There are different ways of doing this. We may interest our hearers by well-digested studies of men and manners, conveyed in various styles of unsophisticated and sympathetic language; by spirited sallies; by metaphors drawn from the incidents of every-day life; and by heart-stirring impulses and emotions. …

In the first place, in order to interest an audience you must never lose sight of them, but keep them always in your wake. They should be made to think and feel with you, and even to anticipate or divine your train of thought; for that will gratify them. At other times, prepare a surprise for them, and that too will please them.

When you perceive that the attention of your hearers is flagging, it may be stimulated by a lively speech or sally; such as shall gladden their hearts, and draw from them that gentle smile which bespeaks approving assent. Frenchmen are delighted with this style of address; and surely there is nothing to urge against it. With so many depressing cares to battle with, one should rejoice to see them inspirited a little under the breath of the Divine word. Moreover, it may be made a useful medium for communicating some wholesome truths.

Sallies of this kind are greatly relished by the French people, even when directed against themselves.

All great orators have employed them. Saint Chrysostom himself, always so grave and dignified, did not disdain to use them. He thus wittily derides the vanity of the male sex of his time:—"Look at that young man. He walks delicately on the tips of his toes for fear of soiling his shoes. My friend, if you dread the mud so much on account of your shoes, put them on your head and they will be safe."

In another place he assails the vanity of the women. "Why are you so proud of your fine clothes? You reply: 'Only look at this stuff and see how beautiful it is: touch it, and feel how silky it is.' True: but that is no merit of yours. 'But how exquisitely this dress fits me!' True, again, but the merit of that is due to the sempstress."

"Alas! for human weakness," he exclaimed; "it takes the produce of a plant, an animal, or a vile insect, bedizens itself therewith, then goes abroad and asks the world's admiration, saying: Look at me, for I am worth something to-day."

All our great modern orators, both of the tribune and pulpit, abound in trenchant sallies; which almost always carry conviction, because they are universally understood.