V.

A

MOVEMENT, OR RATE OF UTTERANCE.
S the stately march of the solemn procession and the light

trip of the joyous child are indicative of the states of mind which prompt them, so the movement which is proper in reading depends upon the emotion to be expressed. If the reader should ask himself what would be his manner of walking while under the influence of any particular emotion, it would be a safe guide to his rate of utterance. Animated and playful moods would inanifest themselves in a light and buoyant step, sometimes tripping and bounding along. Hurry and precipitancy are indicated by corresponding haste and impetuosity of movement.

On the contrary, deep emotions of solemnity and awe can exist only with very slow movements. Dignity requires in its expression not only slowness but regularity. Violent passion gives rise to irregular and impulsive speech.

I. Rapid Movement.
1. So light to the croup the fair làdy he swung,

So light to the saddle befòre her he sprung.

2. Under his spurning feet, the road,

Like an arrowy Alpine river, flowed,
And the landscape sped away behind,
Like an ocean flying before the wind.

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3. Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,

Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats,
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,

Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
Pointing tails and pricking whiskers,

Families by tens and dozens,
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives -
Followed the Piper for their lives.

4. And there was mounting in hot häste,

The steed, the must'ring squadron, and the clatt'ring car Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,

And swiftly forming in the ranks of war.

5. Pull, pull in your làssoes, and bridle to steed,

And speed, if ever for life you would speed;
And ride for your lives, for your lives you must ride,
For the plain is aflàme, the prairie on fire,
And feet of wild hòrses hard flying before
I hear like a sèa breaking high on the shòre:
While the buffalo come like the surge of the sea,
Driven far by the flame, driving fast on us three,
As a hùrricane comes, crushing pàlms in his ire.

II. Moderate. 1. Eloquence consists simply in feeling a truth yourself, and in making those who hear you feel it.

12. Flower in the crannied wall,

I pluck you out of the crannies ;-
Hold you here, root and all, in my hànd,

Little flower—but if I could understand
What you áre, root and áll, and all in all,

I should know what God and màn is.

3. A vain man's motto is, “Win gold and wear it;" a generous man's, “Win gold and shàre it;" a miser's, “Win gold and spàre it;" a profligate's, “Win gold and spend it;" a broker's, “Win gold and lènd it;" a gambler's or a fool's, “Win gold and lose it;" but a wise man's, “Win gold and use it."

a

4. The brave man is not he who feels no fear,

For that were stupid and irrational;
But he, whose noble soul its fear subdùes,
And bravely dares the danger nature shrìuks from.

5. To gild refined gold, to paint the líly,

To throw perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of héaven to garnish,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excèss.

III. Slow. 1. Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generàtions. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlàsting, thou art Gòd.

2. O ye loud waves! and 0 ye forests high!

And 0 ye clouds that far above me soared !
Thou rising sùn! thou blue rejoicing sky!

Yea, everything that is and will be free!
Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be,
With what deep worship I have still adored
The spirit of divinest lìberty!

3. I would invoke those who fill the seats of jústice, and all who minister at her àltar, that they execute the wholesome and necessary severity of the làw. I invoke the ministers of our religion, that they proclaim its denunciation of these crimes, and add its solemn sanctions to the authority of hùman laws. If the pulpit be sílent, whenever or wherever there may be a sinner, bloody with this guilt, within the hearing of its voice, the pulpit is false to its trust.

4. Slow, slow! toll it low,

As the sea-waves break and flow;
With the same dull, slumberous motion
As his ancient mother Ocean
Rocked him on through storm and calm,
From the iceberg to the pàlm:
So his drowsy ears may deem
That the sound which breaks his dream
Is the ever-moaning tìde
Washing on his vèssel's side.

IV. Very Slow.
1. O thou Eternal One! whose presence bright

All space doth óccupy, all motion guide;
Unchanged through time's all-devastating flight;

Thou ònly God! There is no God beside.

2. Wide as the world is His command,

Vast as eternity His lòve;
Firm as a ròck His truth shall stand,

When rolling years shall cease to mòve.

3. Here, then, is a support which will never fàil; here is a foundation which can never be mòved,—the everlasting Creator of countless worlds, “the high and lofty One that inhabiteth etèr nity.” What a sublime conception! He inhabits eternity, óccupies this inconceivable duration, pervades and fills throughòut this boundless dwelling.

VI.

FORCE.

THE

THE degree of force or loudness required in reading depends

upon the space to be filled by the reader's voice or the distance it must reach; upon the number of persons presumed to be addressed, and upon the emotion expressed.

What is wanted in every-day use of the voice, in the schoolroom or elsewhere, is a clear tone and easy, natural utterance. The practice of loud and sustained tones is an excellent means of improving the voice, but is to be the exception, not the rule, in ordinary reading. Yet the softest tone must be elastic and full of life. To be natural it is not necessary to be dull.

I. Gentle.
1. The day is dòne, and the darkness

Falls from the wings of Night,
As a fèather is wafted downward

From an eagle in his flight.

2. "How sweetly," said the trembling maid,

Of her own gentle voice afraid-
So long had they in silence stood
Looking upon that moonlit flood-
“How sweetly does the moonbeam smije
To-night upon yon leafy isle!”

3. I delighted to loll over the quarter-railing, or climb to the main-top, of a calm day, and muse for hours together on the tranquil bosom of a summer's sea; or to gaze upon the piles of golden clòuds just peering above the horizon, fancy them some fairy realms, and people them with a creation of my own; or to watch the gentle undulating billows rolling their silver volumes, as if to die away on those happy shòres.

4. How still the morning of the hallowed dày!

Mute is the voice of rural labor, hushed
The ploughboy's whistle, and the milkmaid's song.
The scythe lies glittering in the dewy wreath
Of tedded grass, mingled with faded flowers,
That yestermorn bloomed waving in the breeze.
Sounds the most fàint attract the ear,—the hum
Of early bèe, the trickling of the dèw,
The distant blèating midway up the hill.
Calmness sits throned on yon unmoving cloud.

5. See how beneath the moonbeam's smile

Yon little billow heaves its breast,
And foams and sparkles for a while,

And murmuring then subsides to rèst.

Thus màn, the sport of bliss and care,

Rises on time's eventful sea,
And having swelled a moment there,

Thus melts into eternity.

II. Moderate Force. 1. If we look to what the waters produce, shoals of the fry of fish frequent the margins of rívers, of lákes, and of the sea itself. These are so happy that they know not what to dò with themselves. Their attitudes, their vivacity, their leaps out of the water, their frolics in it, all conduce to show their excess of spìrits, and are simply the effècts of that excess.

2. People talk of liberty as if it meant the liberty of doing what a man likes. The only liberty that a man worthy the name of a man ought to ask for, is to have all restrictions, inward and outward, removed, to prevent his doing what he ought.