Some years since, an English clergyman had to give up all ministerial duty from "Clerical Sore Throat." Acting under the absurd advice of a London teacher of elocution, he resided in Spain for five years without the slightest benefit. He then returned, and at the house of the elocutionist who had made him an exile saw a copy of Behnke's celebrated work. Coming to the conclusion that the author must be rather clever, he at once consulted him. Following his advice he had his throat made medically sound by Lennox Browne, and then took the usual course in breathing and voice production under Behnke. A short time after I was with Herr Behnke, when a post card arrived from the clergyman: "I preached yesterday in Chichester cathedral, and was congratulated on the strength of my voice and the ease with which I filled the building." A few weeks since I heard a sermon in a Cleveland church. The preacher took short "collar-bone" breathings, using twice the power necessary for the building, and towards the conclusion was in evident distress (which naturally communicated itself to his hearers), a failing voice and perspiring face. If before entering the ministry he had learned to breathe and use his voice properly, such troubles could never have existed. There is yet another unpleasant affliction which correct breathing will rarely fail to cure, a high-pitched and effeminate voice in a man. I quote again a case from the same work: Mr. M----, a tall, thin young man, engaged in evangelistic work, suffered from "weakness of voice." He spoke chiefly in a "child voice," over which he had very little control. His breathing power increased by sixty cubic inches in two lessons. "In one week more," adds Herr Behnke, "I could dismiss him with a full, sonorous man's voice in place of the uncertain child's squeak with which he had come to me." I must lastly point out that the cure of stammering often entirely depends on the management of the breath, and in all cases it must be an important agent.