I. I put COURAGE first, in the assembling of these. Imean by it, what its name denotes, firmness of heart; that quality of intelligent and intrepid self-reliance, which enables a man to look dangers in the face, to look an enemy in the eye, without any vein's palpitating; which "mounteth with occasion;" and which is never so apparent, so eminent, I might almost have said so founded and so real, as when drawn out by the contact and pressure of opposition. It is the old virtus, manhood, of the Romans. It is that robust and hardy quality, appropriate to man, and befitting his high and spiritual forces, which the elder dramatists continually praise; to have given illustrious examples of which is the glory of the English, or of any other History; which makes its mark everywhere, wherever it is revealed; assuring of solidity in purpose and in action, of energy in feeling, and of success in endeavor.

I find in this courage an immediate and a legitimate deduction from man's nature, as personal, immortal, responsible only, in the last analysis, to Him who made him, independent of any except the Supreme for his highest well-being. I find in it a fruit of the most sublime influence that reaches us during life. I recognize it, therefore, as an element of worth, the very centre and spinal column of all worth, in character; around which the frame of that must be organized and built, to give it real value. And the minister, as leading the hosts of God's troops, through battle, unto victory, peculiarly needs this.

Of course, this courage is not to be confounded with anything lower and ruder in its nature, nor with anything lighter although more showy; neither with violence or indifference on the one hand, nor with an occasional bravery on the other. There is a great deal of boldness in the intercourse of men, which is merely the fruit of superior powers, opportunities, or numbers, on the part of its possessor. Thus the ruffian is bold because five are against three, and because revolvers can hit further and harder than clubs. The advocate is bold, because his talent is more trained, or his witnesses are more practised; or because the popular prejudice

is with him. I need not show that such vulpine ferocity is not true courage. It is irritated timidity, gnashing its teeth.

Nor is courage to be confounded with insensibility to opposition or danger; with that chronic imperturbableness which some men exhibit, never recognizing an adversary or perceiving an obstacle, and never admitting or appreciating a peril. True courage is sensitive, as well as self-possess ed. It estimates the height and the imminence of a danger, as well as the means for averting or resisting it. It scans it, while it fronts it. We see men, sometimes, in the midst of a pestilence, while the laden air drops miasma upon them, with no more sense of exposure and risk than the tree has when a worm begins to gnaw at the root, or the ivory image when a blow impends over it. The majority among troops go to battle in this way; and many face the dangers of the wilderness and the sea thus. There is no high quality of manliness in this. It is stolidity, not chivalry. It is leaden indifference; wanting the ring of that steel-like courage, shining like silver, yet adamantine in its firmness, which makes a man fearless of the enemy whom he sees.

Nor is bravery courage, in the sense which I imply. It is difficult, perhaps, to draw a sufficient distinction between them. But, in general, it may be said that bravery is more hasty, impetuous, and transient; courage, more calm, enduring, and principled. Bravery is an impulse, or a mere outward habit; courage is a life, pervading the nature. Bravery takes advantage from plumes and gay equipage. It rises with rapidity and splendor of movement. It calls to its aid the stimulations of music, or the higher stimulations of popular applause; and it looks for reputation as its trophy and reward. Courage is deeper, more magnanimous, and self-reliant. It holds its own reward within it, and is natively superior to any accidents of incitement. It is ready to bear, as well as to perform; is as great in the forest as it is in the field; as great, when announcing a new and strange truth, or resisting the backward rush of a nation, as when treating of themes that have watchwords and champi

ons, and that kindle the minds of millions with their contact. It sings and is cheerful amid obscure suffering; and is just as serenely fixed and unconquerable when contemplating obloquy and popular reprobation, as when welcomed with applause, and anticipating victory. Courage is silent, till the crisis arrives. Bravery is demonstrative, and lies in utterance. The one bides its time, secure of itself. The other craves constant exhibition and action. Courage is an essential spirit of character; which imbues action as the fragrant and subtle fumes of the alchemists were designed to imbue the scimetar of Damascus. Bravery is a special and occasional style of feeling, which would etch upon that action its splendid devices.

