d not help fighting when
it was attacked, and to give the reasons that made it necessary to
fight,--reasons which none but a consistent Friend or avowed
non-resistant can pretend to dispute: His ordinary style in speaking is
pointed, _staccatoed_, as is that of most successful extemporaneous
speakers; he is "short-gaited"; the movement of his thoughts is that of
the chopping sea, rather than the long, rolling, rhythmical
wave-procession of phrase-balancing rhetoricians. But when the lance has
pricked him deep enough, when the red flag has flashed in his face often
enough, when the fireworks have hissed and sputtered around him long
enough, when the cheers have warmed him so that all his life is roused,
then his intellectual sparkle becomes a steady glow, and his nimble
sentences change their form, and become long-drawn, stately periods.

"Standing by my cradle, standing by my hearth, standing by the altar of
the church, standing by all the places that mark the name and memory of
heroic men who poured their blood and lives for principle, I declare
that in ten or twenty years of war we will sacrifice everything we have
for principle. If the love of popular liberty is dead in Great Britain,
you will not understand us; but if the love of liberty lives as it once
lived, and has worthy successors of those renowned men that were our
ancestors as much as yours, and whose example and principles we inherit
to make fruitful as so much seed-corn in a new and fertile land, then
you will understand our firm, invincible determination--deep as the sea,
firm as the mountains, but calm as the heavens above us--to fight this
war through at all hazards and at every cost."

When have Englishmen listened to nobler words, fuller of the true soul
of eloquence? Never, surely, since their nation entered the abdominous
period of its existence, recognized in all its ideal portraits, for
which food and sleep are the prime conditions of well-being. Yet the old
instinct which has made the name of Englishman glorious in the past was
there, in the audience before him, and there was "immense cheering,"
relieved by some slight colubrine demonstrations.

Mr. Beecher openly accused certain "important organs" of deliberately
darkening the truth and falsifying the facts. The audience thereupon
gave three groans for a paper called the "Times," once respectably
edited, now deservedly held as cheap as an epigram of Mr. Carlyle's or a
promise to pay dated at R