and colloquy, the descriptive parts, even to the minutest details, should be given directly to the audience.

Each word of either character is given as in dialogue, with the face partly turned from the audience, as though no one but yourself and the seeming characters were present, and yet with the full impression that they hear and thoroughly understand the sentiments, as if delivered directly to them.

The following will illustrate this style:

Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,

And shook his very frame for ire,

And This to me," he said;

"An 'twere not for thy hoary beard,

Such hand as Marmion's had not spared

To cleave the Douglas' head."

All except what Marmion is made to utter should be delivered directly to the audience; but the instant he is represented as speaking, the voice should change, and the head turn to an angle from the hearers, to represent him as talking to Douglas; but the words "he said," should be given with the face to the front again, and immediately, in continuing the colloquy, the angle should be resumed as before.

When two or more persons read or speak in dialogue they should feel the sentiments, listen to the language, and look at each other, as in earnest conversation. Each speaker should be interested in all that is said. This gives it an air of reality, and brings out the full meaning.

Shakspeare furnishes the best examples for practice in pure dialogue; Milton (Paradise Lost) for lofty description and colloquy combined.

The practice of humorous description, and also amusing dialogue are by no means to be neglected, as their exercise is still more naturalizing in its effects, if not degraded into buffoonery, than any other means.

The practice of the lighter kinds of expression, embracing wit, especially in the form of satire and irony, gives one a greater ease and confidence in the grander flights of fancy and imagination, as it takes away the tendency to rigidity and mock solemnity, so likely to be induced by reading the sober and dignified styles of language.

Garrick, the great tragedian, was admirable in comedy, and even in farce. Daniel Webster, with all his profundity, Henry Clay, with all his skill, were both remarkable for their wonderful powers of mimicry, and either could "set the table in a roar."

Shakspeare excelled in writing comedy as well as tragedy; he courted the comic as well as the tragic muse; and in the midst of the highest tragedy he gives us the lowest comedy.

He puts the crazed King Lear and the Fool out in the same terrible storm; and in Hamlet he gives us the unhappy Prince and the witty grave-diggers, even amidst the solemnities of burial, in jocular repartee.

Our best and most successful orators are those who are witty as well as wise. Their finest arguments are set off with illustrations of the most diverting and amusing character.

The young are too frequently discouraged in their attempts at wit, or in the recitation of humorous selections, from the fear of contracting light and frivolous habits. But this is wrong and highly injudicious.

To be a well-balanced, not a one-sided orator, a person should have an unerring command over expressions of both wit and gravity. Dry-as-dust oratory is

not for the present age.

ACTION.

Action is infinitely various, and requires to be well set off by great propriety of motion, by study and minuteness in the disposition of the body. Awkward attitudes and gestures detract the mind from the matter to the manner.

As it is in reading with expression, so the basis of real effective action is real feeling. So important is this that it will compensate defects; but there is no incongruity between feeling and the highest grace in action. When the feelings are truly enlisted these graces will increase their power, for they will come spontaneously from previous practice.

Even in pausing, the speaker should retain the expression, attitude and action, for they fill the chasm as though more were coming. By suspending the voice and changing to silence, the attention is arrested, and it seems as though nature were dictating; as though the speaker were reflecting. Cicero says, that the boat moves on from its momentum after the rowers have ceased their efforts.

In highly dramatic styles of language, attitudes are ravishing when graceful, appropriate, and occasional; but disgusting when crowded and awkward.

It is highly improper to get ready to start, in a passion. In nature sudden terror has no action of its own, but rivets us to the posture we are in; or at most averts the head from, or projects the arm against the object.

There should be no anticipation of sprawling, jerking, or distortion. In reading Shakspeare's Hamlet, for example, it is outrageous to make preparation to boldly stare the ghost in the face. It would be far

better for the reader to forget for a moment his own power a little, and think of the shadow.

The graces of gesture and action are simplicity, smoothness, and variety. They consist in changing from one position to another in the free, untrammeled movements of the ductile limbs, added to general symmetry and harmony; but before variety of grace can be obtained there must be flexibility.

The most awkward person may give expression, but rigidity of muscle and stiffness of body destroy graceful action.

The habits of students are especially awkward and ungraceful, from their physically inactive life which is continually cramping and restraining nature. They daily weaken vocal and muscular power and lose confidence in themselves as speakers. There should be no restriction on the mind such as uncertainty, bashfulness, and timidity.

The head should slightly imitate the hands in every motion. The speaker should not stand too erect, but gently wind his body in graceful keeping with the sentiments, using great judgment. The lower limbs should change with the ideas, but great caution must be observed, especially in dignified discourse.

Imitative gesture should be limited to the light styles of expression and never used in serious delivery.

When a man clenches one fist the other does not lie in a quiescent condition. While the face is stern and vindictive, there is energy in the whole frame; when a man rises from his seat in impassioned feeling, there is a certain tension and straining in every limb and feature. If one of those parts were active while the others were in repose, he would present a cramped and spasmlike appearance.

The character must be uniform or there will be no

truth in the expression.

Even in the most animated

language some persons are like statues.

There should be nothing violent, no contortions, no forced attitudes for effect, but we should do just as we would even in the most exciting situations. Exaggeration of physical action is often mistakenly given for the quiet of deep mental emotion.

By long practice we acquire the power to appear perfectly natural, easy, and unlabored, without rule or apparent effort. Different styles of language require different styles of gesture. Tragedy, epic poetry, lyric odes and sublime description require bold, magnificent, graceful, and varied action in their highest cultivation. Orations, generally speaking, especially those abounding with plain arguments, need merely energetic, simple and slightly varied movements.

The gestures of the public speaker must be few and vary according to circumstances of situation, audience, and language, but they must be decided rather than merely graceful; earnest and manly, not delicate and effeminate.

cautious of adding the

The speaker should be slightest trait to the simple but grand character of

making the appeal Each gesture should

natural action, for instead of stronger it is sure to weaken it. have a sufficient reason for its being used. Vigor is given by excitement of the breast, lips, and nostrils; while the posture and the look of the eye add direction and meaning.

By a just energizing of the functions we can work out all the capability of expression in the words as they severally make up the sense. We must never drop a gesture until the period has closed; but vary the movement in a suspensive manner as we continue until the voice falls at a cadence in the language.