 also redundancies and
repetitions, which require good reading not to be felt. For myself, at least, I
must confess being not always so attentive as I ought to be - (here was a glance
at Fanny) that nineteen times out of twenty I am thinking how such a prayer
ought to be read, and longing to have it to read myself - Did you speak?«
stepping eagerly to Fanny, and addressing her in a softened voice; and upon her
saying, »No,« he added, »Are you sure you did not speak? I saw your lips move. I
fancied you might be going to tell me I ought to be more attentive, and not
allow my thoughts to wander. Are not you going to tell me so?«
    »No, indeed, you know your duty too well for me to - even supposing -«
    She stopt, felt herself getting into a puzzle, and could not be prevailed on
to add another word, not by dint of several minutes of supplication and waiting.
He then returned to his former station, and went on as if there had been no such
tender interruption.
    »A sermon, well delivered, is more uncommon even than prayers well read. A
sermon, good in itself, is no rare thing. It is more difficult to speak well
than to compose well; that is, the rules and trick of composition are oftener an
object of study. A thoroughly good sermon, thoroughly well delivered, is a
capital gratification. I can never hear such a one without the greatest
admiration and respect, and more than half a mind to take orders and preach
myself. There is something in the eloquence of the pulpit, when it is really
eloquence, which is entitled to the highest praise and honour. The preacher who
can touch and affect such an heterogeneous mass of hearers, on subjects limited,
and long worn thread-bare in all common hands; who can say any thing new or
striking, any thing that rouses the attention, without offending the taste, or
wearing out the feelings of his hearers, is a man whom one could not (in his
public capacity) honour enough. I should like to be such a man.«
    Edmund laughed.
    »I should indeed. I never listened to a distinguished preacher in my life,
without a sort of envy. But then, I must have a London audience. I could not
preach, but to the educated; to those who were capable of estimating my
composition. And, I do not know that I should be fond of preaching often; now
and
