ngeful, our feelings leaping from
one extreme to the other, according to the passion-freighted or
love-freighted words which reach our ear; how we sit spell-bound, with
bated breath, before the great orator who is playing upon the emotions
of his audience, as a musician plays upon the strings of his harp, now
bringing out tears, now smiles, now pathos, now indignation! The power
of his word-painting makes a wonderful impression. A thousand
listeners respond to whatever he suggests.

The voice is a great betrayer of our feelings and emotions. It is
tender when conveying love to our friends; cold, selfish, and without a
particle of sympathy during business transactions when we are trying to
get the best of a bargain.

How we are attracted by a gentle voice, and repulsed by one that is
harsh! We all know how susceptible even dogs and horses are to the
different modulations of the human voice. They know the tone of
affection; they are reassured and respond to it. But they are
stricken with fear and trembling at the profanity of the master's rage.

Some natures are powerfully affected by certain musical strains; they
are immediately lifted out of the deepest depression and despondency
into ecstasy. Nothing has touched them; they have just merely felt a
sensation through the auditory nerve which aroused and awakened into
activity certain brain cells and changed their whole mental attitude.

Music has a decided influence upon the blood pressure in the arteries,
and upon the respiration. We all know how it soothes, refreshes, and
rests us when jaded and worried. When its sweet harmonies fill the
soul, all cares, worries, and anxieties fly away.

George Eliot, in "The Mill on the Floss," gives voice to what some of
us have often, doubtless, felt, when under its magic spell. "Certain
strains of music," she says, "affect me so strangely that I can never
hear them without changing my whole attitude of mind for a time, and if
the effect would last, I might be capable of heroism."

Latimer, Ridley, and hundreds of others went to the stake actually
rejoicing, the spectators wondering at the smile of ineffable peace
which illumined their faces above the fierce glare of the flames, at
the hymns of praise and thanksgiving heard amid the roar of crackling
fagots.

"No, we don't get sick," said an actor, "because we can't get sick.
Patti and a few other stars could afford that luxury, but to the
majority of us it is deni