GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION ADAPTED TO THE USE OF TEACHERS AND LEARNERS IN THE %xt of J^abing; BEING A DIGEST OF THE PRINCIPLES OF VOCAL DELIVERY. AN INDUCTIVE SYSTEM, IN THREE PARTS: ARTICULATION, INTONATIOJJ, AND MEASURE. AS TAUGHT AT THE VOCAL INSTITUTE, PHILADELPHIA. H. 0. APTHORP, A.M., M.D., t * PROFESSOR OF ELOCUTION. Istis quicunque laborat Edico propere ingenuas descendere ad artes. PHILADELPHIA: PUBLISHED BY II. COWPERTHWAIT & CO. BOSTON: SHEPARD, CLARK & BROWN. 1858. T^ Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by II. 0. APT1I0RP, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. PRINTED BY SMTilf & PETERS, Franklin Buildings, Sixth Stroet, below Arcb, Philadelphia. rrt tf AUTHOE'S PEEFACE. It is not necessary, at this late day, to speak of the a^portac of learning to read. Tha* this department of education suffers general neglect, seems also to be conceded. But he that shall be successful in discovering the best mode of teaching this elegant Art, will deserve to be accounted a benefac- tor to his race. The teacher of this branch has difficulties to encoun- ter which do not appear to beset the path of those who undertake the instruction of pupils in other departments of learning ; the most serious of these difficulties, how- ever, do not show themselves in that department which I have chosen to constitute the First Part of my system of instruction ; although it is certain that these difficul- ties are not only diminished, but in a great measure dis- appear under that thorough and rigid training of the voice which the pupil should undergo before he reaches the Second Part. They disappear, in part, without being made a subject 1* (v) VI AUTHOR S PREFACE. of his attention, and at a period of his progress when it would be difficult to make him understand what they are. The way is prepared for their removal. It is prepared by the mechanical discipline which the voice undergoes during the training of the First Part, to encounter the task which would otherwise have seemed so formidable. It is true that carelessness of pronunciation, incorrect utterance, hurried and imperfect articulation, and gene- ral misuse of the physical organ of voice, are the faults which first meet the ear, and stand out prominent among the defects of common speech and bad reading ; and these are indeed the vices which must be attacked at the outset ; the reforming of which must engage the teacher from the very commencement of his instructions. But the reform of these defects does not present so difficult a problem to solve as the subject of Intonation, which follows. Articulation is indeed the first essen- tial, the foundation indispensable for anything like a tole- rable style of reading : but where there is no natural im- pediment or physical imperfection in the organs, this may usually be taught, and later graces of pronunciation likewise, without insuperable difficulty, and without un- usual powers. But I am constrained to acknowledge that great imperfection exists in the common modes of teaching the inflections or slides of voice (as they are sometimes called), in regulating the pitch and melody of sentences, and that difficulties occur which do not attach to other subjects, or to other branches of this department in education. I. The first part of this book consists chiefly in a AUTHOR S PREFACE. Vll series of exercises for the mechanical training of the voice. These exercises are progressive, and the method is strictly inductive throughout ; a thorough command of each successive stage of progress being requisite to prepare the pupil advantageously to enter upon the next. It is obvious that the puerile and tedious character of these exercises must render them the least interesting or agreeable part of this beautiful study ; but they are not the less important on this account ; and if asked at this late stage of my experience as a teacher, what par- ticular part I esteem of the most vital importance in making a reader, I should be compelled to admit, nay, should most emphatically declare, "this First Part." The essential element of fine reading, the necessary basis of excellence, must be a perfectly correct, clear, and distinct Articulation. To this subject, then, is the first portion of this book devoted ; the training of the voice and ear to the correct utterance and the nice dis- crimination of sound. No one can enter upon the study of this branch without discovering, at a very early stage of his progress, that Vocal Gymnastics, or exercises for exploding, must be the means of discipline for the voice. All teachers have agreed upon this, and have prepared exercises for the purpose, whether constituted of con- nected language in sentences, or of the elementary sounds, and syllables made up of these sounds. Such practice has been emphatically enjoined by the most distinguished and able masters. Professors Thehvcll and Barber regarded it as indispensable. Dr. Comstock has constructed exercises involving all the elements of speech, which are admirably arranged in syllables and AUTHOR S PREFACE. imaginary words, and has used them with great success in developing and bringing out the voice. To this species of exercises I have given the prefer- ence over all others, for the same reason that pupils in music are required to practise upon written exercises or " etudes/' which are likewise progressive to the extent of involving all possible successions, at least such as are likely to be encountered in the common course of musi- cal composition. In the same way and for the same reason the various syllabic combinations and sequences of our very difficult language must be practised by themselves ; and thus the organs become accustomed to each, so that no syllable will be likely to be mispro- nounced when occurring in literature, in whatsoever position it may be found. Pronunciation is of course a prominent subject of study and practice taught in the first division, or that we are now speaking of. As soon as any teacher under- takes this branch, he is at once necessarily driven to consider language under its elementary form, and he therefore resolves it into those ultimate elements, so to speak, from which it seems to have been formed. Philologists differ a little in regard to the number of these ; but they are usually said to be about forty. No one counts more than forty -three, and I believe none less than thirty seven. Out of the largest number, several may be regarded as being made up of two sounds ; and if so, are not strictly entitled to the name of ele- ments. But, as it is not necessary or useful for practi- cal purposes to resolve the acknowledged elements still further, we give them this name, with perhaps equal author's preface. ix propriety to that with which water is thus designated, although in fact resolvable into two distinct gases. I have made it a principle not to " cavil on the ninth part of a hair," and will not hold an argument with any man on such questions as whether the sound of " d" enters into the word " bridge" more than it does into 'he word " George." I therefore suppose my Table of Elements, as it differs but slightly from those of other modern masters, will not be seriously objected to on the score of its imperfections, either from deficiency or re- dundance. The chapter on Pronunciation I hope to render more complete in a later edition. In this I have shown, as far as I am able to do, how we may best meet the want (certainly not a small one) of a general standard of pronunciation ; and I am convinced that no one who is familiar with its contents, and has formed his habits accordingly, need ever be charged with vulgarity of pronunciation ; nor is there any reason why he should fall into the errors of the illiterate. In the chapter just spoken of, much will be found which may seem to be more suitable for the preface, or which might have been embodied with introductory remarks. But as the preface is not always read by pupils, I have seen fit to include it in my text. II. The subject of Intonation has engaged the thoughts and occupied the study of earnest and able scholars. Men of taste and those having an appre- ciating ear for sound have always been offended by gross violations of it ; by monotony, or by indiscrimi- nate shifting of pitch. They have always recognised AUTHOR 6 PREFACE. the beauty of agreeable intonation ; but few writers have even hinted at a practical mode of inculcating a chaste melody in the utterance of language. It is true that Dr. John Walker, the distinguished author of a pronouncing dictionary, devoted much time to the study of inflections ; and carefully investigated the principles of the upward and downward slides of voice. He was a writer of the last century ; and in the second edition of his treatise he explained the circum- flex as a combination of the two inflections upon the same syllable. But the measure of these inflections, how far the voice should be carried in its upward or downward movement, did not enter into the conditions prescribed by this accomplished and excellent philologist. His theory of inflections was new, original, and highly interesting. And his rules are the only ones, so far as I have been able to learn, which have been in vogue for considerably more than half a century. That is to say, nothing which can claim to be a system of inflection, and usually taught as such, has had its origin, and been generally adopted, used, or referred to, since the publi- cation of Dr. Walker's book. " The Philosophy of the Human Voice" was published in 1827 in Philadelphia by Dr. James Rush. In this most interesting and valuable treatise the principles of Inflec- tion have been further investigated ; and the science of the voice may date a new era of its progress, from the publication of this work. Not, however, that the edu- cational world was impelled immediately to avail itself of whatever light might have been thrown upon vocal science, or the subject of inflection, by the writings of this author ; but that men of science, if such there were, AUTHOR S PREFACE. ■ XI and all curious students of the voice, learned in " The Philosophy of the Human Voice" that the measure of inflections, as well as their direction, might be deter- mined by an infallible guide, and subjected to rules both scientific and practical in their character. The true measure of vocal inflections must be the musical scale ; there can be no other. Sound is essentially music, or the substratum of music. Music is only a modification of sound. Sound may indeed be estimated in quantity, or by its greater or less degree of intensity, if you please, without any reference to musical science, or the laws of melody; but when we speak of inflections, we mean change of 'pitch ; and in no possible way can this pro- perty in sound, this change of pitch, be estimated, other than by referring it to the musical scale. To do this with accuracy, it may be replied, must be attended with difliculty. To this I answer, first, that excellence in any science is not to be obtained without encountering difficulties. And, secondly, that such is the condition of taste in this regard, at the present day, and so low the standard of excellence, as to admit of much improvement, even without aspiring to a perfectly accurate measurement of the inflections, even if this were to be desired ; and to this I add that no such unde- viating coincidence is necessary, or even desirable between the vocal inflections and the intervals of the musical scale. But it will be readily admitted that nothing worthy the name of science can be written on the subject of Intonation, without having something in view as a measure or guide which may be referred to, to test the width or measure of inflections. That such a measure is found in the intervals of music, must be at AUTHOR 8 PREFACE. once conceded by every one who will take the pains to examine the valuable work above referred to. And the mode of making the application of those intervals to the vocal inflections in speech, is carefully taught in the pages of this little book. I would finally remark, with especial reference to the subject of appropriating musical intervals to the voice in reading, that it is a matter on which a broad latitude of opinion may reasonably exist. That is, it may be thought unnecessary, at the present stage of progress in education, to carry science very far into instructions in reading. It may be said, perhaps, by many, that it is all-sufficient for the wants of education in the present day, to inculcate a style of reading by common method, which shall be free from palpable defects in regard to Intonation, without an adjustment according to science, of such points as the precise measure of the inflections of the voice. Such an opinion finds all charity, even among those who believe in the expediency of making these subjects more a matter of science than they have yet been considered. But this does not alter the fact that a step of advancement is made in vocal science. And whenever it shall please the philologist or the philo- sopher, or the educational world, if you please, to apply strict scientific principles to the subject of speech ; whenever the study of elocution and the practice of oratory shall become a science, and subjected to rules of excellence as other branches have been ; it must and can only be so taught by the method and principles above referred to and inculcated by Dr. Rush. III. Measure of Speech, or that property in language AUTHOR S PREFACE. Xlll which is usually treated under the head of Rhythm, con- stitutes one of the most interesting features in language, when considered with reference to the effect of reading on the ear, of the various styles and character of com- position. Joshua Steele, an English writer of the last century, published an ingenious work, in which he explained the principles of measure. And, although Mr. John Thel- well, of London, a very distinguished elocutionist, has subsequently made use of this principle, and scored exercises in written composition for the instruction of his pupils, yet I am constrained to believe that very little attention has been since paid to the subject by practical teachers in this country. I am led to this conclusion by an examination of the books which mention it at all, as well as by personal conversation with teachers of more or less eminence, many of whom declare it to be irreconcilable with a tasteful and correct reading of language, and therefore useless. Some teachers, either for want of correctness in ear, or from the inability, from some cause or other, to appreciate harmonious utterance, are unable to read scored exer- cises according to the principles in question ; and there- fore unable to teach it. Others contend that the practice of such reading must inevitably have an unfavorable effect upon the manner of reading, as it imposes a cer- tain restraint, and produces a measured regularity in all sorts of reading, both poetry and prose. This last objection is worthy of a candid consideration, and were it not contradicted by the daily experience of many years, would certainly have an important bearing 2 XIV AUTHOR S PREFACE, upon my future practice in teaching. But it surely does not exonerate a teacher from the obligation of explaining to his pupils one of the most beautiful laws of relation (so to speak) between the functional requirements of respiration and the harmonious utterance of language, which can be found in the records of philosophical in- vestigation. The use of machinery in matters of education is open to some reasonable objections ; while it is opposed with a conservative pertinacity which frequently wants the sanction of reason. Practical teachers find a stringent necessity for system. Modes and methods must be em- ployed, if it were only to render their tasks endurable. But it devolves upon them to divest their systems, as far as possible, of the objectionable features and harmful results which may be in a degree incident to the nature of modes and methods. This prejudice against systems and mechanical aids is not wholly without foundation. It is, doubtless, to be ascribed in part, to the injudicious application which has been made, of some systems. But "usus non tollit abusum" — the abuse of a thing does not abrogate the just and proper application of it. And when we consider the nature of the principle now in question, that it is not a fanciful contrivance gotten up as a plausible expe- dient ; nor an illustration merely of some analogous facts in nature ; but simply the statement of our inner organization ; the necessary result of our physical economy ; the written exponent of what takes place beyond our control ; I see no proper light in which to view this plan of scoring language, other than that of a beautiful adaptation of our physical powers to the AUTHOR S PREFACE. XV harmonious flow of speech ; or to speak, perhaps, more definitely, it is the accommodating to the necessities of our system with regard to respiration, the best possible utterance of written language. The perfect correctness of Mr. Steele's theory is ad- mitted by the most distinguished philologists alive ; and the value of objections raised against its application, or rather of the prejudices existing, has been sufficiently tested by my own experience, to warrant me in continu- ing to teach it, and to recommend it to others. I have therefore made the subject so plain, as to enable almost any student to put it in practice without much aid from a teacher ; or so simple, that any person at all familiar with music, may master the art of reading scored language, in less than an hour. At all events, those to whom it may not seem desirable to study the subject of Rhythm at all, of course may neglect or ignore this scoring of language ; while those who admit that this property in the movement of voice should be treated scientifically, will find themselves reduced to the alter- native of accepting this theory, founded as it is in nature ; or they must despair of deriving benefit from any one having a less exalted origin. My daily experience has constantly taught me that what is wanted in the present condition of education in order to produce a reform in reading, is first a thorough training of the voice by suitable exercise, in order to lay a foundation for after instruction. My argument in favor of such a series of exercises as the book before us contains, is that the ear is in no danger of being misled by the various inflections which are so inseparable from expressive language ; and thus XVI AUTHOR S PREFACE. the teacher is enabled to lead the voice both as regards pitch and inflection, until it is divested of the latter property, and utters an element or a syllable, almost like a note of music. Now, I maintain that this subject of inflection can be taught in no other way, than by first divesting the utterance of all inflection. Written sentences are no adequate substitute for vocal exercises upon unmeaning syllables ; and cannot supply their place in rudimental teaching, the opinion of a writer of great taste and culture to the contrary notwithstanding. "For," says Dr. Porter, "as vocal sounds are intended to convey thought, and these simple elements signify nothing of themselves, the pupil is re- luctant to exercise his voice upon them with sufficient force to answer the purpose." The pupil must overcome his reluctance, for the simple reason that expressive language conveys thought and involves inflection ; which must now be dispensed with. It is not an answer to this remark to say that many speakers inflect well, judiciously, and agreeably to the ear who never knew the meaning of the term. This may be true ; but will such a speaker easily succeed in transferring his habits of inflection to a pupil ? Can he teach the necessary arts for the management of the voice by the rule suggested by the learned Dr. Walker, " Read as I read?" This is a question upon which I am not about to pronounce "ex cathedra." And if I should do so, my reasoning might fail to convince the multitude of sceptics as to the imperative need of science, in car- rying forward all sorts of reform. Neither would I be understood to say that I esteem it an easy thing to reduce the practical teaching of elo- AUTHOR S PREFACE. XV11 cution wholly to a system of rules, which may be incul- cated and enforced with the same certainty and success which attends the teaching of the exact sciences (so called). Yet it may be maintained with confidence, that whenever it shall seem to those who have culture and conscience, and can command influence in education, to be expedient to place the acquisition of good reading upon an equal footing in importance, with other arts, it will be found necessary to commence the study of it by a course of simple exercises, elementary at first and wholly detached from the sentiments involved in lan- guage. The mechanical training of the voice must first be thoroughly performed in order to prepare it for that perfection hinted at in the chapter on Emphasis, where it is maintained in effect that the acme of excellence must consist in having such a command of the legitimate and normal use of the voice in its chaste simplicity, as to be able safely to dispense with the unnatural subter- fuges of ranting and noise. With these preliminary remarks, the following pages are offered to the educational world, not claiming the originality of a work of discovery, but as a practical system of teaching, drawn together from the whole range of the literature of Elocution, thoroughly tested by long experience in its use, and freed of everything which is not necessary and useful in its direct application to the instruction of readers. H. 0. A. CONTENTS GENERAL DIVISION. Page 25. PART I. CHAPTER I. ANALYSIS OF LANGUAGE. ELEMENTS OP SPEECH — VOCALITY — VOWELS — SOB-YOWELS — ASPIRATES — SIGNS — EXPLOSION . .27 CHAPTER II. TABLE OF ELEMENTS. NOTATION OP SIGNS 30 CHAPTER III. FAULTS OF THE ALPHABET. THE SAME SIGN USED FOR DIFFERENT SOUNDS — THE SAME ELEMENT RE- PRESENTED BY DIFFERENT SIGNS 33 (19) XX CONTENTS. CHAPTER IV. EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. Page 38. CHAPTER V. LIST OF WORDS DISPLAYING THE USE OF ALL THE ELEMENTS — ANALYSIS OF SYLLABLES — STRESS 42 CHAPTER VI. COGNATES. Page 47. CHAPTER VII. ACCENT. Page 51. CHAPTER VIII. COMBINATIONS OF CONSONANT ELEMENTS. Page 59. CHAPTER IX. SOUNDS OF ' W ; AND ' WE..' THE LETTER ' h' — THE INDEFINITE ARTICLE AND THE PARTICLE AN — PROMISCUOUS SENTENCES FOR EXERCISES IN PRONUNCIATION . . 66 CHAPTER X. QUALITY OF VOICE. NASALITY — ASPIRATION — HEAD TONES 74 CHAPTER XI. GRACES OF DELIVERY. THE RHETORICAL PAUSE — EVENNESS OF TONE — NATURE OF HEAVY OR ACCENTED SYLLABLES — QUANTITY — SHORT ACCENTED SYLLABLES — FORCE OF PERCUSSION — LIST OF WORDS ADAPTED TO THE DISPLAY OF QUANTITY — THE VANISH — ABRUPTNESS — TRANSITION . . .77 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XII. PRONUNCIATION. STANDARD OF PRONUNCIATION — ERRORS OP THE VULGAR — ERRORS OF THE ERUDITE — CUSTOM — COMMON ERRORS CLASSIFIED — LIST OF WORDS IN COMMON USE, ACCENTUATED ACCORDING TO THE MOST APPROVED AUTHORITY PART II. CHAPTER I. INFLECTION PITCH CADENCES. RULE FOR ASCERTAINING KEY-NOTE OR NAT ORAL PITCH OF VOICE . . 97 CHAPTER II. CADENCE. Page 100. CHAPTER III. INFLECTION. DISCRETE AND CONCRETE INTERVALS — MEASURE OF INFLECTIONS . .102 CHAPTER IY. THE INTERVALS OF THE MUSICAL SCALE. THEIR APPLICATION AND SIGNIFICATION — CLOSE INTONATION — "WIDE INTO- NATION — NOTATION OF INFLECTION — EXAMPLES OF PASSAGES MARKED FOR INFLECTION — EXCELLENT ILLUSTRATION FROM SCRIPTURE — MEA- SURE OF INFLECTIONS SOMEWHAT PRECARIOUS — NO UNALTERABLE PRESCRIPTION OF INTERVALS POSSIBLE 107 CHAPTER V. EMPHASIS. ERRONEOUS VIEWS OF EMPHASIS — INFLECTION A MEANS OF EMPHASIS TOO FREQUENT EMPHASIS OBJECTIONABLE, AS DESTROYING THE HAR- MONY OF LANGUAGE — A RETURNING MELODY TO BE AVOIDED — DIATONIC MELODY OF SPEECH 113 XXU CONTENTS. CHAPTER VI. TRANSITION OF VOICE. PARENTHESIS — PASSAGE FROM "RICHARD II." MARKED FOR INFLECTION 1J6 CHAPTER VII. THE STAGE WHISPER. QUOTATIONS FROM " TWELFTH NIGHT," FOR PRACTICE UPON STAGE WHIS- 118 PART III. CHAPTER I. PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS INTRODUCTORY TO THE SUBJECT OF MEASURE. POWER OF APPRECIATING RHYTHM — MONOSYLLABIC PROPERTY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE — CLASSICAL TERMS: — BEAUTY — THE ANGLO-SAXON ELEMENT — STRENGTH — REQUISITES FOR A MODEL STYLE OF COMPOSI- TION — PERTINENT QUOTATION FROM " MACBETH" . . . .121 CHAPTER II. PHILOSOPHICAL INVESTIGATION OF MEASURE. DOUBLE FUNCTION OF THE LARYNX — NECESSITY OF THE APPORTION- MENT EXPLAINED — TWO ACCENTED SYLLABLES CANNOT BE UTTERED BY A SINGLE EFFORT OF VOICE — ONE ACCENTED AND FOUR UNAC- CENTED SYLLABLES MAY BE UTTERED BY A SINGLE EFFORT OF VOICE REQUISITES TO CONSTITUTE A MEASURE — A SINGLE SYLLABLE MAY CONSTITUTE A MEASURE — SYLLABLES OF INDEFINITE QUANTITY — DIS- TINCTION BETWEEN ACCENTED SYLLABLES — NOTATION OF MEASURE, OR SCORING OF LANGUAGE — BEATING TIME — DIFFICULTY OF BREAKING UP THE ASSOCIATION — RESOURCE TO OBVIATE THIS DIFFICULTY — REST IN THE SECOND MEMBER OF A MEASURE NOT DIFFICULT TO OBSERVE — REST IN THE FIRST MEMBER DIFFICULT — REASON EXPLAINED — DETAIL- ED ANALYSIS OF MEASURE ILLUSTRATED BY PASSAGE FROM " YOUNG" 126 CONTENTS. XX111 CHAPTER III. OBJECTIONS TO THE PRACTICE OF READING SCORED EXERCISES. OBJECTION ANSWERED — DIRECTIONS FOR ACQUIRING THE ART OF READ- ING SCORED EXERCISES — HOW THE SENSE IS AFFECTED BY NEGLECT OF THE PRINCIPLES OF MEASURE 133 CHAPTER IV. ANALYSIS OF QUOTATION FROM " YOUNG" CONTINUED. ADVANTAGES TO BE DERIVED FROM THE PRACTICE OF READING SCORED LANGUAGE — DANGERS INCIDENT TO MECHANICAL AIDS — SUCH PRAC- TICE TO BE USED UNDER LIMITATIONS — NO PRESCRIBED SCORING CAN INDICATE THE ONLY POSSIBLE CORRECT READING — THE PRINCIPLES NOT THE LESS BINDING AND INCONTROVERTIBLE .... 137 EXERCISES CATHARINA. ADDRESSED TO MISS STAPLETON EXTRACT FROM JUNIUS DR. FRANKLIN'S JOURNEY FROM BOSTON TO PH FROM SHAKSPEARE'S HENRY IV. STORY AND SPEECH OF LOGAN . LOVE OF A FATHER MINOR MORALS .... PSALM CXXXIX. .... SUMNER ON WAR CATO's SOLILOQUY ON IMMORTALITY AGAINST PROCRASTINATION THE GRAVE ..... HARVARD COLLEGE INDUSTRY NECESSARY TO THE ATTAINMENT OF TO THE URSA MAJOR HYMN TO THE DEITY WARREN'S ADDRESS CHAPIN ON REFORM NINTH CHAPTER OF JOHN . 143 . 146 ILADELPHIA . 148 . 153 . . 154 . 156 . . 160 . 166 . . 167 . 170 . . 171 . 173 . . 177 ELOQUENCE ISO . 183 . 190 . . 195 . 196 . 198 CONTENTS. EXTRACT PROM COWPER S " TASK" ON THE BEING OP A GOD ..... ADAM AND EVE'S MORNING HYMN .... SPEECH OF THE EARL OP CHATHAM .... TIMON's ADDRESS TO THE THIEVES C-iESAR'S PASSAGE OP THE RUBICON .... SPEECH OP PATRICK HENRY .... ADDRESS OF HENRY V. TO HIS TROOPS BEFORE THE GATES OF HAR FLEUR ....... SIR WALTER RALEIGH TO HIS SON .... WHAT'S HALLOWED GROUND? .... WHAT HAVE WE TO DO WITH SLAVERY ? THE OLD MAN'S SONG ..... SOLILOQUY OF RICHARD III. ..... OTHELLO'S ADDRESS TO THE SENATE FREEDOM ....... leonato's grief for the loss of his daughter charity of opinion ...... barnes on slavery ..... credibility op miracles ..... cost of war ...... marot's ode to his mistress ..... the study of elocution ..... reflections at sea ...... st. peter's ...... "she had outlived her usefulness" abou ben adhem ...... my native land . speak gently ...... JAFFAR ....... king Claudius's soliloquy .... hamlet's soliloquy ...... garden scene from romeo and juliet . reading with spectacles ..... the apple-dumplings and george iii. . 201 208 212 215 220 222 224 229 231 233 236 238 240 241 244 246 248 251 254 257 261 263 266 267 269 275 275 276 278 283 284 287 294 296 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. GENERAL DIVISION. ARTICULATION — INTONATION — MEASURE. The subject under consideration in this volume, is divided into three several branches or heads. The first of these is Articulation; and by it is meant the clear and distinct utterance of language. This, it will be perceived, is mainly important ; as a habit of distinct enunciation of words and syllables must lie at the bottom of all excellence in delivery. And no superstructure can have value which is built upon any other basis than this. The second division of our subject will embrace all that relates to the pitch and inflections of the voice in uttering words, language, and audible sound. And this branch we call Intonation. The song or musical effect which characterizes the utterance of language, whether it regards the pitch* of • Elevation on the musical scale. (25) 26 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. voice in which sentences are uttered, or the inflection of single syllables, belongs to the subject of Intonation. The third division we call Measure. And it relates to the rliytlim of language — the movement of words or syllables ac- cording to certain groups. The utterance of metrical lines will display a rhythmical movement of the voice, and give an idea of measure. But it is not only_ poetry which admits of measure; as we shall show that the most harmonious and agreeable utterance of all language is performed in accordance with a law of our nature, which requires an apportionment of syllables that we call measure of speech. PART I. ARTICULATION. CHAPTER I. ANALYSIS OF LANGUAGE. ELEMENTS OF SPEECH — VOCALITY — VOWELS — SUB-VOWELS — ASPIRATES — SIGNS — EXPLOSION. Language is made up of sentences; sentences are com- posed of words ; words consist of syllables ; and syllables may be still further resolved into the ultimate sounds which we call Elements of Speech. The short word 'man/ is clearly resolvable into the three several elements represented in our language by the letters ' m/ i a/ and ' n.' The names given to these letters do not give a correct idea of the province which they fulfil in the spelling of words. The sound represented by the letter l m/ has no open vowel sound like the syllable l em j it is merely a smothered sound made while the mouth is closed ; the second sound is that of ' a' in the word l at -/ and the third sound is that represented by * n' in the word ' now.' (27) 28 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. Now these elements differ more or less widely in their nature ; the middle one, that represented by our ' a,' possess- ing in abundance a property which we call vocality, by virtue of which it is susceptible of very loud utterance, is called a vowel ; but the first and last elements entering into the composition of this syllable, and represented by the letters ' m' and ' n/ being smothered sounds having but little vocality, are therefore called sub-vowels. In the words l pin] ' time,' ( cape/ &c, we have yet another kind of element. The sound represented by the letters ' p/ 1 1/ and ' c/ has no more vocality than a whisper, and is there- fore called aspirate. We have then elements of three kinds, distinguished from one another by the different degrees of their vocality ; and every element which enters into our lan- guage may be classed accordingly. They are either vowels, sub-vowels, or aspirates. The vowels having this pro- perty (vocality) in abundance, the sub-vowels having but little of it, and the aspirates being merely whispered sounds. These elements are represented in our language, each by one or more letters. In a perfect alphabet there would be a sign or letter for every element, and no element would have two signs. Neither of these conditions is fulfilled by our alphabet. In that we use the same sign to represent several elements; as the same letter l a' stands for one sound in the word ' ale/ for another in the word ' arm/ for a still different element in the word ' all/ and for yet another in the word ' man.' On the other hand the same element is often represented by different signs, letters, or combinations of letters. Thus the ARTICULATION. 