let us attain and preserve the position of the two olive-trees in the Prophet's vision; then, as the God of nature makes the juices of the earth silently and imperceptibly to ascend into the tree, nourish it, and give it verdure and fatness, so will " the Lord the Spirit" influence us, supplying thought, feeling, power, sometimes in the gentlest illapses of light and grace, and sometimes in a full tide of his own mighty energy: these will flow from us, pervading our words and works, and will make our instrumentality eminently useful in advancing his glory. FALSEHOOD,-ITS GUILT AND MISCHIEF. THE publication of known falsehoods in common conversation, is, what St. James describes the instrument of it to be, "an unruly evil, full of deadly poison." (James iii. 8.) Whether we consider the causes or the effects of it, the utter disregard to all obligations from whence it must proceed, or the mischiefs which it occasions in society, we shall see that it verifies this authentic description, and is a sin of the highest degree, and of the worst influence. If we look up to God our Maker, or into ourselves, or upon those who are stationed here with us in social life, the law of truth on every side presses upon us, and our obligation to obey its dictates appears as one of our first principles. As a divine attribute in our Maker, it shines with the same light as the demonstration of his existence; and the duty of imitating every imitable moral attribute of the Deity, is the most immediate deduction that we can form from reason. Look into ourselves, and we find it answering to the law of our minds. We feel a secret pleasing approbation, the witness of a higher, attending the words and deeds of truth, even though we are misunderstood or misrepresented by others; and we suffer an unavoidable self-condemnation in deviating from it, notwithstanding our falsehood may pass undetected. Reflect on the design of speech, and the will of the giver, and the proper application of the gift, strike us with almost unavoidable conviction, and it will prove that we are born to inform and assist, and not to deceive and ruin, each other. Examine into the consequences of falsehood, and these will show the aggravations of the transgression. Deceit is the instrument of almost every mischief; for, bad as the world is, there are few who do not pretend to act uprightly; few but what cover their insidious dealings with plausible pretences and appearances. An avowed disregard to truth would defeat its own end, would raise a combination of all good men against so professed an enemy of society, and would soon bring that evil on the head of its author which was intended against his worthier neighbour. To plead in the behalf of truth, therefore, is to support the united cause of virtue, duty, and happiness. It is the interest of society, the command of the Creator, and intimately connected with the perfection of our own nature.-Rev. W. Dodwell, D.D., 1758. HINTS TO PUBLIC SPEAKERS. THERE is an observation which many of your readers must have heard, and which some of them (although not given to complain) may have felt themselves constrained to make. The remark I refer to is one of deep regret, that, in those large assemblies which are frequently convened for the promotion of religious objects, some of the speakers, whose sentiments were well worthy of profound attention, were very imperfectly and indistinctly heard. To put forth the voice so as to be understood to the extreme parts of some of our largest audiences, is a matter of no small difficulty; and the number is very considerable of those who fail in the attempt, not from any physical deficiency of voice, but apparently from not understanding how to make the best use of it. If this failure were inevitable, our duty, as hearers, would be to meet it with as much resignation as possible; and to endeavour to compensate for the loss of our time, by gaining at least an increase of patience. It is certain, however, that the evil is not without remedy. Something considerable may be done by way of obviating what is so deeply to be regretted. That a great deal of the inconvenience complained of, is attributable to the want of judgment with which rooms of large size, intended for public speaking, are constructed, is beyond all question. Either the place is too lofty; and the echo, consequently, becomes so redundant as to baffle the skill of almost any speaker in his attempt to obtain distinctness; in which case, however well adapted such a building may be for a music-hall, it is exceedingly ill-contrived for public speaking-or, as another fault, the roof is broken up, as it were, into square and angular compartments, which have a direct tendency to deaden and obstruct the sound, instead of carrying it smoothly along, as would be done by a flat or concave ceiling. In a word, the plainest laws of sound are contravened and set at defiance, in the construction of places built for the almost sole purpose of holding public meetings; and the loss of comfort, both to speakers and hearers, is incalculable. But, taking the matter as we find it, and amidst all these inconveniences to which we have adverted, something may yet be done to surmount the difficulties arising from over-large assemblies, and ill-constructed rooms. It has been sometimes thought to be sufficient simply to advise the speaker to look at the farthest part of the audience; and, keeping his eye on the most distant hearer, to speak as though he were addressing him. But, to say nothing of the inconvenience and awkwardness of this, or of the probability that it would produce a manner much allied to shouting,-it would certainly fail (if other means were not used) of producing the effect desired. The advice may be useful as far as it goes; as may also some other directions usually given,-to keep the body erect,-to open the mouth effectually, to speak deliberately, and many others. But a man may do all this, and yet fail to make himself heard, even with the greatest exertion of a very powerful voice. He may keep himself erect; he may utter his words