To this Clarence thought it neither prudent nor well-bred to offer further remark. CHAPTER XVII. Meetings or public calls he never missed, To dictate often, always to assist. . . . . . To his experience and his native sense, He joined a bold, imperious eloquence; The grave, stern look of men informed and wise, A full command of feature, heart and eyes, An awe-compelling frown, and fear-inspiring size.--CRABBE. The next evening Clarence, mindful of Wolfe's invitation, inquired from Warner (who repaid the contempt of the republican for the painter's calling by a similar feeling for the zealot's) the direction of the oratorical meeting, and repaired there alone. It was the most celebrated club (of that description) of the day, and well worth attending, as a gratification to the curiosity, if not an improvement to the mind. On entering, he found himself in a long room, tolerably well lighted, and still better filled. The sleepy countenances of the audience, the whispered conversation carried on at scattered intervals, the listless attitudes of some, the frequent yawns of others, the eagerness with which attention was attracted to the opening door, when it admitted some new object of interest, the desperate resolution with which some of the more energetic turned themselves towards the orator, and then, with a faint shake of the head, turned themselves again hopelessly away,--were all signs that denoted that no very eloquent declaimer was in possession of the "house." It was, indeed, a singularly dull, monotonous voice which, arising from the upper end of the room, dragged itself on towards the middle, and expired with a sighing sound before it reached the end. The face of the speaker suited his vocal powers; it was small, mean, and of a round stupidity, without anything even in fault that could possibly command attention or even the excitement of disapprobation: the very garments of the orator seemed dull and heavy, and, like the Melancholy of Milton, had a "leaden look." Now and then some words, more emphatic than others,--stones breaking, as it were with a momentary splash, the stagnation of the heavy stream,--produced from three very quiet, unhappy-looking persons seated next to the speaker, his immediate friends, three single isolated "hears!" "The force of friendship could no further go." At last, the orator having spoken through, suddenly stopped; the whole meeting seemed as if a weight had been taken from it; there was a general buzz of awakened energy, each stretched his limbs, and resettled himself in his place,-- "And turning to his neighbour said, 'Rejoice!'"