29 vowel sound in the first syllable of the word * jewel/ and that in the first syllable of the word ( beauty/ are identical ; so also is that in the first syllable of the word ' ruin / and yet they are represented respectively by the different signs l ew/ ( eau/ and y a new idea, the speaker would most naturally give some indication of such change by lowering or perhaps elevating the voice after a slight pause at the end of a sentence. • Parenthetical clauses are always to be uttered in an undertone, and frequently with increased rapidity; and on the stage, matter which is to be heard by the audience, but not intended for the car of parties in the dialogue, may often be most advantageously spoken in a pitch much lower than the general key-note ; and from this circumstance requires to be uttered with great force, involving much of the aspirated or whispered tone; otherwise it might be lost to the audience from the low pitch INTONATION. 117 which it requires. The following passage will furnish a good example for transition. It is from " Richard II.," where the Duchess is describing the entrance of Richard into London : — " Men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried ' God save him/ No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home; But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; "Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off — His face still combating with tears and smiles — The badges of his grief and patience — That had not God, for some strong purpose, steeVd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him." This passage admits of considerable variety of pitch. On the word t scowl' the downward third may be effectively ap- plied with a well marked vanish.* The four lines ending with the words ' shook off' should be uttered with much evenness and a constant play of the semitone ; the next two lines in a pitch rather lower, being parenthetical j ' That had not God/ &c, as far as the word ' steel'd/ should be read at an increased rate of voice, and in pitch still lower ; the word < steel'd' takes a rise of note, the word ' melted,' a down- ward inflection ; the syllable ' self ' in the last line has a high pitch with downward inflection, and is followed by a slight sus- pension of voice before the cadence. * See the analysis of syllables, pages 31 and 46. 118 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION, CHAPTER VII. THE STAGE WHISPER. QUOTATIONS FROM "TWELFTH NIGHT," FOR PRACTICE UPON STAGE WHISPER. A specimen of the aside talk above spoken of, we may take from the " Twelfth Night," and from the scene where Malvolio supposes himself beloved by the Countess Olivia, and thinks aloud on the stage; Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian being concealed in a box tree. Malvolio. 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria ouce told me, she did affect me : and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my com- plexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect, than anyone else that follows her. What should I think on't? Sir Toby (aside). Here's an overweening rogue /* Fabian. peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey- cock of him; how he jets under his advanced plumes ! * All that is printed in italics is aside talk, not supposed to be heard by Malvolio. ■INTONATION. 119 Sir Andrew. 'Slight! I could so beat the rogue: — Slit T. Peace, I say. Malvolio. To be Count Malvolio ;— Sir T. Ah, rogue ! Sir Andrew. Pistol him, pistol him. Sir T. Peace, peace ! Malvolio. There is example for't; the lady of the strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. Sir Andrew. Fie on him, Jezebel! Fabian. 0, peace! now he's deeply in; look, how ima> gination blows him. Malvolio. Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state, — Sir T. 0, for a stonebow, to hit him in the eye I Malvolio. Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown ; having come from a day-bed, where I left Olivia sleeping. Sir T. Fire and brimstone! Fabian. 0, peace, peace. Malvolio. And then to have the humor of state : and after a demure travel of regard — telling them, I know my place, as I would they should do theirs, — to ask for my kinsman Toby : Sir T. Bolts and shackles ! Fabian. 0, peace, peace, peace! now, now. Malvolio. Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him : I frown the while ; and, perchance, wind up my watch, or play with some rich jewel. Toby approaches ; court'sies there to me : Sir T. Shall this fellow live? 120 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. Fabian. Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace. Malvolio. I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control : &c. The whole dialogue, with the exception of Malvolio's part, is to be spoken somewhat lower than his soliloquy, and will therefore often require an aspirated utterance like a forced whisper, in order to render it audible. Many other good examples might easily be added ; but the student can select them for himself from the plays of Shak- speare or other dramatists. The one here given will serve for practice, if any one should desire to exercise his voice upon the stage whisper, as it is sometimes called. PART III. MEASURE OF SPEECH. CHAPTER I. PRELIMINARY CONSIDERATIONS INTRODUCTORY TO THE SUBJECT OF MEASURE. POWER OF APPRECIATING RHYTHM — MONOSYLLABIC PROPERTY OF THE ENG- LISH LANGUAGE — CLASSICAL TERMS — BEAUTY — THE ANGLO-SAXON ELE- MENT — STRENGTH — REQUISITES FOR A MODEL STYLE OF COMPOSITION — PERTINENT QUOTATION FROM " MACBETH." Before entering upon the " modus operandi" in inculcating a knowledge of Measure, I must advert to the vast difference which seems to exist in different persons as to the power of appreciating harmonious sentences. It would furnish an interesting subject for philosophical inquiry, to ascertain how far such difference in appreciating sound, or in enjoying rhythm, depends upon physical organiza- tion, and how far upon culture. But it is perfectly well known that many persons supposed to have no ear for music, are yet able to distinguish between a harmonious arrangement of words U (121) 122 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. and syllables, and a style of writing where the laws of measure and rhythmical arrangement are constantly violated. The question has been asked by unmusical persons, after listening to a speaker whose sentences are harmonious, and periods symmetrical and well-balanced, whether the speaker was reciting poetry or reading prose. This proves that the querist had an ear to perceive rhythmical effect. If there be persons whose ear could detect no such property in language, it is probable that the study of measure would be unprofitable to them ; and the beauties of rhythm might be to such, as a sealed fountain. When we commence an investiga- tion of the philosophy of Measure, we shall be referred to considerations of the analysis of language, and the nature of syllables; which are, as we have already learned, either accented or unaccented. We shall find that accented sylla- bles are so dispersed throughout language as to constitute the first members of measures, of which measures the inter- vening light or unaccented syllables between the heavy ones, are the second members. That every accented syllable requires a new impulse or effort of voice in its utterance. Now, if a considerable number of these heavy syllables in succession, be followed each by one light syllable, or by two light syllables, it is evident we shall have an uniformity in measure which must have its effect upon the ear. As in the following line, " Mortal | Nature | lifts her | changeful | form/' This, to be sure, is verse. But the same movement of the rhythm may occur in prose composition, as in the following : MEASURE OF SPEECH. 123 " Where the | bones of | forty | thousand | persons j bleach- ed the | ground." Two members in each measure ; the first member a heavy, and the other a light syllable. Observe the rhythmic property of the following sentence : " Seizing the | dangerous | weapon that | lay on the | floor at the | time." This is the movement of three syllables, and gives us a suc- cession of dactyles. But, suppose these intervening light or unaccented syllables to be wanting, and merely a succession of monosyllables to occur, each of course requiring accent; the voice in this case is necessarily suspended after each, a new impetus being re- quired for each accented syllable, thus^- Man, | beast, | bird, | fish, and | every | creeping | thing. The first three measures of this line consist of accented monosyllables, and each is followed by a slight suspension of voice ; the time which is given to the suspension in these measures being filled up in the following measures by the un- accented syllables respectively in each, and as much time being occupied by one measure as by another. The rhythmic movement of such a line suggests a very differ- ent feature in our language from the regular and flowing nature of the dactyles in the preceding example. The monosyllabic character of the English language is due to the Anglo-Saxon element, and it is mainly this which gives 124 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION'. it strength ; while the classical terms, or words derived from the Greek and Latin, are usually polysyllables, and constitute the harmonious, flowing character of sentences. Observe the contrast of the two forms of expression which follow ; of which the meaning is identical : — " The thing has not life enough to keep it sweet." " The creature possesseth not vitality sufficient to preserve it from putrefaction." The Anglo-Saxon element characterizes the first ; and the second abounds in classical terms. An able modern writer, in defending the principle or dis- covery which claims to have given rise to a new school of medicine, vindicates the claims of scientific progress in lan- guage like the following : — " Shall the researches of studious men never lead to useful results ? Shall science never conduct us to real and practical benefit? find no new law of cure, or ratify any already pre- ferring its claim ?' Observe the very marked and striking difference in the structure of the last two clauses in this paragraph ; the former of them being wholly composed of monosyllables, while the latter, on the contrary, consists of an unbroken succession of dactyles ; each measure being made up of a long and two short syllables, or rather of one heavy and two light ones, thus — find | no | new | law of | cure, or | ratify | any al- | ready pre- | ferring its | claim. MEASURE OF SPEECH. 125 Now, a style of composition worthy to be regarded as a model, would be one in which the properties of strength and beauty should be judiciously blended. The former would be found to have its origin chiefly in the Anglo-Saxon element; while the latter characteristic, its smooth and flowing quality, would be due to the presence of classical terms, rightly so called. Witness the prevalence of the Anglo-Saxon element in the following passage from Macbeth : — " That is a step, On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires ! Let not light see my black and deep desires : The eye wink at the hand ! yet let that be, Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see." In all this most effective passage, only two words which are not monosyllables ; and only one Latin word — l desires/ J] 126 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. CHAPTER II. PHILOSOPHICAL INVESTIGATION OP MEASURE. DOUBLE FUNCTION OP THE LARYNX — NECESSITY OF THE APPORTIONMENT EXPLAINED — TWO ACCENTED SYLLABLES CANNOT BE UTTERED BY A SINGLE EFFORT OF VOICE — ONE ACCENTED AND FOUR UNACCENTED SYLLABLES MAY BE UTTERED BY A SINGLE EFFORT OF VOICE — REQUISITES TO CON- STITUTE A MEASURE — A SINGLE SYLLABLE MAY CONSTITUTE A MEASURE — SYLLABLES OF INDEFINITE QUANTITY — DISTINCTION BETWEEN ACCENTED SYLLABLES — NOTATION OF MEASURE, OR SCORING OF LANGUAGE — BEATING TIME — DIFFICULTY OF BREAKING UP THE ASSOCIATION — RESOURCE TO OB- VIATE THIS DIFFICULTY — REST IN THE SECOND MEMBER OF A MEASURE NOT DIFFICULT TO OBSERVE — REST IN THE FIRST MEMBER DIFFICULT — REASON EXPLAINED — DETAILED ANALYSIS OF MEASURE ILLUSTRATED BY PASSAGE FROM " YOUNG." The organ most immediately concerned in speech is called the Larynx. It has a two-fold function to perform : first, that of an air-tube, essential to respiration ; and, secondly, it pro- duces the sound, essential to speech. The inspiration of air and the production of speech are incompatible, cannot be per- formed at the same moment. Therefore speech must be fre- MEASURE OF SPEECH. 127 quently interrupted for the purposes of respiration. Language then must be uttered in portions and broken up into little groups of syllables, each of which groups will be sufficient for one impulse, or effort of voice. We will suppose now that the first part of each effort is more vigorous, and calculated to pro- duce more sound than the last part. On observing the structure of our language, we perceive that it is made up of two kinds of syllables ; those which are heavy and those which are light, called accented and unac- cented syllables. Heavy or accented syllables are so scattered throughout language, or so disposed in a paragraph, as to be followed usually by one or more light syllables, which may be uttered by the same impulse ; a single accented syllable may be uttered alone by one impulse, or a single accented with several unaccented syllables may be uttered by one impulse ; but when two heavy or accented syllables follow one another, each of them will require a separate effort of voice to be properly sounded. Let us endeavor, for instance, to pronounce the syllable ' pomp' twice, under accent; and we shall perceive an hiatus on separating the lips after the first utterance of this syllable. But if we add to the syllable ' pomp' the unaccented one * ous,' we fiud no difficulty in pronouncing the word ' pompous' with a single impulse ; so we may add another syl- lable, as ' ly,' and the word ' pompously' is uttered with great facility by a single impulse. The word ' spirit,' consisting of two syllables, a long and a short, requires one impulse, and if we add the syllable ' ed,' the same force only is necessary, for it is as easy to say ' spirited' as ' spirit.' So with the word 'spiritual/ of four syllables, and even 'spiritually/ of five. 128 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. We dow have some data for the adjustment of our measure. And we say that a measure consists of two parts or members; one, a heavy or accented portion of syllabic sound, and the other a light or unaccented portion of syllabic sound ; both the members to be uttered with a single impulse, or effort of voice. A perfect measure then consists in one syllable, two, three, four, or sometimes even five syllables; when there are five syllables in a measure, the first or accented syllable constitute - the first member, and the remaining four syllables the second member. A single syllable may constitute a measure ; for if it be ex- tended in quantity, the first portion may be under accent or perceptibly heavy, while the latter portion will be light. Each of the syllables ' pail/ i orb/ ' day/ will make a perfect mea- sure ; these syllables being susceptible of pronunciation as extended as that of the whole word ' temporary/ (which would constitute a measure.) Syllables of indefinite quantity can be so pronounced as to constitute a measure, or they may be so pronounced as not to fill a measure. We now revert to the distinction pointed out on page SO, between accented syllables; they being sometimes highly sus- ceptible of quantity, and therefore called long accented sylla- bles, and sometimes not susceptible of quantity, and therefore called short. We have said a single syllable may constitute a measure ; but if a measure contain but one syllable, and that a short accented one, this short syllable can only fill the first, part of MEASURE OF SPEECH. 129 the measure, and constitute its first member. The second member must in this case be represented by a rest, to indicate a suspension of voice immediately after the short heavy sylla- ble. Let a stand for a heavy accented syllable, and .-. for a light or unaccented one. a will then represent the first member of a measure, and one or more of these .-. .•. the second mem- ber. Let this mark *1 represent a suspension of voice, or a rest. And let it be substituted for the wanting member of any measure : thus, where the first member is wanting, the measure will commence with M, and when the last or second member is wanting the *] will appear in its place. As in the line — When | **] in the [ course of | human e- | vents. A .'. .'• ••• A .'• A ••• ••• A In this example the syllable f when' is made to occupy the whole time of a measure ; the voice is then suspended for a very slight pause, after which the unaccented syllables ' in the' are pronounced wholly without accent, and the remain- der of the sentence follows immediately, without any further interruption. Each measure is to occupy the same space of time as nearly as may be j and the time is to be measured by beating with the hand once down and up, in each measure. The hand is to move constantly while reading by measure ; but the voice is to cease during the time of a rest or '"j, whether it occur on the first member or on the second member of a mea- sure. If the rest occur upon the first member of a measure, the hand falls during silence; as is the case in the second 130 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. measure of the above example. If the rest represent the second member, the hand rises during silence. Now, owing to the difficulty which every beginner (par- ticularly when unacquainted with reading music) will find in breaking the association between the two actions, viz., that of the hand and that of the voice, I recommend that the ac- tion of both be continued for awhile, the voice pronouncing the word f down' for every rest which occurs in the first mem- ber of a measure, and the word ' up' wherever a **] appears in the second member. By this practice the pupil will soon find it easy to read by measure, and may afterwards observe silence in the places of rests, discontinuing the words ' down' and 'up.' In the commencement of this practice the student will find no difiiculty where the rests are but few, or where they occur only on the second member of a measure, for there they cause no interruption to the movement of the voice, and merely denote that no sound need be made while the hand is rising; but when a rest occurs at the beginning of a measure, it checks and forbids the positive effort for an accented syllable, and to beat with the hand and repress the voice in such place is at first not easily done. Thus, li **] The | hum of | either | army | stilly | sounds," A ••• A ••• A ••• A ••• A .-. A .*. is easily read, because there is no interruption either to the hand or voice. They both keep moving. Again — u High on a | throne of | royal | state.' ' A" .'. ••• A ••• A .'. A .'• This reads perfectly easy, and without breaking. So in the line — MEASURE OF SPEECH. 131 " Rocks,**] | caves,**] | lakes,**] | fens,**] | bogs,**] | dens, and ] A A -•■ A ••• A ••• A ••• A shades of | death." | A ••• A ••• Where the movement is regular, and no rest occurs upon ff the heavy or accented member of a measure, no one will find difficulty in reading and beating. Now, if we replace these rests by the unaccented syllable ' and/ the measure will be unaltered, and it will read with the same ease. As, Rocks and | caves and | lakes and | fens and | bogs and | A ••• A /. A ••• A .'. A dens and | shades of death. | A ••• A /. A ••• The unaccented syllable ' and' occupying no more time than was allowed for the rest in each measure. But it will not be found so easy to read the following lines, because the first member is wanting to several measures. **] Be | wise to- | day, | **] 'tis | madness | **] to de- | fer ;**| I '-J **| A .-. A ••• A .-• A •'. A ••• A .'. A .*. Next | day | **] the | fatal | precedent j *-J will | plead ; | *\ *\ | A ••• A ••• A ••• A ••• A /. ■•• A .'• A .'. A ••• Thus I on, I ^ till | wisdom | **| is | pushed | out of | life. | *| *\ A ■•■ A .'. A ••• A .'. A .'. A ••• A -•■ A-*- *| Pro- 1 crasti- 1 nation | **] is the j thief of | time.**! I **H I **H I A .-. A ••• A .". A ••• ••• A ••• A .". A ••• A .-. The syllables ' wise/ day/ ' mad/ ' fer/ being those which require accent, they are placed each at the beginning of a measure ; the syllables which precede them, then, are unac- cented, and therefore constitute second members of measures. There being no syllable preceding ' Be' (which is unaccented) we use a **J to represent the wanting member; and, haviug 132 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. commenced beating in silence, we pronounce the syllable ' Be' very lightly while raising the hand, to fall on the syllable ' wise.' The hand rises and falls on ' day/ then falls in silence and rises on ''tis,' falls on 'mad' and rises on from the | strict J law of j justice and J good j feeling' ? j *"j **] | How many j more j little | stings there are J darted j than there are j heavy J blows j struck at our \ every day j com- fort and en- | joyment ! j *"] On | what | small | things does the | happiness of | home de- | pend ! | **j If | they be | lack- ing, | how | poorly do | such | things as | competence, | **] re- | specta- | bility, | culture, | health, | *] sup- | ply their | place ! | ^ ^ | ^ An in- | creased | modicum of | patience | under the | minor | ills of | life ; [ M a | firm re- | solve | not to let | these | vex him so | much; | ?] a | gentler | tone; | ^ a | readiness to | do un- | asked | some little | favor, | make | some little | sacrifice; | *[*\ f small at- j tentions; | <■*! the | sim- ple | question | asked | *"] and | answered as it | should be — | *"j M | **! is it | well for my | character, | ^ to say | nothing of | others' | comfort, | ~\ that | all the ar- | rangements and j plans of | this | household | ""j should revolve a- | round | my con- | venience, | ^ **• | my ] taste, ex- j clusively, | *■} as. | if 14* lo'2 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. there were | no | others to | be con- [ suited ? | **j **] I Is it. | too | much to | say, | «] that, in | many | cases, | ** a cor- J rection in | even | one of | these mi- | nute par- | ticulars, | *•] would | bring a- | bout | that which the | man or | woman | covets | most, | ^ ~j | feels the | want of | most — | ~| a | happy | home. | **] *"] | **| ~j | **| The | greatest | obstacles which | hinder re- | ligious at- | tainments and | progress, | **] are a- | mong | small | things. **j To | say | nothing of the | truth, | **j that the | most fla- | gitious | crime, | *| the | lowest | depths of | evil, | had a be- | ginning in | what was | trifling, | **J the | bad ef- | feet of | little o- | missions, | M in- | diligences, | carelessness, | **} can | hardly be ex- | aggerated. | ^ ^J | ^| It would | seem as | if it were | not very | difficult | *"] to | reach a | certain | point of | moral at- | tainment. | *i ^ | There is a | certain | general I average of | character, | *i which con- | sists in ex- | emptiou from | what is | heinous, j *"] ""j | positively im- j moral in ] con- duct, | **| which | many | reach. | **j *»] | **j But | how | few | go be- | yond it ! | **| How | few | are there | **J whose | lives are a con- | tinual | progress | **] in the di- | vine | life; | ** a | gradual, per- | haps, but | none the less | certain ad- | vance in | love to | God and | man. | *^ **| | **} Per- | haps the | very | narrow | clefi- | nitiou of the I single | word "sal- | vation/' \ **] has | something to | do with I this. -| **] **! | Many | seem con- | tent with | saving them- | selves from | what they | deem the | retri- | butions of a | thoroughly | evil and j sinful | life, | **] for- | getting that sal- | vation, in the | large, | true | sense of the | term, | *"| means | growth, | progress, | **] de- | liverance from | all that EXERCISES. 163 is I not in | harmony | **| with the | heavenly | and the di- | vine. M 1 | ^, ^ | **| The | truth | is, | *"j our | characters | suffer | more from | what we | think | trifling o- | missions, | **j than they | do from | what we | call the com- | mission of | great of | fences. | **| The | former | eat into | character, | **| as | tiny | insects | do | "H into the | large | tree, | drying | up its | sap, | hindering its | growth. | *"| **] | **[ We | speak of the [ slave of in- | tempe- rance | M or | other [ sensu- | ality, | bound in the | chains of his | evil | habit. | **j *| | Are we not, ] all of us, | more or | less | bound ? | **| ^l | Not so ] much, how- | ever, by | strong | chains, [ **] but, | like | Gulliver in the | tale, | M by a | mul- titude of | threads | ^j which | still | keep us | down — | ^j **| | tiny | cords of de- | tention, | *i their | number [ making | up for their | indi- 1 vidual | insig- | nificance, | **] and | which would | not have been | fastened on our | strength | **J if we | had not | fallen a- | sleep a- | mong our | Lilli- | putian | adversa- ries. I ' — 1 ' — 1 I — 1 — ] J Great | duties, | **| ^ | great | sacrifices | even, | *"j are | often | much | easier than | small ones. | **j As | Fenelon | well | says : — | " How many | ^J are | willing to | die for' | Christ j | how | few are | able to | live | like him !" | So | true is | this, | ^| that it | is un- | doubtedly the | case that j many an | one has | died a | martyr, | who would have j been en- | tirely un- | able to | meet, in a | Christian | spirit, | **| the vex- | ations which | come a- | mid | life's | ordinary | circumstances. | **j The oc- | casions for | striking, | **j for he- | roic, | virtue | seldom oc- | cur • | "1, but | every | day, a- | mid what ad- | dresses | selfishness, | *"] or | love of | gain, | ^ or | 164 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. wounds | self- | love, | *"| or | shocks, per- | haps, a | too fas- | ticlious | taste, | **] or | irritates | temper, | *] there are | calls for | self-con- | trol, | **j for the | softening of | slight as- | peri- ties, | *"] for | wise | silence, | **| or | prudent | speech, | *i for | some | slight re- | linquishment, | all of | which are | tests of | Christian | character — | *"] *"1 | some of them | **] the | very | hardest | tests to j which | character | could be sub- j jected. | ^ **| | Let re- | ligionists | speak as | slightingly as they | may in | these | days, | when, in | some | quarters, re- | ligious ex- j citement and ma- | chinery | seem to have | taken the | place of the | old, | unosten- | tatious, | private, | simple | ways of j piety — | **] h | let them | speak | slightingly of | all as- | sur- ance and [ evidence | *"] which | do not | come from | mystical | raptures, | he | cannot be | very | for from the | right | path, | **j at | least from its | entrance, | ^ who, be- | cause he | wishes to | be a | child of | God, | **j sue- | ceeds iu | even [ such a | little | thing as | this — j **| ^ | being | gentle, i where he was | once | harsh; | truthful, | ^ where he was | once | careless in | speech; | **] for- 1 giving, | where he was | once vin- | dictive. | ^ **j | Yes, | even though his | whole | strug- gle to | this | end | **j may have | been a- | mong | trivial de- | tails. | having, | **] ex- | cept as re- | gards him- | self, j meagre re- | suits. | ^ **] | When a man | says, in | common | phrase, | It is a | great | thing to | be re- | ligious, | **| he | speaks | truly. | **] **] | But it is | not | always | doing what | he | calls a | great | thin-. *"| or in | placing him- | self in the | way of con- | spicuous EXERCISES. 165 and | striking | instruinen- | talities, | **} tliat he | is to | seek to be re- | ligious. *| *] | If, when he | speaks | thus, he | means | that there is | something | so mo- | mentous, | *"] **j | so | vast, a- 1 bout re- | ligion, | **| that it | is to be | sought ex- | clusively a- | mid | influences | **] and e- | motions | lying | out of | common ex- | perience, | **| and | every-day j effort, | *»1 **] | he is in | error. *1 Re- | ligion is | vast, | **! **] | infinite | **j in its | scope. | **j But | these | terms | do not at- | tach to | this | simple | question : — | **[ Shall I | do | right or | wrong, as it | meets me to- | day ? | *"1 Yet, | who shall | say that | that | question is | not a mo- | mentous one ? \ M *1 | , *1 It is | not a | great | thing to | make a | small | sacrifice of | comfort, or | ease, or | interest, | **| for the | sake of a | principle, | "*] or an- | other's | happiness. | **} It is | not a | great | thing to | say to one's j self, | M I will | do | thus much— | *| I will | break off to- | day | ~j that | one | bad | habit, j ~j *■] | This is | not | doing a | great | deal, | **| and | yet | on my a- | bility to | do it, de- | pends the | question, | whether I shall | do | anything? ] **| ~] | whether I shall | ever | be a re- | ligious | man or | no ? | M **j | whether I | shall or shall | not | eren be- | gin to | be a re- | ligious | man? | **] *"i I 11 Gather | up the | fragments," | **j said | Jesus. | *| **| | ^ The | soul that is | truly | wise | **] is | prudent, | ^ ^ | thrifty. | ^1 It | gathers | up | what the | others | disre- | regard. | *| **} | M It will | waste | nothing, | M fore- ( go | nothing, which | helps | character. | **| **| | 166 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. PSALM CXXXIX. | Lord, **] | thou hast | searched me, | **| and | known me. | M *| | *| ~j | *\ Thou | knowest my | down- | sitting | *j and mine | up- **j | rising; | *1 thou | under- | standest my | thought | *j a- | far | off | *1 ^ | ^ **j | M **] | Thou | com- passest my | path, **] | **] and my | lying | down, ^ | and art ac- | quainted with | all my | ways. | **] **j | For there is | not a | word in my | tongue, | **] but, | lo, **| | *i | Lord, | thou *| | knowest it | alto- | gether. | *] *] | *| **| | Thou hast be- | set me | *"j be- | hind and be- | fore, *"| | **| and | laid thy | hand upon me. | **j **] | *1 **| | Such **] | knowledge is | too | wonderful for | me ; | ~j *1 | it is | high, *"1 | ^| 1 1 cannot at- | tain unto it | **] ^j | "*j **] | Whither shall I | go *"J | **j from thy | Spirit ? | ^ ^ | ~] or | whither shall I. | flee from thy | presence ? | **] ** | **| **| | If I as- | cend **| | up into | heaven, | ^| ^! | thou art | there ; | **] **] | If I | make my | bed in | hell, | ^ be- | hold, *] | thou art | there. | **| m | *| ~j | If I | take the | wings of the | morning, | ** and | dwell in the | utter- most | parts of the | sea; **j | ^ *"] | Even | there | **| shall | thy **| | hand *"| | lead me, | *l and thy | right **] | hand shall | hold me. | ^] ^ | **] ^ | If 1 1 say, ~] | Surely the | darkness shall | cover me; | **| **| | even the | night **} | "*| shall be ] light about me. | "*j *"] | Yea, | **] the | darkness | bidet h not EXERCISES. 