Let me trace the evolution which has led to the plan of this text-book. A class in elocution of which you are a member is given a paragraph from Modern Eloquence, a bit from an oration or address of Beecher or Phillips or Beveridge, to study. The passage appeals to you. You are roused by it to an eager, new appreciation of courage, conservatism or of the character of some national hero. You "look" your interest. You are asked to go to the platform. You are glad. You want to repeat the inspired word of the prophet. You begin confidently to voice the words of the great orator—the words which you had lifted alive from the page—but in your voice they sound now formal, cold, lifeless. You hesitate, your emotion is killed, your thought inhibited, your eagerness gone, your impulse dead—but you have made a discovery. You have become conscious of a great need, and your teacher, if she be wise, has discovered the nature of that need. You consult together and find three things have failed you, and, through you, the orator you wished to interpret. These things are your mind, your vocabulary, and your voice. You find that your need is threefold—it is the need to feel intelligently and to think vitally on your feet; the need to acquire a vocal vocabulary; the need to train your instruments of expression—voice and body.

To help you and your teacher to meet this threefold need is the wish of this book; and the book's plan is the result of the author's experience with her own pupils in watching the evolution of their skill in vocal expression, the development, along natural lines, of their ability to speak effectively.