never repeated his words, never fell into those vile half-muttered hems and haws by which an Englishman in such a position so generally betrays his timidity.  But during the whole time of my remaining in the room he did not give expression to a single thought.  He went on from one soft platitude to another, and uttered words from which I would defy any one of his audience to carry away with them anything.  And yet it seemed to me that his audience was satisfied.  I was not satisfied, and managed to escape out of the room.

The next lecturer to whom I listened was Mr. Everett.  Mr. Everett’s reputation as an orator is very great, and I was especially anxious to hear him.  I had long since known that his power of delivery was very marvelous; that his tones, elocution, and action were all great; and that he was able to command the minds and sympathies of his audience in a remarkable manner.  His subject also was the war—­or rather the causes of the war and its qualification.  Had the North given to the South cause of provocation?  Had the South been fair and honest in its dealings to the North?  Had any compromise been possible by which the war might have been avoided, and the rights and dignity of the North preserved?  Seeing that Mr. Everett is a Northern man and was lecturing to a Boston audience, one knew well how these questions would be answered, but the manner of the answering would be everything.  This lecture was given at Roxbury, one of the suburbs of Boston.  So I went out to Roxbury with a party, and found myself honored by being placed on the platform among the bald-headed ones and the superlatively wise.  This privilege is naturally gratifying, but it entails on him who is so gratified the inconvenience of sitting at the lecturer’s back, whereas it is, perhaps, better for the listener to be before his face.

I could not but be amused by one little scenic incident.  When we all went upon the platform, some one proposed that the clergymen should lead the way out of the little waiting-room in which we bald-headed ones and superlatively wise were assembled.  But to this the manager of the affair demurred.  He wanted the clergymen for a purpose, he said.  And so the profane ones led the way, and the clergymen, of whom there might be some six or seven, clustered in around the lecturer at last.  Early in his discourse, Mr. Everett told us what it was that the country needed at this period of her trial.  Patriotism, courage, the bravery of the men, the good wishes of the women, the self-denial of all—­“and,” continued the lecturer, turning to his immediate neighbors, “the prayers of these holy men whom I see around me.”  It had not been for nothing that the clergymen were detained.