16 from | thee ; | H ^j | but the | night | shineth as the | day : | *| **| | ~| the | darkness | ~\ and the | light *\ | "*j are | both a- | like to | thee. | *| *1 | *| *1 | SUMNER ON WAR. *J An- I other I prejudice in | favor of | war | ^is | founded on the | practice of | nations, | past and | present. | **[ *\ | *< There is | no | crime or e- | normity in | morals, | **| which | may not | find the sup- | port of | human ex- | ample ; | *\ ~\ | often | on an ex- | tended | scale. [ *1 *| | ^j But it | cannot be | urged in | our day, | **| *"| | that we are to | look for a | standard of | duty | **| in the ] conduct of | Tain, | fallible | man. | **| **J | M It is | not in the | power of | man by | any | subtle | alchemy, | **j to trans- | mute | wrong into | right. | *l **} | **J Be- | cause | war is ac- | cording to the | practice of the | world, | **} it | cannot | follow | that it is | right. | **j **J | *J For | ages [ **j the | world | worshipped | false [ gods; | **j but | these | gods were | not less | false be- | cause | all | bowed be- | fore them. | **j *] | ^j At | this j moment the | larger | portion of man- | kind are | Heathen ; | *1 but | Hea- thenism is | not | true. | **j **] | **| It was | once the | practice of | nations to | slaughter | prisoners of | war ; | *"| but | even the | spirit of | war re- | coils | now from | this | bloody | sacrifice. | *"| **] | **] In ] Sparta, | theft, | **] in- | stead of being 168 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. | judged as a | crime, | was, by a per- | verse mo- | rality, | ^ like | war it- | self, | dignified | into an | art | *■* and an ac- | complishment ; | **!**! | **] like | war | it was ad- | mitted | into the | system of | youthful eclu- | cation ; | and it was en- | lightened, like | war | also, by an | instance of un- | conquer- able | firmness, | ^ which | is a bar- | baric | counterfeit of | virtue. | **j ^l | **J The | Spartan | youth who al- | lowed the | stolen | fox be- | neath his | robe to | eat into his | heart, | w | is an ex- | ample of mis- | taken | fortitude, | not un- | like | that | which we are | asked to ad- | mire in the | soldier. | ^ *] | Other illus- | trations of | this | character | crowd upon the | mind; | *"| but I | will not | dwell upon them. | **j **| | **| We | turn with dis- | gust from | Spartan | cruelty, | **] and the | wolves of Ta- | ygetus; | *1 from the | awful | canni- balism | "*| of the Fee- | jee | Islands; | **] from the pro- 1 faue | rites of in- | numerable | savages; | **j from the | crushing | Juggernaut; | ^ from the | Hindoo | widow | lighting her | funeral | pyre ; | ^ from the | Indian | dancing at the | stake. 1*1*11 **1 But | had not | all | these | ^j in their re- | spectivc | places and | days, | *\ like | war, the | sanction of es- | tablished | usage ? | **| **j | But it is | often | said, | **| **| | " Let us | not be | wiser than our | fathers." | **} **] | Rather let us | try to ex- | eel our | fathers in | wisdom. | ~j Let us | imitate | what in | them was | good, | ""j but | not | bind ourselves, | as in the | chains of | fate, | *] by | their im- | perfect ex- | ample. | ^l *"] | Principles are | higher than | human ex- | amples. | **| **] | **| Ex- | amplea may be | followed | when they ac- | cord with the | adn nitions of I duty. | *i **] | ~] But | he is uu- | wise and | wicked EXERCISES. 169 ! **] who at- | tempts to | lean upon | these, | rather than upon those | truths | **j which, | like the | Ever- | lasting | Arm, | m ~j | cannot | fail ! | *] **| | *i In | all | modesty be it | said, | **| we have | lived to | little | purpose, | **J if we | are not | wiser than the | gene- | rations | *1 that have | gone be- | fore us. | **j *| | It is the | grand dis- j tinction of | man | ^ that | he is a pro- | gressive | being ; \ that his | reason, | **| at the | present | day, | **| is | not the | reason of a | single | human | being, | **I but | that of the j whole | human | race, | **| in | all | ages from | which | knowledge has de- | scended, | **| in | all | lands from | which it has been | borne a- | way. | *"] **| | We are the | heirs to an in- | heritance of | truth, | gradually ac- | cumulating | **j from J gene- | ration to gene- | ration. | **j **] | M Let us | cease, | then, to | look for a ( lamp to our | feet, | **| in the | feeble | tapers that | glimmer in the | sepulchres of the | past. | *1 *] | Rather let us | hail those | ever- | burn- ing | lights a- | bove, | ^J in j whose | beams is the | bright- ness of | noon-day. f . **| *| J 15 170 GRAMMAR OV ELOCUTION. CATO'S SOLILOQUY ON IMMORTALITY. 1 . *| It I must be | so : | *| **| | Plato, |**| thou | reasonest | well l\*[*[\ Else, | whence this | pleasing | hope, | **] this | fond de- | sire, | <*| This | longing after | imnior | tality? | **| **] | **| Or | whence this | secret | dread, and [ inward | horror, **] Of | falling into | nought ? | **| H | Why | shrinks the | soul Back on her- | self, | "*J and | startles at de- | struction ? ■ | *\ *■{ *| *| 'Tis the Di- | vinity that | stirs with- | in us : | *1 'Tis | heaven it- | self that | points out | **i an here- | after, j **j And | intimates e- | ternity to | man. 2. ^| E- | ternity ! | *\ thou | pleasing, | dreadful | thought ! | Through | what va- | riety of | untried | being, | ""J Through | what | new | scenes and | changes | *"j must we | pass ! | **J The | wide, | *"] the un- 1 bounded | prospect | lies be- | fore me; | ~, ~j | ^| But | shadows, | clouds, and | darkness | rest upon it. | **| **| | 3. Here will 1 1 hold. | *i ~j | If there's a | power a- 1 bove us, | (And that there | is, | all | nature | cries a- | loud, | **| Through | all her | works,) | He must de- | light in | virtue : | **| And | that which | he de- | lights in | must be j happy. EXERCISES. 171 **] But | when ? | *< or | where ? | w j **! | This | world was | made for | Caesar ! | **j I'm | weary of con- | lectures : | this must | end them. |**j^| (Laying his hand on his sword.} 4. Thus am I | doubly | armed. | **j My | death and | life, | **J My | bane and | antidote, | **] are | both be- | fore me. | **| *1 I This in a ] moment | brings me to an | end j | *\ But | this in- | forms me | ^1 shall | never | die. | ^ ^ \ ^| The | soul se- | cured in her ex- | istence | smiles At the | drawn | dagger, | r] and de- | fies its | point. | w | *1 I **] The | stars shall | fade a- | way, | **j the | sun him- | self Grow | dim with | age, | **] and | nature | sink in | years ; | **| But | thou shalt ] nourish in im- | mortal | youth, | Un- | hurt a- | midst the | war of | elements, | **] The | wreck of | matter, | **| and the | crush of [ worlds. Addison. AGAINST PROCRASTINATION. *j Be I wise to- | day; | ^ 'tis | madness | *»| to de- | fer; ~j | -] M | Next | day the | fatal | precedent | **| will [ plead, | ~\ *< | Thus | on, *| | **j till | wisdom | *j is | pushed | out of | life, -i 1 1 -i m nl 172 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. •J Pro- | erasti- | nation | *»] is the | thief of | time ; *\ \ **| *\ \ *j *** | Year after | year it | steals, | *\ till | all are | fled, i- | | And to the | mercies of a | moment | leaves *] | *| The | vast con- 1 cerns | *| of an e- 1 ternal | scene. **j \ *»| **] \ **j »| j If | not so | frequent, | would not | this be | strange ? **j | *[ That I 'tis so | frequent, | this is | stranger | still. | **j **| | *[ ** | **1 Of | man's mi- | raculous mis- | takes, **| | this **} | bears The | palm, **| | *[ that | all men | *] are a- | bout to | live ; **j For | ever | **} on the | brink of | being | born. | **| **! I **| **J j All | pay themselves the | compliment to | think | **] They | one day | shall not | drivel ; | **] and their | pnde M \ *] On | this re- | version | takes up | ready | praise, *\ | *"1 At | least their | own ; | **] their | future | selves | *"1 ap- | plaud;~]| ^m| — I — 1 J How | excellent | that m | life | *| they | ne'er will | lead ! M | **| *| j Time | lodged in their | own | hands | **| is | folly's | vails; | **] **| | Tbat | lodged in | fate's | *l to | wisdom | **j they con- | sign; | ~|~|| M The | thing they | can't but | purpose, | **| they post- | pone; 1| ^ ~| | 'Tis not in | folly, | not to | scorn a | fool; **] **j | **| And | scarce in | human | wisdom, | **J to | do | more. ~| | *1*1 | *1 1 | All | promise | **J is | poor | dilatory | man, **| | •J And | that **| | **| through | every | stage : | *J *j | **| when I vounff. in- 1 deed. ""I I EXERCISES. 173 *■] In | full con- | tent we | sometimes | nobly | rest, *"j | **] Un- | anxious for our- | selves; *] | *\ and | only | wish, **| | **| As [ duteous | sons, **] | *"] our | fathers | ^J were more | wise. **j | *| ^ | *] At | thirty | **| **| | man sus- | pects himself | *] a | fool ^ ' — i | ' — i ^ — ] | Knows it at | forty, [ ~\ and re- | forms his | plan ; | **j **| | •J At | fifty | **] *"J | chides his | infamous de- | lay, *J | **J **j | Pushes his | prudent | purpose | **j to re- | solve ; | •J In | all the | magna- | nimity of | thought **] | •J Re- | solves ; *\ | *i and | re-re- | solves ; | *i **i | then **| | dies the | same. | **J *j | ■*] *] | Young. THE GRAVE. There is a [ calm | ^ for | those who | weep, **\ | ^ A | rest **| | *l for | weary | pilgrims ] found, **] | **J They | softly | lie, **j | **] and | sweetly | sleep, **i | Low in the | ground. | **] ** | *i ** ( **] The | storm | *"| that | wrecks the | wintry | sky **! | No | more dis- | turbs ^j | their | deep re- | pose, **| | •"J Than | summer | evening's | latest | sigh, «i ^ That | shuts | ^ the | rose. ^J | 1 ^j | ^ **] 15* 174 GRAMMAR OF EIiOCUTION. *| I | long to | lay | ^ this | painful | head *"| | **] And | aching | heart be- | neath the | soil, | ^1 To | slumber in that | dreamless | bed **j | ^ From | all | H my | toil. | *j *| | *1 ~] | ^ For | misery | *1 ~j | stole me | *[ at my | birth, *| | **| And | cast me | helpless | ~\ on the | wild : ^ | **] **| | ^1 1 perish ; | ^ ^] | my | mother | earth, *■] | Take | home | ~1 thy | child. | **] *| | On thy | dear | lap *"j | these | limbs re- | clined, **j | ~] Shall | gently | *| M | moulder | ~| into | thee j ~\ | *[ Nor [ leave | one | wretched | trace be- | hind, *] | 1 ^ | ^| Re- | sembling | me. *] | M *| | *j «*| | Hark ! , *| | **| a | strange | sound | **J af- 1 frights mine | ear; *"j | **j **] | **| My | pulse, | *■* my | brain | runs | wild, | **J I | rave : ^j | **| **| | Ah ! | who art | thou whose | voice 1 1 hear? H | **}**| | *\ w| j I am the | Grave ! | "1 *1 | *1 *| | **j The | Grave, *< | **] (that | never | spake be- | fore,) *\ \ *\ Hath | found at | length a | tongue | **] to | chide : **i | O | listen ! | **J ~] | I will | speak no | more : [ **! **] | **! Be | silent, | Pride. | **| *\ | ^ r | Art thou a | wretch, *| | ^ of | hope | **J for- | lorn, *| | *| The | victim | *| of con- | suming | care ? *] | **| *| | Is thy dis- | tracted | conscience | torn ^| | ~j By | fell de- | spair ? | -j **] | *j H | EXERCISES. 175 *■] Do | foul mis- | deeds *"| | **] of | former | times **] | Wring with re- | morse thy | guilty | breast ? | *J And | ghosts | **| of | unfor- | given | crimes | Murder thy | rest ? | *! *1 M *1 1 Lash'd by the | furies of the | mind, H | **] From | wrath and | vengeance | ^J would' st thou | flee?^i | **IM | Ah ! | think not, | hope not, | fool, ^| | **] to find **| | *] A | friend | H in | me. H | *| ~| | *] r| | *"j By | all the | terrors of the | tomb, **| | *\ Be- | yond the | power of | tongue | ^ to | tell, **j | ~| By the | dread | secrets of my | womb, **| | **! By | death | *\ and | hell ! | **{ I | charge thee | live ! | *1 re- | pent and | pray ; **] | **j In [ dust thine | infamy de- | plore ; *"] | •* There | yet is | mercy ; | *| *■*] | go thy | way, **| | **] And | sin *| | *] no | more. | *[ M | H M | ~] What- | e'er thy | lot, *i | *] who- | e'er thou | be, *1 | *1 Con- | fess thy | folly, | *] "] | kiss the | rod, «-| | And in thy | chastening | sorrows | see | ~] The | hand | ^ of | God. ^ | ~] ^ | *j *| | **] A | bruised | reed **| \ ~j he | will not | break j ~[ | *] *\ | **] Af- | flictions | all his | children | feel ; *\ | M M | *[ He | wounds them | **j for his | mercy's | sake, **] | ~\ He | wounds | *] to | heal ! | *] *-j | HM | 176 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. Humbled be- | neath his | mighty | hand, **j | Prostrate, | ^] his | providence a- | dore : | *] 'Tis | done ! *| | *j a- 1 rise ! ~j | *| ~j | He | bids thee | stand, *| | ~] To | fall | ^ no | more. | *J *-| | *| *| | Now | traveller in the | vale of | tears ! ** To | realms of ever- | lasting | light, **] | *[ Through | time's | dark | wilderness of | years, ** **] Pur- | sue | *|*| thy | flight. ^, | 1 *1 M ^| | *] There | is **j | **[ a | calm for | those who | weep, *| \ **} A | rest *»] | **| for | weary | pilgrims | found ; | *"| **] | **] And | while the | mouldering | ashes | sleep *] | Low in the | ground ; | ^ The | soul, ~] | ~] (of | origin | ^ di- I vine, **] | God's | glorious | image), | **] **J | freed from | clay, **j In | heaven's | **J e- | ternal | sphere shall | shine, **| | *1 A | star | *-| of | day ! | *| **| [ *| H | H The | sun | is but a | spark of | fire, *] | *| ~[ \ *[ A | transient | meteor | *»| in the | sky, **] | **| **] | **] The | soul, | *] im- | mortal | *| as its | sire, **] | *| Shall | never | die. | *M | **M | Montgomery. EXERCISES, 177 HARVARD COLLEGE. *] With- | in a | short | distance of | this | city | stands an insti- | tution of | learning, | *j which was | one of the | earliest | cares of the | early | forefathers of the | country, | **| the | consci- | entious | puritans. | **| **| | Favored | child of an | age of | trial and | struggle, | carefully | nursed through a | period of | hardship and anx- | iety, | *1 en- | dowed at | that | time | *i by the ob- | lations of | men like | Harvard, | **| sus- | tained from its | first foun- | dation | *"] by the pa- | ternal | arm of the | commonwealth, | ~\ by a | constant sue- | cession of mu- | nificent be- | quests, | ^j *"] | and by the | prayers of | all | good | men, | ^| the | Uni- | versity at | Cambridge | now in- | vites our | homage | **j as the | most j ancient, | **] the most | interesting, | *"] and the | most im- | portant | seat of | learning | **i in the | land ; | *"| pos- | sessing the | oldest | **| and | most | valuable | library; | **] *"] | one of the | largest mu- | seums of | mine- | ralogy and | natural | history ; | *[ a | school of | law, which | annually re- | ceives into its | bosom | more than | one | hundred and | fifty | sons from | all | parts of the | Union, | where they | listen to in- | struction from pro- | fessors whose | names have be- | come | **] a- | mong the most | valuable pos- | sessions of the | land; | H **j | **j a | school of di- | vinity. | **] the | muse of | true | learning and | 178 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. piety ; | ^^J | one of the | largest and | most | flourishing | schools of | medicine in the | country ; j *| be- | sides | there is a general | body of | teachers, | twenty- | seven in | number, many of | whose | names | help to | keep the | name of the country re- | spectable in | every | part of the | globe where science, | learning, and | taste are | cherished; | **| the whole pre- | sided over at | this | moment by a | gentleman early dis- | tinguished in | public | life by his un- | conquer- able | energies | **] and his | masterly | eloquence; | ^ at a later | period, by the | unsur- | passed a- | bility | *\ with which he ad- | ministered the af- | fairs of our | city, | *| and | now in a | green old | age, | full of | years and | honors, | **| pre- | paring to | lay | down his | present | high | trust.* | **] **| | Such is | Harvard Uni- | versity ; | ^j and as | one of the | humblest of her | children, | happy in the | recol- | lection of a | youth | nurtured in her | classic re- | treats, | *< I | cannot al- | lude to her | **| with- | out an ex- | pression of | filial af- | fection and re- | spect. | w | *"1 | **] It ap- | pears, from the | last re- | port of the | Treasurer, | *\ that the | whole a- | vailable | property of the | Uni- | versity, | *"] the | various ac- | cumu- | lations of | more than | two | centuries of | gene- | rosity, | **| a- | mounts to | seven | hundred and | three | thousand | one | hundred and | seventy- | five | dollars. | **| **| | Change the | scene, | **j and | cast your | eyes upon an- | other | object. | **] There | now | swings | idly at her | moor- ings, in | this | harbor, | **| a | ship of the | line, | **| the 0- | * Hon. Josiah Quincy. EXERCISES. 179 hio, I carrying | ninety | guns, | finished as | late as | eighteen | hundred and ] thirty- | six, | *l for | five | hundred and | forty- | seven | thousand | eight | hundred and | eighty- | eight j dollars ; | **| re- | paired | only | two years | afterwards, | *1 in | eighteen | hundred and | thirty- | eight, | ""j for | two | hundred and | twenty- | three | thousand and | twelve | dol- lars j | **| with an | armament | **| which has | cost | fifty- [ three | thousand | nine | hundred and | forty- | five | dollars ; | *i ^| | making an a- | mount of | eight | hundred and | thirty- 1 four | thousand | "I *1 1 eight j hundred and | forty- 1 five | dollars,* | **] as the | actual | cost at | this | moment | *1 of | that | single | ship; | *1 *1 | more than | one | hundred | thousand he- | yond | all the a- 1 vailable ac- | cumu- | lations of the | richest and | most | ancient | seat of | learning | **] in the | land ! | *| *1 | Choose | ye, my | fellow | citizens of a | Christian | state, | **] be- | tween the | two | caskets — | **| ^ | that where- | in is the | loveliness of | knowledge and | truth, | **| or | that which con- f tains the [ carrion j death. | *"i *"] | ^ I re- | fer | thus par- | ticularly | **] to the 0- | hio, he- | cause she | happens to | be in our | waters. | H But in | so | doing, I | do not | take the | strongest | case af- | forded by our | navy. 1*1*11 Other | ships have ab- | sorbed | still | larger | sums. | *1 *1 | *"1 The ex- | pense of the ] Delaware, in | eighteen | hundred and ] forty- | two, | *1 had been | one ] million | fifty- | one | thousand | dollars. 1*1*11 *1 Pur- | sue the com- | parison | still | further. | **| The * Document No. 132, House of Representatives, 3d Session, 27th Congress. 180 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. ex- | penditures | "-] of tlie | Uni- | versity | during the | last | year, for the [ general | purposes of the | College, | ^ the in- | struction of the | under- | graduates, | and for the | schools of | law and di- | vinity, | *| a- | mount to | forty- j six | thousand | nine | hundred and | forty- | nine | dollars. | **l The | cost of the 0- | hio for | one | year in | service, in | salaries, | wages, | *\ and pro- | visions, | **] is | two | hundred and | twenty | thousand | dollars; | *"| being | one | hundred and | seventy- | five | thousand | dollars | more than the | an- nual ex- | penditures | **| of the | Uni- | versity ; | more than | four | times as | much. | *] **] | **j In | other | words, | **] for the | annual | sum which is | lavished on | one | ship of the | line, | **| ^ | four insti- | tutions, like | Harvard Uni- | versity, | might he sus- | tained through- | out the | country ! | Sumner. INDUSTRY NECESSARY TO THE ATTAINMENT OF ELOQUENCE. ^ The I history of the | world | **| is j full of | testimony | ~\ to | prove | how | much de- | pends upon | industry ; | **| *1 | not an | eminent | orator | ~j has | lived | M , ^ | but is an ex- | ample of it. | ^] **] | Yet, in | contra- | diction to | all | this, | *1 the | almost | uni- | versal | feeling ap- | pears to | be | h that | industry | *| can ef- | feet | nothing; |.*| that | eminence | *| is the re- I suit of I accident, I ~j and that | every one | must EXERCISES. 181 be con- | tent to re- | main | jnst | what he may | happen to | be. | *1 ^ | Thus | multitudes, | ~| who | come | forward as | teachers and | guides, | ^ *"] | suffer them- | selves to be j satisfied | ~] with the | most in- | different at- | tainments, | *l and a | miserable | mecli- | ocrity, | **1 with- | out so | much as in- | quiring | how they may | rise j higher, | "I ~| | much | less | making | any at- | tempt to | rise. **j For | any | other | art | they would have | served an ap- | prenticeship, | M and would | be a- | shamed to | practice it in | public | **j be- | fore they had | learned it. | *"j *"j | *j If | any one would | sing, | **j he at- | tends a | master, | ^] and is | drilled in the | very | ele- | mentary | principles; | *[ and | only | after the | most la- | borious | process | dares to | exer- cise his | voice in | public. | **] *"| | This he | does, | though he has | scarce | anything to | learn | *"j but the me- | chanical | exe- | cution of | what | lies in | sensible | forms be- | fore the | eye. | **| M | But the ex- | tempore | speaker, J who is to in- | vent as | well as to | utter, | **| to | carry | on an | ope- ( ration of the | mind, | **j as | well as to pro- | duce | sound, | ~] *\ | enters upon the | work with- | out pre- | paratory | dis- cipline, | *1 and | then | wonders that he | fails. | **j **] | If he were | learning to | play on the | flute | ^| for | public exhi- | bition, | *"| what | hours | **] and | days would he | spend | M in | giving fa- | cility | *-, to his | fingers, | *l and at- | tain- ing the | power of the | swiftest | *| and most ex- | pressive exe- | cution I | **] **| | If he were de- | voting him- | self to the | organ, | **j **J | what | months and | years would he | labor, | that he might | know its | compass, | **] and be | mas- ter of its ] keys, and be | able to | draw | out, at | will, | all 16 182 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. its | various | couibi- | nations of har- | monious | sounds, | **| and its | full | richness and | delicacy of ex- | pression ! | **] **| ] **j And | yet he will | fancy that the | grandest, | ^ the most | various, | **| and | most ex- | pressive of | all | instru- ments | **] which the | infinite Cre- | ator has | fashioned, by the | union of an | intel- | lectual | soul | *] with the | powers of | speech, | *i may be | played upon | *\ with- | out | study or | practice. | **] **j | **] He | comes to it | *< a | mere | unin- | structed | tyro, | *| and | thinks to | manage | all its | stops, | *\ and com- | mand the | whole | compass of its | varied | **[ and | compre- | hensive | power ! | **[ he finds himself a | bungler | in the at- | tempt, | **j is | mortified | *| at his j failure, | '•J and | settles it in his | mind for ] ever | that the at- | tempt is | vain. | *{ **J | **] **| | **J Sue- | cess in | every | art, J **| what- | ever may | be the | natural | talent, | ^ is | always the re- | ward of | industry and | pains. | ^j **] | ^j But the | instances are | many, | **] of | men of the | finest | natural | genius, | whose be- | ginning has | promised | much, | **] but | who have de- | generated | wretchedly | as they ad- | vanced, | *1 be- | cause they | trusted to their | gifts, | **] and | made | no | efforts | *j to im- | prove. | *1 **] | That there have | never | been | other | men of | equal en- | dowments with De- | mosthenes and | Cicero, | *"! ^ | none would | venture to sup- | pose ; | ~] but | who have | so de- | voted them- | selves to their | art, | *| or be- | come | equal in | excellence? | **j *■] | **] If | those | great | men had | been con- | tent like | others | **| to con- | tiuue as they be- | gan, | ^ and had | never | made their | perse- | vering | efforts for im- | provement, | ^J **] | what would their EXERCISES. 183 | countries have | benefited | **| from their | genius, | 1 or the | world have | known of their | fame? | **l ^ | They would have been | lost in the | undis- | tinguished | crowd | H that sunk to ob- | livion a- | round them. | **| **| | H. Ware. TO THE URSA MAJOR. w With | what a | stately and ma- | jestic | step | **] That | glorious | constel- | lation of the | north | Treads its e- | ternal | circle ! | going | forth Its | princely | way a- | mongst the | stars, | *< in [ slow And | silent | brightness ! | **| **J | Mighty one, [ all | hail ! | ^J I | joy to | see thee | on thy | glowing [ path | Walk like some | stout and | girded | giant, | **| **J | stern. | "*] Un- | wearied, | ^j **| | resolute, | **J whose | toiling | foot Dis- | dains to | loiter on its | destined | way. | **| **| | **] The | other | tribes for- | sake their | midnight | track, | **| And | rest their | weary | orbs be- | neath the | wave ; | *"] But | thou dost | never | close thy | burning | eye, | *< Nor | stay thy | steadfast | step. | **] But | on, | still | on ! | **j While | systems | change and | suns re- 1 tire, | **| and | worlds | Slumber and | wake, | **} thy | senseless | march pro- | ceeds. *"J The | near ho- | rizon | tempts to | rest in | vain. | **J **| | Thou, | faithful | sentinel, [ **| dost | never | quit 184 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. Thy | long ap- | pointed ] watch : | **] But, | sleepless | still, j *| Dost | guard the | fixed [ light | *] of the | universe, | **] And | bid the | north for- | ever | know its | place. Ages have | witnessed | thy de- | voted | trust, | Un- 1 changed, I"*] un- 1 changing. | *"] ^ | When the | sons of | God | *] Sent | forth that | shout of | joy which | rang through | heaven, | ^ And | echoed from the | outer | spheres that | bound The il- | limitable | universe, | **j **] | thy | voice | Joined the | high | chorus ; | **] from | thy | radiant | orbs | **| The | glad | cry | sounded, | **| **| | swelling to | his | praise | *| Who | thus had | cast an- | other | sparkling | gem, | Little but ] beautiful, | *"} a- | mid the | crowd Of | splendors that en- | rich his | firmament. As thou art | now, | so wast thou | then | *] the | same. Ages have | rolled their | course ; | **j and | time grown | gray j | **l The | seas have | changed their | beds ; | **| the e- 1 ternal | hills Have | stoop'd with | age; | ^ the | solid | continents | *"| Have | left their | banks ; | ^ and | man's im- 1 perial | works, | *"] The | toil, | pride, | strength of | kingdoms,^ which had | flung Their | haughty | honors in the | face of | heaven, | ^J As | if im- | mortal, | *] *\ | have been | swept a- | way, | **J **] | Shattered and | mouldering, | **j **] | buried and for- | got. | **| **| | *1 But | time has | shed | no | dimness on | thy | front, | "*] Nor | touch' d the | firmness of thy | tread; | **| *1 | youth, | strength, And | beauty | still are | thine, | ^ as | clear, | **| as | bright | **| As | when the Al- 1 mighty | Former | sent thee | forth, | *] ~\ | EXERCISES. 185 Beautiful | offspring of his | curious | skill, | **l To | watch | earth's | northern | beacon, | **[ and | pro- 1 claim | **] The e- | ternal | chorus of e- | ternal | love. ^ I ] wonder | H as I | gaze. | ^| **| | That | stream of | light, | ^1 Un- | dimmed, | **J un- | quenched, | **| *l | just as I [ see thee | now, | **] Has | issued from | those | dazzling | points through | years | ^ That | go back | far into e- 1 ternity. | ^ ^ | ~] *| | *]Ex- | haustless | flood ! | *°i for | ever | spent, | **| re- | newed For | ever ! | **| **] | yea, | *i and | those re- | fulgent | drops, Which | now de- | scend upon my | lifted | eye, | Left there | far | fountains | twice three | \ears a- | go. | ^^ | While | those | winged | particles, whose | speed out- | strips The | flight of | thought, | *J were | on their | way, | *] the | earth | Compassed its | tedious | circuit | round and | round ; | **} And | in the ex- | tremes of | annual | change be- | held | Six | autumns | fade, | six | springs re- 1 new their | bloom : | **] *"| | So | far from | earth those | mighty | orbs re- | volve ! | **| So | vast the | void through | which their | beams de- | scend • | *1 *1 I "1 *1 I **\ Ye | glorious | lamps of | God, | He may have | quenched Your | ancient | flames, | *i and | bid e- | ternal | night | Rest on your ] spheres, | *"| and | yet no | tidings | reach This | distant | planet. | *"J *i | Messengers | still | come, | Laden with | your | far | fire, | and we may | seem To | see your | lights | still | burning ; | while their | blaze But | hides the | black | wreck | **] of ex- 1 tinguished | realms, | 16* 186 GRAMMAR OP ELOCUTION. **| Where | anarchy and | darkness | long have | reigned. **| Yet | what is | this, | which, to the as- | tonished | mind, Seems | measureless, | **] and | which the | baffled | thought Con- | founds ? | "*| a span, | **| a point in | those do- | mains, | | M **| | Which the | keen | eye can | traverse. | **| ^] | Seven | stars | Dwell in that | brilliant | cluster, | **J and the | sight Em- | braces | all at | once ; | **j yet | each from | each Re- | sides as | far as | each of | them from | earth, | **] **] | *] And | every | star from | every | other | burns | No | less re- | mote. | *1 **] | **! *1 | From the pro- | found of | heaven, | Un- | travelled | e'en in | thought, | keen | piercing | rays | Dart through the | void, re- | vealing to the | sense | Systems and | worlds un- | numbered. | **| **| | Take the | glass, | ^And | search the | skies. | w ] ,w ] |**|The | opening | skies pour | down Upon your | gaze | thick | showers of | sparkling | fire. | Stars | crowded, | **| *\ | thronged | **| in | regions [ so re- 1 mote, | **| That their | swift | beams, | *"| the | swiftest | things that | be, | *"] Have | travelled | centuries on their | flight to | earth. | *\ *»j | Earth, | sun, and | nearer | constel- | lations, | what Are | ye a- | mid this | infinite ex- | tent, And | multitude of | God's | most | infinite | works • | *1 *1 1 *1 *1 1 **] And | these are | suns ! | ^ *■] | vast, | central, | living | fires, | ~\ ~j | Lords of de- | pendent | systems, | *\ **| | kings of | worlds, ~] That | wait as | satellites | *| upon their | power, | **| And | flourish in their | smile. | *] A- | wake, my | soul, **l And | meditate the | wonder ! | **| *] | Countless | suns | EXERCISES. 