'A happy choice of words, after we have obtained ideas, is one of the most constant labours of the person who attempts to write, or speak, with energy. This induces a habit in the writer or speaker to be satisfied with difficulty. Desirous of giving the thought he has conceived its full force, he never imagines the terms and epithets he has selected to be sufficiently expressive. If, after having accustomed himself to write, it be his wish to exert his powers as a public speaker, he must counteract this habit; and, instead of being severe in the choice of his words, must resolutely accept the first that present themselves, encourage the flow of thought, and leave epithets and phraseology to chance. Neither will his intrepidity, when once acquired, go unrewarded: the happiest language will frequently rush upon him, if, neglecting words, he do but keep his attention confined to thoughts. Of thoughts too it is rather necessary for him to deliver them boldly, following his immediate conceptions and explaining away inaccuracies as they occur, than to seek severe precision in the first instance. Hesitation is the death of eloquence; and precision, like every other power, will increase by being exercised. It is doubtless understood that I do not speak of orations already written and digested; but of speeches in reply, in which any laboured preparation is impossible.' His lordship applauded the solution of the difficulty, and some of the company observed the orator had given the history of his own mind. CHAPTER IX _Literary labours continued: The thermometer of hope still rising: The sermon and the disappointed cravings of vanity_ To carry on two controversies at the same time was certainly favourable to neither; except that abuse, or something very like it, being the key common to both, the subjects were so far in unison. Politics afforded me strong temptations, but theology was still predominant. The thirty-nine articles consequently were not neglected. Memory was taxed, my own manuscripts were examined, and authorities were consulted. His lordship's library abounded in political information, but not in theological, and I had recourse to that of the British Museum. I did not indeed compose with all the rapidity with which I wrote my first political effusion; for I had not only been rendered more cautious, but, exclusive of the conversations and employment which the peer afforded me, a regular attention was to be paid to the levees of the bishop. To these the sedulous Enoch carefully accompanied me; for no man pursued his own interest, as far as he understood it, with greater avidity. Circumstances were unfavourable, or he would certainly have been a bishop himself. Learning, talents, and virtue might have been dispensed with, but not these and the total want of patronage.