greater, even, than the intrinsic merit of the speech itself.  There has been much discussion as to the amount of preparation which Mr. Webster made.  His occasional orations were, of course, carefully written out beforehand, a practice which was entirely proper; but in his great parliamentary speeches, and often in legal arguments as well, he made but slight preparation in the ordinary sense of the term.  The notes for the two speeches on Foote’s resolution were jotted down on a few sheets of note-paper.  The delivery of the second one, his masterpiece, was practically extemporaneous, and yet it fills seventy octavo pages and occupied four hours.  He is reported to have said that his whole life had been a preparation for the reply to Hayne.  Whether he said it or not, the statement is perfectly true.  The thoughts on the Union and on the grandeur of American nationality had been garnered up for years, and this in a greater or less degree was true of all his finest efforts.  The preparation on paper was trifling, but the mental preparation extending over weeks or days, sometimes, perhaps, over years, was elaborate to the last point.  When the moment came, a night’s work would put all the stored-up thoughts in order, and on the next day they would pour forth with all the power of a strong mind thoroughly saturated with its subject, and yet with the vitality of unpremeditated expression, having the fresh glow of morning upon it, and with no trace of the lamp.

More than all this, however, in the immediate effect of Mr. Webster’s speeches was the physical influence of the man himself.  We can but half understand his eloquence and its influence if we do not carefully study his physical attributes, his temperament and disposition.  In face, form, and voice, nature did her utmost for Daniel Webster.  No envious fairy was present at his birth to mar these gifts by her malign influence.  He seemed to every one to be a giant; that, at least, is the word we most commonly find applied to him, and there is no better proof of his enormous physical impressiveness than this well-known fact, for Mr. Webster was not a man of extraordinary stature.  He was five feet ten inches in height, and, in health, weighed a little less than two hundred pounds.  These are the proportions of a large man, but there is nothing remarkable about them.  We must look elsewhere than to mere size to discover why men spoke of Webster as a giant.  He had a swarthy complexion and straight black hair.  His head was very large, the brain weighing, as is well known, more than any on record, except those of Cuvier and of the celebrated bricklayer.  At the same time his head was of noble shape, with a broad and lofty brow, and his features were finely cut and full of massive strength.  His eyes were extraordinary.  They were very dark and deep-set, and, when he began to rouse himself to action, shone with the deep light of a forge-fire, getting ever more glowing as excitement rose.  His voice was