the remainder of the
year.

It is not enough, however, that a lecturer be free. He must have
something fresh to say, or a fresh and attractive way of saying that
which is not altogether new. Individuality, and a certain personal
quality which, for lack of a better name, is called magnetism, are also
essential to the popular lecturer. People desire to be moved, to be
acted upon by a strong and positive nature. They like to be furnished
with fresh ideas, or with old ideas put into a fresh and practical form,
so that they can be readily apprehended and appropriated.

And here comes the grand difficulty which every lecturer encounters, and
over which so many stumble into failure,--that of interesting and
refreshing men and women of education and culture, and, at the same
time, of pleasing, moving, and instructing those of feebler acquirements
or no acquirements at all. Most men of fine powers fail before a popular
audience, because they do not fully apprehend the thing to be done. They
almost invariably write above the level of one half of their audience,
and below the level of the other half. In either event, they fail, and
have the mortification of seeing others of inferior gifts succeed
through a nicer adaptation of their literary wares to the wants of the
market. Much depends upon the choice of a subject. If that be selected
from those which touch universal interests and address common motives,
half the work is done. A clear, simple, direct style of composition, apt
illustration, (and the power of this is marvellous,) and a distinct and
pleasant delivery, will do much to complete the success.

It is about equally painful and amusing to witness the efforts which
some men make to write down to the supposed capacity of a popular
audience. The puerilities and buffooneries that are sometimes undertaken
by these men, for the purpose of conciliating the crowd, certainly amuse
the crowd, and so answer their end, though not in a way to bring
reputation to the actors. No greater mistake can possibly be made than
that of regarding an American lecture-going audience with contempt.
There is no literary tribunal in this country that can more readily and
justly decide whether a man has anything to say, and can say it well,
than a lecture-audience in one of the smaller cities and larger
villages of the Northern States. It is quite common to suppose that a
Western audience demands a lower grade of literary effort, and a rougher
style