When a man has true courage, the real firmness of heart, the sense of immortality is like to be strong in him. He rests upon the basis of conscientious satisfaction, not of stimulated passion. He is quiet, self-reliant. He values the unseen, above what is visible. He takes no account of the numbers that are for him, or the numbers against him. He confides in the honesty of his purpose and intent, and freely leaves consequences to take care of themselves. He can say as Kepler said, when he sent his great work to illuminate the ages: 'Whether it be read by the present age or the future ones, I have no care. If God has waited so long for an observer, I can wait for a reader.' He feels himself superior to Time and its accidents; to the earth and its forces; independent and supreme, over everything but Truth, over every one but God. He has thus an elastic buoyancy of spirit, which enables him to surpass and overcome dangers, where others succumb to them; as the wild duck rides untroubled upon the breakers, where vessels ribbed with heart of oak, with all their complex and fabricated strength, are dashed into fragments.

Such a man is generous, even playful, in expression; comely and proportionate, because always self-poised, in the conduct of his life. A chivalrous manner is natural to him. Not disheartened before others, not distrustful of himself, he sheds his easy courtesies on his way, with as ready a frank

ness as the bird shows, pouring song. There is no grace of manner, and no grace of character, but agrees with his courage, and is nourished upon it. How beautiful a charm his humility has; when acknowledging the superior faculty of others, and paying its tribute to their higher results! How evidently genuine, how replete, his generosity; when he asks no aid or guaranty from others, but blesses them because he loves to! How noble his philanthropy; not springing from any spirit of combat, not drooping and languishing into mere sentimentalism, not crushed beneath the onset of any resistance; but always vigorous, hearty, timely, working most when most required! How divine the piety which inspires such a nature; subliming it by love, renewing it from heaven!

There is no single element which is beautiful in character, which is not more beautiful when combined with this courage. This gives the deep and powerful harmony, on which all special melodies play; from which they receive a majestic pathos, by which their liveliness is idealized and exalted, or on which their mirthfulness floats and sings, as a bird upon the wave. And the courage itself, beneath all these, the calm, magnanimous, high-hearted spirit, that never shuffles or scrambles through by-paths, that always walks on the open way with fearless mein and steady eye, that bears up with a strength which is solid and central against all opposition, that erects an inviolable front to all force, that will not give way to a nation enraged how noble it is! how winning, and how grand!

"Base men, being in love," Iago tells us, "have then a nobility more than is native to them." But the nobility of this spirit is native and inherent. It needs no eulogy. It asks no ornament. Description is slurred and shamed before its simple, self-evidencing grandeur. And nothing can greatly move men in character which has not this firm base beneath not rudeness, not violence; as far from this as possible; but a fixed and pure Courage, which allows no victory save that of conviction; which is never disheartened by any opposition; which assumes the Unseen, and rests upon God, and is

not afraid of what man can do. I look over the records of taste, of learning, of disciplined talent, of genius even, poetic or executive, and wheresoever I find this spirit, in Milton, in Pascal, in Savonarola, I find that genius and learning both bow to it; that the noblest successes have had this for their element; that it is attested by History as supreme!

First of all, then, the preacher who would truly impress men, and make his character more eloquent than his words, the fruitful source of eloquence in his words, must seek this quality, which all men shall recognize, which all men must honor. He must draw it from the invisible, the ever-abounding and inexhaustible sources of God's truth and grace. He must gather it from the sense and the forecast of immortality. He must subtly imbibe it from communion with the past, with prophets, apostles, martyrs, missionaries; with all the wise and heroical of earth, who have suffered in one age, to be crowned and revered by the nobler ones that follow; above all, with Jesus, their leader and their Lord. He must make it apparent against all that confronts him, of popular clamor, of social repudiation, of even the edicts and the penalties of the State. He must make himself serene by it in the midst of all troubles, supreme over difficulties, and fearless of aught but dereliction from duty; harder than steel to the violence which assails him, while sensitive as that steel, when chemistry has touched it, to each impress of the truth!

Directly, such courage is auxiliary to Eloquence; securing justness and force of conception, and inspiring an easy and an adequate utterance. And the reason why many men who have knowledge, taste, fancy, judgment, are yet not eloquent to move their contemporaries, is often that they have. not this quality beneath; this unperturbed and entire selfpossession. They want supremacy, over hearers and the theme. They want the sympathy which this generates in others. There was useful philosophy in Lord Wellington's reply, when Sir George Murray declined to accept a place in his cabinet, alleging as the reason that he was no public speaker. "Can't speak!" said the Duke; "what's the mat