himself to persuade as well as his audience. That isn't the language
of conviction.' Whose--"

"Really, sir," said Lucian Webber, who had made his way to the
table, "I think, as you have now addressed us at considerable
length, and as there are other persons present whose opinions
probably excite as much curiosity as yours--" He was interrupted by
a, "Hear, hear," followed by "No, no," and "Go on," uttered in more
subdued tones than are customary at public meetings, but with more
animation than is usually displayed in drawing-rooms. Cashel, who
had been for a moment somewhat put out, turned to Lucian and said,
in a tone intended to repress, but at the same time humor his
impatience, "Don't you be in a hurry, sir. You shall have your turn
presently. Perhaps I may tell you something you don't know, before I
stop." Then he turned again to the company, and resumed.

"We were talking about effort when this young gentleman took it upon
himself to break the ring. Now, nothing can be what you might call
artistically done if it's done with an effort. If a thing can't be
done light and easy, steady and certain, let it not be done at all.
Sounds strange, doesn't it? But I'll tell you a stranger thing. The
more effort you make, the less effect you produce. A WOULD-BE artist
is no artist at all. I see that in my own profession (never mind
what that profession is just at present, as the ladies might think
the worse of me for it). But in all professions, any work that shows
signs of labor, straining, yearning--as the German gentleman
said--or effort of any kind, is work beyond the man's strength that
does it, and therefore not well done. Perhaps it's beyond his
natural strength; but it is more likely that he was badly taught.
Many teachers set their pupils on to strain, and stretch, so that