187 Blaze | round thee, | leading | forth their | countless | worlds ! | *] **! 1 Worlds in whose | bosoms | living | things re- | joice, ~| And | drink the | bliss of | being | **] from the | fount Of ] all per- | vading | love. What | mind can | know, | *"] ^ | What | tongue can | utter | all their | multitudes I | **| *[ \ Thus | numberless, | *| in | numberless a- | bodes ! | **] **| | Known but to | thee, | blest | Father ! | thine they | are, | Thy | children and thy | care; | ^J and | none o'er- | look'd Of | thee ! | *] **I | No, | not the | humblest | soul that | dwells A- | mid the | giant | glories of the | sky, | Like the | mean | mote that | dances in the | beam, **j A- | mongst the | mirrored | lamps which | fling Their | wasteful | splendor from the | palace | wall, | **] **| | None, | none es- | cape the | kindness of | thy | care; | *"} *"| \ All | compassed under- | neath thy | spacious | wing, | Each | fed and | guided by | thy | powerful | hand. | **] **j | M **] | Tell me, | **] ye | splendid | orbs, | as .from your | throne Ye [ mark the | rolling | provinces that | own Your | sway, [ *"! what | beings | fill those [ bright a- | bodes ? *"] How | formed, | *] how | gifted ? | **| ^ | what their | powers, | *•{ their | state, | **1 Their | happiness, | "*] their | wisdom ? | **| **| | **| do they | bear The | stamp of | human | nature ? | **| **J | or has | God | Peopled those | purer | realms with | lovelier | forms And | more ce- | lestial | minds? | **] Does | innocence | 188 GRAMMAR OP ELOCUTION. Still I wear her | native and un- | tainted | bloom ? | *" ~ | Or has | sin | breathed his | deadly | blight a- | broad, | M And | sowed cor- | ruption | **| in those | fairy | bowers ? | *"{ Has ] war trod | o'er them | h with his | foot of | fire ? | *"] And | slavery | forged his | chains, | **| and | wrath, | *"j and | hate, | "■"I And | sordid | selfishness, | **] and [ cruel | lust, | Leagued their [ base | bands to | tread out | light and | truth, ( **j And | scattered | woe where | heaven had | planted | joy? | *] Or | are they | yet | all | paradise, | **] un- | fallen, And | uncor- | rupt ? | w ; ex- | istence | one | long | joy, — "*] With- | out dis- | ease upon the | frame, or | sin Upon the | heart, or | weariness of | life, | **] **| | Hope | never | quenched, | ^ and | age un- | known, | **] And | death un- | feared ; | **j while | fresh and | fadeless | youth | Glows in the | light from | God's | near | throne of | love ? | *1 H . I Open your | lips, ye | wonderful and | fair ! | Speak, | speak ! | **] the | mysteries of | those | living | worlds Un- | fold ! | m ^j | No | language ? | *| **| | Ever- | lasting | light And | everlasting | silence ? | **| **| | Yet the | eye May ( read and | under- | stand. **] The | hand of | God | *"j Has | written | legibly what | man may | know, | *| The | glory of the | Maker. | ^ ~j | There it | shines, ^i In- | effable, | *| un- | changeable j | **] «| | *\ and | man, | Bound to the | surface of this | pigmy J globe, | *>1 May | know and | ask no | more. EXERCISES. 189 *1 In | other | days, | **J When I death shall | give the en- | cumbered | spirit | wings, | *| Its | range shall be ex- | tended ; | *] it shall | roam, Per- | chance, a- | mong those | vast mys- | terions | spheres ; | **| Shall [ pass from | orb to | orb, | ^ and | dwell in | each, M Fa- | miliar with its | children ; | **| ^ | learn their | laws, M And | share their | state, | **| and | study and a- | dore The | infinite va- | rieties of | bliss And | beauty, | ^ by the | hand of | power di- | vine, | ^ **J | Lavished on | all its | works. ~] E- | ternity | M Shall | thus | roll | on with | ever | fresh de- | light ; | **j *| | No | pause of | pleasure or im- | provement ; | **] **] | world On | world [ still | opening to the in- | structed | mind An | unex- | hausted | universe ; | **| and | time But | adding to its | glories j | **j **| | while the | soul, *"! Ad- | vancing | ever to the | Source of | light And | all per- | fection, | *\ **j | lives, | *| a- | dores, | *| and I reigns, | ^1 In | cloudless | knowledge, | purity, and | bliss. | H. Ware, Jr. 190 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. HYMN TO THE DEIT1. These, | *] as they | change, | M **] | Al- 1 mighty | Father, | these | Are but the | varied | God. | *l The | rolling | year Is | full of | thee. | **] **] | Forth in the | pleasing | Spring | *1 Thy | beauty | walks, | *"] thy | tenderness and | love. | *j **| | Wide | flush the | fields ; | *[ the | softening | air is | balm ; | | **| **] I Echo the | mountains | round ; | *| the | forest | smiles ; | **j And | every | sense and | every | heart is | joy. | **] **j | Then | comes thy | glory in the | summer | months, | « With | light and | heat re- | fulgent. | «| *| | Then thy | sun | Shoots | full per- | fection | through the | swelling | year j | ^| And | oft thy | voice in | dreadful | thunder | speaks ; | ^] And | oft at | dawn, | deep | noon, or | falling | eve, | **j By | brooks and | groves, in | hollow-whispering | gales. | M Thy | bounty | shines in | Autumn | uncon- | fiued, | *] And | spreads a | common | feast for | all that | live. | *| In | winter, | awful | thou ! | **| with | clouds and | storms A- | round thee | thrown, | **] ^ | tempest o'er | tempest | rolled, | ** Ma- | jestic | darkness ! | ~] on the | whirlwind's | wing, | Riding sub- | lime | ~j thou | bidst the | world a- | dore ; | *| And | humblest | Nature with thy | northern | blast. | EXERCISES. 191 **] Mys- | terious | round ! | **| what | skill, | **J what | force di- 1 vine, | Deep | felt, in | these ap- | pear ! | **1 a | simple | train, | •J Yet | so de- 1 lightful | mixed, | H with | such | kind | art, | *l Such | beauty and be- | neficence com- | bined : | *"| **J \ Shade | unper- | ceived | so | softening into | shade, | *"] And | all | so | forming an har- | monious | whole, | *' i *< | That, as they | still sue- | ceed, | **] they | ravish | still. | ^ *"j | *"j But | wandering | oft, with | brute, un- | conscious | gaze, | Man | marks not | thee ; j **] **j | marks not the | mighty j hand | ^j That, | ever | busy, | wheels the | silent | spheres, | *"| ^ | Works in the | secret | deep, | **j **| | shoots | teeming | thence | *"j The | fair pro- | fusion that o'er- | spreads the | spring, | Flings from the J sun di- | rect J H the j naming | day, | , "1 **j | Feeds | every | creature, | *1 *"! | hurls the j tempest | forth, | **| **J | And as on | earth this | grateful | change re- | volves, | **] With | transport | touches | all the [ springs of | life. | **] **J | Nature at- | tend ! | **] **l | join | every | living | soul | **| Be- | neath the | spacious | temple of the | sky, | *"j In | ado- | ration | join, | *i and | ardent | raise | One | general | song ! | **] To | him, ye | vocal | gales, | ^1^] | Breathe | soft, | *\ whose | spirit in your | freshness | breathes : | *"} *1 | | talk of | him in | solitary | glooms, | **J **j | Where | o'er the | rock | *"1 the | scarcely j waving | pine Fills the | brown | shade | **] with a re- | ligious | awe. | *■*] *"] | *"j And | ye whose | bolder | note is | heard a- | far, | 192 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. ~| Who | shake the as- | tonished | world, | *[ *| | lift | high to | heaven | **| The im- | petuous | song, | **] and | say from | whom you | His | praise, ye | brooks, at- | tune, | *1 ye | trembling | rills, | ^| And | let me | catch it | **| as I | muse a- | long. | **J **} | *"1 Ye | headlong | torrents, | rapid and pro- | found j j *■( *| | **] Ye | softer | floods that | lead the | humid | maze A- | long the | vale; | *"] and | thou, ma- | jestic | main, | *"j A | secret | world of | wonders in thy- | self, | **j **| | Sound | his stu- | pendous | praise, | *] whose | greater | voice, | **i Or | bids you | roar, |**| or | bids your | roarings | cease. | *i **| ] *"j M | Soft | roll your | incense, | herbs, and | fruits, and | flowers, | **| In | mingled | clouds to | him whose | sun ex- | alts ; | **| Whose | breath per- 1 fumes you,|**j and whose | pencil | paints. | **1 Ye | forests, | bend; | **] ye | harvests, | wave to | him ; | Breathe your | still | song into the | reaper's | heart, | **| As | home he | goes be- | neath the | joyous | moon. | **| **| | Ye that keep | watch in | heaven, [ **| as J earth a- | sleep | *1 Un- | conscious | lies, | **{ ef- 1 fuse your | mildest | beams ; I **| Ye | constel- | lations, | while your | angels | strike A- | mid the | spangled | sky the | silver | lyre. | *\ *| | Great | source of | day ! | blest | image | here be- | low ~] Of | thy Ore- | ator, | ^ ^ | ever | pouring | wide, | **| From | world to | world the | vital | ocean | round, | ^ On | Nature | write with | every | beam | his | praise. | *| ^ | EXERCISES. 193 **} Ye | thunders | roll ; | *\ be | hushed the | prostrate | world, | *| While | cloud to | cloud re- 1 turns the | solemn | hymn. | **| **j | Bleat | out a- | fresh, ye | hills ; | ^ ye | mossy | rocks, | **] Re- | tain the | sound ; | *| the | broad re- | sponsive | low, ] *+. Ye | valleys, | raise, | ~j for the | Great | Shepherd | reigns, | ^ And | his un- | suffering | kingdom | yet will | come. J ^ **} | *i Ye | woodlands, | all a- | wake; | **] a | boundless | song | Burst from the | groves : | ""j and | when the | restless | day, Ex- | piring, | lays the | warbling | world a- | sleep, | ** **] | Sweetest of | birds, | **| **| | sweet | Philo- | mela, | charm The J listening | shades, and | teach the | night | his | praise. | **|H | **i Ye | chief, for | whom the | whole ere- | atioa | smiles, | *j At | once the | head, | **] the | heart, | ^j the | tongue of | all, | ^^ | Crown the | great | hymn. | *f "*] | ^ In | swarming | cities | vast, | **| As- | sembled | men | **| to the | deep | organ | join The | long re- | sounding | voice, j w | *"! | oft | breaking | clear, At | solemn | pauses, | through the | swelling | bass. | *"] H | **| And as | each | mingling | flame in- | creases | each, | M In | one u- | nited | ardor | rise to | heaven. | **! ""j | Or, if you | rather | choose the | rural | shade, | **! And | find a | fane in | every | sacred | grove, | **i *1 | There let the | shepherd's | flute, | **j the | virgin's | lay, | **| The | prompting | seraph | **J and the | poet's | lyre, Still | sing the | God of | seasons, | ^ as they | roll. | M**j | M*j j **] For | me, | **| when | I for- | get the | darling | theme, | *1 **l | Whether the | blossom | blows, | **J the | summer | ray | 17 194 GRAMMAR 01' ELOCUTION. Russets the | plan, | ^ in- | spiring | autumn | gleams, | **J Or | winter | rises in the | blackening | east, | **| **| \ ^ Be | my | tongue | mute, | *j my | fancy | paint no | more, *J And, | dead to | joy, | **| for- 1 get my | heart to | beat ! | **}*»] | **j Should | fate com- | mand me | ^ to the | farthest | verge Of the | green | earth, | ~] to | distant, | barbarous | climes, | *|*»| 1 Rivers un- | known to | song, | *•] where | first the | sun | Gilds | Indian | mountains, | "*] or his | setting | beam | Flames on the At- 1 lantic | isles, | **| **j | **! 'tis | nought to | me, *] Since | God is | ever | present, | ^] **] | ever j felt \ | Mf| | *| In the | void | waste | *| *| | as in the | cities | full : | *| *] | w . And | where | He | vital | breathes | *1 ^] | there | must be | **j When | e'en at | last the | solemn | hour shall | come, | **| And | wing my | mystic | flight to | future | worlds, | M I | cheerful | H will o- | bey ; | ~j m | There, with | new | powers, | *\ Will | rising | wonders | sing : | ~] I | cannot | go **| Where | uni- | versal | love | smiles not a- | round, | *"i Sus- | taining | all yon | orbs | **J and | all their | suns; | **J From | seeming | evil [ still e- | ducing | good, | ^j And | better | thence a- | gain, and | better | still, | *1 In | infinite pro- | gression. | *\ **] | **] But I | lose My- | self in | Him, | **j ~] | *1 in | light in- | effable ! | *| *J | Come, | then, ex- | pressive | Silence, | ^ ^, | muse His | praise. Thomson. EXERCISES, 195 WARREN'S ADDRESS. 1. Stand ! | *] the ground's your | own, my | braves, Will ye | give it | up to ] slaves ? | *} *{ | Will ye | look for | greener | graves ? | *| H | Hope ye | mercy | still ? | *J ^ | *| *| | What's the | mercy | despots | feel ? | *j *J | Hear it in | that | battle | peal ! 1*1*11 Read it on | yon | bristling | steel ! | *] *] | Ask it | *| ~] | ye who | will. | *] *] | *1 *] | 2. Fear ye | foes who | kill for | hire ? | *] *j | Will ye to your | homes re- | tire ? | *] *! | Look be- | hind you ! ] *"1 they're a- | fire ! | *j And be- | fore you, | see | Who have | done it ! | — *1 From the | vale | On they | come ! | — *| and | will ye | quail ? — | *"] ^ | Leaden | rain and [ iron | hail | Let their | welcome | be ! | *] *! | *! *] | 3. ^ In the | God of | battles | trust ! | *| *} | Die we | may | — *] and | die we | must; | *] *j | *| But, | 0, | where can | dust to | dust | Be con- j signed | so j well, 39 For | what is the sig- | nificance of | this | prayer ? | ~| ~j | ^ ~J \ ~i It | is a pe- | tition that | all | holy | influences | *] would | penetrate, | **j and sub- | due | *"| and | dwell in the | heart of | man, | **j un- | til he shall | think, | **j and | speak, | *i and | do | good, | *| from the j very ne- | cessity of his | being. | *\ **\ | **] *] | So would the | insti- | tutions of | error and | wrong | crumble and | pass a- | way ; | ^ ~] | so would | sin | die out | *\ from the | earth ; | **| and the | human | soul | living in | harmony | **j with the di- | vine | will, | ^j^, | this | earth would be- | come like | heaven. | •»] ^ | **j h | **| It is | too | late for the re- | formers to | sheer at Chris- | tianity; | **j it is | foolishness for | them to re- | EXERCISES. 197 ject it. | In it are en- | shrined our J faith in | human | pro- gress, | ^J our | confidence in re- | form. | **] It is in- | dis- solubly con- | nected with | all that is | hopeful, | spiritual, | capable, in | man. | **}*"! | **] That | men have | misunder- | stood it, j *"] and per- | verted it, | M is | true. | *] **j | But it is | also | true that the | noblest | efforts for | human melio- | ration | **| have come | out of it, | ~j have been | based up- | on it. | **j *1 1 **] *i | Is it | not so ? | **] **] | **j H | Come, ye re- | membered | ones, | *[ who | sleep the | sleep of the | just, | **| **] | **] who | took your | conduct | *"| from the | line of | Christian phi- | loso- phy, j **| **] | come from your | tombs and | answer I | ^1*11 *1 *1 I Come, | Howard, | **] from the | gloom of the J prison, | *"1 and the | taint of the | lazar-house, | **] and | show us | what phi- | lanthropy can | do | **] when im- | bued with the | spirit of | Jesus. | *1 1 M *1 | Come, | Eliot, | ^ from the | thick | forest, | ^] where the | red man | listens to the | word of | life ) | M *"] | come, | Penn, from thy | sweet | counsel and | weapon- less | victory, | **j and | show us what | Christian | zeal and | Christian | love can ac- | complish | **] with the | rudest bar- | barians, | **j or the | fiercest | hearts. | M ^ | *] H j Come, | Raikes, | **] from thy | labors with the | ignorant and the | poor, ] **] and [ show us with | what an | eye this | faith re- | gards the | lowest and | least of our | race ; | ^ **] [ *1 *1 I *1 an( * I how | diligently it | labors, | not for the | body, | not for the | rank, | ^ ^ | but for the | plastic | soul | *"| that is to | crown the | ages of | immor- | tality. | "*j *] | *"j *"] | **] And | ye, | *| who are a | great | number; | *j ~j | ye | nameless | ones, | ^ who have | done | good in your | narrow | spheres, con- | tent to fore- | go re- | nown on | earth, | **i IT* 198 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. and | seeking your re- | ward in the | record on | high, | *1M?| come and | tell us how | kindly a | spirit, | *| how | lofty a purpose, | ~j or how | strong a | courage, | ^ the re- | ligfot) ye pre- | ferred can | breathe into the | poor, | *| the | humble, and the | weak. | *"] ~| | *1 *1 | G-o | forth, then, | spirit of Chris- | tianity, | **| to thy | great | work of re- | form 1 1 *j *j | **] The | past bears | witness to thee | *| in the | blood of thy | martyrs, | ^ and the | ashes of thy | saints and | heroes ; | *j the | present is | hopeful be- | cause of thee; | **] the | future shall ac- | knowledge thy om- | nipotence. | *| M | *| *| | NINTH CHAPTER OF JOHN. And as | Jesus | passed | by, ^! | **j he | saw a | man which was | blind from his | birth. | **} **| | *"] w j | And his dis- | ciples | asked him, | saying, | Master, | who did | sin, *»| this | man, | *] or his | parents, | that he was | born h | blind? | **j *1 | *1 *1 | Jesus | answered, | Neither hath | this | man | sinned, | nor his | parents : | **j **} | but that the | works of | G-od | *"J should be | made **| | manifest in him. *1 *1 I *1 *1 I I must I wor k tne I works of | him that | sent me, | while it is | day : | **] **] | *1 the | night | cometh, | *\ when | no *] | man | can **] | work. **| | ^j **j | **] **j | **| As | long | *"| as | I am in the | world, *] 1 1 am the | light of the | world. ^ *1 I *1 *1 I When he had | thus ^ | spoken, | **] he | spat on EXERCISES. 199 the I ground, **] | **| and | made | clay | h of the | spittle, | **| **| \ and he a- | nointed the | eyes **| \ **j of the | blind man | H with the | clay, <"] | **] and | said unto him, | Go, ~| | wash in the | pool of | Siloam, | **J *"| | (which is, by in- | terpre- | ta- tion, | Sent.) [ *[ M | **j *| | **] He | went his | way, | therefore, | r| and | washed, | w j and | came | seeing. | *1 *1 | *1 ^1 | rj The | neighbors, | therefore, | **] and | they which be- | fore had | seen him, | that he was | blind, | ^ **j | said, **| | Is not | this ^ ] he that | sat and | begged ? | **| ^j | *j S| | Some | said, *"j | This | is j he ; | **| •} | others | said, ""J | He is | like him : | **| ~j | *[ but | he | said, | ~| I | am | he. | *| *1 I *1 *1 I Therefore | said they unto him, | ^ *"j | How | were thine | eyes | opened ? | **j *1 | **1 "I | **j He | answered and | said, | *| A | man | **] that is | called | Jesus, | made | clay, | **] and a- | nointed mine | eyes, ^] | *"j and | said unto me, | Go to the | pool of | Siloam, | *| and | wash : ~j | ~| «j | H and I | went and | washed, | **| and I re- | ceived | sight. | "*j **] | *»] **1 | Then | said they unto him, | *1 *1 | Where | is he ? | *| **J | ^ He | said, **| | *; I | know not. | ^ *] | ^ **J | **j They | brought to the | Pharisees | him that a- | foretime was | blind. | ~] ~j | And it was the | Sabbath | day ~J | *] when | Jesus | made the | clay, | *\ and | opened his | eyes. | *1 *1 1 ""I w i I Then a- | gain the | Pharisees | also | asked him | how he had re- | ceived his f sight. | **] **i | *1 He | said unto | them, | **| He | put **] | clay^ | ^ upon mine | eyes, | *"| and I ] washed, | and do | see. | *1 m | *fj **j | Therefore said | some of the | Pharisees, | ^ This | man is | not of | God, | **| be- | cause | ^ lie | keepeth | not the | Sabbath | day. | **1 *"j | Others | said, **] | How can a | man that is a | sinner | do such | 200 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. miracles? 1*1*11*1 And | there was a di- | vision a- | mong them. | *1 *1 | *1 *1 | *1 They | say unto the | blind | man a- | gain, ^ | ** *| | What | sayest | thou of him ? | that he hath | opened thine | eyes ? | *1 *1 | **j He | said, *1 | He is a | pro- phet. 1111^,1 **| But the | Jews | did not be- | lieve con- | cerning him | **i that he | had been | blind, | **j and re- | ceived his | sight, | **] un- | til they | called the | parents of | him that had re- | ceived his | sight. | *1 *1 | *1 And they | asked them, | saying, | **| *1 | Is | this your | son, | who ye | say | *\ was | born | blind ? *1 | **| **| | how | then *| | doth he | now **. \ see ? «| | *] *1 I '"1 *1 I *1 ^ s I P arents | answered them, | *1 and | said, | *1 *1 I *1 ^ e I know that |. this is our | son, **| | and that he was | born | blind : *1 | *1 *1 | But by | what *| | means | "*] he | now | seeth, | **| we | know | not; **| | **| or | who hath opened his | eyes, | *] we | know not : | *1 ^ | he is of | age, **i | ask | him, **] | he shall | speak for him- | self. *1 1 *1 *1 1 **|*1 These | words *1 | spake his | parents, | *"j be- | cause they | feared the | Jews : | *1 *1 | *1 for the | Jews had a- | greed al- | ready, | that if | any man | **| did con- | fess that he was | Christ, | *•] **| | he should be | put | out of the | synagogue. I *1 *1 I "1 *1 I Therefore | said his | parents, | He is of | age, ~| | ask *| | him. **| | ~] ^ | M *| | Then a- | gain **| | called they the | man that was | blind, | **} and | said unto him, | **M | Give **] | God the | praise : | ** we | know that | this **] | man ^ | **j is a | sinner. | *1 *1 | *1 *1 | *1 He | answered and | said, **| | Whether he | be a | sinner or | no, **| | "*] I | know not; | *1 *1 | one | thing I | know, | ^ that, where- | as T | was *| | blind, *", | w ; ~\ | now | ~ I | EXERCISES. 201 see. | **I *1 | **] **1 | Then **■ [ said they | to him a- | gain, **| | What | did he | to thee '( \ *| **] | How **[ | opened he thine | eyes ? ( **| **] | **| *"| | **| He | answered them, | ""J I have | told you al- | ready, | **| and ye | did not | hear : | **] """j ] where- fore | would ye | hear it a- | gain ? | *■*] **] | **| Will | ye | also | be his dis- | ciples? | *1 ^ | **! ^ | Then they re- | viled him, | *"} and | said, | Thou art | his dis- | ciple j | **] but | we are | Moses' dis- | ciples. | *| «"| | *| *\ | r] We | know that | God "\ | spake unto | Moses : | **| **| | as for | this *\ | fellow, | *| we | know not from | whence he | is. | *1 r] | **j **] | **} The | man | answered and | said unto them, | *] **] | Why, **] | herein | *»] is a | marvellous | thing, | *1 that ye | know not from | whence he | is, **] | ^ and | yet he hath | opened mine | eyes. | *1 *"] | **] *[ | Now we | know that | God **| | heareth not | sinners : | *"1 *\ | but if | any man | be a | worshipper of | God, ^ | **J and | doeth his | will, **| | him he | heareth. | ■■ **| *"} | ^j .*| | Since the | world be- | gan M | was it not | heard | **] that | any man | opened the | eyes of | one that was | born *| | blind *1 I *1 *1 I *1 -^ I tG ^ s I man were I not °f I ^°^ I *1 ne could | do | nothing. | M *] | **| **] | *] They | answered and | said unto him, | **| **| | Thou wast | alto- | gether | born in | sins, | **| and dost | thou | teach **] | us ? | **] "*] | And they | cast him | out. | **j **j | ^ *"] | Jesus | heard that they had | cast him | out ; **] | **| and | when he had | found him, | **] he | said unto him, | **] **| | Dost thou be- | lieve on the | Son of | God ? | ^! *1 I *1 **! I *1 He | answered and | said, ^ | Who | is he, | Lord, | **J **] | that I | might be- | lieve on him ? | -**] ~j } M **||f *j And | Jesus | said unto him, | *1 > 1 T ^1 Thou hast | both | seen him, *^02 GRAMMAB OF ELOCUTION. | ^1 ^ | and it is | he that | talketh with thee. | "\ ~ | *] ^ | »| And he | said, **| | Lord, | *j I be- | lieve. | *| *< | *| And he | worshipped him. | **| **! | *| **| | *| And | Jesus | said, ~] | •*] *j | *| For | judgment | ^ I am | come into this | world ; | **] •] | *] that | they which | see | not | might *"] | see, *] | and that | they which | see ^ | might be | made | blind. | **] "] | ** **| | *»j And | some of the | Pharisees | **| which were | with him | heard these | words, | *J and | said unto him, | *] *] | **] Are | we | blind | also ? | **,*f | *"] *] | Jesus | said unto them, | **] **| | If ye were | blind, **] | ^1 *1 | ye should have | no **j | sin : | **j *] | ^ but | now ye | say, **} | *i We | see ; | **| *| | therefore | *] your | sin re- | maineth. H*1h*l| EXTRACT FROM COWPER'S "TASK." ~j Ac- | quaint thyself with | God, M | *| *| \ if thou would' st | taste *] | *| His | works. | »"j **| | *[ Ad- | mitted | once to | his em- | brace, **] | Thou shalt per- | ceive **] | that thou wast | blind be- | fore : | *| ^ | *| Thine | eye shall be in- | structed; | *"| "", | and thine | heart ~| | Made *| | pure, | *] shall | relish with di- | vine de- | light **| | EXERCISES. 203 •J Till | then un- | felt, **| | **j what | hands di- | vine have | wrought. | "*j **j | Brutes | graze the | mountain | top, | ^ with | faces | prone | ^| And | eyes | **] in- | tent upon the | scanty | herb **| | *\ It | yields them ; | **j *1 | or, re- | cumbent on its | brow, rj | Ruminate, | *< **j | heedless of the | scene out- | spread **] | **] Be- | neath, | **| be- | yond, ^| | **] and | stretching | far a- | way ^ | **| From | inland | regions | **] to the | distant | mam. | ^}'*|| *1*T| Man | views it, | **j and ad- | mires; | *| **| | **] but | rests con- | tent **| | **| With | what he | views. | **j ^ | **] The | landscape | has his | praise, | *| But | not its | Author. 1*1*11 Uncon- | cerned *i j who | formed *] | *| The | paradise he | sees, | *| he | finds it | such, *| | *j And | such **j | well | pleased to | find it, | **| *] | asks no | more. M ^ | ~M | Not | so the | mind **| | that has been | touched from | heaven, | And in the | school of | sacred | wisdom | **| **] | taught **j | *| To | read *| | Ms *J | wonders, | *\ in | whose | thought | **i the | world, *] \ Fair as it | is, H | **| ex- | isted | ere it | was : | *] **j | **| *1 | Not for its | own | sake *", | merely, | but for | his, **] | Much | more, | **] who | fashioned it, | ^ he | gives it | praise ; | **] ^ | Praise | **] that from | earth re- 1 suiting, | **j as it | ought, **! | ^ *"| *i To | earth's ac- | knowledged | Sovereign, | **[ r|-| finds at | once *\ | , 204 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. ~] Its | only | just pro- | prietor | ~j in | *] Him.*'] | *■ *j |*J ^ | **] The | soul that | sees him, | or re- | ceives, sub- | limed, **] | New | faculties, | "^ or | learns at | least to em- | ploy *< | More | worthily | ^ the | powers she | owned be- | fore, *"! | *"j Dis- | cerns in | all things | what with | stupid | gaze Of | ignorance, | **j till | then she | over- | looked, *| | **] A | ray of | heavenly | light, ""j | gilding | all | forms **| | **j Ter- | restrial | *"j in the | vast and the mi- | mite; | **! **i | ^j The | unani- | biguous | footsteps | **j of the | God, *"! \ **} Who | gives its | lustre | **] to an | insect's | wing, ""j | *"] And | wheels his | throne upon the j rolling | worlds. ' w ]* 1 , ^"i"* 1 Much | conversant with | heaven, | **i she | often | holds ^J | *^j With | those | fair | ministers of | light to | man, | *] That | fill the | skies *", | nightly with | silent | pomp, **| | Sweet | conference. | *", ^ | **j **! | *1 In- | quires, what | strains were | they *"] | **j With | which **j | heaven | rang, | **J when | every | star, in | haste | ""l To | gratulate the | new-created | earth, ^ | Sent forth a | voice, **\ | '•j and | all the | sons of | God **| | Shouted for | joy. *] | *", *"; | *\ ^ | " Tell me, | *| ye | shining | hosts, *< | M That | navigate a | sea that | knows | no *•] | storms, **| | *| Be- | neath a | vault un- | sullied with a | cloud, | ""j **] | If from your | ele- | vatiou, | **j **] | whence ye | view Dis- | tinctly, | **| **] | scenes | **| in- | visible to | man, | ^| And | systems, | **] of whose | birth no | tidings | yet *J | ~\ Have | reached this | nether | world, | ' *| *| | ** ye | spy a | race, ^j | EXERCISES. 205 Favored as | ours; | **[ *"] | trans- | gressors from the | womb, 1 ^ | ^ And | hastening to a | grave, ^ | yet *| | doomed to | rise, **j | And to pos- | sess a | brighter | heaven than | yours ? | **[ As | one who | long de- | tained on | foreign | shores, *| | Pants to re- | turn, | **] ""J | and when he | sees a- | far | **i His | country's | weather-bleached | "rl and | battered rocks, **| | *< From the | green | wave e- | merging, | darts an | eye **] | Radiant with | joy, *"j | towards the | happy | land ; | ""j **| | So **| | I | ^| with | animated | hopes be- | hold, ""J | *"1 And | many an | aching | wish, | *< **] | your | beamy | fires, **| | **] That | show like | beacons | ^] in the | blue a- | byss, **J | "*| Or- | dained to | guide the em- | bodied | spirit | home | **| From | toilsome | life "*} | *\ to | never- | ending | rest. *"] | **] **! | Love | kindles as I | gaze ! | **J **| | **| I | feel de- | sires, | **] That | give as- | surance of their | own sue- | cess, | T*] | And that in- | fused from | heaven **| | must | *1 | thither | tend." r| | *] *| | *j H | So | reads | he *| | nature, | *1 **] | whom the | lamp of | truth | *| II- | luminates. | *| *| | *\ *| | Thy | lamp, H | «l m y S - | terious | word ! | **| *] | **j Which | whoso | sees | *j *] | *\ no | longer | wanders | lost, ~| | w j With | intellects be- | mazed in | endless | doubt, | **| **] | *| But | runs the | road of | wisdom. | **1 *! | **| *j | Thou hast | built | ^| With | means, **| | *] that | were not | till by | thee em- | ployed, | *| -| | 18 206 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. Worlds, that had | never | been | ^ hadst | thou in | streugth Been | less, *i |^j or | less be- 1 nevolent than | strong. | *1 *1 1 *1 *1 1 They are thy | witnesses, | **] **] | who | speak thy | power | **| And | goodness | infinite, | *"i but | speak in | ears | **! That | hear not, | H or re- 1 ceive not | their re- 1 port. | *"|*1 | **M | *1 In | vain | *"j thy | creatures | testify of | thee, | *| Till | thou pro- | claim thy- | self. | *] M | *] *j | Theirs is, in- | deed, | *1 A | teaching | voice ; *1 | but 'tis the | praise of | thine, | *1 That | whom | it | teaches | *| it | makes **J | prompt to | learn, | *1 *J | And with the | boon **] | gives | talents | ^| for its | use. | *1 *| | *', *] | *1 Till | thou | ^] art | heard, | "*] im- | agi- | nations | vain | ""| Pos- | sess the | heart; | *| *1 | *| and | fables | false as | hell, | Yet | deemed o- | racular, | lure | down to | death, *] | *1 The | unin- 1 formed and | heedless | souls of | men. | *1 *J | *1 *| | We | give to | chance, ^ | blind | chance, ~| | **| our- | selves as | blind, | **j The | glory of | thy | work j | ^ *[ | ~J which | yet ap- 1 pears *] | Perfect | ^j and | unim- | peachable of | blame, 1*1*11 Challenging | human | scrutiny, | ^ and | proved **| | Then | skillful | most | ^ when | most se- | verely | judg- ed. | *] *] | *1 ~l | •j But | chance is | not ; | ~] *] | *| or | is not | where | thou | reignest : | *] *1 | Thy | providence | *j for- | bids | that | fickle | power **j | (*1 If | power she | be * | ^ that | works but to con- | found) *| | *j To | mix her | wild va- | garies j *[ with | thy | laws, j *| ~ \ EXERCISES, 207 Yet | thus we | dote, | **] re- [ fusing | *1 while we | can | **| In- | struction, | **| and in- | venting to our- | selves **] | Gods | such as | guilt makes | welcome ; | **| **] | gods that | sleep | **{ Or | disre- | gard our | follies, | **] or that | sit **l \ **] A- 1 mused spec- 1 tators | **] of this | hustling | stage. | **| **| | **j **] | Thee | we re- | ject, **] | un- | ahle to a- | bide !"] | Thy **j | purity, | **] till | pure | **] as | thou art | pure ; | **| **| | Made | such by | thee, | **] we | love thee | **] for | that *»] | cause | **| For | which we | shunned and | hated thee | *"1 be- | fore. | H M | **] «"| | Then are we | free. **! | **| *1 1 *1 *1 1 Then | liberty, | **] like | day, | Breaks on the | soul, | **| ^j | and, by a | flash from | heaven, **| | Fires | all the | faculties | ^j with | glorious | joy. | **| **| | **| *"] | **j A | voice is | heard, | **} that | mortal | ears **] | hear *"] | not **| | **| Till | thou hast | touched them : | **] 'tis the | voice of | song, **| | **| A | loud ho- | sanna | sent from | all thy | works ; **] ] H Which | he that | hears it | **j with a | shout re- | peats, **j | M And | adds **| | his **J | rapture | **| to the | general | praise. | **| **| | **J In | that M | blest | moment, | *\ **] | Nature, | throwing | wide **| | *] Her | veil o- | paque, | **| dis- | closes with a | smile **| | **1 The | Author of her | beauties, | who, re- | tired | "•1 Be- | hind his | own ere- | ation, | works un- | seen **| | By the im- 1 pure, | **] and | hears his | power de- 1 nied. | **| **| | **| **| | Thou art the | source | **] and | centre of | all | minds, | **] Their | only | point of | rest, w | | *| E- | ternal | Word ! | **]**] | *•] From | thee de- 1 parting, | **| **] | they are | lost, **| | **! and | rove I **1 At | random, | **] with- | out *»] | honor, | hope, or | peace. | **J **! | *1 **j | 808 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. *] From | thee is | all that | soothes the | life of | man, | **] His | high en- | deavor, | ^| and his | glad sue- | cess, **] | *"| His | strength to | suffer, | M and his | will to | serve. | *| **J | *| **| | **] But | oh, thou | bounteous | Giver of | all | good, *| | Thou | art of | all thy | gifts ~| | ~\ thy- 1 self the | crown ! | *] *f| Give what thou | canst, | **] with- 1 out | thee | *1 we are | poor, j **l And ] with thee | rich, **| | take what thou | wilt a- | way. n t i *n | ON THE BEING OF A GOD. *| Re- I tire ; ~] | ~] the | world **j | shut *| | out; *| | *] thy | thoughts | call | home : | *^ Im- | agi- | nation's | airy | wing **] | **] re- | press ; *j | ^ ""J | Lock up thy | senses ; | **| **] | let no | passion | stir ; **J | **] **j | Wake | all to | reason ; \ « **] | ^j let | her w j | reign a- | lone : **] | **] ^| | Then **| | **| in thy | soul's | deep **] | silence, | **j and | the | depth ~] | **j Of | nature's | silence, | **j *| | midnight, | H **] | thus in- | quire : ^ | w . As 1 1 have | done ; ^ | and shall in- 1 quire no | more. \*\**\ | "*|^ | *! In | nature's | channel | thus the | questions | run : | *1*1 1 ^1*1 1 " What | am I? | ~j and from | whence ? | *f ~\ | <-| I | nothing | know, •*] | But that 1 1 am; | **| *j | ^| and, | since I | am, | ^ con- 1 elude H | EXERCISES. 