[Side note:  I.—­Be natural in development]

“To thine own self be true” is the soundest of advices.

From the beginning the young preacher should aim at developing on his own lines, thinking in his own way and expressing his thoughts in their own native dress.  No matter how eminent the paragon you admire, do not become an understudy of him.  Remember he is great only because he is himself and not the imitation of another.  Try, however, to get at the secret of his greatness.  What is it?  He discovered his strong points and cultivated them.  Go and do likewise.

You see a man with clear sequence of ideas and easy expression, but without those exceptional gifts that go to make the born orator.  He could attain even eminence as a lecturer or instructor, but lecture or instruct he will not, for he has read Ventura and become smitten.  He tries to imitate the Padre’s lofty style, and succeeds in “amazing the unlearned and making the learned smile.”  “Failure” is written large over all his efforts.

David could not fight with the gorgeous but cumbersome arms of Saul:  with his own homely sling and the polished stone from the brook, the weapon to which he was accustomed, he achieved victory.

I knew a priest who had a marvellous charm as a storyteller.  He invested the merest trifles of incident with resistless fascination.  Hours in his society flew like moments.

He became a distinguished preacher.  I went to hear him, and quickly discovered the secret of his success.  He knew his strong point, and staked his all on it.  He preached his sermons as he told his stories—­in graphic, familiar narrative.  The congregation felt they were taken into his confidence; they were hypnotised.  You forgot that you were sitting in stiff dignity in a church, and imagined yourself one of a group around the winter’s log listening to a delightful raconteur, and you willingly surrendered to the pleasing delusion.

Every play of fancy, every flash of thought, every clinched conviction passed from him to his hearers till the souls of preacher and listeners became like reflecting mirrors.  There was always regret when he finished.

Now, had that man attempted to become Demosthenes instead of himself he would have succeeded in becoming ridiculous.

[Side note:  2.—­Be natural in composition]

The natural outpouring of thought has a relish and a resistlessness of force that no art can rival.  The scent of a sprig of wild woodbine holds a charm beyond all the perfumes of the chemist’s shop.

In order to be natural there is no necessity to ignore the elegancies of style; for what is style? Le style est l’homme.  The style is the man.  A perfect style, then, is attained when the written page is the exact expression of the train of thought as it lies in the writer’s head.  A style is absolutely perfect when it is absolutely natural.