he has been the zealous defender and admirer of the English Church and one of its devoutest members, taking the deepest interest in everything which concerns its doctrines, its ritual, and its connection with the State,—­at times apparently forgetting politics to come to its support, in essays which show a marvellous knowledge of both theology and ecclesiastical history.  We cannot help thinking that he would have reached the highest dignities as a clergyman, and perhaps have been even more famous as a bishop than as a statesman.

In the Parliament which assembled after Queen Victoria’s accession to the throne, in 1837, the voice of Gladstone was heard in nearly every important discussion; but the speech which most prominently brought him into public notice and gave him high rank as a parliamentary orator was that in 1838, in reference to West India emancipation.  The evils of the negro apprenticeship system, which was to expire in 1840, had been laid before the House of Lords by the ex-chancellor, Brougham, with his usual fierceness and probable exaggeration; and when the subject came up for discussion in the House of Commons Gladstone opposed immediate abolition, which Lord Brougham had advocated, showing by a great array of facts that the relation between masters and negroes was generally much better than it had been represented.  But he was on the unpopular side of the question, and his speech excited admiration without producing conviction,—­successful only as a vigorous argument and a brilliant oratorical display.  The apprenticeship was cut short, and immediate abolition of slavery decreed.

At that time, Gladstone’s “appearance and manners were much in his favor.  His countenance was mild and pleasant; his eyes were clear and quick; his eyebrows were dark and prominent; his gestures varied but not violent; his jet black hair was parted from his crown to his brow;” his voice was peculiarly musical, and his diction was elegant and easy, without giving the appearance of previous elaboration.  How far his language and thoughts were premeditated I will not undertake to say.  Daniel Webster once declared that there was no such thing as ex tempore speaking,—­a saying not altogether correct, but in the main confirmed by many great orators who confess to laborious preparation for their speech-making, and by the fact that many of our famous after-dinner speakers have been known to send their speeches to the Press before they were delivered.  The case of Demosthenes would seem to indicate the necessity of the most careful study and preparation in order to make a truly great speech, however gifted an orator may be; and those who, like the late Henry Ward Beecher, have astonished their hearers by their ready utterances have generally mastered certain lines of fact and principles of knowledge which they have at command, and which, with native power and art of expression, they present in fresh forms and new combinations.  They do not so much add new stores of fact to the