ad returned, and
with it a present quaking fear that made him feel the pulsations
of his own heart, he became painfully aware that the task he had
prepared for himself was too great. He should, on this the occasion
of his rising to his maiden legs, have either prepared for himself
a short general speech, which could indeed have done little for his
credit in the House, but which might have served to carry off the
novelty of the thing, and have introduced him to the sound of his own
voice within those walls,--or he should have trusted to what his wit
and spirit would produce for him on the spur of the moment, and not
have burdened himself with a huge exercise of memory. During the
presentation of a few petitions he tried to repeat to himself the
first of his compact parts,--a compact part on which, as it might
certainly be brought into use let the debate have gone as it might,
he had expended great care. He had flattered himself that there
was something of real strength in his words as he repeated them to
himself in the comfortable seclusion of his own room, and he had made
them so ready to his tongue that he thought it to be impossible that
he should forget even an intonation. Now he found that he could not
remember the first phrases without unloosing and looking at a small
roll of paper which he held furtively in his hand. What was the good
of looking at it? He would forget it again in the next moment. He had
intended to satisfy the most eager of his friends, and to astound his
opponents. As it was, no one would be satisfied,--and none astounded
but they who had trusted in him.

The debate began, and if the leisure afforded by a long and tedious
speech could have served him, he might have had leisure enough. He
tried at first to follow all that this advocate for the ballot might
say, hoping thence to acquire the impetus of strong interest; but he
soon wearied of the work, and began to long that the speech might
be ended, although the period of his own martyrdom would thereby
be brought nearer to him. At half-past seven so many members had
deserted their seats, that Phineas began to think that he might be
saved all further pains by a "count out." He reckoned the members
present and found that they were below the mystic forty,--first by
two, then by four, by five, by seven, and at one time by eleven.
It was not for him to ask the Speaker to count the House, but he
wondered that no one else should do so. And yet, as the i