THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION.

BISHOP MATTHEW SIMPSON.

Should there be schools of elocution? is a question which sometimes presses on the mind, and I answer, the necessity for schools of elocution is founded on the general law of culture. God has given us organs which need development; there is a law of growth and culture everywhere. The human form is developed, the muscles of the arm are strengthened; this hand, so wonderful in its mechanism, is taught by practice to perform amazing feats. We all remember how diligently we toiled, and how difficult was the task to form those letters in our boyhood's days. But now we write as though it were an act of but a moment's thought. This is the law of culture, as applicable to the human voice as to the hand, and if the hand should be trained why not much more the voice? The voice is one of Heaven's most wonderful gifts to man.

Animals have speech in a certain sense; they have calls of hunger, they have longings for association, they have throes of agony, and they utter the feelings of pain. But to man God has given the power of articulate speech. How wide is its range! He can express every desire that burns in the human bosom, every aspiration that arises in the human heart. He can ascend from earth to heaven, away to where the human eye never pierced, and can bring before waiting audiences thoughts of God, and of eternity.

There are many reasons why elocution should be to us a matter of great concern. The first, I notice very briefly, is the age in which we live. The ancients were thought excellent elocutionists, but the names were few in number. The world had fewer calls upon them. The history of events has accumulated; the treasures of science and art have been enriched; we have a quantity of matter to make us teachers, and the world calls on us to aid the ignorant and to elevate the lowly. A missionary spirit has gone abroad. Those who have light must give to those who have none. Christian nations are sending out teachers to the ends of the earth, but as they are to teach they should be prepared to teach not only matter, but manner.

The world is calling to-day as it never called before. In ancient times languages were many. Pass a few miles, and a different dialect required a different address; and men studying dialect were unable thoroughly to pursue the study of elocution. But mark how times are changed! The ends of the earth are brought together, and audiences can come from the remotest parts in a few hours; and wherever there is a man who has thoughts to give, and can give them in an attractive manner, multiplied thousands are ready to dwell upon his lips.

Our English language, I am free to say, is that in which man must speak to man, in a way and to an extent that men never spake to men before. Our language is girdling the globe. From nation to nation it is beginning to pass, and an American finds himself at home almost everywhere on this round earth. We are a nation of speakers.

ETIQUETTE.

The Ballyshannon foundered off the coast of Cariboo, And down in fathoms many, went the captain and his crew;

Down with the owners-greedy men-whom hope of gain allured,

Oh, dry the starting tear-for they were heavily insured! Beside the captain, and the mate, the owners, and the crew, The passengers were also drowned, excepting only twoYoung Peter Grey, who tasted teas for Baker, Croop & Co., And Somers, who from Eastern shores, imported indigo. These passengers, by reason of their clinging to a mast, Upon a desert island were eventually cast.

They hunted for their meals, as Alexander Selkirk used, But they couldn't chat together-they had not been introduced.

For Peter Grey, and Somers, too, though certainly in trade,
Were properly particular about the friends they made;
And somehow, thus they settled it, without a word of mouth,
That Grey should take the northern half, while Somers took
the south.

On Peter's portion, oysters grew, a delicacy rare,

But oysters were a delicacy Peter couldn't bear.

On Somers' side was turtle, on the shingle lying thick, Which Somers couldn't eat, because it always made him sick.

Grey gnashed his teeth with envy, as he saw a mighty store
Of turtle, unmolested, on his fellow-creature's shore.
The oysters at his feet, aside, impatiently he shoved,
For turtle, and his mother, were the only things he loved.

And Somers sighed in sorrow, as he settled in the south, For the thought of Peter's oysters brought the water to his mouth.

He longed to lay him down upon the shelly bed, and stuff, For he'd often eaten oysters, but he'd never had enough.

How they wished an introduction to each other they had had, When on board the Ballyshannon, and it almost drove them mad

To think how very friendly with each other they might get,
If it wasn't for the arbitrary rule of etiquette.

One day when out a-hunting for the ms ridiculous,
Grey overheard his fellow-man soliloquizing thus:
"I wonder how the playmates of my youth are getting on,
McConnell, S. B. Walters, Paddy Byles, and Robinson ?"

