tice.

Douglass, sincere in the opinions he has espoused, defends them with a
fervor and eloquence that finds scarcely a competitor.

In his very look--his gesture--in his whole manner, there is so much
of genuine, earnest eloquence, that they leave no time for reflection.
Now you are reminded of one rushing down some fearful steep, bidding
you follow; now on some delightful stream, still beckoning you onward.

In either case, no matter what your prepossessions or oppositions, you
for the moment, at least, forget the justness or unjustness of his
cause and obey the summons, and loath, if at all, you return to your
former post.

Not always, however, is he successful in retaining you. Giddy as you
may be with the descent you have made, delighted as you are with the
pleasure afforded, with the elysium to which he has wafted you, you
return too often dissatisfied with his and your own impetuosity and
want of firmness. You feel that you had had only a dream, a pastime,
not a reality.

This great power of momentary captivation consists in his eloquence of
manner--his just appreciation of words.

In listening to him, your whole soul is fired--every nerve
strung--every passion inflated--every faculty you possess ready to
perform at a moment's bidding. You stop not to ask why or wherefore.

'Tis a unison of mighty yet harmonious sounds that play upon your
imagination; and you give yourself up, for a time, to their
irresistible charm.

At last, the _cataract_ which roared around you is hushed, the
_tornado_ is passed, and you find yourself sitting upon a bank (at
whose base roll but tranquil waters), quietly meditating that why,
amid such a display of power, no greater effect had really been
produced.

After all, it must be admitted, there is a power in Mr. Douglass
rarely to be found in any other man.

With copiousness of language, and finish of diction, when even ideas
fail, words come to his aid--arranging themselves, as it were, so
completely, that they not only captivate, but often deceive us for
ideas; and hence the vacuum that would necessarily occur in the
address of an ordinary _speaker_ is filled up, presenting the same
beautiful harmony as do the lights and shades of a picture.

From Mr. Douglass, in this, perhaps, as much as in any other respect,
does Mr. _Ward_ differ. Ideas form the basis of all Mr. Ward utters.
Words are only used to express those ideas.

If words and ideas are not inseparable, then