209 Something e- | ternal : | **] H ] had there | e'er been | nought, *| | Nought | still had | been; — | ^ e | ternal | M there | must | be. *1 | M H | *| H | **] But | what e- 1 ternal? | **] *"] | Why not | human | race ? j ^^1 | **] And | Adam's | ancestors | **| with- 1 out an j end? ^j j^^ ^^ \ That's | hard to be con- | ceived; **| | ^ since | every | link^j | **1 Of | that | long M ] chained sue- j cession | **< is | so | frail ; **] | **| Can | every | part de- 1 pend,^ | **] and | not the | whole ? | **j **■ | **] Yet | grant it | true; **j | new | difficulties | rise; **, | **J Fm | still | quite ^ | out at | sea : **] | **j nor | see the | shore. | **j ~j | *] w j | Whence | earth, | -*] and | these | bright | orbs? *| |-**| E- | ternal | too ? | "1 ^ | "*| **] | Grant | matter | **j was e- | ternal ; | H "*[ | still these | orbs **j | **] Would | want some | other ] father; | **j **j | much de- | sign **] | **| Is | seen in | all their | motions, | *"|^ | all their | makes; [^p*|*| **j De- | sign | **| im- | plies in- | telligence | *J and | art,** | **J^! | That **| I can't be | **| from them- | selves | "-1 or j man ; *"! | *1 ~> | that *] | art ~| | Man | scarce can | compre- | hend, **] j *1 could | man be- | stow ? **! | ""J And | nothing | greater | yet al- 1 lowed | ""j than | man, *1 1 '■'M | Who, | motion, | **[ *| | foreign to the | smallest | grain, | Shot through | vast **| | masses | ^ of e- 1 normous | weight ? **] | **! *". | Who | bid ^j | brute **J | matter's | restive [ lump as- | sume 18* 210 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. Such | various | forms, **] j **] aDd | gave it | wiDgs to j fly ? | *} *] | *| Has | matter | innate | motion ? | *| **] | then *] | each *| | atom, | *»] **{ As- | serting its in- | disputable | right "| | **| To | dance, | **{ would | form an | universe of j dust ! **J j *< **] | **| Has | matter | none ? | *"1 **] | Then M | whence those | glo- rious | forms | **] And | boundless | flights, **] | **] from | shapeless | **| and re- | posed ? | **| **| | **j Has | matter | more than [ motion ? | has it | thought, | Judgment, and | genius ? | **] **| | Is it | deeply | learned In | mathe- | matics? | **} ^ | Has it | framed | such **| | laws, | Which but to | guess, **] | ^ a | Newton | made im- | mortal ? | **| If | so, *1 | how *\ | each *j | sage | atom | laughs at | me, *| | ^| Who | think a | clod in- | ferior to a | man ! **] | **j If | art to | form ; | **| and | counsel to con- | duct ; **| | **] Re- | sides not | *\ in | each *| | block; ~j | *Ja | Godhead | reigns. | **j "I | **| **| | Grant, ~| | then, *] | ^ in- | visible, | **] e- | ternal | mind; | *}*1 1 That | granted, | all is | solved. | *| **] | But, **j | granting | that, *| | Draw I not | o'er me | *\ a | still | darker | cloud ? *■} j ^\ ** | Grant I not | that *»] | which I can | ne'er con- | ceive ? | *| **| | *"| A | Being | without | origin | **J or | end ! | *"1 **| | *1 *1 | Hail, | human | liberty ! | **| there | is no | God ! **j | M Yet | why ? *1 | *| on | either | scheme | that *| | knot sub- j sists; **I I EXERCISES. 211 *•] Sub- 1 sist it | must, <*l | **| in | God,^ | *| or | human | race : | **] *| | If in the | last, *"] | how many | knots be- | side, **] | *| In- | dissoluble | all ? | *| *| | *\ *] f Why | choose it | there, **] | Where | chosen | still sub- | sist H [ ten | thousand | more ? | w | *| | ^1 Re- | ject it, | where | that | chosen, | *"J **i | all the | rest ^1 | ^ Dis- | persed, | leave | reason's | whole ho- | rizon | clear? | ^ H | *]<-] | This is not | reason's | dictate ; | **] **] | reason | says, **J | Choose with the | side *j | *] where | one ^ | grain [ turns the | scale ; | *l **J | **} What | vast pre- | ponderance | M is | here ! | *1 *1 | **| can | reason | **] With | louder | voice ex- | claim, | *1 Be- | lieve a | God rH|^M| **| And | reason | heard | ^ is the | sole j mark of | man. *| | *"j*< | What | things | **| im- | possible | *"| must | man think | true, ~1 | **j On | any | other | system ! | **| *l | *1 and | how *\ | strange | **] To | disbe- 1 lieve | **\ through | mere ere- 1 dulity ! | **j ^ | M **] | If ^] | **] in | this | chain | *l Lo- | renzo | finds no | flaw, *\ | Let it for | ever | bind him | **| to be- | lief. | **j **] | *\ And | where the | link | **| in | which a | flaw he | finds ? | *1 *] | *| And | if a | God there | is, | *] ^ | that | God | how | great! | *|:*J | *H | Young. 212 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTTOX. ADAM AND EVE'S MORNING HYMN. These are thy | glorious | works ! | **{ **] | Parent of | good ! | **j **i | Al- | mighty ! | ^ **| | thine this | uni- | versal | frame, | Thus | wond'rous | fair : **] | ^] thy- | self **j | how | wond'- rous | then, ^j | Un- | speakable ! | *< who | sitt'st a- | bove *] | these | heavens, | **| To | us in- | visible, | "*-*l or | dimly | seen, **{ | *[ In | these thy | lowest | works : **} | ^ *i | yet w ; | these de- | clare **] | *1 ^ n y I goodness | H be- | j^ond | thought, | *\ and | power di- viue. | ^ ^ | ~\ *] | Speak, **] | ye *"] | *"] who | best can | tell, **j J **] ye | sons of | light, | **| ^ | Angels ! | *"] for | ye be- | hold him, | **] and with | songs ^ | ^ And | choral | symphonies, | ^ **j | day without | night, *1 | Circle his | throne | **} re- 1 joicing. | *1 **] | Ye in | heaven ! | **j ^j | ^l On | earth, **! | *|H | join, ^j | all ye | creatures, | *»] to ex- | tol -i, | -|~j | Him | first, **\ | him | last, **] | him | midst, | and without | end. | *1 ^i | ^1 ^[ | Fairest of | stars ! **l | *"j **] | last in the | train of | night, *] | *1 If | better thou be- | long not to the | dawn, | ^ ^ | Sure ! pledge of | day, I *| that I crown'st the | smiling I morn *"| | EXERCISES. 213 *j With thy | bright *\ | circlet, | **| *] | praise hiin | **j in thy | sphere, ^j | While | day a- 1 rises, | ^^j | that sweet | hour of| prime. |^J*| | ^|^J | Thou | sun ! *[ | *| H | *| of | this M | great *| | world | ^ both | eye and | soul, *] | **] Ac- | knowledge | him ^] | thy | greater • | **] *| | sound his | praise | In thy e- | ternal | course, | *1 *\ | both when thou | climb'st, | And when | high **] | noon hast | gain'd, ^ | ^ and | when thou | fall' st. | *| *-] | **| ~] | Moon ! | ^| that | now | meet'st the | orient | sun, | **] *[ j now | fly'st,-] | **J With the | fixed **} | stars, ^ | *]*] | (fixed in their | orb that flies !) | ~H | **| And | ye *»] | five | other | wand'ring | fires ! | **| that | move ^ | ^ In | mystic | dance, | **| **j | cot without | song ! | **j re- | sound ""l | His | praise | **J who | out of | darkness | called up | light. *1 | ^1 *1 | *1 ^, | Air, *-l | *"j and ye | elements ! | *[ the | eldest | birth M | *1 Of | Nature's | womb, | that in qua- | ternion | run **j | H Per- | petual | circle, | **\ **] | multiform and | mix, | **] And | nourish | all things, | **! **| | let your | ceaseless | change , Vary to our | great *] | Maker | ^ h | still H | new ^ | praise. | *| H [ ^J H | *i Ye | mists | **[ and | exha- | lations ! | "*j that | now | rise *1 | **j From | hill or | steaming | lake, **| | dusky or | grey, | **] Till the | sun **j | paint your | fleecy | skirts with | gold, *j | M In | honor to the | world's | great *"] | Author | rise ; **] | *"] **| | 214 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. Whether to | deck with | clouds *| | *| the un- 1 colored sky, *] | **] Or | wet the | thirsty | earth with | falling | showers,** | »*l *| | Rising | **i or | falling, | **j*| | still ad- 1 vance | his | praise. \*]*] | *"|M| His | praise, | **| ye | winds *| | **| that from | four *| | quarters | blow, *| \*[*[\ Breathe | soft or | loud !*]!*] and | wave your | tops, ~ \ *j ye | pines, ^ | **] With | every | plant, | **] *| | *< in [ sign of | worship, | wave. | **j **| j *} ^ | Fountains ! | *\ and | ye that | warble | **] as ye | flow | *"| Me- | lodious | murmurs, | **] **j | warbling, | ^ ^ | tune his | praise. | **j ** | Join | voices, J all ye | living | souls. | *] *\ | **j Ye | birds, *"1 | H That | singing, | up to | heaven's | gate as- | cend, | **J **j | Bear on your | wings, [ and in your | notes ** | his *•} | praise. | ^ M | ~] ~j | Ye that in | waters | glide, | ** and | ye that | walk The | earth, | ^ and | stately | tread | ^j or | lowly | creep ! w | Witness if | I be | silent, | **| **] | morn | *\ or | even, | M To | hill or | valley, | fountain or | fresh *J | shade, | **] *j | Made [ vocal by my | song, I *1 and | taught ^ | his **| | praise. | *] 1 | *1 *", | Hail, | uni- | versal | Lord ! | ^j ^ | ^ be | bouuteous | still, | *i To | give us | only | good J *1 | **] **j | <™d if the | night *| | ^j Have | gathered ] aught of | evil, | *] or con- | cealed, *] | ^ Dis- | perse it, | **| as | now | light | ~ dis- | pels the | dark. | ~] *| | ~j *] | Milt ox. EXERCISES. 215 SPEECH OF THE EARL OF CHATHAM, ON THE SUBJECT OF EMPLOYING INDIANS TO FIGHT AGAINST THE AMERICANS. **j I | CANNOT, | *i my | lords, **| | *] I | will not, | join in con- | gratu- | lation | on mis- | fortune | *< and dis- | grace. I 1 *1 I *1 *1 I Tnis ; |1 my | lords, ~[ | ^ is a | perilous | ^ and tre- | mendous | moment; | **j *»| | "-1 the | smoothness of | flattery | cannot | save us | ^ in this | rugged and | awful | crisis. | ""J *"J | *"J *"] | *"] It is | now j necessary | *1 to in- | struct the | throne | ""j in the J language of j truth. [ **] *n *1 ■"*! I *1 We I milst > 1 I 1 if possible, | **] dis- | pel the de- | lusion and | darkness | *] which en- | velope it; | ■ *| and dis- | play, **] | **j in its | full | danger | **| and | genuine | colors, | *"] the | ruin | **| which is | brought to our | doors. | ^ *1 I *1 *1 I ^ an I mm isters | still pre- | sume to ex- | pect sup- | port ** | in their in- | fatu- | ation ? [ ^ **] | M Can | parliament | **] be [ so | dead to its | dignity and | duty, | *1 as to | give its sup- | port *"] | *"] to | measures | thus ob- | traded and | forced up- | on it ? | w | ** | Measures, | *< my | lords, **| | which have re- | duced this | late | flourishing | empire | *"] to | scorn and con- | tempt ? | **j *| | **| But | yes- terday, | **| and | England | might have | stood against the | 216 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. world; | *»| *1 j now, **] | none so | poor | *»| as to | do her | reverence ! | **| *"| | ^ The | people | (whom we at | first de- | spised as | rebels, | **j but | whom we | now ac- | knowledge as | enemies), | ""j are a- | betted a- | gainst us, | **} sup- | plied with | every | military | store, | **j their | interest con- 1 suited, | """j and their am- | bassadors | enter- | tained | **] by our in- | veterate | enemy; | M **j | **] and | ministers | do not, | '•J and | dare not, | inter- | pose | *"[ with | dignity | **| or ef- | feet. | *1 *1 I *1 *1 I *1 ^ ne I desperate | state of our | army a- | broad | ^ is in | part *"| | known. | *j **| | *1 **j | No man | **j more | highly es- | teems and | honors the | English | troops | ^] than | I do : | **] *] | ^ I | know their | virtues | *i and their | valor ; | **| **| | **! I | know they can a- | chieve "■*] | anything but | impossi- | bilities > | **j **] | and I | know that the | con- quest of | English A- | merica | is an | impossi- | bility. | *". *■] | ~] * | **] You | cannot, | **] my | lords, | *\ you | can- | not **] | conquer A- | merica. | **| **| | *1 "I | What is your | present | situ- | ation | there ? | *\ *J | ^ We J do not | know the | worst : | **]*"! | but we | know that in | three cam- | paigns | N we have | done | nothing | **j and | suffered | much. **] | **] **} | M h | You may | swell every ex- | peuse, | **] ac- | cumulate | every as- | sistance, | **| and ex- | tend your | traffic | *] to the | shambles of | every | German | despot; | *j *j | your at- | tempts *| | h will | be for | ever | vain and | impotent; | **J ^ | doubly | so, in- | deed, **| | *[ from this | mercenary | aid | *J on | which you re- | ly ; *| \ r| *] | for it | irrirates | *] to an in- | curable re- | sentment, | ~] the | minds of your | adversaries, | *j to | over- | run them with the | mercenary | sons of | rapine and | plunder, | **| de- | voting | them and EXERCISES. 217 their pos- | sessions | **| to the ra- | pacity of | hireling | cruelty. [ «■] ^ | ^ H | But, | **| my | lords, | who is the | man, "*| | that, in ad- | dition | **] to the dis- | graces and | mischiefs of the | war, | **] has | dared to | authorize | **j and as- | sociate to our | arms | *"] the. | tomahawk | **J and | scalping-knife | **| of the | savage ? I 1 *1 I *1 *° I ca ^ i nto I civilized al- | liance | *] the | wild and in- | human in- | habitants of the | woods ? | ^ ^J | M to | delegate | **| to the | merciless | Indian | **| the de- | fence of dis- | puted | rights, | *| and to | wage the | horrors of his | barbarous | war | *■) | against our | brethren ? | **} *i | ■*} **| I H My | lords, | these e- | normities | cry a- | loud | **j for re- | dress and | punishment. | **| w i | But, my | lords, | ^1 this | barbarous | measure | has been de- | fended, | **i **| | not | only on the | principles of | policy | *j and ne- | cessity, | ^ but | also on | those of mo- | rality; j *»] ~j | " for it is | perfectly al- | lowable," | ~j says | Lord | Suffolk, | h "to | use | all the | means | **| which | God and | nature | **| have | put into our | hands." | *"1 **j | **1 *\ | I am as- | tonished ! [ M I a-m I shocked ! | **1 to | hear such | principles con- | fessed ; j *1 *"| | **] to | hear them a- | vowed in | this | house, | or in | this | country. | **| 1 M *1 I *1 M y I lords > I 1 I I did not in - | teQ d to en- | croach so | much **l | **| on your at- | tention, | *"j ^ | but I | cannot re- | press my | in dig- | nation. | **| **j | **] I | feel my- self im- | pelled to | speak. | *rj **} | M ~J | *| My | lords, | *] we are | called upon, | ^ as | members of this | house, | H as | men, **] | **j as | Christians, | **| to pro- | test against | **1 such | horrible bar- | barity ! | *| «-| | *•] *] | «| " That | God and | nature | ** have | put into our | hands!" | !*] h | What i- I 19 218 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. doas of | God and | nature | that | noble | lord may | enter- | tain, | **} I | know not; | **j *1 | but I | know that | such de- | testable | principles | **i are | equally ab- | horrent | ^ to re- | ligion | *| and hu- | inanity. | H '*| | ^ *] | What, *| | **J to at- | tribute the | sacred | sanction of | God and | nature | **j to the | massacres | **| of the | Indian | scalping-knife ! | *| to the | savage, | torturing | ^1 and | murdering | **j his uu- | happy | victims ! | **} **| J *»} "**J | Such | notions | shock *< j every | sentiment of | honor. | ^ **1 | *1 **} | These a- | bomi- nable | principles, | *"j and this | more a- | bominable a- | vowal of them, | ^1 de- | mand the | most de- | cisive indig- | nation. I *1 1 I *1 *1 M I I cal1 ll P on I taat I right *| | reverend, | ~j and | this most | learned | Bench, | **j to | vindicate | **] the re- | ligion of their | God — **{ | M to sup- | port the | justice of their | country. | *"| **] | **| **| | **} I | call upon the | bishops | **| to | inter- | pose the uu- | sullied | sanctity of their | lawn ; | **]**! | *1 upon the | judges | **] to | inter- | pose the | purity of their | ermine, | **J to | save us from | this pol- | lutiou. j '•J *1 I *1 '**! 1*1 ^ I ea ^ u P on tne I honor °f y° ur I lordships, | **| to | reverence the | dignity of your | ancestors, | and to main- | tain your | own. | **] *j | ~] **] | **] I | call upon the | spirit | **| and hu- | inanity | **J of my | country, | *1 to | vindicate the | national | character. | H ~] | *| *| | I in- | voke the | genius of the | British j consti- | tution. | ^| *| | *| ** | **| From the | tapestry | H that a- | dorns | these | walls, | *| the im- | mortal | ancestor | *j of this | noble | lord | frowns with | indig- | na- tion | *| at the dis- | grace of his | country. | *j *| | *i ** | **| In | vain did | he de- | fend the | liberty, | *\ and es- | tablish EXERCISES. 219 the re- | ligion of | Britain, | *«] a- | gainst the | tyranny of ! Rome, | if these | worse than | popish | cruelties, | **] and | inquisi- | torial | practices, | **] are en- | dured a- | mong us. | **] X] M 1 I 1 To I send I f° rtn tne I merciless | Indian, | ^ **] | thirsting for | blood! *"J | **l a- | gainst | whom? | **]**! | *1 your | protestant | brethren ! | ~| H | **| to | lay *1 | waste their | country, ! **j to | desolate their | dwellings, | **] and ex- | tirpate their | race and | name, | **] by the | aid and | instru- ment | tality of | these un- | governable | savages ! | **| *| | ^] •^ | Spain can | no | longer | boast | "*] pre- ] eminence | **] in bar- | barity. | *"| **] | *| *< | She | armed herself with | blood- hounds | *[ to ex- | tirpate the | wretched | natives of | Mexico; | **| **j | we, | more | ruthless, | loose those | brutal | warriors | **j a- | gainst our | countrymen | *| in A- | merica, | ^i en- | deared to us | **] by | every | tie | *"] that can | sanctify hu- | manity. | .*•] **} | y\ **} | .*[ I | solemnly | call upon your | lordships, | and upon | every | order of | men in the | state, | **] to | stamp upon | this **] | infamous pro- | cedure | M the in- | delible | stigma | **] of the | public ab- | horrence. | 1 **! I *1 *1 I More par- | ticularly, | *1 I | call upon the | ven- erable | prelates | *"| of our re- | ligion, | **| to | do a- | way this in- | iquity : | M w j | let them per- | form a lus- | tration | **] to | purify the | country | *1 from this | deep *] | **| and | deadly | sin. | ~] *] | *| *| | ~] My | lords, ~ { | ~ I am | old | *1 and | weak, | *"] and at | present | **j un- | able to | say | more; | **] **| | but my j feelings and | indig- | nation | **| were | too | strong to have al- | lowed me to | say | less. | J"] *] | *»1 *| | **| I | could not have | slept **[ | this **] | night in my | bed, | *| nor | even re- | posed my | head upon my | pillow, | 220 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. w , with- | out **j | giving | vent to my | steadfast ab- | horrence | *1 of | such e- | normous | *t and pre- | posterous | princi. pies. | 1 ^1 | w ^j | TIMON'S ADDRESS TO THE THIEVES. Timon. Why should you | want? | ~jBe-| hold, the | earth hath | roots; | *] With- | in this | mile break | forth a | hundred | springs : **| The | oaks bear | mast, the | briars | scarlet | hips : | *1 The | bounteous | housewife, | nature, | *"< on | each | bush j Lays her | full | mess be- | fore you. | **} **1 | Want ? | **| **j | why | want? | 1st Thief. *»] We | cannot | live on | grass, on | berries, | water, | **} As | beasts, and | birds, and | fishes. | Tim. **| Nor | on the | beasts them- | selves, the | birds, and | fishes : | **| "*! |" *M % | *< You must | eat | men. | **j Yet | thanks I | must you | con, That you are | thieves pro- | fessed ; | ^ that you | work not In | holier | shapes : | **1 **j | for there is | boundless | theft In | limited pro- | fessions. | ^ *"j | Rascal | thieves, | Here's | gold : | Go, | suck the | subtle | blood of the | grape, | **l Till the | high | fever | seethe your | blood to | froth, | EXERCISES. 2*21 ""j And | so | 'scape | hanging : | **] *"l | trust not the phy- | si- eian ; | *■] **] | His | antidotes are | poison, | **] and | he | slays | More than | you | rob : | **| **] | take | wealth and | lives to- | gether ; | **]**] | Do | villany, | do, | since you pro- | fess to | do't, | "*1 Like | workmen. | **J **j | I'll ex- | ample you with | thievery; | **! The | sun's a | thief, and | with his | great at- | traction | Robs the | vast | sea: | w ; the | moon's an | arrant | thief, | *1 And her | pale | fire she | snatches from the | *•] sun : | **] The j sea's a | thief, whose | liquid | surge re- | solves The j moon into J salt | tears : | "•] the { earth's a j thief, | ^ That feeds, | and | breeds by a com- | posture | stolen From | general | excrement : | **} *"j | each | thing's a | thief: | **] The | laws, | *"1 your | curb and | whip, | **[ in | their | rough | power *"] Have | un- | check'd | theft. | **] **] | Love not your- | selves : |-]a- | way; | -j -1 | Eob | one a- | nother. | *"] "^ | There's | more | gold : | **] **| | cut | throats ; | ^ ~j | All that you | meet are | thieves : | ^ To | Athens, | go, | Break open | shops; ) nothing can you | steal, But | thieves do | lose it. | ~| **J | «| ™ \ Shakspeare, 19* GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. CESAR'S PASSAGE OF THE RUBICON. *| A | gentleman, | *J Mr. | Chairman, | speaking of | Caesar's be- | nevolent | dispo- 1 sition, | **] and of the re- | luc- tance with | which he | entered into the | civil | war, | **] ob- | serves, | " How | long did he | pause upon the | brink of the | Rubicon ?" | **} **J | *] **j | How | came he to the | brink of | that | river ? | **} **| | M M | How | dared he | cross it ? | **j **} I *1 ""I I *1 Shall | private | men re- | spect the | boundaries of | private | property, | **j and shall a | man | pay no re- | spect to the | boundaries of his | country's | rights f ] **] *\ | **| * J "j | How | dared he | cross | that | river ? | 1 **] | **! **! | ! but he | paused upon the | brink. | *"] *] | He should have | pe- rished upon the | brink **| | ere he had | crossed it ! | **,**] | *j **| | Why did he | pause ? | *1 H , | W j *1 | Why does a | man's | heart | palpitate | when he is on the | point of com- | mitting an | unlawful | deed ? | **j *\ | Why does the | murderer, | ""j his | victim | sleeping be- | fore him, | **] and his | glaring | eye | taking the | measure of the | blow, | strike | wide of the | mortal | part ? | **| Be- | cause of | conscience ! | M ( 'Twas | that made | Caesar | pause upon the | brink of the | Rubicon. |**J **] | **j **| | *1 Com- | passion ! | **! **] | "1 *"| | What com- | passion ? | **] The com- | passion of an as- | sassin, | **] that | feels a | mo- mentary | shudder, | **] as his | weapon be- | gins to | cut \ EXERCISES. '226 *] *[ I Caesar | paused upon the | brink of the | Rubicon ! | H •*| | -j What | was the | Rubicon? | *] The | boundary of | Caesar's | province. | ^J From | what did it | separate his | pro- vince? | * - | From his | country. | *] Was | that | country a | desert ? | *| H | *| ~ { | No ; | **| it was | cultivated and | fertile, | rich and | prosperous ! **] Its | sons were | men of | genius, | spirit, -and gene- | rosity ! | H Its | daughters were | lovely, | *1 sus- | ceptible, and | chaste ! | **J **| | Friendship | *\ was its in- | habitant ! | **] H | Love was its in- 1 habitant ! | **] Do- | mestic af- | fection | ^j was its in- | habi- tant ! J *J M I ^ ^ I Liberty | H was its in- | habitant ! |^.^| | ** ^ | All | bounded by the | stream of the | Rubicon ! | **| **! | **] **] | What was | Caesar | *1 that | stood upon the | bank of that | stream ? | **j A | traitor, | bringing | war and | pestilence | into the | heart of that | country ! j **| ^ | *[ /"I | No | wonder that he | paused ! *[ *\ | No | wonder ] **j if his i- | magi- | na- tion | **| ""J | wrought upon j **] by his ] conscience, | H he had be- | held | blood | **] in- | stead of | water ; | *| *] | *] and | heard | groans | **] in- | stead of | murmurs ! | H *] | No | wonder if | some | gorgon | horror had | turned him into [ stone upon the | spot ! | *\ *| | **j *j | *] But, | no ! | ~j he | cried, "The | die is | cast!" | *]*-, | T|~|J M He | plunged! | ~]he | crossed ! | **| and | Rome | **| was | free no | more ! James S. Knowles. 224 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION SPEECH OF PATRICK HENRY. Mr. I President, | m ^i | ^ It is | natural to | man | **| to in- | dulge in the il- | lusions of | hope. | **j **| | **] We axe apt to | shut our | eyes | ^| a- | gainst a | painful | truth, | **< *| | **j and | listen to the | song of that | syren, | «*i '*1 | till she trans- | forms us | *i into | beasts. | *j **[ | **| H | Tj Is j this the | part of | wise | men, | *< en- | gaged in a | great and J arduous | struggle | M for | liberty? | **j ""j | "■"] **] | Are we dis- | posed | **| to | be of the | number of | those | **j who | having | eyes | see not, | **} and | having | ears | hear not the | things | **] which so | nearly con- | cern our | temporal sol- vation ? | **| *] | ^1 M | *[ For | my part, [ **] what- | ever | anguish of | spirit it may | cost, | **] **j | I am | willing to | know the | whole | truth ; | **| **1 | **! to | know the | worst. *| *] | and to pro- | vide for it. | h *| | *| *| | **. I | have but [ one | lamp, | *\ by | which | my | feet are | guided, | ^ **| | *"} and | that | *\ is the j lamp of ex- | perience. I *1 *1 1 *1 *1l "1 ■"■ I know of | no | way of | judging of the | future | M ~j | but by the | past. | ^ 1| ^ ^ | 1 And | judging by the | past, | *"j 1 1 wish to | know | what there has | been ] *| in the conduct of the | British | ministry, | *"] for the | last | ten years, | **] to | justify | those | hopes | w ;with which | gentlemen *1 have been | pleased to | solace them- | selves j **] and the EXERCISES. 225 house '( | *| *-j | *| *\ | Is it | that in- | sidious | smile | *] with | which our pe- | tition | **| has been | lately re- j ceived ? | *1 *"| | **| *"1 1 Trust it | not, sir j | ^ ^ | it will | prove a | snare | *"] to your | feet. | *j *"| | **| **| | Suffer not your- | selves | *"1 to be be- | trayed with a | kiss. | *1 **) | **f *1 | Ask yourselves | how this ] gracious re- | ception | **\ of our pe- | tition | **j com- | ports with those | warlike | prepa- | rations | **| which | cover our | waters | **] and | darken our | land. | ^j **j | *1 *1 | ^ Are | fleets and | armies | necessary | H to a | work of | love and | reeoncili- | ation ? | M M | M **] | Have we | shown ourselves | so un- | willing to be | reconciled, | **] that | force | *] must be | called | in | H to | win | back our | love ? | M M | **j ^i j Let us | not de- | ceive ourselves, | sir. | **j **j | **| *•( | These are the | implements of | war | *\ and | subju- | gation ; | *| r] | ^ the | last | arguments | **] to which | kings re- | sort. | *| ^1 | **| I | ask | gentlemen, | sir, | what | means this | martial ar- | ray, | **| if its | purpose | be not to | force us to sub- | mission? | ^] M | *"j **1 | **| Cau | gentlemen as- | sign | any [ other | possible | motive for it ? | **| *■?] | w | **] | **] Has | Great | Britain | any | enemy | **] in | this | quarter of the | world, | "•1 to | call for | all this ac- | cumu- | lation | M of | navies and | armies ? | *j.>| | ^.^ | No, sir, | she has | none. | *| ^ | ^ H | They are | meant for | us : | *■*] w | | **] they | can be | meant for | no | other. | ^ ^, | ^ **] \ They are | sent | over | *"] to | bind and | rivet upon us | those | chains, j w < which the | British | ministry | *"! have been | so | long | forging. | *•] **j | *] H | Shall we | try | argument ? | *| 1 M *1 | Sir, | *] we | have been | trying | that | **| for the | last | ten | years. | '*] *i | *"1 M | Have we | anything | new | *"j to | offer | **] upon the 226 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. | subject'/ | **] ~| | M **, | Nothing. | *1 **j | *1 *", | We have | held the | subject | up | **[ in eyery | light of | which it is | capable; | **} w | | but it has been | all in | vain. | **|**| \ **| **] | Shall we re- | sort to en- | treaty | M and | humble | suppli- | cation ? | *1 *1 I 1 **! I What | terms | **| shall we | find which | have not ] been al- | ready ex- | hausted ? | **{ **| | *"j *^ | Let us | not, | **| I be- | seech you, sir, | '•j de- | ceive ourselves | longer. | **| **j | ^| **] | Sir, | **| we have | done | everything | ^] that | could be | done, | **} to a- | vert the | storm | **| which is | now coming | on. | **J *1 | **| *fj | We have pe- | titioned, | ^ *] | we have re- | monstrated, | *"j **] | we have | supplicated, | **| M | we have | prostrated our- | selves be- | fore the | throne, | **| M J and have im- | plored | its | interpo- | sition | *"j to ar- | rest the ty- | rannical | hands | **j of the | ministry | **| and | parliament. | "l **! | **| **] | **i Our pe- | titions | *fj have been | slighted ; | *< **] | *] our re- | monstrances | **j have pro- | duced ad- | ditional | violence | **| and | insult ; | *J ^j | *"| our | suppli- | cations | **| have been | disre- | garded ; | **| ^ | ^j and | we have been | spurned, | **] with con- | tempt, | *| from the | foot of the | throne. | ^ **| | w | *| | *| In | vain, | *i after | these | things, *j | may we in- | dulge the | fond | hope of | peace | '•J and | reconcili- | ation. | **| *"j | *] *< | There is \ no \ longer | any | room for \ hope. | *< *] | **| *| | If we | wisb to be | free, | **| **| | if we | mean to pre- | serve in- | violate | those in- [ estimable | privileges | *"j for | which we have been | so | long con- | tending, | w , **, | if we | mean not | basely to a- | bandon | *1 the | noble | struggle | ^ in j which we have been | so | long en- | gaged, | *< and | which we have | pledged ourselves | never to a- | bandon, j ■*] uu- EXERCISES. 