ore rotundo, may look at the extreme part of his audience, and put forth all the strength of lungs he possesses; and yet, though his voice is heard, his words may be very imperfectly understood. It is "vox, et pretereà nihil." There are persons who seem to convey their sentiments to the largest audiences with comparatively little effort. It appears to cost them much less of physical exertion than it does other men to make themselves fully and agreeably understood. It is frequently observed, by way of accounting for such instances, that these persons are happily gifted with a fine clear voice. But neither is this the cause of the difference between them and others. The reason of their success is not yet adverted to. The voice itself has much less concern in the matter than most people imagine; if by the voice we mean simply the sound emitted from the larynx. A sound almost as low as a whisper may, in certain cases, be heard through the whole of a large assembly; while a noise like thunder, may convey no distinct impression. We shall be thought, perhaps, to utter a paradox or a truism, instead of revealing a secret, when we say, that the reason why some speakers are heard better than others, is chiefly, that they make a right use of the instruments of articulate speech. The voice, whether strong or weak, whether more or less musical,-in which respects, however, it is capable of great improvement,—is nothing more than the material, so to speak, out of which articulate speech is formed. After being produced by the appropriate organ of sound, it is, if we may venture on the terms, shaped and fashioned into distinctness by a set of instruments curiously adapted for the purpose; and on the right use of which, distinctness mainly depends. These are the tongue, the palate, the teeth, and especially the lips. There is no other secret in the matter of distinct speaking but that of making these organs, each severally, and all unitedly, perform their duty. If any one of these instruments of articulation fail to lend its full and complete aid,―so far distinctness is prevented; and on this latter quality of distinct utterance, far more than on loudness, the being easily understood will be found to depend. Let any one make an experiment, by taking a book and reading a passage to a friend placed at the extremity of a chapel, or in any other circumstances where to hear might be diffi cult: first, laying but little stress on the action of the tongue, the teeth, and the lips; and letting even this stress relax (as is often the case) at the end of a sentence. For, what is called "dropping the voice at the close of a period," is, in nine cases out of ten, a failure of distinct enunciation, a bad habit of yielding to the tendency of the organs to relax in their several functions. After having made this first experiment, let the reader try the effect of pronouncing the same passage, neither more slowly nor yet louder than before, but so as that every syllable may be fully articulated in its passage by the full and proper action of the tongue, in conjunction especially with the teeth and lips. Let some small additional stress be laid on those important instruments; and, above all, let that action be kept up without remission or failure to the closing syllable of the sentence. The alteration and improvement, in reference to the distance to which the sense may be conveyed, and the facility with which it may be comprehended, will be truly surprising. There is a maxim which has been much insisted on, that "if we take care of the consonants, the vowels will take care of themselves." The principle is correct; but it may be abused, if carried to extremes. Every vowel should have its right sound, and should be clearly distinguished to the ear, if we would attain correctness and propriety in speaking. But while purity of pronunciation requires attention to the vowels, it must be confessed that distinctness of utterance depends much more on the clearness and force with which the consonants are enunciated. As the rough material, severed from the rock, assumes a distinct outline under the impression of the hewer's tool, and still more under the sculptor's delicate chisel, until the form, where only breathing life is wanting, strikes the eye; so the sound, which in itself is a simple element, is shaped, as it were, in its passage through the lips, into form and symmetry,-assumes distinctness more or less perfect; and, in a thoroughly good speaker, be. comes so clear and self-defined, that not a syllable, and scarcely a letter, is in any danger of being mistaken by the hearer. If this distinctness of utterance is attained in its perfection by very few, it must be because the number of those who have paid any attention to it is exceedingly limited. Otherwise, it is quite certain, that the attainment of it, unless in the case of physical defect, lies open to all. Or, perhaps, it may have been thought best to leave the regulation of the voice (to use the general phrase) to nature. It is feared that, to pay any attention to it, such as we have adverted to, would probably produce an unnatural mode of pronunciation, something laboured, something affected; a system, in short, of mouthing, distinguishable for nothing except its departure from nature, and its total want of ease. This fear, we are persuaded, is totally without foundation. Nature (if we must use the term) teaches the tones and manner proper to conversational intercourse; but does not uniformly direct a man how to make himself heard with ease in a large assembly, or in circumstances unfavourable to speech. Besides, what is called "nature" by those who would have every thing left to her, is more commonly nothing else than acquired habit. All that we should aim at is, in fact, to bring back the defective speaker from the faults of habit, to that which is perfectly easy and unconstrained; in a word, to what is correctly termed "natural." If, then, it be feared that, in aiming to make himself heard in the way we have described, the public speaker would be in danger of departing from