Since mass meetings in the open have become a feature of modern Chinese life—a feature which appears to possess the elements of permanence—a crying need of the moment is a school of voice production. Hearing the average ora-for address his hearers is not the most agreeable thing in the world these days, one misses the silvery tongue, and as sentence after sentence becomes more hoarse and difficult of enunciation, it is easy to guess how soon it will be before the speaker must finish. For the British race the war actually proved a course in voice production: it was interesting to follow a voice from the time when, in its infancy, it would break and end in a shrilly impotent cry, until it could command attention over incredible distances. A matter of breathing it was principally, combined with the knack of pitching out words at the proper angle—an art requiring infinite pains at the start but repaying all the trouble in a wonderfully short time. In pre-war days rumour had it that the wonderful voice of the old army was cultivated on beer, and many mellow-throated instructors, men whose whispers were Jovian thunder, swore by the recipe. But even beer is not absolutely necessary for achieving a voice that will carry far and wide, expert instruction and much attention to the art being the prime essentials. Those practising mass oratory will find their powers greatly increased and fatigue lessened if they make it a study, whereas the present efforts of some are liable to ruin their voices in no very long time.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.