in perfect agreement with the sentiments.
The orator should be true to his subject, should avoid any reference
to himself.

The great column of his argument should be unbroken. He can adorn
it with vines and flowers, but they should not be in such profusion
as to hide the column. He should give variety of episode by
illustrations, but they should be used only for the purpose of
adding strength to the argument. The man who wishes to become an
orator should study language. He should know the deeper meaning
of words. He should understand the vigor and velocity of verbs
and the color of adjectives. He should know how to sketch a scene,
to paint a picture, to give life and action. He should be a poet
and a dramatist, a painter and an actor. He should cultivate his
imagination. He should become familiar with the great poetry and
fiction, with splendid and heroic deeds. He should be a student
of Shakespeare. He should read and devour the great plays. From
Shakespeare he could learn the art of expression, of compression,
and all the secrets of the head and heart.

The great orator is full of variety--of surprises. Like a juggler,
he keeps the colored balls in the air. He expresses himself in
pictures. His speech is a panorama. By continued change he holds
the attention. The interest does not flag. He does not allow
himself to be anticipated. A picture is shown but once. So, an
orator should avoid the commonplace. There should be no stuffing,
no filling. He should put no cotton with his silk, no common metals
with his gold. He should remember that "gilded dust is not as good
as dusted gold." The great orator is honest, sincere. He does
not pretend. His brain and heart go together. Every drop of his
blood is convinced. Nothing is forced. He knows exactly what he
wishes to do--knows when he has finished it, and stops.

Only a great orator knows when and how to close. Most speakers go
on after they are through. They are satisfied only with a "lame
and impotent conclusion." Most speakers lack variety. They travel
a straight and dusty road. The great orator is full of episode.
He convinces and charms by indirection. He leaves the road, visits
the fields, wanders in the woods, listens to the murmurs of springs,
the songs of birds. He gathers flowers, scales the crags and comes
back to the highway refreshed, invigorated. He does not move in
a straight line. He wanders and winds like a stream.