t.

Talmage, who knew his business, used to work this element of
disappointment as an art. When the event was important and he wished to
make a particularly good impression, he would begin in a very low,
sing-song voice, and in a monotonous manner, dealing in trite nothings
for five minutes or more. His angular form would seem to take on more
angles and his homely face would grow more homely, if that were
possible--disappointment would spread itself over the audience like a
fog; people would settle back in their pews, sigh and determine to
endure. And then suddenly the speaker would glide to the front, his
great chest would fill, his immense mouth would open and there would
leap forth a sentence like a thunderbolt.

Visitors at "The Temple," London, will recall how Joseph Parker works
the matter of surprise, and often piques curiosity by beginning his
sermon to two thousand people in a voice that is just above a whisper.

One of the most impressive orators of modern times was John P. Altgeld,
yet to those who heard him for the first time his appearance was always
a disappointment. Altgeld was so earnest and sincere, so full of his
message that he scorned all the tricks of oratory, but still he must
have been aware that his insignificant form and commonplace appearance
were a perfect foil for the gloomy, melancholy and foreboding note of
earnestness that riveted his words into a perfect whole.

Over against the type of oratory represented by Altgeld, America has
produced one orator who fascinated first by his personal appearance,
next exasperated by his imperturbable calm, then disappointed through a
reserve that nothing could baffle, and finally won through all three,
more than by his message. This man was Roscoe Conkling, he of the
Hyperion curls and Jovelike front.

The chief enemy of Conkling (and he had a goodly list) was James G.
Blaine, who once said of him, "He wins, like Pericles, by his grand and
god-like manner--and knows it." In appearance and manner Pericles and
Conkling had much in common, but there the parallel stops.

Pericles appeared only on great occasions. We are told that in twenty
years he was seen on the streets of Athens only once a year, and that
was in going from his house to the Assembly where he made his annual
report of his stewardship. He never made himself cheap. His speeches
were prepared with great care and must have been memorized. Before he
spoke he prayed the gods that not a sing