B. Why so?

A. Why; can a sermon in which the scripture is falsely applied; a scrap of profane history is told after a dry, childish manner; and vain affectation of wit runs throughout the whole; can such a sermon be good?

B. By no means: but I do not think that the sermon I heard is of that sort.

A. Have patience, and I doubt not but you and I shall agree. When the preacher chose these words for his text, I have eaten ashes like bread,' ought he to have amused his audience with observing some kind of relation between the mere sound of his text, and the ceremony of the day? should he not first have explained the true sense of the words, before he applied them to the present occasion? B. It had been better.

A. Ought he not therefore to have traced the subject a little higher, by entering into. the true occasion and design of the Psalm; and explaining the context? Was it not proper for him to inquire whether the interpretation he gave of the words was agreeable to the true meaning of them, before he delivered his own sense to the people, as if it were the word of God?

B. He ought to have done so: but what fault was there in his interpretation?

A. Why, I will tell you. David (who was the author of the cii. Psalm) speaks of his own misfortunes: he tells us, that his enemies insulted him cruelly, when they saw him

in the dust, humbled at their feet, and reduced (as he poetically expresses it) to eat ashes like bread,' and 'to mingle his drink with weeping.' Now what relation is there between the complaints of David, driven from his throne, and persecuted by his son Absalom; and the humiliation of a christian, who puts ashes on his forehead, to remind him of his mortality, and disengage him from sinful pleasures? Could the preacher find no other text in scripture? Did Christ and his apostles, or the prophets, never speak of death, and the dust of the grave, to which all our pride and vanity must be reduced? Does not the scripture contain many affecting images of this important truth? Might he not have been content with the words of Genesis,* which are so natural and proper for this ceremony, and chosen by the church itself? Should a vain delicacy make him afraid of too often repeating a text that the Holy Spirit has dictated, and which the church appoints to be used every year? Why should he neglect such a pertinent passage, and many other places of scripture, to pitch on one that is not proper? This must flow from a depraved taste, and a fond inclination to say something that is new.

B. You grow too warm, Sir: supposing the literal sense of the text not to be the true meaning of it, the preacher's remarks might however be very fine and solid.

C. As for my part, I do not care whether

*Gen. iii. 19.

a preacher's thoughts be fine or not, till I am first satisfied of their being true. But, Sir, what say you to the rest of the sermon ?

A. It was exactly of a piece with the text. How could the preacher give such misplaced ornaments to a subject in itself so terrifying; and amuse his hearers with an idle story of Artemesia's sorrow; when he ought to have alarmed them, and given them the most terrible images of death?

B. I perceive then you do not love turns of wit, on such occasions. But what would become of eloquence if it were stript of such ornaments? Would you confine every body to the plainness of country preachers? Such men are useful among the common people; but persons of distinction have more delicate ears; and we must adapt our discourses to their polite taste.

A. You are now leading me off from the point. I was endeavouring to convince you, that the plan of the sermon was ill laid; and I was just going to touch upon the division. of it: but I suppose you already perceive the reason why I dislike it; for, the preacher lays down three quaint conceits for the subject of his whole discourse. When one chooses to divide a sermon, he should do it plainly, and give such a division as naturally arises from the subject itself, and gives a light and just order to the several parts; such a division as may be easily remembered, and at the same time help to connect and retain the whole;

in fine, a division that shews at once the extent of the subject, and of all its parts. But, on the contrary, here is a man who endeavours to dazzle his hearers, and puts them off with three points of wit, or puzzling riddles, which he turns and plies so dextrously, that they must fancy they saw some tricks of legerdemain. Did this preacher use such a serious, grave manner of address as might make you hope for something useful and important from him? But, to return to the point you proposed; did you not ask me whether I meant to banish eloquence from the pulpit?

B. Yes. I fancy that is your drift.

A. Think you so? pray what do you mean by eloquence?

B. It is the art of speaking well.

A. Has this art no other end, besides that of speaking well? Have not men some design in speaking? Or do they talk only for the sake of talking?

B. They speak to please, and to persuade others.

A. Pray let us carefully distinguish these two things. Men talk in order to persuade; that is certain: and too often they speak likewise to please others. But while one endeavours to please, he has another view; which, though more distant, ought to be his chief aim. A man of probity has no other design in pleasing others, than that he may the more effectually inspire them with the love of justice, and other virtues; by representing them

as most amiable. He who seeks to advance his own interest, his reputation, or his fortune, strives to please, only that he may gain the affection and esteem of such as can gratify his ambition, or his avarice: so that this very design of pleasing is still but a different manner of persuasion that the orator aims at; for he pleases others to inveigle their affection; that he may thereby persuade them to what advances his interest.

B. You cannot but own then that men often speak to please. The most ancient orators had this view. Cicero's brations plainly shew that he laboured hard for reputation: and who will not believe the same of Isocrates, and Demosthenes too? All the panegyrists were more solicitous for their own honour, than for the fame of their heroes; and they extolled a prince's glory to the skies, chiefly because they hoped to be admired for their ingenious manner of praising him. This ambition seems to have been always reckoned commendable both among the Greeks and the Romans and such emulation brought eloquence to its perfection: it inspired men with noble thoughts and generous sentiments, by which the ancient republics were made to flourish. The advantageous light in which eloquence appeared in great assemblies, and the ascendant it gave the orator over the people, made it to be admired, and helped to spread polite learning. I cannot see indeed why such an emulation should be blamed even