident disappointment, he retraced his steps with a promise that their wish should be gratified. And he was as good as his word, for in a short time he arose, to the surprise of the House, and critically reviewed what he considered the objectionable policy of the Government. His speech produced the greatest excitement, the Ministers were perplexed, a report of his oration was transmitted in haste to the King, who passed a restless night in consequence, and it caused considerable consternation in all the continental cities. A worthy homage this to female charms, and an honoured tribute to the power of manly eloquence. Striking examples of the power of words are furnished in the annals of our martial conflicts. In the heat and fury of the strife, how often have despairing troops been inspired with fresh courage by some well-known call to duty from the lips of their commanders! When the flames of Trafalgar gleamed in the heavens, and the fortunes of England were quivering in the balance, what was it but the great voice of Nelson, echoing amid the roar of artillery," England expects every man to do his duty," that filled the hearts of his brave seamen with new fire, turned the tide of conquest, and twined another wreath round Britain's brow? We shall not soon forget the power of words, as illustrated by Charles Dickens in his inimitable readings. One winter's night, the Wolverhampton Exchange was filled to overflowing by a brilliant and enthusiastic audience, among whom there seemed the greatest anxiety to catch a first glimpse of the great author. All eyes were fixed upon the little door leading to the platform; at length it opened, a middle-aged man, in a white waistcoat, appeared, and the hum of conversation was drowned in the plaudits that greeted the newcomer. The latter, considerably astounded at his popularity (for it was only the hall-keeper), quietly placed a glass of water on the reading-desk and withdrew. The merriment elicited by the blunder had scarcely subsided, before the pleasant eye and sparkling countenance of Charles Dickens was distinguished among the groups who entered. The furore was extreme. cloud of hats and handkerchiefs were waved, and the huzzas were deafening. Then, all was still, and in a clear, distinct, musical voice, the author com A menced his task. Now his audience was convulsed with laughter at "Old Scrooge," and, anon, the plaintive story of "Tiny Tim" drew tears from manly eyes. Never did a speaker hold his audience under more complete control, and never did two hours fly faster. We were not astonished to hear that at a repetition of the same reading, a few days afterwards at Brighton, a rich old miser who happened to be present (having been presented with a ticket) was so touched by the miseries of "Old Scrooge," that he went and divided forthwith some thousand pounds among the various charities of his native town. The power of eloquence to sway a mass of people has often been compared to the wind among the forest trees, and truly the wind exercises no greater power over the fluttering leaves than does the tide of true eloquence over human hearts. Forcible examples of this are presented to us in the case of such men as John Bright, Henry Vincent, John B. Gough, and others, who, by appealing to the heart rather than to the intellect, succeed in creating a greater pitch of excitement than almost any other living orators. This is especially apparent in the case of J. B. Gough. Cynics have gone to hear him, supposing themselves not vulgar enough to get excited, and resolved to stand aloof, as it were, and note the speaker's power upon the common herd, but have found themselves, in a very short time, unconsciously springing to their feet, and waving their hats, and straining their lungs with the loudest of the throng. A ludicrous example of the power of words to clear a lecture hall has recently been wafted across the Atlantic, and by some the story has been attributed to President Lincoln. It is entitled the American Giascutis, and runs thus "Several years ago a couple of Yankees were travelling out West, and they got out of money. So they koncluded to raise the wind as follers. They were to go into a village and announce a show. pretendin' they had a remarkable arnimal which they had just captured on the Rocky Mountains-a bran new beast, such as was never seen before. The name was the Giascutis, and one o' the fellers was to play Giascutis. He was put behind a screen, and had some chains to shake, and contrived to howl or growl as no critter ever did before. Wal, the people o' the village all came to see this Giascutis, and after the room was filled, his companion began to explain to the audience what a terrible beast he had, how he killed 10 men, 2 boys, and 5 'osses, in ketching him, and how he had got him at an enormous expense to show him. Just as everybody was gapin' and starin', there was, all at once, a most terrible howling, growling, and rattling of chains, and in the excitement the showman, almost breathless, yelled out at the top of his voice, 'O! the Giascutis is LOOSE. Run! run! run!' and away went the people down stairs, head over heels, losing all they had paid and seeing nothing." The power of words is ably displayed in an English Court of Justice, and especially in the case when the issue of the trial is life or death. When justice and mercy strive together, how noble is the conflict, and how sublime a picture does it present to us of the majesty of English law, which, while so high that the proud man cannot violate it, is yet so low that the poorest man may reach it! When we consider the momentous importance of words on such occasions, whether uttered by judges or counsellors, jurymen or witnesses, it will occur how necessary is the exercise of caution in the expression of opinions. We might go on to point out the power of words on 'Change, and in all the busy centres of commercial life; on the platform, and amid the scenes of political activity; at public banquets, where after-dinner speeches generate, and at all the various social gatherings of the people; indeed, in a thousand various places, and under a thousand varied aspects; we might linger to enforce the truth that every word we utter is a power for good or ill. We will, however, refer only to one sphere-the pulpit. Perhaps in no other place does a speaker possess more real influence. There the strife of politics is dumb. Speakers and hearers are alike prompted by the same desires, hopes, sympathies, and their minds alike are hushed into the spirit of devotion. The