Con-fidence is a plant of slow growth'.

The young are slaves to nov-elty', the old, to custom.

To improve the golden moment of oppor-tu-nity', and catch the good that is with-in our reach', is the great art of life'.

In order to know a man', we should observe how he gains his object', rather than how he los-es it'.

That an author's work is the mirror of his mind', is a position that has led to very er-ro-neous con-clu-sions`. If Satan him-self were to write a book', it would be in praise of virtue'; because the good would purchase it for use', and the bad, for osten-ta-tion'.

All who have been great and good with-out christianity', would have been much greater and better with it`.

The opinions prevalent in one age', as truths above the reach of controversy', are confuted and rejected in an-oth-er', and rise again to reception in re-mo-ter times. Thus', on some subjects', the human mind is kept in mo-tion without progress'. Thus', sometimes truth and er-rour', and sometimes contra-rieties of errour', take each other's place by reciprocal in-va-sion'. Jesus saith unto him', Thom-as', because thou hast sêên me', thou hast be-lieve-d': blessed are they that have not seen me', and yet have believed`.

Simon', son of Jo-nas', lov-est thou me'?

Yea', Lord', thou know-est that I love thee'.

It is safer to be at-tacked by some men', than to be pro-tect ed by them'.

O', you hard hearts', you cruel men of Rome'!
Knew ye not Pom-pey'?

And do you now strew flowers in his way
Who comes in triumph over Pompey's blood'?'

'Tis hard to say', if greater want of skill'
Appear in wri-ting', or in judg-ing', ill':
But, of the two', less dangerous is the offence'
To tire our pa-tience', than mis-lead our sense`;
Some few in that', but num-bers err in this,
Ten cen-sure wrong for one who writes amiss':
A fool might once him-self alone expose`;
Now', one in verse makes many more in prose`.

Some place the bliss in ac-tion', some', in case`;
Those call it pleas-ure, and con-tent-ment', these:
Some', sunk to beasts', find pleas-ure end in pain`;
Some', swelled to gods', confess even VIR-tue vâin':
Or in-dolent', to each extreme they fall',
To trust in ev-ery thing', or doubt of all.
Who thus define it', say they more or less'
Than this', that hap-piness is hap-piness'?

Antonio.-Well, Shylock', shall we be beholden to you'?
Shylock.-Seignior Antonio', many a time', and oft',

In the Rialto you have ra-ted me

About my mon-eys', and my u-sances':

Still have I borne it with a patient shrug;
For suf-ferance is the badge of all our tribe'.
You call me'... misbe-lie-ver', cut-throat DÔG',
And spit upon my Jewish gabardine`;
And all for use of that which is my own`.
Well, then, it now appears' you need my help.
Go to, then, you come to me', and you say',
Shylock', we would have môn-eys." You say so';
You', that did void your rheum upon my beard`,
And fôôt me', as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold': ... môn-eys is your suit`.
What should I say to you? Should I not say',
'Hath a DOG'.. môn-ey'? is it possible',

A CUR.. can lend three-thou-sand duc-ats'?' or',
Shall I bend lôw`, and in a bond-man's key',
With 'bated breath', and whispering hum-bleness',
Say this',

Fair, sír', you spît on me on Wednesday last’;
You SPURNED me such a day'; another time

You called me'... DOG`; and for these coûr-tesies
I'll lend you thus much môn-eys`."

I conjure you by that which you pro-fess',
(Howe'er you came to know it',) an-swer me';
Though you untie the winds and let them fight
Against the church-es`; though the yesty waves
Confound and swallow navi-ga-tion up';

Though bladed corn be lodge-d, and trees blown down`;
Though castles topple on their warder's heads`;

Though palaces and pyramids do slope

Their heads to their foun-DA-tions'; though the treasures

Of nature's germins tumble alto-geth-er`,

Even till de-struc-tion SICK-en'; an-swer me

To what I ask you'.

This last passage, the sublime and terrible adjuration of Macbeth to the witches, is marked agreeably to the direction of Mr. Walker, as in accordance with the manner of pronouncing it adopted by the inimitable Garrick, namely, to adopt the falling inflection at the close of each member except the last but one, and to give the inflection a degree of emphatick force, increas ing in strength from the first member to the sixth. By such an enunciation, the whole climax will be most beautifully diversified, and its effect greatly heightened.

