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, as mortar is to the stones that compose the building, so are his words to his ideas. In this, I judge, lays Mr. Ward's greatest strength. Concise without abruptness--without extraordinary stress, always clear and forcible; if sparing of ornament, never inelegant. In all, there appears a consciousness of strength, developed by close study and deep reflection, and only put forth because the occasion demanded,--a power not only to examine but to enable you to see the fairness of that examination and the justness of its conclusions. You feel Douglass to be right, without always seeing it; perhaps it is not too much to say, when Ward is right you see it. His appeals are directed rather to the understanding than the imagination; but so forcibly do they take possession of it, that the heart unhesitatingly yields.