speaker's theme is the sublimest on which human eloquence can be employed, or by which human hearts can be influenced. There is a danger now-a-days lest the speaker should be a greater source of attraction than his subject, a danger lest the rage for popular preachers and great sermons should tend to lower the sacred dignity of the Gospel; and in our poor opinion, it would be well for men to remember that, although they may listen with legitimate enthusiasm to such orators as the Bishop of Oxford, Dr. Guthrie, Dr. McNeile, William Morley Punshon, and others, who adorn the Church in our age, yet the true power of pulpit oratory, on all occasions, lies not so much in the fervour of the speaker, as in the disposition of those who hear. For the water of life sparkles with equal joy, when it flows into willing hearts, whether it be conveyed in a marble vessel or an earthen pitcher. Three very excellent rules for speakers, whether public or private, were once laid down by an ancient talker. The 1st was, "Never speak unless you have something to say. 2nd, Don't go a long way round to express your ideas-out with it! 3rd, Quit when you've done." To the first rule we would add-Never speak unless you have got something to say worth hearing. As friend Tupper observes: "A man that speaketh too mnch, and museth but little and lightly, A man that speaketh too little, and thinketh much and deeply, Corrodeth his own heart-strings, and keepeth back good from his fellows; And now let us consider very briefly the power of words spoken in private. Of course it would be impossible within reasonable limits to enter into a subject of such magnitude, and we can do no more than take a general glance at the chief points of interest. The influence of conversation in our home circles, among friends, or in our daily dealings with mankind, is developed and made manifest under innumerable aspects. We see it in the glow of pleasure kindled by a word of commendation, and in the tear of gratitude for loving sympathy; we trace it in the arch device of fulsome flattery, and in the trustful glance of one to be deceived. We see it in the glow of young eyes, kindled by some olden story, and in the unholy triumph of a slanderous tongue. We view it in the face of youth, subdued to seriousness by the fervour of a father's counsel, and in the tremulous wavering of innocence whom the persuasion of some fawning demon is luring on to sin. In the harmless pleasures of fireside chat, and in the stern commands of duty; in joy, in sorrow, in youth, in age, in affluence, in poverty, in loving circles, in strange scenes, we see the power of words thus mightily displayed. And the question arises-Do we use this great power to the best advantage? Do our words produce as much kindly feeling, and cheerfulness, and gratitude, and love, as they might? We fear not. We are inclined to think that too many of us forget the golden maxim of Old Herbert, "Good words are worth much as and cost little." In the scenes of social pleasure, our words do not contribute to the enjoyment of friends so much as they might if we cultivated our powers of conversation. And we are not alone in this respect, for some of the greatest scholars have lacked wisdom there. We are told that Goldsmith wrote like an angel and talked like poor Poll; that Milton was irritable, Virgil dull, Dante taciturn, that Gray seldom talked or smiled, that Carlyle doubts and hesitates, that Dickens is quiet and dreamy, and Thackeray slow and cautious in his observations; while, on the other hand, we are told that Coleridge was acute and original, and Curran is described to us as a convivial deity, soaring into every region, and at home in all. In these cases, however, other gifts outbalanced trifling defects. Faults and failings by which we ordinary mortals should be condemned, were, happily for them, pleasantly described "eccentricities of genius." We, however, who cannot hide our shortcomings in the shades of Parnassus, ought certainly not to imitate the failings of the great, if we e cannot imitate their virtues; and we ought, surely, when accepting the hospitality of friends, to prepare, not our toilets merely, but our tongues. Then again, among strangers, in the varied scenes of daily life, do we use our word-power to the best advantage? Do we use it as acutely and as shrewdly in business as we might? Do we test the power for good of what Tupper calls "the honey of persuasion," as frequently as we might on those who feel our influence? Do we, while travelling by land or water, study the English accomplishment of staring silently at vacancy, and, to use a most grammatical phrase, "never say nothing to nobody?" Or are we alive to the power of words in business, and act accordingly, and accustomed to use them for the advantage of those below us; and among strangers to shew that we have hearts in which the glow of brotherhood is not quenched, hearts that feel that we are travellers on the same life journey, and that are never prone to insinuate to our fellows Stand by, I am holier than thou?” Happy are we if ours be the latter case. We had intended to refer to the immoderate use of words, by which their individual force and power is weakened, but can only make a passing note. Take the word grand, for instance. How expressive a word when rightly applied, but how, by common usage, its power has waned! Also the words sublime, beautiful, glorious, fit only to express celestial scenes, or the very fairest of earth's pictures, how shockingly familiar they have become! Why we actually hear of sublime bonnets, and beautiful gloves, and glorious puddings! We protest most earnestly against this wholesale system of verbal sacrilege. It would, perhaps, seem strange if we concluded this subject without one remark on female loquacity; but the fact is, we do not endorse the popular opinion thereon. We believe, candidly, that there are as many tireless tongues in the heads of men, as women, and that the latter have too frequently been loaded, as a class, with double blame. The following extravagant but clever satire, on loquacity, although written at the expense of woman's dignity, is intended as a valuable hint to incessant talkers of both sexes. It is entitled "Perpetual Motion," and originally appeared in Blackwood's Magazine. "On the 1st April, 1796, a daughter was born unto Mary, the wife of Wm. Stephenson, Ely Place, Holborn, which daughter, from that blessed hour to the present, has never once ceased talking. She has got the gift of tongues in the most exuberent manner you can |