Before taking leave of this subject, the author deems it proper to caution the learner against the danger of his attaching either too much, or too little, importance to the rules laid down in this work. Of the great advantages resulting from a clear

understanding, and a happy application, of the rules for inflecting, emphasizing, and so forth, in the mind of him who thoroughly investigates the subject, there can remain no doubt; but, should a reader or a speaker Tely too much on the formal application of principles and rules, and suppose that, without entering deeply into the nature of the sentiments, passions, and emotions which he attempts to express, these principles alone, are sufficient to inspire him with eloquence, or even elegance, in delivery, there is great danger of his being actually trammelled by them, and of their producing, instead of a happy, an exceedingly ill, effect. Emphasis and emphatick inflections are governed mainly by sentiment, and associated more or less with passion or emotion. The language of passion is energetick and bold, and requires the reader or speaker to enter with feeling into the sentiments which he utters. Therefore, in the application of the rules for inflection and emphasis, this important idea should constantly be borne in mind.

>

CHAPTER V.

OF TIME, AND RHETORICAL PAUSES.

TIME.

THE varieties of movement in utterance, are expressed by the terms long and short, rapid, precipitate, quick, slow, and moderate.

General Remarks.

A distinct articulation is promoted by a moderate movement in pronunciation. In general, therefore, this movement is the best. A due degree of slowness in delivery, by the longer and more frequent pauses which it allows the reader or the speaker to make, affords great assistance to his voice, enables him to swell his sounds with greater force and melody, and gives weight and dignity to his subject. A rapid pronunciation, on the contrary, is apt to confound all articulation, and obscure the meaning.

It may not be improper, however, to caution the reader against the opposite extreme of pronouncing too slowly. A lifeless, drawling manner, which allows the minds of the hearers to outspeed the reader or speaker, will inevitably render his performance insipid and fatiguing. Hence, he who wouldseek to please, to persuade, to instruct, must carefully avoid both extremes, and adopt that variety of movement which the nature of the sentiment delivered, seems to require. The ef fect of an ordinary discourse may be greatly increased, by pronouncing phrases and short passages that will bear it, much more rapidly than others.

EXAMPLES.

Slow-A needless Alexandrine ends the song',

That', like a wounded snake', drags its slow length along`.

First march the heavy mules securely slow',

O'er hills', o'er dales', o'er crags', o'er rocks they go'.

Remote', unfriended', melancholy', slow',

Or by the lazy Scheldt', or wandering Po',,

Or onward', where the rude', Corinthian boor",
Against the houseless stranger shuts the door';
Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies',
A weary waste expanding to the skies';
Where'er I roam', whatever realms to see',
My heart', untravelled', fondly turns to thee:
Still to my brother turns', with ceaseless pain',
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain'.
Quick-Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain',

Flies o'er th' unbending corn', and skims along the main'.
There was a sound of revelry by night',

And Belgium's capital had gathered then'
Her beauty and her chivalry`, and bright'

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men':
A thousand hearts beat happily`; and when'

Musick arose with its voluptuous swell',

Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spoke again`;
And all went merry as a marriage bell`:

Slow-But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell`. Moderate-Aurora now', fair daughter of the dawn',

Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn',
When Jove convened the senate of the skies',
Where high Olympus' cloudy tops arise.
The sire of gods his awful silence broke',
The heavens attentive', trembled as he spoke':
Celestial states', immortal gods'! give ear;

Hear our de-cree`, and rev-erence what you hear`.

As nature delights to indulge herself in variety in all her works, she has bountifully bestowed this privilege upon man; and in nothing is it more conspicuously displayed than in the science of elocution. Here, this "spice of life" grows on every twig. Here, he is permitted to render even variety itself more various. Here, by an appropriate modulation of his voice, by a happy adaptation of its tones and its various degrees of force, stress, and movement, to the nature of his subject, he rises in his art to the highest point of excellence.

The foregoing remarks on time, are, perhaps, of too general a character to please the scientifick reader; but it is apprehended, that, with most persons, a minute and critical development of this subject, would be passed by with indifference. Hence, the former may be of some service, where the latter would prove unavailing. Although the movements of the voice in reading and speaking, are susceptible of being as exactly measured as in singing, and may be strictly regulated by rule, yet the adoption in practice of any set of rules that might be laid down for this purpose, would necessarily lead to a stiff and formal exactitude in delivery, far less endurable than the most reckless indifference in regard to time and measure. To readers in