Eighty years have passed since the bells of the thatched chapels
rang in Emancipation. During that time over three thousand
talented priests are on the land; yet how small the number of
works produced. Why such a miserable result? What has sterilised
the intellects of these men? Mainly this fatal advice. How could
we have literary tastes among the priests in their pastoral life
when such tastes were either frowned down during their college
career or postponed to a period when their cultivation became an
impossibility.

[Side note: You must begin while young]

No man can become a preacher without becoming a writer first. I
need not labour this proposition. A single quotation from the
highest authority establishes it. When Cicero was asked the
question--"How can I become an orator?" his one answer was--
"_Scribere quam plurimum_." The first step to oratorica eminence
was--write as much as possible.

Now, ask any distinguished writer when did _he_ begin to
cultivate a literary taste. He will tell you with Pope that he
"lisped in numbers." He began almost with the dawn of reason. If,
then, pen practice must be the first step towards pulpit success,
it is while the fancy is tender that it should be trained; while
the receptive powers are hungry in youth they should be fed;
while the habits of thought are fresh and flexible they should be
exercised. Wait till the hoar frost of age nips the rich blooms
of imagination and stiffens the once nimble powers of the mind,
and the cast-iron habits of maturer years have settled on you: