and feels what he says, or is there any thing in his delivery which excites the suspicion that he does not understand his subject, or that he is not sincere?

22. Does he have a style of his own, or does he try to imitate the style of another?

23. In declamation is his manner earnest and natural, or does he try to make too much of his piece by the exhibition of unnecessary passion or excitement?

24. What are the distinguishing peculiarities of his manner? Is he pedantic, pompous, timid, theatrical, ministerial, effeminate, manly, irascible, simpering, impudent, sullen, tame, vehement, conceited, or affected?

25. Is he addicted to mouthing, sniffling, ranting, whining, or any other improper habit in reading or speaking? 26. When he attempts to portray passion are the tones of his voice, his look, gestures and action appropriate to the sentiment expressed?

27. In imitation and personation does he give distinct. individuality to the character he personates?

28. Does he appear to have a clear and correct conception of the subject of his personation? If not, in what does his fault consist?

29. Are the expression of the face, the position of the head, the attitude, and the action suited to the subject and the occasion?

30. Do his look, tone, and manner change with the sentiment, or do his features bear the same expression, and his attitude and action continue essentially the same?

31. Does he look his audience in the face, or does he cast his eye upon vacancy, or let it wander in every direction but the right one?

32. In his reading, declamation, and extemporaneous utterance of his own thoughts, does he seem to understand and make a proper application of the rules and principles explained and illustrated in the preceding pages of this treatise?

K. N. E.-12.

In conclusion, I commend the careful study of "Hamlet's Advice to the Players" to every one who desires to become an accomplished reader or an elegant speaker. It is, in itself, a compendium of Elocutionary instruction.

HAMLET'S ADVICE TO THE PLAYERS.

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue. But, if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier had spoken my lines. And do not saw the air too much with your hands; but use all gently: for, in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must beget a temperance that will give it smoothness.

Oh! it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious, periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who (for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise. Pray you avoid it.

Be not too tame, neither; but let your own discretion be your tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action-with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature; for any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end is to hold, as it were, the mirror up to nature: to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the times their form and pressure.

Now, this overdone, or come tardy off, though it may make the unskillful laugh, can not but make the judicious. grieve; the censure of one of which must, in your allowance, outweigh a whole theater of others. Oh! there are players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that, highly-not to speak it profanely-who, having neither the accent of Christian, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.

EXERCISES,

DIDACTIC, MORAL, DESCRIPTIVE AND NARRATIVE.

I. ELOCUTION.

A GREAT deal has been said and written on the subject of elocution. Authors and teachers have furnished excellent rules for pronunciation and the correct modulation of the voice; they have explained the nature and use of stress, volume, pitch, slides, inflections, and all the other elements which enter into correct reading and speaking.

This drill, however, though very useful, and even necessary to a successful cultivation of the art of speaking, will never make an accomplished reader or an eloquent speaker. It may render a man a good mimic or imitator, but that is all.

The reader must seize the soul of the author whose thoughts he would express; he must embody that soul in himself, making it, for the time, a part of his own being. If a reader does not fully comprehend the meaning of the author whose thoughts he wishes to express, he can not with precision present the thoughts of that author to his hearers. Hence, the first step toward good reading will consist in mastering the meaning involved in the piece to be rendered.

This is accomplished by a careful analysis of the author's language, noting the logical connection of ideas, and in de

termining the object which he had in view when he wrote the piece. This is the first step, but by no means the most important. Having discovered the meaning of the author, the next and most important step is to seize and embody in himself the spirit and the character of the passage. The last step consists in putting one's self in the place of the person for whom we speak, and creating in one's self, for the time at least, a tone and habit of thought similar to his, and striving to feel as he most likely felt while writing, or as he would probably feel were he to deliver orally what he had written. Thus prepared, the speaker or reader may rest assured that, with ordinary speaking ability, he will be able to do justice to the sense and sentiments of the author from whom he reads.

II. HOW TO MAKE UP A QUARREL.

WILLIAM LADD was the President of the American Peace Society, and he believed that the principle of peace, carried out, would maintain good will among neighbors as well as nations. But there was a time when he had not fully considered this subject; had not thought much about it, as I dare say many of my hearers have not, and he believed that if a man struck him a blow, it was best and fair to strike right back again, without considering if there were not some better way of overcoming the offender; or, if a man did him an injury, why, as people commonly say, he would "give him as good as he sent."

He then had a farm; and a poor man, who lived on land adjoining his, neglected to keep up a fence which it was his business to keep in order; and, in consequence, his sheep got into William Ladd's wheat-field and did much mischief. William Ladd told his man Sam to go to the neighbor, and tell him he must mend the fence and keep the sheep out.

But the sheep came in again, and William Ladd, who is a very orderly man himself, was provoked.

"Sam," said he, "go tell that fellow if he don't keep his sheep out of my wheat-field I'll have them shot." Even this did not do the sheep were in again. "Sam," said William Ladd, "take my gun and shoot those sheep." "I would rather not," said Sam. "Rather not, Sam? Why, there are but three; it's no great job." "No, sir; but the poor man has but three in the world, and I'm not the person that likes to shoot a poor man's sheep." poor man should take proper care of them. I gave him warning, why did he not mend his fence?" "Well, sir, I guess it was because you sent him a rough kind of a message; it made him mad, and so he would n't do it."

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"Then the

"I considered a few moments," said William Ladd, "and then I told Sam to put the horse in the buggy." "Shall I put in the gun?" said Sam. "No," said I. I saw he half smiled, but I said nothing. I got into my buggy and drove up to my neighbor. He lived a mile off, and I had a good Ideal of time to think the matter over.

When I drove up to the house, the man was chopping wood. There were few sticks of wood, the house was poor, and my heart was softened. "Neighbor!" I called out. The man looked sulky, and did not raise his head. Come, come, neighbor," said I, "I have come with friendly feeling to you, and you must meet half way."

He perceived that I was in earnest, laid down his ax, and came to the buggy. "Now, neighbor," said I, "we have both been in the wrong: you have neglected your fence, and I got angry and sent you a provoking message. Now, let us face about and both do right. I'll forgive you. Now let's shake hands." He didn't feel quite like giving me his hand, but he let me take it. "Now," said I, "neighbor, drive your sheep down to my pasture. They shall share with my sheep till next spring, and you shall have all the yield, and next summer we shall start fair.”