There are in literature a few biographies in which the hand of a master has, in a brief compass, given a portraiture of an illustrious subject, which, like the faces portrayed by the great painters of the Middle Ages, leaves nothing wanting and which no fulness of detail could improve. Of these, Tacitus's "Life of Agricola" is probably the most perfect example. Kirkland's "Fisher Ames" is of the same class. So, also, unless I am greatly deceived, is the "Life of Daniel Webster," by Edward Everett, published with Webster's Works in 1852. This admirable biography, partly, perhaps, by reason of its place in a voluminous publication, has attracted far less attention than its own excellence and the fame of its author would lead us to expect. It will be worth all the pains taken in preparing these articles if it shall lead the youth of the country to study carefully this masterly portrait by one great statesman and orator of another who was his teacher, leader, and friend. I extract from it one passage which gives the key to Webster's great success and to the success of every great orator who has stirred the feeling or convinced the understanding of the people by the power of eloquent speech: "The orator who would do justice to a great theme or a great occasion must thoroughly study and understand the subject; he must accurately and, if possible, minutely digest in writing beforehand the substance, and even the form, of his address; otherwise, though he may speak ably, he will be apt not to make in all respects an able speech. He must entirely possess himself beforehand of the main things which he wishes to say, and then throw himself upon the excitement of the moment and the sympathy of the audience. In those portions of his discourse which are didactic or narrative, he will not be likely to wander, in any direction, far from his notes; although even in those portions new facts, illustrations, and suggestions will be apt to spring up before him as he proceeds. But when the topic rises, when the mind kindles from within, and the strain becomes loftier, or bolder, or more pathetic, when the sacred fountain of tears is ready to overflow, and audience and speaker are moved by one kindred sympathetic passion, then the thick-coming fancies cannot be kept down, the storehouse of the memory is unlocked, images start up from the slumber of years, and all that the orator has seen, read, heard, or felt returns in distinct shape and vivid colors. The cold and premeditated text will no longer suffice for the glowing thought. The stately, balanced phrase gives place to some abrupt, graphic expression, that rushes unbidden to his lips. The unforeseen incident or locality furnishes an apt and speaking image; and the discourse instinctively transposes itself into a higher key." [Illustration] BALLAD By J. Russell Taylor