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still perform. He works under the fear of a cold-blooded judgement, which represses that confidence, without which genius cannot work its wonder. To what else can it be attributed, that the princely prices which the works of the old schools still command, have not brought into competition with them modern productions of equal merit? Where sums are paid for single and small pictures, which would be an independence to an artist, why is there not in all Europe, nay, why has there not been for more than a hundred years past, a single one whom we can place on a level with the old masters? The decay of eloquence is, perhaps, an even more striking example. Argument is almost all the oratory of our times, premeditated appeals to feeling and passion have lost their power. Even the most popular assemblies must be convinced before they can be moved. We have grown cautious and suspicious, and are apt to distrust the orator, when he would win us to his side by any exhibition of emotion. We take pride in subsiding our feelings to our reasons. [[page torn]] speaker must feel this, and the