227 ! til the | glorious | object of our | coutest | shall be ob- | tained, | **| w ; | we must | fight : | *| M | ~j *j | I re- | peat it, sir. | *] we | must *] | fight ! | «*j **| | **j *1 | *] An ap- | peal to | arms, | and to the | God of | hosts, | M is | all | *| that is | left us ! | *| *| | *| **| | •] They | tell us, | sir, *[ | that we are ] weak, | *"{ un- | able to | cope with so | formidable an | adversary. | **! *1 | **} **! I •{'But | when shall we be | stronger ?| 1 "1 M *1 I Wil1 it( be the | next | week, **J | or the | next | year ? | *1 *1 1 *1 **! I Will it | be | when we are | totally dis- j armed | **] and | when a | British | guard | "*| shall be | stationed in | every | house? | *1 *1 ! **l *1 1 *1 Shall we | gather | strength | *"j by | irreso- 1 lution J **j and in- { action? j •J*"] J **jH | *1 Shall we ac- 1 quire the | means of ef- 1 fectual re- 1 sistance, J **j by | lying su- 1 pinely | *"l on our j backs, j *"J and j hugging the de- | lusive J phantom of ( hope, | **] un- | til our | enemies | **| shall have | bound us | hand and j foot? I H i *1 I *1 *1 I Sir, ""I | M j we are | not | weak, | **] if we | make a | proper | use of | those | means | **J which the | God of | nature | *\ hath | placed in our | power. | H •j | •] *"j | Three | millions of | people, | •] ""J | armed in the | holy | cause of | liberty, | •] and in | such a | country | *) as | that which | we pos- | sess, | •{ are in- | vincible | •} by | any | force | ** which our | enemy | ^ can | send a- | gainst us. | ""j H | **J h | **] Be- | sides, sir, | • we shall | not | fight our | battles a- | lone. | ^i *1 | *J *", | There is a | just | God, | *] who pre- | sides | over the | destinies of | nations ; | •j **| | •] and who will | raise | up | friends | *1 to | fight our | battles | for us. | *| ^ | ^j • | •! The | battle, | sir, | M is | not to the | strong a- | lone ; | **, • | it is to the | vigilant, | *j the | active, | *| the | 228 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. brave. | **] **| | **j *-i | M Be- | sides, sir, | ^ we have | no e- | lection. | *"] ^ | **] M | If we were | base enough | **] to de- | sire it, | H it is | now | too | late ] *\ to re- | tire from the | contest. | ~J ~j | **j ^ | There is | no re- | treat, \*"\** t \ but in sub- | mission | ^ and ] slavery. | 1 1 | *1 1 I 1 Our | chains are | forged. | *< ^ | M **] | **j Their | clanking may be | heard on the | plaius of | Boston. | ^ ^, | **| 1 | **! The | war | '•j is in- | evitable, \**\~\\ ~J and [ let it | come ! | •} *1 | H *j \ ~< I re- | peat it, | sir, \.:*\~\\ let it | come ! | ~j *»| | *| ~j | It is in | vain, sir, | ^ to ex- | tenuate the | matter. | W J **] | Gen- tlemen may | cry | peace, | peace ! | **j ^] | but there | is no | peace. | ^ h | ~j *"j | *"j The | war is | actually be- | gun ! | 1 1 I 1 1 I 1 The I next I g a ^ e tnat I sweeps from the | north [ **] will | bring to our | ears | ""J the | clash of re- | sounding | arms ! | ^j **} | *"] *j | **] Our | brethren | ^ are al- | ready in the | field ! j r) 1 1. 1 1 | Why | stand | we | here | idle ? | M M | *J ^ | What | is it | ^ that | gentlemen wish ? | 1 1 I 1 1 I What *| | would they | have ? ] 1 1 I 1 *"j | **] Is | life ^ | so | dear, [ *"J or peace | so | sweet, | as to be | purchased | *] at the | price of | chains and | slavery ? | wj *, i yj ^ | wj p or . | y^ i t? | *| Al- | mighty | God ! | ~ ~ | ^ I | know not | what | course | others may | take ; | *\ **} | H but | as for | me, | ~j *"j | give | me | liberty J | 1 *1 1 ^| or | give me | death ! | 1 1 | ^; 1 1 EXERCISES. 229 ADDRESS OF HENRY V. TO HIS TROOPS BEFORE THE GATES OF HARFLEUR. Once | more | unto the j breach, | dear | friends, | *| M | once | more ; | **] **] | **j Or | close the | wall up | **| with our j English | dead. | **]**! | **] In | peace, | **| there's | nothing | so be- | comes a [man | *"] As | modest | stillness | H and hu- | mility : | **]**! | [But when the | blast of | war | , *j ^j | blows in our | ears, | | ^ ^ | Then | imitate the | action of the | tiger : | **] **] | Stiffen the | sinews, | ~j **j | summon | up the | blood, | **| Dis- | guise | fair | nature | **J with | hard- | favor' d | rage: |~|~j| Then | lend the | eye | •» a | terrible | aspect ; | **} **} | Let it | pry | ""I through the | portage of the | head, | Like the | brass | cannon ; | '^M | let the | brow o'er- | whelm it, | **J As | fearfully | as doth a | galled | rock | **j O'er- | hang and | jutty | H his con- | founded | base, | ^l^j | Swill'd with the | wild | ~\ and j wasteful | ocean, j ^^ | *»|*| | Now | set the | teeth, | **| and | stretch | ^ the | nostril | wide, | Hold | hard the | breath, | *j and | bend | up ] every | spirit | *-j To his | full | height ! | *] -| | On, *| | on, -] | you | noble | English, | *j*| | •J Whose j blood is | fetfrom | fathers of | war- | proof! | *|*] | 20 230 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. Fathers, | *J *■] | *| that, | like | so many | Alex | anders, | Have, in | these | parts, | **! from | morn till | even | fought, | ""l And | sheathed their | swords | **] for | lack of | argu- ment, i *i "i n *i i *" Dis- | honor not your | mothers. | **] *l | Now at- | test | **] That | those whom you | called | fathers, | did be- | get you! *1 Be | copy | now, | *"] to | men of | grosser | blood, | **J **] | *| And | teach them ] how to | war ! | *] *] | *] *] | **] And | you, | good | yeomen, | **] Whose | limbs were | made in | England, | show us | here | **j The | mettle of your ] pasture j | **j *< [ let us | swear ] *| That you are | worth your | breeding : | *] *] | which I | doubt not. | *j *< | For there is | none of you | so | mean and | base | w , That | hath not | noble | lustre | **j in your | eyes. | **]**] | *j*] | **| 1 1 see you | stand, | like | greyhounds | '•J in the | slips, | **M Straining | **| upon the | start. | ^j **j | **| The | game's a- | foot, | *] *] | ' Follow your | spirit : | *j *] | and upon | this | charge, | Cry, | God for | Harry ! | g M | England ! | ~] and Saint ,' George I | *j *| | *| *| | Shakspeare. EXERCISES. 231 SIR WALTER RALEIGH TO HIS SON. M A- | mongst | all I other | things m | this | world, | ^ **| | take | care of thy es- | tate, | ^ which | thou shalt | ever pre- | serve | if thou ob- | serve | three | things. | *1 *i | *1 *1 | First, that thou | know | what thou | hast | Hj and | what | everything thou | hast is | worth, | **| to | see that thou | art not | wasted by thy | servants and | officers. | **j The | second | is, that thou | never | spend | anything | **| be- | fore thou | have it ; | *1 for | borrowing | **| is the J canker and | death of | every man's es- | tate. | **| **| | **| The | third | is, that thou | suffer not thy- | self to be | wounded for | other men's | faults, | **] and | scourged for [ other men's of- | fences, | which is the | surety for an- | other, | *"] for | thereby | millions of | men have been | beggared | **| and de- | stroyed, | paying the | reckoning of | other men's | riot | **j and the | charge of | other men's | folly | **| and | prodi- | gality. | **| **| | If thou | smart, | smart for thy | own | sins; | **| and, a- | bove | all things, | ^ *1 | be not | made an | ass | **] to | carry the | burdens of | other | men. | **] If | any | friend de- | sire thee to | be his | surety, [ *1 ""j | give him a | part of | what thou | hast to | spare ; | **] if he | press thee | further, | *| he is | not thy | friend ; | *\ for | friendship | rather | chooseth | harm to it- | self | *"] than | offereth it. | **] **] | If thou be | bound for a 232 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. | stranger, | *| *f | thou art a | fool ; | *-*j *] | if for a | merchant, | H thou | puttest thy es- | tate to | learn to | swim ; | ** **f] if for a | churchman, | **| he hath | no in- | heritance ; \ **[ M| if for a | lawyer, | **j he will | find a | word or a | syllable | *| to a- | buse thee; | ^j ^| | if for a | poor man, | w j thou must j pay it thy- | self; | **| **| | if for a | rich man, | *"1 he | needs it not : | *1 *! | therefore from | suretyship, | as from a | man- slayer | *1 or en- | chanter, | **] **] | bless thyself; | **j for the | best | profit and re- | turn will be | this ; | **] that | if thou | force | him for | whom thou art | bound | "*] to | pay it him- | self, | **\ he will be- | come thine | enemy ; | *"] **] | if thou | use to | pay it thy- | self, | thou wilt be a | beggar. | *"j **] | **j Be- | lieve thy | father in | this, and | print it in thy | thoughts; | *| that | what | virtue so- | ever thou | hast, | **j be it | ever so | manifold, | **| **| | if thou art | poor withal, | M *"] | thou and thy | qualities | **| shall | be des- | pised. | **J Be- | sides, | poverty is | often | sent as a | curse of | God. | ^ ^J | It is a ] shame among | men, | **| an im- | prisomnent of the | mind, | H a vex- | ation of | every | worthy | spirit. | *| ^1 | Thou shalt | neither | help thy- | self or | others. | ~[ *| | Thou shalt | drown thee in | all thy | virtues, | knowing | no | means to | show them ; | ~] ~] | thou shalt be a | burden | *»] and an | eyesore | **| to thy | friends ; | every man will | fear thy | company ; | **] *| | thou shalt be | driven | basely to | beg, | *] to de- | pend on | others, | *] to | flatter un- | worthy | men, | *| to | make dis- | honest | shifts; | **| ^ | and, to con- | elude, | *| ^ | poverty pro- | vokes a man | ^ to | do | infamous and de- | tested | deeds. \^~\\ Let no | vanity | *| nor per- | EXERCISES. 233 suasion | draw thee to that | worst of | worldly | miseries. | **] ^j | If thou be | rich | *] it will | give thee | pleasure in | health, | **] *"J | comfort in | sickness, | **] *< | keep thy | mind and J body j free from | many | perils, J ^ re- j lieve thee in thy | elder | years, | *1 re- | lieve the | poor and thy | honest | friends, | *1 *1 | give | means to thy pos- J terity J ""j to j live to de- | fend them- | selves | **] and thine | own | fame, j **J *"} | ^1 It is | said in the | Proverbs, | " He shall be | sore ] vexed who is | surety for a | stranger." | M **] | " Whoso | hateth | surety- ship | ^J is | sure." | **] It is | further | said, | *"j " The | poor is j hated | even of his | own | neighbor, | **] but the J rich have j many | friends." j *"] **i j "Lend not to | him that is | mightier than thy- | self, | *1 for | if thou | lendest him | count it but | lost." WHAT'S HALLOWED GROUND? What's | hallowed | ground ? | **| *| | *| Has | earth a | clod **| Its | Maker | meant not | **] should be | trod By | man, | **] the | image of his | God, | *1 E- | rect and | free, | *!| Un- | scourged by | super- | stition's | rod, | ~] To | bow the | knee ? | *1 *] | 20* 234 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. What's | hallowed | ground ? j w j w j j where, | mourued and missed, **] The | lips re- | pose our | love has | kissed, | *| But | where's their | memory's | mansion ? | *"j *"] | Is't Yon | church-yard's | bowers ? | *"] *»] | No ! | **] in our- | selves their | souls ex- | ist, | **] A | part of | ours. | **]**] | **| A | kiss can | consecrate the | ground ] **j Where | mated | hearts are | mutual | bound : | **| The | spot where | loves | first | links were | wound | *1 That | ne'er are | riven, | **] Is | hallowed | down to | earth's pro- | found, | ^ And | up to | heaven ! | What | hallows | ground where | heroes | sleep ? | **} **J | 'Tis not the | sculptured | piles you | heap : | **] **] | H In | dews that | .heavens | far- | distant | weep, **] Their | turf may | bloom ; | *"] Or | genii | twine be- | neath the | deep | ~[ Their | coral | tomb. | *j *•] | **! But | strew his | ashes to the | wind, *1 Whose | sword or | voice has | saved man- | kind — | *1 And is | he | dead, | *"] whose | glorious | mind | Lifts | thine on | high ? | *] To | live in | hearts we | leave be- | hind, | « Is | not to | die. | *H | EXERCISES. 235 ~\ Is't I death to | fall for | freedom's | right ? | 1 1 I He's | dead a- | lone that | lacks her | light ! | *"] And | murder | sullies in | heaven's ] sight, | **! The | sword he | draws : | **J *| | What can a- | lone en- | noble | fight ? | *J A | noble | cause. | *1 Give | that : | **] and | welcome | war to | brace Her | drums ! | **] and | rend | heaven's | reeking | space ! | **1 The | colors | planted | face to | face, | **] The | charging | cheer, j ""j Though | death's | pale | horse | lead on the | chase, **| Shall | still be | dear. | ~j ^ | *| ~| | What's | hallowed | ground ? | **] 'Tis | what gives | birth To | sacred | thoughts in | souls of | worth ! | **j **] [ Peace, | **j inde- | pendence ! | **j *| | Truth, | **| go | forth | Earth's | compass | round; | ^J And | your | high | priesthood | ^] shall | make | earth | All | hallowed | ground ! | **| **| | Campbell. 230 CRAM MAR OF ELOCUTION. WHAT HAVE WE TO DO WITH SLAVERY? *"] Does | any one | ask | *] at | this late | day, | when the | giant | wrong, | '-l which our | country j legalizes and | fights for, | threatens to | strip us | ^ of the | dearest | attri- butes of | freedom and hu- | manity, | **{ does | any one | ask, | What have | we to | do | **J with the in- | justice that ex- | ists, | -not | here, | but in an- | other | part of the | land ? | ~i I | answer | freely, | *] dis- | tinctly, | *] em- | phatically, | **] **] | Nothing. | **| In | simple | justice | ~j we | have | no | right to have | anything to | do with it. | **] We | have no | right to | stand | guard | over it | *[ as we | do | **] with our | un- just | prejudices, | more | fatal than | muskets or ar- | til- lery. | *] We have | no | right to sur- | render to it | **| the | sacred | principle of j freedom of | speech as we j have done. | *"| "*] | We have | no | right to af- | ford it the | broad pro- | tection of our j silence, | **\ as we | do. | **J We have | no | right to al- 1 low it to | flourish in the | capital of the | nation, | *"| as we | do. | *[ We have | no | right to | aid in ex- | tend- ing, and per- | petuating, and | fighting for it, | *"] as, may | God have | mercy upon us ! | **j we are | doing. | As we are | doing | all | these | unjust | things, | **] we are | guilty of | inter- | fering, | most im- | pertinently, | **\ with | things with [ which we | have no | right to inter- | fere. | *| **] | We must EXERCISES. 237 I turn over a | new | leaf, | **j and | learn, | hard as the | les- son may | be, | **] to | mind | every one his | own | business. | **!**] | **1 And | what is our | business ? | *1 *1 I ^ Tnv > to | do | justly. | **J *"j | **j It is | what | God | specially re- | quires of us, | w | to | cease from doing | evil j | *j to main- | tain free- dom of | speech, | *] **, | that | precious | thing, | **] with- | out | which our | civil se- | curity | is but | stubble, | **] which the | out- | bursting | fires of | violent | passions | may, at | any | moment, con- | sume; | **| to | guard the | public | liberties | **} in the | person of the | meanest of the | | land; | h to de- | stroy in- | justice of | all kinds, | ""j and | let the | voice of hu- | manity, | "■*] the | swelling | key-note of the | world, | ^ be ] heard, | pleading for the | right. | ■*] ""I | This is the | business, | **j **J | this the | just | thing which we | have to | do, | every | man and | woman of us, | **j and of | which, | **J as | surely as we are | here this | day, | **| we must | give an ac- | count. | *"| ^ | **] I | caution you, | | men, | as you would pos- | sess the | good which | God hath | showed you | **] and | do what | he re- | quires, | *"j ~] | take care | how you | meddle any | longer, | ^ or | countenance | others in | meddling, | **] with the in- ] alienable | rights of your | fellow men. [ **j **| | That is inter- | ference with | other men's | matters, | ^\ with | which | they are | chargeable | *-i who | hold | men and | women as their | property | **J to be ! bought and | sold. It is an | insult to our | common hu- | manity. | **j It | must | come to an | end, | « and it | will j | *| *] | let the I blood of the | nation be | poured out | ever so | freely to per- | petuate it. | **] For | God hath | showed thee, | | man, | 238 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. what is | good, | **| and | what does | he re- | quire of us, | but that we | do | justly? | **j He has | written it | ^ in our | hearts, | **j and his | providence is | bringing | out the di- | vine | hand-writing | *| in | ever | clearer and | more | flaming | characters, | ** un- | til it shall | flash con- | viction on the | darkest | mind. Furness. THE OLD MAN'S SONG. Down to the | vale | **| the | water | steers ; | **j How [ merrily it | goes ! | *| 'Twill [ murmur | on a | thousand | years, | *] ' w l And | flow | ^ as | now it | flows. | **| *j | **J **] And | here, | **] on | this de- | lightful | day, | **} I | cannot | choose but | think | **j How | oft, | ^| a | vigorous | man, I | lay ~j Be- | side this | fountain | brink. **] My | eyes are | dim with | childish | tears, | H My | heart is | idly | stirred, | *j For the | same | sound is in my | ears, J **j Which in | those ] days I | heard. [ *j *J j EXERCISES. 239 Thus I fares it | ill in our de- | cay, | ^J And | yet the | wiser | mind | Mourns | less for | what it | takes a- | way, | H Than | what it | leaves be- | hind. | *j **| | ^j The | blackbird in the | summer | trees, | *1 The | lark upon the | hill, | ~\ ~] \ ""j Let | loose their | carols | when they | please, | *1 Are | quiet | when they | will. | **! **| | *] "With | nature | never do they | wage A | foolish | strife : | **j they | see A | happy | youth, | *"1 and their | old ( age, | ""j Is | beautiful | •*) and | free. | H **| | **| But | we are | pressed by | heavy | laws, | ^| And | often | glad no | more : | *"| We | wear a | face of | joy, | *"! be- | cause We | have been | glad of | yore. | ""j *< | **| **j | If there be | one who | need be- | moan | ^ His | kindred | laid in | earth, | **| The | household f hearts | **| that | were his | own, | ""J It is the | man of | mirth. | **] H | WoT?T)SWOPTJT. 240 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. SOLILOQUY OF MCHAKD III. *1 Tis | now the | dead of | night; | ~\~\ \ *\ and | half the | world | *| *j | Is in a | lonely, | solemn | darkness | hung. | **| Yet | I, | ^ (so | coy a | dame is | sleep to | me,) | "*] With | all the | weary | courtship | **] of my | care-tired | Thoughts, | **| can't | win her to my | bed; | **| Though | e'en the | stars do | wink, | **] as | 'twere with | over- | watching. | *| I'll | forth | *| and | walk a- | while; | ~] the | air's re- | freshing; | M Aud the | ripe | harvest | **j of the | new mown | hay **| | Gives it a | sweet and | wholesome | odor. | **| How | awful | **| is this | gloom ! | **{ and | hark ! | ~j from | camp to | camp M The | hum of | either | army | stilly | sounds ; | **| That the | fixed | sentinels | almost re- | ceive | *] The | secret | whispers | *[ of each | other's | watch. | *|*^ | Steed | threat ci) s | steed, | *\ in | high and | boastful | neigh- ing* I 1 *1 I Piercing the | night's | dull ^ | ear. | -j •] | ~] -j | Hark, | -| from the | tents, | EXERCISES* 241 ^j The | armorers ac- | complishing the | knights, | **| With | clink of | hammers | closing | rivets up, | *] Give | dreadful | note of | prepa- | ration; | *i while | some, | **1 Like | sacrifices, | *»| by their | fires of | watch, | *\ With | patience | sit, | *] and | inly ] ruminate | ^|The | morning's | danger. | By yon | heaven, my | stern Im- | patience | chides this | tardy- | gaited | night, | **| That like a | foul and | ugly | witch | *| doth | limp So | tediously a- | way. | *"{ **} | I'll to my | couch, | *] And | once more | try to | sleep her into | morning. | Shakspeare. OTHELLO'S ADDRESS TO THE SENATE. **] Most | potent, | grave, | *| and | reverend | signiors, | ^ My | very | noble | **| and ap- 1 proved | good | masters, | H ^j That I have | taken a- 1 way | <*] this | old | man's | daughter, | *] *J It is | most | true; | **| *\ | true, | *] I have | married her; ^] The | very | head and | front | *•] of my of- | fending | ~j Hath | this ex- | tent, | **]**] | **] no | more. | H **| | *1 *J Rude | **] am | I in | speech, | rj And J little | bless' d | *] with the | set | phrase of | peace J | *]:*$ ^ For | since | these | arms of | mine | *| had | seven years' | pith, 21 242 GRAMMAR OE ELOCUTION. *| Till j now | **| some | nine | moons | wasted, | **j they have ; used Their | dearest | action | *] in the | tented | field ; | *] And | little of | this [ great | world | *| can | 1 1 speak, [*]^| More than per- 1 tains to | feats of | broil | **| and | battle ; | *J **j | **] And | therefore | little | **] shall I | grace my | cause, | **| In | speaking | **j for my- | self : | **j **J | Yet, | **) by your | gracious [ patience, | *] **] | I will a | round | *\ un- | varnished | tale de- | liver j ^| Of my | whole | course of | love : | **| what | drugs, | **| what | charms, | **| What | conju- | ration, | **j and what | mighty | magic, | **| (For | such pro- | ceeding | **| I am | charged with- | al,) | **] I | won his | daughter | with. | **] *1 | **}**! | h Her | father | loved me; | **] ^ | oft in- | vited me ; 1*1*11 Still | questioned me | **] the | story of my | life, | •j From | year to [ year; | **|**J | **! the | battles, | **J**] | sieges, | *I *i | fortunes, | That I have | past. | *) *1 j **j **J | **| I | ran it ] through, | even from my | boyish | days, | **| To the | very | moment | **] that he | bade me | tell it. | **} Where- | in I | spoke | *| of | most dis- 1 astrous | chances, | **1 Of | moving | accidents, | **| by | flood, and | field : | *] Of | hair-breadth | 'scapes | *"] in the | imminent | deadly | breach ; | ""i **] | **l Of | being | taken | *"] by the | insolent | foe, | **J And | sold to | slavery ; | **| *] | **1 of my re- | demption | thence j | *| **| | N| Of | battles | bravely, 1*1*11 hardly | fought; | *1 1 | *J of I victories I EXERCISES. 243 *"| For | which the | conqueror | mourn' d, | *l *"j | so | many | fell !-| *1 *1 1 *n | Sometimes | **] I | told the | story of a | siege, | **] Where- | in I | had to | combat | plagues and | famine, | **j *] Soldiers | *\ un- | paid ; | **} **] |" fearful to | fight, | **] yet | bold *1 In | dangerous | mutiny. | **! *1 | **| **| | These | things to | hear, | *"| Would | Desde- | mona | *"j *j | seriously in- | cline : | **j *1 *1 But | still | *< the | house af- | fairs | **] would | draw her thence; | H Which | ever | **] as she | could with | haste de- | spatch ; *\ She'd | come a- | gain, | and with a | greedy | ear | *] De- ] vour up | ^ my dis- | course : | **| '■j | **] which | I ob- serving, 1^11 Took | once a | pliant | hour; | *] ^] | *1 and | found | good means | ^] To | draw from her | w . a | prayer of | earnest | heart, | **J *| That I would | all my | pilgrimage | *1 di- | late, | **] Where- | of by | parcels | **| she had | something | heard, *] But J not dis- | tinctively : | **] *[ \ *[ **] | I did con- | sent ; **| And | often | **] did be- | guile her | **J of her tears, | *| **| When I did | speak of | some dis- | tressful | stroke, | *] That my | youth | suffered. | ~| *\ | *] ~\ | ~j My | story being | done, | *] She | gave me | **] for my | pains | *[ a | world of | sighs : | *] *| **] She | swore, — | h In | faith, | **j 'twas | strange, | **j 'twas passing | strange ; | "**] **] | *] 'Twas | pitiful, | **l 'twas | wonderous | pitiful : | *»j *| | **| She | wished she | had not | heard it ; | *| **| | yet she | wished 244 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. That | heaven had | made | her | such a | man ; | **] •*] | **j she | thanked me; | *1 *1 | *1 And | bade me, | *| **| | if I had a | friend that | loved her, | *] I | should but | teach him | how to | tell | my | story, | *| And | that would | woo her. | **| ** | ~] *| | *| Upon | this | hint, IT I | spake : | ~] **j | ~j «| | **J She | loved me | *1 for the | dangers | ^ I had | pass'd ; | **j **| | ^1 And | I | loved | her, | that she did | pity them. | *l **| | This | only | *| is the | witchcraft | ~j I have | used. | *1 *1| *1 *1 1 SflAKSPEARE. FREEDOM. He is the | freeman | ^] whom the | truth makes | free ; | *1 *1 | **J And | all are | slaves be- | side. | ^ There's | not a | chain | ** That | hellish | foes, con- | federate for his | harm, | **| Can | wind a- | round him, | **j but he | casts it | off | **] With as | much | ease | **| as | Samson his | green | withes. | *1 *1 | *1 He | looks a- | broad | *| into the | varied | field Of | nature, | ^ and | though | poor, per- | haps, com- | pared With | those whose | mansions | glitter in his | sight, 1*1*11 Calls the de- | lightful | scenery | all his | own. EXERCISES. 246 His are the | mountains ; | *| and the | valleys [ his ; | And the re- | splendent | rivers ! | **] *1 | his to en- | joy | With a pro- | priety that | none can | feel | ""] But | who with | filial j confidence in- | spired | **| Can | lift to | heaven an | unpre- | sumptuous | eye, | **j And, | smiling, | say, | **| " My | Father | made them | aii r'l^i Are they not | his | **] by a pe- | culiar | right, | And by an | emphasis of | interest | his, | •} "Whose | eye they | fill with | tears of | holy | joy, | •J Whose | heart with | praise, | **] and | whose ex- | alted | mind, | ""j With | worthy | thoughts of ] that un- | wearied | love, | ^ That | plan'd and | built, | ~j and | still up- | holds a | world | So | clothed with | beauty, | *< for re- | bellious | man ? Yes — | ^ ye may ] fill your | garners, | *! *| | ye that | reap The | loaded | soil, 1*1*11 and ye may | waste | much | good | *1 In | senseless | riot ; | **J *| | **| but ye | will not | find In | feast | **| "■*] | or in the | chase, | **) in | song | *] or | dance, | **1 A | liberty like | his, | *] who, | unim- | peached | **[ Of | usur- | patiou, | *] *j | and to | no man's | wrong, | **} Ap- | propriates | nature | ^j as his | Father's | work, | *"] And | has a | richer | use of | yours | **] than | you. | *] *] | He is in- | deed a | freeman : | *] *] | free by | birth Of | no j mean | city, ] planned or | ere the j hills Were | built, | **| the | fountains | opened, | *J or the | sea, | 21* 246 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. *| With | all his | roaring | multitude of | waves. 1*1*11 His | freedom is the | same in | every | state, | *] And | no con- | dition of this | changeful life, So | manifold in | cares, | *| whose | every | day | Brings its | own | evil | with it, | *] *] | makes it | less ; | *] *| | For he has | wings, | *] that | neither | sickness, | pain, Nor | penury, | *] can | cripple or con- | fine : | *| *] | No | nook | so | narrow, | *] but he | spreads them | there With | ease, | *j and is at | large : | *] The op- | pressor | holds His | body | bound, | *] but | knows not | what a | range | *] His | spirit | takes, | *] un- | conscious of a | chain ; | *] *1 | And that to | bind | him | *| is a | vain at- | tempt, | *] Whom | God de- 1 lights in, | and in | whom | He | dwells. | COWPER. LEONATO'S GRIEF AT THE LOSS OF HIS DAUGHTER. *] In I misery | counsel is of | no | weight. *] I | pray thee, | cease thy | counsel, | *| Which | falls into mine | ears as | profitless As | water in a | sieve : | *| *] | give not | me | counsel : | *] Nor | let no | comforter de- | light mine | ear, | *] But | such a one | *i whose | wrongs do | suit with mine. | *] *] | Bring me a | father that | so | loved his | child, | EXERCISES. 247 *j Whose | joy of her is | over- | whelmed like | mine, | **] And | bid [ him | speak of | patience ; | M **| | Measure his | woe the | length and | breadth of | mine, *"l And | let it | answer | every | strain for | strain, | **] As | thus for | thus, and | such a | grief for | such, | **] In | every | lineament, | branch, | shape, and | form : | *[ If | such a one will | smile, and | stroke his | beard ; | *| Cry — | sorrow, | wag ! | **] and | hem, | *i **j | when he should | groan ; | *\ H | Patch | grief with | proverbs; | *] **] | make mis- | fortune | drunk "With | candle-wasters : | *] *j | bring him | yet to | me, | **J And | I of | him will | gather | patience. | *j *\ | **] *j | w { But | there is ] no | such | man : | *\ for, | brother, | men Can | counsel, and | speak | comfort to that | grief Which | they them- | selves not | feel ) | *| but, | tasting it, | *i Their | counsel | turns to | passion? | *| which be- | fore Would | give pre- | ceptial | medicine to | rage, | *J **[ \ Fetter | strong | madness in a | silken | thread, | *"] **| | Charm | ache with | air, and | agony with | words. | w j '•J | No, | no ; 'tis | all men's | office to | speak | patience **j To | those that | wring under the | load of | sorrow : | **j But | no man's | virtue, nor suf- | ficiency, | *\ To | be so | moral, | when he shall en- | dure The | like him- | self : | **J **! | therefore | give me no | coun- sel, | **} My | griefs cry | louder than ad- [ vertisement. | **| *] | *1 **| \ Shakspeare. 248 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. CHARITY TO OPINION. After | all the | expla- | nation of the | simple | principles of re- | ligious | freedom, | *»] to | which the | world has j listened, | *| M | men | still | find a | difficulty in | under- | standing | **| how | zeal and | charity can | dwell to- | gether in the | same | bosom — | *j **l | how a | man can be | warmly at- | tached to his | own | views, | **j and at the | same | time | kindly dis- | posed | *"1 towards | every | fair | effort that | may be | made in | favor of | opposite o- | pinions. | *] The | charity which | we would | cultivate | **] is | no in- | explicable | feeling, | *] and, I | trust, | no | hollow pre- | tension. | *j As we | seek the | truth, | **] and | as we must be | conscious that our | own | views, how- | ever | warmly | held, | **| have | been | formed | under a | lia- | bility to | error, | ^ *< | wo have | one | interest with | all | those who | give us | reason to be- | lieve that they | cherish the | same | feeling, | *1 what- | ever their par- | ticular o- | pinions may | be. | **j **] | There is a | fellowship | ^ be- | tween | them and | us, | *| in com- | parison with | which the | ties of [ sect, | **] of | creeds, | **] and | articles, | **J and | written | formulas, | **] are as the | dead | letter to the | un- | dying | spirit — | **i as | matter to | mind. | ~] **] | *\ ^ | It is a | fellowship | **| which | no | difference of o- | pinion can dis- | turb, | **! ", | no | distance EXERCISES. 