ce was visited by an itinerant lecturer on elocution--one Walsh,
who, as his art was not in great request among the quiet ladies and busy
gentlemen of Cromarty, failed to draw houses; till at length there
appeared one morning, placarded on post and pillar, an intimation to the
effect, that Mr. Walsh would that evening deliver an elaborate criticism
on the lately-published volume of "Poems written in the leisure hours of
a Journeyman Mason," and select from it a portion of his evening
readings. The intimation drew a good house; and, curious to know what
was awaiting me, I paid my shilling, with the others, and got into a
corner. First in the entertainment there came a wearisome dissertation
on harmonic inflections, double emphasis, the echoing words, and the
monotones. But, to borrow from Meg Dods, "Oh, what a style of language!"
The elocutionist, evidently an untaught and grossly ignorant man, had
not an idea of composition. Syntax, grammar, and good sense, were set
at nought in every sentence; but then, on the other hand, the
inflections were carefully maintained, and went rising and falling over
the nonsense beneath, like the wave of some shallow bay over a bottom of
mud and comminuted sea-weed. After the dissertation we were gratified by
a few recitations. "Lord Ullin's Daughter," the "Razor Seller," and "My
Name is Norval," were given in great force. And then came the critique.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the reviewer, "we cannot expect much from a
journeyman mason in the poetry line. Right poetry needs teaching. No man
can be a proper poet unless he be an elocutionist; for, unless he be an
elocutionist, how can he make his verses emphatic in the right places,
or manage the harmonic inflexes, or deal with the rhetorical pauses? And
now, ladies and gentlemen, I'll show you, from various passages in this
book, that the untaught journeyman mason who made it never took lessons
in elocution. I'll first read you a passage from a piece of verse called
the 'Death of Gardiner'--the person meant being the late Colonel
Gardiner, I suppose. The beginning of the piece is about the running
away of Johnnie Cope's men:"--

* * * * *

"Yet in that craven, dread-struck host,
One val'rous heart beat keen and high;
In that dark hour of shameful flight,
One stayed behind to die!
Deep gash'd by many a felon blow,
He sleeps where fought the vanquish'd van--
Of silver