the freedom of nature; that he would fall into a manner quite different from the conversational ease so desirable in all public addresses, and appear to be making a continual effort; we assure the reader that no such effect would necessarily follow. It is the most likely means of avoiding it. The man who labours and suffers, through an evident physical exertion which it is painful to his hearers to witness, has not yet the full and perfect management of his own voice. He is still under the influence of bad habit, and has much to learn. On the other hand, it is frequently observed, even by the ordinary class of hearers, when they witness the effect of distinctness in a public speaker, that it seems to cost him but very little effort; or, to use the common phrase, "that it is no trouble at all to him to speak." The problem which it is so desirable to solve, (one which is constantly recurring in every department of life,) is simply, How to produce the greatest effect with the least power; in other words, it is, How to make the human voice accomplish the end of conveying articulate sounds to the greatest extent, and with the least apparent effort. It is an attempt to unite two things which are not often joined,— the putting forth of the whole power of utterance, still in union with a natural and unconstrained manner; it is to connect, in as perfect a degree as is attainable, the ease of conversational intercourse with all the force and distinctness of a public address. 46 We recommend the trial of the principles here laid down, as well for the sake of the speaker as of his hearers. Many a valuable life might have been prolonged, had the secret been understood of avoiding what is commonly termed, speaking from the lungs." This is a fault of frequent occurrence. It is the neglect of putting forth the full and complete action of the proper organs of articulation; and then the endeavouring to make up for this deficiency by additional loudness. The teeth and the lips are comparatively little used; and the lungs have an additional burden imposed on them to supply the lack of service. It is very seldom that a man permanently injures himself by the greatest force of speaking, if, at the same time, he articulates with great distinctness. The lungs may be powerfully exerted; but their force is naturally applied, and none of their power is expended in vain. Let the public speaker, on great occasions, put forth all the energy he possesses. Let him, however, learn to economize his strength, and not injure his health, or throw away his life, as we fear is sometimes done, by the indulgence of a bad habit. But we began this paper, and must close it, with a reference to the advantage of the hearer. We have hitherto scarcely adverted to the exercises of the pulpit; as deeming it too sacred ground to be lightly intruded on. The subject, however, is not unworthy the consideration of those who are called to occupy that holy place, and to perform the functions of the Christian ministry. Their auditors are likely to be edified and instructed in proportion as they fully and distinctly receive what is uttered. A wise Évangelist will not only seek out acceptable words, which all may comprehend, but will think it a matter of some importance to inquire how he may most effectually make himself heard. To be easily and thoroughly intelligible,-to make the voice reach the most distant hearer,-to touch and affect the heart through the medium of the ear; all these are desirable qualifications; and the man who aims at their attainment solely for the sake of accomplishing the ultimate object of all his solicitude,the salvation of souls,—is doing a good work, which will surely have the approval of his final Judge. EAST INDIA SLAVERY. A GREAT want of correct information respecting the present state of slavery in India is very prevalent. A late eminent writer, residing in Bengal, in 1825, stated, “No slavery legally exists in the British territories at this moment." The Editor of a popular periodical, published in India, in 1823, says, "Slavery is now entirely prohibited here (Bengal) by the British Government, as really as in Britain it. self. It is some little consolation to learn, that in India there can be no hereditary slavery." At a recent Meeting in London, on the subject of slavery, one of the speakers said, "Slavery has been so nearly extinguished in the British dominions, that, if it were found lurking in any remote corner of the empire, and could be fully exposed, he believed the nation was prepared to crush it at once and for ever!" The error of this estimable friend (in common with many others) arose from not duly considering the extent of the great measure for the abolition of colonial, or rather Negro, slavery. On the renewal of the East India charter, in 1833, it was proposed by the Ministers to abolish slavery in British India, on or before April 12th, 1937; but this was overruled W. in the House of Lords, and the subject was left to the India Government. When slavery in the West Indies was abolished, British India and the Eastern Isles were unhappily excluded from the range of that noble effort of Christian philanthropy. In August, 1839, Sir J. C. Hobhouse, President of the India Board, stated, "that there is a Commission sitting in India upon the subject of slavery; and that, as soon as its labours should be concluded, a Report would be forwarded to this country." From these tardy proceedings it may be justly feared, that many years will elapse before East India slavery will be abolished. The voluminous Parliamentary Papers of March, 1828, August, 1832, and July, 1838, contain much information upon India slavery. The following extracts appear important. Of the nature of slavery in British India, it is difficult to speak in terms that are equally applicable to the different provinces in the peninsula. The Hindoo code divides the slaves into fifteen classes. In Canara, the slaves are divided into three castes,-the moondul, mogare, and mavy: their customs are very singular. "The utmost which the sale of slaves is tolerated |