249 of I space or | time de- | stroy. | **J It | gathers into | one | glorious | company | all the [ real | lovers of | truth, | **j of | all | time, | *■*] from a- | mong | all | people. | nations, and | languages. | **J **| | **} Al- | though the | doctrine of re- | ligious | liberty is | so | plain, | **| and it is | so much for the | interest of | every de- | nomi- | nation of | Christians | **] to | cling to it, | **| it is im- | portant to ob- | serve | **] that there is a | spirit a- | broad di- | rectly op- | posed to it. | ^J *"] | And it be- | comes us ; | *] it be- | comes | every one who | cares for the | truth and for | liberty, | **| to | watch that | spirit | closely. | **J It | shows itself | *1 in | every | effort which is | made to in- | timidate the | minds of | men — | **] to | scare them a- | way from the | exami- | nation of | any par- | ticular o- | pinions, | *1 in | every | dispo- | sition | *i which is e- | vinced to pre- | vent them from | reading | what | others have | written, | **| and from | hearing what | others | have to | say. | *i *1 1 What is | this | spirit but the | same that in | former | times | mani- fested it- | self in | still | grosser vio- | lations of | common | justice; | *"| that was | not | satisfied with over- | powering men's | minds | **] by | denunci- | ations of | future | woe, | **] by ap- | pealing to their re- | ligious | fears, | **] but | aimed | also to | visit them with the ] swift | vengeance of the | tem- poral | power, | *"j when- | ever they | ventured to | think | differently | M , from the es- | tablished | way. | *< And to | what but the | same un- | hallowed | practices | **] would | this | spirit | lead | now, | were it al- | lowed to [ strengthen itself a- | gain ? | ^j It would | bring | back | ages of | igno- rance, | ^!^| | ages of | mental and po- I litical | servitude. 1*1^1 250 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. **] But | not to | mention the in- | fringement of the | sacred | rights of the | mind with | which it is | chargeable, | *] are | they who | cherish it | *"] at | all a- | ware | **j how di- | rectly it is | calculated to | injure their | own | cause and | ruin their J own | best | hopes ? | **| *1 | You are in pur- | suit of the | truth. | **] *1 | **j **| | When you | seek to | terrify your | fellow-men | **] from | going in a | certain di- | rection in o- | pinion, | ~] **] | how do you | know but | that you are | shut- ting out | their | souls | **| and your | own | *1 from the | ways of | light and | glory? | ^ **] | **] **j | " Ah ! but we are con- | vinced that we are | right/ ' | *\ you | say, | **j " and | if we | were to con- | sent, that | what we con- | sider er- | roneous | views should | have as | fair a | hearing as we | give to cor- | rect o- | pinions, | **J the | former | ^ would be- 1 come as | prevalent as the | latter." 1*1*11*1*11 What a | miser- able i- | dea you must | have of the | truth ! | **| *\ | **] **] | Is it | so, that | truth and | error | **| are so | little dis- 1 tinguish- able ? | **j **| | **J **] | How, | then, do | you | happen to | be so | confident ? | *j *?] | *| **| | Be as- | sured that | if they are | freely and | closely ex- | amined, | **| as they | never | have been and | never | will be, ex- 1 cept where | perfect | freedom of | mind is es- | tablished, | **J that | truth will ex- | eel in | beauty and | power | everything | **] that is op- | posed to it, | **i as | much as the un- | measured | dome of the | heavens | ^ trans- | cends this | humble | fabric | **] which | human | hands have | reared. | *1 1 | *1 *1 | W. H. Furnesf. EXERCISES- 251 BARNES ON SLAVERY. *l In I estimating the | influence of the | church | **| on the | subject of | slavery, | **| and the | tendency of the | represen- | tations | made on the | subject, | **| it de- | serves to be con- | sidered | how much is | done by | these j represen- | tations | **] to pro- | mote infi- ] delity. | **j *"i | **| **j | There is a | deep and | growing con- | viction in the | minds of the | mass of man- | kind | **} that | slavery | violates | great | laws of our | nature ; | *1 that it is | contrary to the [ dictates of hu- | ina- nity ; | *] that it is es- | sentially un- | just, | *J op- | pressive, and | cruel ; [ *| that it in- | vades the | rights of | liberty | ~\ with | which the | Author of our | being has en- | dowed | all | human | beings; | and that, in | all the | forms in | which it has | ever ex- 1 isted, **j | it has | been im- 1 possible to | guard it from | what its | friends and | advocates would | call " a- \ buses of the | system." | ^ *] | *] *j | It is a | vio- | lation of the | first | sentiments ex- | pressed in our | Decla- | ration of | Inde- | pendence, | *1 and on [ which our | fathers | founded the | vindi- | cation of their | own | conduct | **J in an ap- | peal to | arms ; | ^ *| | it is at | war with | all that a | man | claims for him- | self and for his | own | children ; | ** **j | and it is op- | posed to | all the | struggles of man- | kind, in | all | ages, | **J for freedom. | **j The | claims of hu- 252 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. | inanity | plead a- | gainst it. | **| The | struggles for | freedom | everywhere in our | world con- | demn it. | *j The in- | stinctive | feeliDg in | every man's | own | bosom in re- | gard to him- | self | *j is a | condem- | nation of it. | *] The \ noblest | deeds of | valor and of | patriotism | ^ in our | own | land, and in | all | lands where | men have | struggled for | freedom, | *»| are a | condem- | nation of the | system. | **] ^ | **!*] | All that is | noble in | man is op- | posed to it. | **1 **| | All that is | base, | **] op- | pressive, | Tj and | cruel, | pleads for it. | "T*] | ^ *1| It is con- 1 demned by the in- | stinctive | feel- ings of the | human | soul ; | **] w j | it is con- | demned by the | principles | laid | down in the | books on mo- | rality that are | placed in the | hands of the | young; | **| it is con- | demned by the | uni- | versal | voice of | history. | **\ There is | nothing on | which the | sentiments of | men out- | side of the [ church are | coming to be | more har- | monious | *! than in re- [ gard to the es- | sential | evil of | slavery; | *j there is [ nothing to | which the | course of | things in the | world, | under the | promptings of hu- | manity, | *j is | more | certainly | tending | **j in | all | lands, | than to the con- | viction that | slavery is es- | sentially | evil and | wrong, | *< and that | every | human | being, | *"1 un- | less con- | victed of | crime, | ^ has a | right to | freedom. | *| There is | no- thing that | finds a | more | hearty appro- | bation from the I world at | large | *\ than an | act of e- | manci- | pation | *| b^ a | government j | *j there is | nothing that | goes | more | per- manently | into the | history of a | nation, | **] than the | changes in | public af- | fairs | **| which re- | suit in | such an | act. | ~| There | has been | nothiug that has | more | definitely | EXERCISES. 253 marked the | course of | history, | **| or | constituted | more | marked | epochs in | history, | **J than the sue- | cessive | steps which | break the [ bonds of | slavery, | **| and | elevate j men to the | rank and | dignity of | freemen. | *"] It is | now im- | possible to con- | vince the | world that | slavery is | right, | **| ""j | or is in ac- | cordance with the | will of | God. | ^1 ^1 | No de- | cisions of | councils or | synods, j ^| and | no ] teachings of a | hierarchy, | **] will | change the | onward | course of o- | pinion on | this | subject. | No al- | leged au- | thority of the | Bible will | satisfy | men at | large | ^J that the | system is | not | always a | vio- | lation of the | laws that | God had en- | stamped on the | human | soul. | **| *"| | No a- 1 pologies | for it | **| will | take it | out of the | category of | crime | **j in the | esti- | mation of man- | kind at | large, and | place it in the | category of | virtues. | **] **] | **j M | *\ The | sentiment | **] that it is | wrong | M**i | — always I wrong | "*j ^1 | — that it is a | vio- | lation of the | great | laws of our | being, | — **| that it is | contrary to the be- 1 nevo- lent ar- | rangements of the | Maker of the | race, | — H is be- ! coming as | fixed as the | ever- | lasting | hills; | **| and | nothing can e- | radicate this ] sentiment *1 | **| from the | hearts of man- | kind. | *i ^ | ^ *-| | This | sentiment is be- | coming | deeper and | deeper in the con- | victions of the | world | every | year ; | *j and, what- j* ever may | change, | ** t **l | this is | destined to re- | main un- | changeably | fixed. | *] There is | nothing | more | cer- tain | ""j *} | than that the | world will | not be | brought to ap- | prove of | slavery, j *] "\ | and that the | male- | diction of | all | good | men will | rest upon the | system. | **| **| | No 22 254 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. | matter on | what this | sentiment im- | pinges, | *»J it will be | held ; | *| and | nothing will be | long | held | **| that is op- | posed to this | deep con- | viction | **| of the es- | sential | evil of the | system. | *1 **| | *] **; | CREDIBILITY OF MIRACLES. If there is a | sound | principle of | thought and in- 1 quiry, | '•J it | is that a | new j fact is | not to be re- | jected | simply be- | cause it is | new | **] and un- | precedented ; | *i nor | is it to be ac- | counted an | inter- | ruption of the | laws of | nature ; | **| ""i | but we are to | take it for | granted | ^ that it | is to be re- | ferred to | some | law of | which we | have as | yet | no | knowledge. | **]**! | *| *] | This is the | princi- ple | ** which is ob- | served by | all in- | quirers in the | fields of | science. | **] They | do not re- | ject | new | facts be- | cause they are | new, | **| nor | do they pro- | nounce them | vio- | lations of the | laws of | nature | **| be- | cause they | contra- | diet their ex- | perience. | **! *, | **i **, | It is the | mark of an | un- | cultivated | mind, | **| * , | that it re- | jects | all j facts, | no matter | how well au- | thenticated, | **] which | do not ac- | cord with its | own ex- | perience. | **| A | true phi- | losophy | teaches us to ex- | pect | new and un- | prece- dented | facts in | this | great | universe, | *J where the j circle of | man's | knowledge is | so | small ; | *| and the | EXERCISES. 255 history of | science | *] is con- | tinually | bringing us ac- | quainted with. | new | facts. | *\ **| | What | new | glimpses are | men ob- | taining | *] of the | wondrous re- | lations of | mind to | mind, | *| and of | mind to | matter ! | *| ~] | ** I | say, | therefore, | H that we are | bound to | come to the | exami- | nation of the | wonders of the | life of | Jesus, | H with | no pre- | sumption a- | gainst them | **| a- | rising | out of their | novelty. I **| *"| | **| Our | sole | business is to | ascer- | tain the | facts, | **| and | we must en- | deavor to | see | whether | they are in | harmony with the | character of | Christ. | *J *j | ~\ H | m t The | Gospels, it is | evident, | repre- | sent | Christ as pos- | sessed | naturally of a | wonder-working | power. | ^ **j | All that we | have to de- | termine | is, | **! **| [ Did he | ex- ercise this | power in | harmony with | all his [ own and | all the | other | powers of | nature ? | **J *"j | "Was the | action of this | power | marked by the | style, | genius, | spirit | *"j of | nature and of | God ? | **] """j | *| But my | meaning will be | best | shown by an ex- | ample. | *"] •*] | **] **| | Take the | incident of the | cure of the | withered | hand. | **j *"j | Just con- | sider the | case. | *1 **j | Jesus | went into a | synagogue, | **] a | Jewish | place of | worship — | *\ a | Jewish | church. | **j The | people | crowded to | see and | hear him. | *\ *"| | M **j | There was a | man | present | who had a | withered | hand. | 1 *1 I *1 1 I Jesus I bade tim I stand I fortn - 1 *1 1 I 1 There were | present, | also, | some of the | higher | class of the | Jews, | **j indi- | viduals who | under- | took to | guide and | rule in | matters of re- | ligion. | **| *"| | **| They were | jealous of the | power | **j and | popu- | larity of this | young Naza- | 256 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. rene; | *] and | so | blinded and de- | praved | were they, | *"! that they | watched | Jesus to | see | if he would per- | form a | cure on the | Sabbath, | *| and | thus | violate the | sanctity of the | day. | *\ *| | *| M | *1 To | these indi- | viduals, | who, | no doubt, | occupied | **| a con- | spicuous | place in the | synagogue, | **| **] | Jesus | turned and | said, | *i **] | *1 " Is it | lawful to | do I well or to | do | ill on the | Sabbath [ day, | *i to | save | life or to | kill ?" I **1 *1 1 *1 *1 I Mark what a | cutting | force there | was in | this | question. | It is as | if he had | said, | ^ *l | " Which is | violating the | Sabbath, | you or | I? | *| **] | **| *i | I who | seek to | do an | act of | mercy, | **| or | you who are | cherish- ing an | evil | purpose ? | **| **J | I who would | save | life, | **j or you who would | kill me?" | ^j^ | **| **] | *i They | made | no re- | ply. M *1 | 1 **] | How | could they? | *| And | then, when | Jesus had | looked upon them with | indig- | nation, | *] being | grieved for the | hardness of their | hearts, | **] he | said to the | man, | ~] *\ | " Stretch | forth thine | hand." | •*] *\ | *| *] | ^ And he | stretched it | forth, | ■*] and it was | made | whole, as the | other. | *j *i | *] **] | **| And | how could he I help j stretching it | out? 1*1*11 Just | put your- | self in the | place of | that | man. | **] Im- | agine your- | self | standing in | so com- | manding a | presence, | *1 with a | gazing, | **| ex- | cited | crowd a- | round you; | **| and the | rich and | honorable and | great | quailing be- | fore the | eye and | silenced by the | words of the | young | peasant of | Nazareth, | *1 *1 | and you will | see how the | inmost | springs of your | life | must have been | stirred, | *1 and [ how you | would have been | prompted to | put forth | new and EXERCISES. 257 un- | wonted | power. | **] I | cannot but be- | lieve such an | incident as | this, | **| **] | it is so | perfectly in | harmony with the | dignified | character of | Christ. | *| M \*\ <-| | *J It | shows him to us | **| in a | character- | istic and com- | mand- ing | attitude. | ^ It is | not the | physical ef- | feet which he | wrought upon the | man's | limb | "*} that ex- | cites my | wonder, | **| but it is his | own im- | perial and | god-like | air. | *| *] | This it | is that re- | veals to | me | *J the Di- | vinity | **] that was in | Jesus. | **!**! | **■ **1 | W. H. Furness. COST OF WAR. Here | figures ap- | pear to | lose their | functions. | **j **] | **j They | seem to | pant | **] as they | toil ] vainly to | repre- | sent the e- | normous | sums con- | sumed in | this un- | paralleled | waste. | **| **| | **] Our [ own ex- | perience, | mea- sured | **l by the con- | cerns of | common | life, | **j **j | does not al- | low us | adequately to con- | ceive | **j these | sums. | *" 1 **j | *1 Like the | periods of | geo- | logical | time, | "*! or the | distances | **] of the | fixed | stars, | **] they | bafile | **] the im- | agi- | nation. | **j **] | Look, for | instance, | **j at the | cost of this | system | *| to the U- | nited | States. | **] *1 | **] With- | out making | any al- 1 lowances | *] for the | loss sus- | tained by the with- | drawal of | active | men from pro- | ductive j 22* 258 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. industry, | **] we | find that | from the a- | doption of the | Federal | consti- | tution | down to | eighteen | hundred and | forty- | eight, | **j **] | there has been | paid di- | rectly from the | national | treasury | **j *< | ^ for the | army and | fortifi- | cations | *•] w j | two | hundred and | sixty- | six | millions | seven | hundred and | thirteen | thousand | *"] **} | two | hun- dred and | nine | dollars. | **[ **| | **j for the | navy | *\ and | its ope- | rations, | *] **J | two | hundred and | nine | millions | nine | hundred and | ninety- | four | thousand | **J **} | six | hundred and | eighty- | seven | dollars. | **! *1 | **j **| | This a- | mount, of it- | self, | *| is im- | mense. | *\ **] | **] But | this is not | all. | *] **! | **| Re- | garding the mi- | litia | **] as | part of the | war | system, | *\ **] | *»] we must | add a | moderate | estimate | *i for its | cost | during this | period, | ^| **] | which, ac- | cording to a | calcu- | lation of an | able and | accurate e- | conomist, | **| may be | placed at | one | million | five | hundred | thousand | dollars. | **] The | whole pre- | sents an | incon- | ceivable | sum | total | **| of | more than | two | thousand | millions of | dollars, | *i which have | been | dedicated | *\ by our | government | **j to the sup- | port of the | war | system; | **j **j | more than | seven | times as | much as was | set a- | part by the | government | during the | same | period | **] to | all | other | purposes | *■*] whatso- | ever. | ^ *| | *| **| j Look | now at the | common- | wealth of | Euro- | pean | states. | *J *1 j *3 X | do not in- | tend to | speak of the | war | debt | under | whose ac- | cumulated | weight | these | states are | now | pressed to the | earth. | *| *] | These are the | terrible | legacy | ^ of the | past. | *| *| | ~j I re- | fer EXERCISES. 259 di- | rectly to the ex- | isting | war | system, | **] the es- | ta- blishment | **] of the | present. | **]**] | **] Ac- | cording to | recent | calcu- | lations, | *j its | annual | cost is | not | less than a | thousand | million | dollars. | *| **] | **| En- | deavor, for a I moment, | **| by a com- | parison with | other | interests, ] *| to | grapple with | this | sum. | ^j *] | *[ It is | larger than the en- | tire | profit of | all the | commerce and | manu- | factures of the | world. | *1 ^ | **] It is | larger than | all the ex- | penditure | "*j for ] agri- | cultural | labor, | **| for the pro- | duction of | food for | man, | *] upon the | whole | surface of the ] globe. | **| **j | **| It is | larger, by a | hundred | millions, | *| than the a- | mount of | all the | exports of | all the | nations of the | earth. | *j ~] | ^| It is | larger, by | more than | five | hundred | millions, | **| than the | value of | all the | shipping | *"| of the | civil- ized | world. ^ It is | larger, | ^by | nine | hundred and | ninety- 1 seven millions, | **] than the | annual com- | bined | charities of | Europe and A- | merica for | preaching the | Gospel to the | heathen. | ^ ^J | **] *] Yes ! | **j the | common- | wealth of | Christian | states, | *"] in- | eluding our | own | country, | **| ap- | propriates, | "*] with- | out hesi- | tation, | **] as a | matter of | course, | **] **| | up- wards of a | thousand | millions of | dollars | annually | **j to the | maintenance of the | war system, | *1 and | vaunts its | two | millions of | dollars, | *| la- | boriously col- | lected, | **| for dif- | fusing the | light of the | Gospel in | foreign j land? ! j *] With | un- | told | prodi- j gality of | cost \ **| it per- | petu- 260 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION'. ates the | worst ] heathenism of | war, | **| «*} | while by | charities, | insig- 1 nificant | ^ in com- 1 parison, | **] it | doles to the | heathen the | message of | peace ! | *i At | home it | breeds and | fattens a | cloud of | eagles and | vultures | ^ **| | trained to | swoop upon the | land; | *1 **i | **j to | all the | gentiles a- | cross the | sea | *| it dis- | misses a | solitary | dove! ^j Con- | sider the pro- | digious | sums, | **] ex- | ceeding in | all | two | thousand | millions of | dollars, | **!**] | squan- dered | **j by the U- | nited | States | **| **] | since the a- | dop- tion of the | Federal | consti- | tution, | **1 in sup- | port of the | war | system. | •] **| | Surely, if | these | means had | been de- | voted to | railroads | *< and ca- 1 nals, | *< to schools and | colleges, | **| our | country | **| would pos- | sess, at the | present | moment, | *\ an ac- | cumulated ma- | terial | power, | **| *"1 | grander | far | *\ than | any she | now | boasts. | **] **| | But there is an- | other | power of | more un- | failing | temper, | *1 which would | also be | hers. | **] **] | Over- | flowing | **| with in- | telligence, | ^| with | charity, | ** with | civili- | zation, | ""J with | all that | constitutes a | generous | state, | **! **! | she would be | able to | win | peaceful | triumphs, | **] trans- | cending | all she has | yet a- | chieved ; | *j sur- | rounding the | land with an in- | vincible | self-de- | fensive | might, | ^J and | in their un- | fading | brightness | render- ing | all | glory from | war | **j im- | possible. Sumner. EXERCISES. 261 MAROT'S ODE TO HIS MISTRESS. TRANSLATED FROM CLEMENT MAROT, A FRENCH POET OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. t A gentleness spread over a fair face, Passing in beauty the most beautiful ; A chaste eye, in whose light there lies no stain ; A frank discourse, so simple and so true That who should hear it, through an hundred years, Would never weary in that century; A lively wit ; a learning which makes marvel ; And such sweet gracefulness diffused o'er all, And ever present in her speech or silence ; That fain I would my power did suffice To pen her merit on this paper down, Even as it is written in my heart. And all these precious gifts, and thousands more, Cling to a body of high parentage ; And tall, and straight ; and formed in its fair stature As if it were to be at once adored By men and gods. ! would I were a prince ! That I might proffer to thee my poor service. Yet why a prince? Is not the gentle mountain 262 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. Often of aspect fairer than the crag ? Do not low olive-tree and humble rose Charm rather than the oak ? Is't not less peril To swim the streamlet than to stem the river ? I know I levy and defray no armies, I launch no fleets, whose prize might be a Helen' But if my fortune had endowed me so, I would have died or else have conquered thee. And if I am in fact no conqueror, Yet do my will and spirit make me one. My fame, like that of kings, fills provinces. If they o'ercome men in fair feats of arms, In my fair verse I overcome in turn. If they have treasure, I have treasure also ; And of such things as lie not in their coffers. If they are powerful, I hold more power, For I have that to make my love immortal. Nor this I say in vaunt, but strong desire That thou shouldst understand how never yet I saw thy match in this life of this world : Nor breathing being who the power owned Thus to make subject mine obedience. EXERCISES. 263 THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. It may be proper, in this place, to notice and briefly answer the objections which some excellent but prejudiced persons urge against the study of elocution. Some allege the study of this art generally induces a stiff, formal, mechanical, and affected manner of reading and speaking, at variance with the ease and truthfulness of nature. It is obvious that th j im- perfect, not to say preposterous, manner in which elocution is often taught, has given rise to this grave objection; for here, as in other arts and sciences, the baleful influence of quackery has been felt. The minds of youthful students are bewildered and quite repelled from the prosecution of this delightful study, in their attempts to comprehend the complicated dia- grams which teachers have framed for the purpose, no doubt, of displaying their inventive genius, and gaining popularity. The ambitious system of notation, how perplexiug to the mind of the neophyte ! and how repugnant to that genuine simpli- city and naturalness which lies at the foundation of all solid instruction. Hear the judicious Dr. Porter on this point: — " The reasonable prejudice which some intelligent men have felt against any system of notation, arises from the preposter- 264 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. ous extent to which it has been carried by a few popular teachers, and especially by their humble imitators. A judi- cious medium is what we want; five characters in music and six vowels in writing, enter into an infinitude of combinations, melody, and language. So the elementary modifications of voice, in speaking, are few, and easily understood; and to mark them, so far as distinction is useful, does not require a tenth part of the rules which some have thought necessary." Now, in view of these facts, we cease to wonder that even intelligent people should urge the objection under considera- tion. But let the objectors fully understand that the system they condemn is a "counterfeit presentment," a meretricious thing tricked out with tinsel ornaments to conceal its deformity and impose upon the credulous and unreflecting. How dif- ferent from that noble art which Cicero admired and practiced, and Quintilian taught — and which a few rare spirits in our own land have introduced in its native grandeur, efficiency, and grace ! Another objection to the study of elocution, which has fre- quently been made, is that it tends to produce a theatrical manner; and we know that a dread of incurring this imputa- tion acts as a powerful restraint on many public speakers. If by theatrical is meant " the start and stare practiced at the glass" — " noise and fury signifying nothing" — mouthing the words and " tearing the passion to tatters," I say, emphati- cally, "pray you, avoid it," for this is rank affectation, and an outrage upou the modesty of nature. The term theatrical has come by association, in the minds of many, to be con- EXERCISES. 265 sidered as equivalent to rant and bluster, and violent gesticu- lation. Now, elocution teaches to observe a just medium between the sing-sing voice, the see-saw gesture, and the unimpas- sioned delivery which is sometimes witnessed in the senate and at the bar, but more generally in the pulpit, and the strong, diversified display of the theatre. By a proper attention to the study of elocution, is it not possible to acquire a just, impressive, and pleasing manner of delivery, consistent with the dignity of the senate, with the solemnity of the pulpit, yet perfectly free from that which is reprobated as theatrical ? By elocution the vocal organs are to be trained, and a pleas- ing and efficient delivery is to be acquired. To succeed in imparting these graces, the living teacher, a proficient in his art, must exemplify the tones and inflections of his voice in their endless variety, and the appropriate gestures used in reading and in speaking — and this will supersede, to a great extent, the necessity of ingenious but perplexing notations, and of all but a few important rules. Elocution labors to remove whatever is stiff, formal, affected, or artificial — whatever hinders the tone and graceful expres- sion of feeling, and makes every tone of the voice, and gesture of the body true to nature. Elocution is but the handmaid of nature, whose glory it is to follow this supreme directress ! Elocution makes all its teachings subservient to the expression of feeling — of genuine emotion. It teaches the reader and the speaker that the art he employs to secure the object he has in view, be it instruction, persuasion, or entertainment, 23 266 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. must be carefully concealed. It teaches him that art is but the organ through which nature speaks, and that the highest achievement of art is to conceal art.* Dr. Longmore. REFLECTIONS AT SEA. Then, with her white sails courting the gale, did the queenly ship launch upon the deep, and as the breeze came lightly leaping the crested billows, she spread her white arms to meet it, and then a right merry race they ran over "the open sea." Or should the gale in maddened mood come lashing the waves in fury, and hurling them mountain high, as he rushed onward, shrieking in his rage, she bent meekly to his wrath, and gathering her white robes about her, passed, sighing, over the rough pathway his rage had wrought ! But now the proud ship bids defiance both to the angry winds and transverse seas, and with her iron will she walks the mighty deep, strong in her strength. Oh, the grandeur of the scene as I cast my eyes around — one mighty mass of waters ! and my heart thrilled with an awful sense of the majesty of God ! For a moment I closed my eyes — I could not look — I could not have spoken. * Ars est celare artem. EXERCISES. 