These simple words made Peter as delighted as could be,
Old chummies at the Charter House, were Robinson and he.
He walked straight up to Somers, then he turned extremely
red,

Hesitated, hemmed and hawed, then cleared his throat, and said:

"I beg your pardon-pray forgive me if I seem too bold-
But you have breathed a name I knew, familiarly, of old.
You spoke aloud of Robinson-I happened to be by—
You know him?" "Yes, extremely well." "Allow me-
so do I."

It was enough-they felt they could more pleasantly get on,
For (oh! the magic of the fact) they each knew Robinson;
And Mr. Somers' turtle was at Peter's service quite,
And Mr. Somers punished Peter's oyster bed all right.

They soon became like brothers, from community of wrongs,
They wrote each other little odes, and sang each other songs;
They told each other anecdotes-disparaging their wives-
On several occasions, too, they saved each others' lives.

They felt quite melancholy when they parted for the night,
And got up in the morning as soon as it was light.
Each other's pleasant company they reckoned so upon,
And all because it happened they each knew Robinson.
They lived for many years on that inhospitable shore,
And day by day they learned to love each other more and more.
At last, to their astonishment, on getting up one day,
They saw a frigate anchored in the offing of the bay.

To Peter an idea occurred-"Suppose we cross the main?
So good an opportunity may not occur again."

And Somers thought a moment, then ejaculated, “Done!
I wonder how my business in the city's getting on?"

'But stay!" said Mr. Peter. "When in England, as you know I earned a living tasting teas, for Baker, Croop & Co.

I may have been suspended-my employers think me dead.” "Then come with me," said Somers, "and taste indigo instead."

But all their plans were scattered in a moment, when they found

The vessel was a convict ship from Portland, outward bound. When a boat came out to fetch them, though they felt it very kind,

To go on board they firmly, and respectfully declined.

As both the happy settlers roared with laughter at the joke, They recognized a gentlemanly fellow pulling stroke; 'Twas Robinson, a convict, in an unbecoming frock, Condemned to seven years for misappropriating stock. They laughed no more, for Somers thought he had been very rash,

In knowing one whose friend had misappropriated cash; And Peter thought, a foolish tack he must have gone upon, In making the acquaintance of a friend of Robinson.

At first they didn't quarrel very openly, I've heard ; They nodded when they met, and now and then exchanged a word;

The word grew rare and rarer, still the nodding of the head, But when they meet each other now, they cut each otherdead.

To allocate the island they agreed by word of mouth,
And Peter takes the north again, and Somers takes the south.
And Peter has the oysters, which he hates, in layers thick,
And Somers has the turtle, and it always makes him sick.

THE SIOUX CHIEF'S DAUGHTER.-JOAQUIN MILLER.

Two gray hawks ride the rising blast;
Dark cloven clouds drive to and fro
By peaks pre-eminent in snow;
A sounding river rushes past,
So wild, so vortex-like, and vast.
A lone lodge tops the windy hill;
A tawny maiden, mute and still,
Stands waiting at the river's brink,
As weird and wild as you can think.
A mighty chief is at her feet;
She does not heed him wooing so-
She hears the dark, wild waters flow;
She waits her lover, tall and fleet,
From far gold fields of Idaho,
Beyond the beaming hills of snow.

He comes! The grim chief springs in air-
His brawny arm, his blade is bare.

She turns; she lifts her round, brown hand;
She looks him fairly in the face;
She moves her foot a little pace

And says, with coldness and command,
"There's blood enough in this lorn land.

"But see! a test of strength and skill,
Of courage and fierce fortitude;
To breast and wrestle with the rude
And storm-born waters, now I will
Bestow you both.

Stand either side!

Take you my left, tall Idaho;

And you, my burly chief, I know

Would choose my right. Now peer you low
Across the waters wild and wide.

See! leaning so this morn I spied
Red berries dip yon farther side.
See, dipping, dripping in the stream,
Twin boughs of autumn berries gleam!
Now this, brave men, shall be the test:
Plunge in the stream, bear knife in teeth
To cut yon bough for bridal wreath.
Plunge in! and he who bears him best,
And brings yon ruddy fruit to land

The first, shall have both heart and hand."