possessors of political power had been learning to use it for the first time for the promotion of social and personal ends.  He said to me, “You will probably live to see the day when in the case of the death of any man of large wealth the State will take for itself all above a certain prescribed limit of his fortune and divide it, or apply it to the equal use of all the people, so as to punish the rich man for his wealth, and to divide it among those who, whatever may have been their sins, at least have not committed that.”  I looked upon it as the wanderings of a dreaming man; and yet if I had known that within less than five short years afterwards I should be standing before this tribunal to contest the validity of an alleged act of Congress, of a so-called law, which was defended here by the authorized legal representatives of the Federal Government upon the plea that it was a tax levied only upon classes and extremely rich men, I should have given altogether a different heed and ear to the warnings of that distinguished statesman.[62]

Our emotions do not rise, however, anymore surely in the case of our veneration for the basal principles of religion and government than in that of more personal emotions.  The appeal to the Constitution is worn somewhat threadbare by the politicians who call on it at every election, small or great, as is the appeal to the principles of the Pilgrim Fathers.  It takes eloquence now to rouse our feelings about these principles.  If you have a case important enough to justify appeal to such great principles and the skill in language to give your appeal vitality, you may really arouse your readers.  But, on the whole, it is sound advice to say, Wait a few years before you call on them.

The second mode of appeal to the feelings of your audience, that through concrete and figurative language, is more within the reach of advocates who are still of college age.  This is particularly true of the use of concrete language.  It is a matter of common knowledge that men do not rouse themselves over abstract principles; they will grant their assent, often without really knowing what is implied by the general principle, and go away yawning.  On the other hand, the man who talks about the real and actual things which you know is likely to keep your attention.  This goes back to the truth that our emotions and feelings are primarily the reaction to the concrete things that happen to us.  The spontaneous whistling and humming of tunes that indicate a cheerful heart rise naturally as a response to the sunlight in spring; the fear at the terror that flies in a nightmare is the instinctive and physical reaction to indigestion; we sorrow over the loss of our own friends, but not over the loss of some one else’s.  The stories that stir us are the stories that deal with actual, tangible realities in such terms that they make us feel that we are living the story ourselves.  Stevenson has some wise words on this subject in his essay, “A Gossip on Romance.”  The doctrine holds true for the making of arguments.