whole manner of the man as well as the peculiar crisis in the discourse. Never before did I completely understand what Demosthenes meant by laying such stress on delivery. You are to bring before you the venerable figure of the preacher; his blindness, constantly recalling to your recollection old Homer, Ossian, and Milton, and associating with his performance the melancholy grandeur of their geniuses; you are to imagine that you hear his slow, solemn, well-accented enunciation, and his voice of affecting, trembling melody; you are to remember the pitch of passion and enthusiasm to which the congregation were raised; and then the few moments of portentous, death like silence which reigned throughout the house; the preacher, removing his white handkerchief from his aged face (even yet wet from the recent torrent of his tears) and slowly stretching forth the palsied hand which holds it, begins the sentence, "Socrates died like a philosopher,"—then, pausing, raising his other hand, pressing them both, clasped together, with warmth and energy to his breast, lifting his "sightless balls" to heaven, and pouring his whole soul into his tremulous voice,—"but Jesus Christ—like a God!" If it had indeed and in truth been an angel of light, the effect could scarcely have been more divine.
DAVID CROCKETT
[David Crockett, the noted American pioneer and politician, was born in Tennessee in 1786. He was a typical backwoodsman, unlettered but shrewd, skillful as a hunter, and fond of an out-of-doors life. He served under Jackson in the war against the Creek Indians, and in 1826 was elected to Congress. At the close of his third term in Congress he enlisted with the Texan forces then at war with Mexico, and in 1836 was one of the defenders of the Alamo, where, on March 6th, with the rest of the garrison, he was killed by Santa Anna's troops.]