267 " The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handy work." u Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters, who maketh the clouds his chariot, who walketh upon the wings of the wind I" I raised my eyes and looked upon this glorious expanse ; and I could not believe it possible for any one to doubt the existence of a God ! Let the skeptic, if such there be, stand here with me. Would he seek a more grand display of His power? — would he look for a higher manifestation of the Almighty ? Who is there that can view this broad, fathomless ocean, and not feel in his inmost soul that God is here ? That He rides in majesty upon the waves, upholding that glorious heaven above us ! That He setteth bounds to these rushing waters and sayeth to the winds, " Be still \" Mrs. C. H. Butler. ST. PETER'S. It is the sanctuary of space and silence. No throng can crowd these aisles ; no sound of voices or of organs can dis- place the venerable quiet that broods here. The Pope, who fills the world with all his pompous retinue, fills not St. Peter's ; and the roar of his quired singers, mingling with the sonorous chant of a host of priests and bishops, struggles for an instant 268 'grammar of elocution. against this ocean of stillness, and then is absorbed into it like a faint echo. The mightiest ceremonies of human worship — celebrated by the earth's chief Pontiff, sweeping along in the magnificence of the most imposing array that the existing world can exhibit — seem dwindled into insignificance within this structure. They do not explain to our feelings the uses of the building. As you stand within the gorgeous, celestial dwelling — framed not for man's abode — the holy silence, the mysterious fragrance, the light of ever-burning lamps, suggest to you that is the home of invisible spirits — an outer court of Heaven, visited, perchance, in the deeper hours of a night that is never dark within its walls, by the all-sacred Awe itself. When you enter St. Peter's, Religion, as a local reality and a separate life, seems revealed to you. At every hour, over some part of the floor, worshippers may be seen kneeling, wrapt each in solitary penitence or adoration. The persons mystically habited, who journey noiselessly across the marble, bow and cross themselves, as they pass before this or that spot, betoken the recognition of something mysterious that is unseen, invisible. By day illuminated by rays only from above, by night always luminous within — filled by an atmo- sphere of its own, which changes not with the changing cold or heat of the seasons without — exhaling always a faint, delight- ful perfume — it is the realm of piety — the clime of devotion — a spiritual globe in the midst of the material universe. H. B. Wallace. EXERCISES 269 "SHE HAD OUTLIVED HER USEFULNESS." Not long since, a good-looking man, in middle life, came to our door, asking for " the minister." When informed that he was out of town, he seemed disappointed and anxious. On being questioned as to his business, he replied, " I have lost my mother; and as this place used to be her home, and my father lies here, we have come to lay her beside him." Our heart rose in sympathy, and we said, " You have met with a great loss." "Well, yes," replied the strong man, with hesitancy; "a mother is a great loss in general; but our mother had outlived her usefulness. She was in her second childhood, and her mind was grown as weak as her body, so that she was no comfort to herself, and was a burden to every- body. There were seven of us sons and daughters ; and as we could not find anybody who was willing to board her, we agreed to keep her among us a year about. But I've had more than my share of her ; for she was too feeble to be moved when my time was out, and that was more than three months before her death. But then she was a good mother in her day, and toiled very hard to bring us all up." Without looking at the face of the heartless man, we directed him to the house of a neighboring pastor, and returned to our nursery. We gazed on the merry little faces which smiled or 23* ^70 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. grew sad in imitation of ours — those little ones to whose ear no word in our language is half so sweet as "mother;" and we wondered if that day would ever come when they would say of us, " She has outlived her usefulness ; she is no comfort to herself, and a burden to everybody else ;" and we hoped that before such a day should dawn, we might be taken to our rest. God forbid that we should outlive the love of our child- ren. Rather let us die while our hearts are a part of their own, that our grave may be watered with their tears, and our love linked with their hopes of heaven. When the bell tolled for the mother's burial, we went to the sanctuary to pay our only token of respect to the aged stranger ; for we felt that we could give her memory a tear, even though her own children had none to shed. " She was a good mother in her day, and toiled hard to bring us all up !" " She was no comfort to herself, and a burden to everybody else !" These cruel, heartless words rang in our ears as we saw the coffin borne up the aisle. The bell tolled long and loud, until its iron tongue had chronicled the years of the toil-worn mother. One, two, three, four, five ! How clearly, and almost merrily, each stroke told of -her once peaceful slumber on her mother's bosom, and of her seat at nightfall on her weary father's knees. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten ! rang out the tale of her sports upon the green sward, in the meadow and by the brook. Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen ! spoke more gravely of school days, and little household joys and cares. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen ! sounded out the enraptured visions of maidenhood, and the dream of early love. Nineteen brought before up the happy EXERCISES. 271 bride. Twenty spoke of the young mother, whose heart was full to bursting with the new strong love which God had awakened in her bosom. And then stroke after stroke told of her early womanhood — of the love, and cares, and hopes, and fears, and toils, through which she had passed during these long years, till fifty rang out harsh and loud. From that to sixty, told of the warm-hearted mother and grandmother, liv- ing over again her own joys and sorrows in those of her child- ren. Every family of all the group wanted grandmother then, and the only strife was who should secure the prize. But, hark ! the bell tolls on ! Seventy, seventy-one, two, three, four ! She begins to grow feeble, requires some care, is not always perfectly patient or satisfied ; she goes from one child's house to another, so that no one place seems like home. She murmurs in plaintive tones, that after all her toil and weari- ness, it is hard she cannot be allowed a home to die in ; that she must be sent, rather than invited, from house to house. Eighty, eighty-one, two, three, four ! Ah ! she is now a second child — now "she has outlived her usefulness; she has ceased to be a comfort to herself or anybody;" that is, she has ceased to be profitable to her earth-craving and money-grasping children. Now sounds out, reverberating through our lovely forest, and echoing back from our " hill of the dead," eighty-nine ! There she lies now in the coffin, cold and still. She makes no trouble now, demands no love, no soft words, no tender little offices. A look of patient endurance, we fancied also an ex- pression of grief for unrequited love, sat on her marble fea- tures. Her children were there, clad in weeds of woe j and 272 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. in irony we remembered the strong man's words, u She was a good mother in her day." When the bell ceased tolling, the strange minister rose in the pulpit. His form was very erect, and his voice strong, but his hair was silvery white. He read several passages of Scripture expressive of God's compassion to feeble man, and especially of his tenderness when gray hairs are on him, and his strength faileth. He then made some touching remarks on human frailty, and of dependence on God, urging all present to make their peace with their Maker while in health, that they might claim his promises when heart and flesh should fail them. "Then," said he, "the eternal God shall be thy refuge, and beneath thee shall be the everlasting arms." Leaning over the desk, and gazing intently on the coffined form before him, he then said reverently, " From a little child I have honored the aged ; but never till gray hairs covered my own head did I know truly how much love and sympathy this class have a right to demand of their fellow-creatures. Now I feel it. Our mother," he added most tenderly, " who now lies in death before us, was a stranger to me, as are all these, her descendants. All I know of her is what her son told me to-day — that she was brought to this town from afar, sixty- nine years ago, a happy bride ; that here she passed most of her life, toiling, as only mothers ever have strength to toil, until she had reared a large family of sons and daughters ; that she left her home here clad in the weeds of widowhood, to dwell among her children ; and that till health and vigor left her, she lived for you her descendants. " You, who together have shared her love and her care, EXERCISES. 273 know how well you have requited her. God forbid that con- science should accuse any of you of ingratitude or murmuring on account of the care she has been to you of late. When you go back to your homes, be careful of your words and your example before your children, for the fruit of your own doing you will surely reap from them when you yourselves totter on the brink of the grave. "I entreat you as a friend — as one who has himself entered the ' evening of life' — that you may never say, in the presence of your families, nor of Heaven, ' our mother had outlived her usefulness — she was a burden to us/ Never ! Never ! A mother cannot live so long as that ! No ; when she can no longer labor for her children, nor yet take care of herself, she can fall like a precious weight upon their bosoms, and call forth by her helplessness all the noble, generous feelings of their natures. "Adieu, then, poor toil-worn mother; there are no more sleepless nights, no more days of pain for thee. Undying vigor and everlasting usefulness are part of the inheritance of the redeemed. Feeble as thou wert on earth, thou wilt be no burden on the bosom of Infinite Love ; but there thou shalt find thy longed-for rest, and receive glorious sympathy from Jesus and his ransomed fold." 274 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. ABOU BEN ADHEM. Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight of his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold : — Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, " What writest thou V 1 The vision raised its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, " The names of those who love the Lord !" "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still ; and said, " I pray thee, then, Write me as one who loves his fellow men !" The angel wrote and vanished. The next night It came again, with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had bless' d, And lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. Leigh Hunt. EXERCISES, 275 MY NATIVE LAND. Adieu ! adieu ! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue, The night winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea, We follow in his flight : Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land, good night. With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go Athwart the foaming brine, Nor care what land thou bear'st me to, So not again to mine. Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves I And when ye fail my sight, Welcome, ye deserts and ye caves ! My native land, good night. Byron. 276 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. SPEAK GENTLY. Speak gently ; it is better far To rule by love than fear ; Speak gently ; let not harsh words mar The good we might do here. Speak gently; love doth whisper low, The vow that true hearts bind ; And gently friendship's accents flow, — Affection's voice is kind. Speak gently to the little child, Its love be sure to gain; Teach it in accents soft and mild, It may not long remain. Speak gently to the aged one, Grieve not the care-worn heart ; The sands of life are nearly run — Let such in peace depart. Speak gently to the young, for they Will have enough to bear ; EXERCISES. 277 Pass through this life as best they may, 'Tis full of anxious care. Speak gently, kindly, to the poor, Let no harsh tones he heard ; They have enough they must endure, Without an unkind word. Speak gently to the erring ; know They may have toiled in vain ; Perchance unkindness made them so — Oh, win them back again. Speak gently; He who gave his life To bend man's stubborn will, When elements were in fierce strife, Said to them, " Peace, be still I" Speak gently; 'tis a little thing Dropped in the heart's deep well ; The good, the joy, which it may bring, Eternity shall tell. Anonymous. 24 278 ORAM MAR OF ELOCUTION. JAFFAR. INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF SHELLEY. Shelley, take this to thy dear memory : — To praise the generous is to think of thee. Jaffar the Barmecide, the good vizier, The poor man's hope, the friend without a peer, Jaffar was dead ! slain by a doom unjust; And guilty Haroun, sullen with mistrust Of what the good and e'en the bad might say, Ordained that no man living from that day Should dare to speak his name on pain of death.— All Araby and Persia held their breath. All but the brave Mondeer. He, proud to show How far for love a grateful soul could go, And facing death for very scorn and grief, (For his great heart wanted a great relief,) Stood forth iu Bagdad, daily, in the square Where once had stood a happy house ; and there Harangued the tremblers at the scymitar, On all they owed to the divine Jaffar. EXERCISES. 279 " Briug me this man," the caliph cried. The man Was brought — was gazed upon. The mutes began To bind his arms. " "Welcome, brave cords!" cried he; " From bonds far worse Jaffar delivered me ; From wants, from shames, from loveless household fears. Made a man's eyes friends with delicious tears; Restored me — loved me — put me on a par With his great self. How can I pay Jaffar V Haroun, who felt that on a soul like this The mightiest vengeance could but fall amiss, Now deigned to smile, as one great lord of fate, Might smile upon another half as great. He said, " Let worth grow frenzied, if it will ; The caliph's judgment shall be master still. Go : and since gifts thus move thee, take this gem, The richest in the Tartar's diadem, And hold the giver as thou deemest fit." " Gifts !" cried the friend. He took ; and holding it High towards the heavens, as though to meet his star, Exclaimed, " This, too, I owe to thee, Jaffar !" Leigh Hunt 280 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. CLARENCE'S DREAM. Brakenbury. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day ? Clarence. 0, I have passed a miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days; So full of dismal terror was the time. Brak. What was your dream, my lord ? I pray you, tell me. Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the Tower, And was embarked to cross to Burgundy , And, in my company, my brother Gloster; Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches ; thence we looked toward England, And cited up a thousand heavy times, During the wars of York and Lancaster That had befall'n us. As we paced along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought, that Gloster stumbled ; and, in falling, Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, Into the tumbling billows of the main. O Lord ! methought, what pain it was to drown ! EXERCISES. 281 What dreadful noise of water in mine ears ! What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; A thousand men, that fishes gnawed upon; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems, That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep, And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by. Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death To gaze upon these secrets of the deep ? Clar. Methought, I had ; and often did I strive To yield the ghost ; but still the envious flood Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth To seek the empty, vast, and wandering air ; But smothered it within my panting bulk, Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. Brak. Awaked you not with this sore agony ? Clar. 0, no, my dream was lengthened after life; 0, then began the tempest to my soul ! I passed, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman, which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, Who cried aloud, — What scourge for perjury 24* 282 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence '( And so he vanished. Then came wandering by A shadow like an angel, with bright hair Dabbled in blood ; and he shrieked out aloud, — Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, That stabbed me in the field by Tewksbury : — Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments ! — "With that, methought a legion of foul fiends Environed me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, I trembling waked, and for a season after, Could not believe but that I was in hell ; Such terrible impression made my dream. Beak. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you ; I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. Clar. 0, Brakenbury, I have done these things, — That now give evidence against my soul, — For Edward's sake ; and, see, how he requites me ! — I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me ; My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. Brak. I will, my lord. — Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. Princes have but their titles for their glories, An outward honor for an inward toil ; And, for unfelt imaginations, They often feel a world of restless cares ; So that, between their titles, and low name, There's nothing differs but the outward fame. SHAK^rEARE. EXERCISES. 283 KING CLAUDIUS' SOLILOQUY. O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven ; It hath the primal eldest curse upon 't, A brother's murder ! — Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharp as will ; My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent ; And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood ? Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens, To wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mercy, But to confront the visage of offence ? And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force, — To be forestalled, ere we come to fall, Or pardoned, being down ? Then I'll look up ; My fault is past. But, 0, what form of prayer Can serve my turn ? Forgive me my foul murder !- That cannot be -, since I am still possessed Of those effects for which I did the murder, My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. May one be pardoned, and retain the offence ? 284 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. In the corrupted currents of this world, Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice; And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself Buys out the law : But 'tis not so above : There is no shuffling, there the action lies In his true nature ; and we ourselves compelled, Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence. What then ? what rests? Try what repentance can : What can it not ? Yet what can it, when one cannot repent ? wretched state ! bosom, black as death ! limed soul ', that struggling to be free, Art more engaged ! Help, angels, make assay ! Bow, stubborn knees ! and, heart, with strings of steel, Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe j All may be well ! Shakspeare. HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY. 0, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous, that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit, That from her working all his visage wanned ; EXERCISES. 285 Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit ? and all for nothing ! For Hecuba ! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her ? What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion, That I have ? He would drown the stage with tears, And cleave the general ear with horrid speech ; Make mad the guilty, and appal the free, Confound the ignorant ; and amaze, indeed, The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I, A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing ; no, not for a king, Upon whose property, and most dear life, A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward ? Who calls me villain ? breaks my pate across ? Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face ? Tweaks me by the nose ? gives me the lie i' the throat, As deep as to the lungs ? Who does me this ? Ha! Why, I should take it : for it cannot be, But I am pigeon-livered and lack gall, To make oppression bitter ; or, ere this, I should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's offal : 28(5 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. * * * * * * ****** Fye upon't ! foh ! About my brains ! Humph ! I have heard, That guilty creatures sitting at a play, Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul, that presently They have proclaimed their malefactions ; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players Play something like the murder of my father, Before mine uncle : I'll observe his looks ; I'll tent him to the quick ; if he do blench, I know my course. The spirit that I have seen, May be a devil : and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape ; yea, and, perhaps, Out of my weakness, and my melancholy, (As he is very potent with such spirits,) Abuses me to damn me : I'll have grounds More relative than this : the play's the thing, Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. Shakspeare. EXERCISES, 287 GARDEN SCENE FROM ROMEO AND JULIET. Enter Romeo. Romeo. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound. — (Juliet appears above, at the window.') But, soft ! what light through yonder window breaks ? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! — Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious ; Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it ; cast it off. — It is my lady ; O, it is my love : O, that she knew she were ! — She speaks, yet she says nothing ; What of that ? Her eye discourses, I will aDswer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks : Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head ? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven 288 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. Would through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would sing, and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand ? 0, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek ! Jul. Ah me ! Rom. She speaks : — 0, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him, When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, And sails upon the bosom of the air. Jul. 0, Romeo, Romeo ! wherefore art thou Romeo ? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name : Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet. Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this ? [Aside. Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy. # * # * What's in a name ? that which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet ; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, Retain that dear perfection which he owes, Without that title : — Romeo, doff thy name ; And for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself. Rom. I take thee at thy word : EXERCISES. 289 Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; Henceforth I never will be Romeo. Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel ? Rom. By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am : My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee ; Had I it written, I would tear the word. Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound ; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague ? Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me ? and wherefore ? The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb ) And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here. Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls ; For stony limits cannot hold love out ; And what love can do, that dares love attempt ; Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me. Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. Rom. Alack ! there lies more peril in thine eye, Than twenty of their swords ; look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity. Jul. I would not for the world, they saw thee here. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight ; And, but thou love me, let them find me here *. My life were better ended by their hate, 25 290 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place ? Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire ; He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far As that vast shore washed with the furthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise. Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on my face ; Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke ; But farewell compliment ! Dost thou love me ? I know, thou wilt say — Ay ; And I will take thy word : yet, if thou swear* st, Thou niay'st prove false ; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully : Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo; but, else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond ; And therefore thou may'st think my haviour light : But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, But that thou over-heard'st, ere I was ware, My true love's passion : therefore pardon me ; And not impute this yielding, to light love, Which the dark ni^ht hath so discovered. ^ EXERCISES. 291 Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops, — Jul. 0, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. Rom. What shall I swear by ? Jul. Do not swear at all; Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I'll believe thee. Rom. If my heart's dear love — Jul. Well, do not swear : although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night : It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden ; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, Ere one can say — It lightens. Sweet, good night ! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night ! as sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart, as that within my breast ! Rom. 0, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied ? Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it : And yet I would it were to give again. Rom. Would' st thou withdraw it ? for what purpose, love ? Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have : My bounty is as boundless as the sea, 292 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. My love as deep ; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite. [Nurse calls within. I hear some noise within ; Dear love, adieu ! Anon, good nurse ! — Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit. Rom. O blessed, blessed night ! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. Re-enter Juliet, above. Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, indeed. If that thy bent of love be honorable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, By one that I'll procure to come to thee, Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite; And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay, And follow thee my lord throughout the world. Nurse. [ Within.'] Madam. Jul. I come, anon : — But if thou mean'st not well, I do beseech thee, — v Nurse. [ Within.] Madam. Jul. By and by, I come : — To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief : To-morrow will I send. Rom. So thrive my soul, — Jul. A thousand times good night ! [Exit. Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. — EXERCISES. 293 Love goes towards love, as school-boys from their books ; But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. [Retiring slowly. Re-enter Juliet, above. Jul. Hist ! Borneo, hist ! — 0, for a falconer's voice, To lure this tassel-gentle back again ! Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud j Else would I tear the cave where echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine "With repetition of my Romeo's name. Bom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name : How silver sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears ! Jul. Borneo ! Bom. My sweet ! Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow Shall I send to thee ? Bom. At the hour of nine. Jul. I will not fail ; 'tis twenty years till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back. Bom. Let me stand here till thou remember it. Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Bemembering how I love thy company. Bom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this. Jul. "lis almost morning, I would have thee gone : And yet no further than a wanton's bird; Who lets it hop a little from her hand, 25* 294 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty. Rom. I would I were thy bird. Jul. Sweet, so would I : Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say — good night, till it be morrow. Shakspeare. HEADING WITH SPECTACLES. A certain artist — I've forgot his name — Had got for making spectacles a fame ; Or " Helps to read," as, when they first were sold, Was writ upon his glaring sign, in gold; And, for all uses to be had from glass, His were allowed by readers to surpass. There came a man into his shop one day : — "Are you the spectacle contriver, pray?" "Yes, sir," said he; "I can in that affair Contrive to please you, if you want a pair." "Can you? — pray do, then." So, at first, he chose To place a youngish pair upon his nose : And book produced, to see how they would fit; EXERCISES. 295 " These, sir, I fancy, if you please to try, These in my hand will better suit your eye." " No, but they don't." " Well, come, sir, if you please, Here is another sort; we'll e'en try these; Still somewhat more they magnify the letter. Now, sir !" " Why, now I'm not a bit the better." " No ! — here, take these, that magnify still more. How do they fit ?" " Like all the rest before." In short, they tried a whole assortment through, But all in vain, for none of 'em would do. The operator, much surprised to find So odd a case, thought, sure the man is blind : "What sort of eyes can you have got?" said he. " Why, very good ones, friend, as you may see." " Yes, I perceive the clearness of the ball ; — Pray, let me ask you, can you read at all ?" " No, you great blockhead ! If I could, what need Of paying you for any ' Helps to read ?' " And so he left the maker in a heat, Resolved to post him for an arrant cheat. Anonymous. 296 GRAMMAR OF ELOCUTION. THE APPLE-DUMPLINGS AND GEORGE III. Once in the chase, this monarch drooping, From his high consequence and wisdom stooping, Entered, through curiosity, a cot, Where an old crone was hanging on the pot. The wrinkled, blear-eyed, good old granny, In this same cot, illumed by many a cranny, Had apple-dumplings ready for the pot; In tempting row the naked dumplings lay, When, lo ! the monarch, in his usual way, Like lightning asked, " What's here ? — what's here ?- what ? — what ? — what ? — what V Then, taking up a dumpling in his hand, His eyes with admiration did expand — And oft did majesty the dumpling grapple; "'Tis monstrous, monstrous, monstrous hard," he cried; " What makes the thing so hard ?" The dame replied, Low courtesying, "Please your majesty, the apple." " Very astonishing, indeed ! strange thing I" (Turning the dumpling round) rejoined the king; " 'Tis most extraordinary now, all this is — It beats the conjurer's capers all to pieces^ EXERCISES. 297 Strange I should never of a dumpling dream. — But, G-oody, tell me, where, where, where' s the seam V* " Sire, there's no seam," quoth she. " I never knew That folks did apple-dumplings sew V a No !" cried the staring monarch, with a grin, u Then where, where, where, pray, got the apple in ?" WOLCOT. THE END. SQL ■UUlSLSE c °ngre™ 1227211 3749