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Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-three, by The Copp, Clark Company, Limited, Toronto, Ontario, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture. PART I. liusand mited, Division A. DESCRIPTIVE COMPOSITIONS. " WM a .;»!,;. drop 0/ « for a„irnr, tin emptim mrcnr umKranu l„ «„.»/ .. If A TROPICAL ISLAND. The mountain wooded to the peak, the lawna And winding glades high up like ways to Heaaen, The slender coco's drooping crowns of plumes. The lightning flash of Insect and of bird, The lustre of the long convolvuluses That col id around the stately stems, and ran Ev'n to the limit of the land, the g'ows And glories of the broad belt of the world, All these he saw; but what he fain had seen H» could not see, the kindly human face, Nor ever hear a lilndly voice, but heard The myriad shriek of wheeling ocean-fowl. The league-long roller thundering on the reef. The moving whisper of huge trees that branched And blossom'd in the zenith, or the sweep Of some precipitous rivulet to the wave. As down the shore he ranged, or ail day long Sat often in the seaward-gazing gorge, A shipwreck'd sailor, waiting for a sail : No sail from day to day but every day The sunrise broken into scarlet shafts Among the palms and ferns and precipices; The blaze upon the waters to the east; The blaze upon his island overhead; The blaze upon the waters to the ipest; Then the great stars that globed themselves in Heaven, The hollower-bellowing ocean, and again The scarlet shafts of sunrise— but no sail. PROSE COMPOSITION. DESCRIPTION. CHAPTER I. LANDSCAPES. MODELS. I— Chateaubriand's Picture of the Nest of the Bull- finch. — Once I found a bullfinch's nest in a rosebush. It looked like a pink shell holding four blue pearls. Nodding over it hung a rose heavy with dew-drops. The male bullfinch, motionless, stood guard on a neighbouring shrub, like a flower of azure and purple. These objects were mirrored in a glassy pool, with the reflection of 6 a walnut tree for background, behind which was to be seen the light of dawn. God gave me in that little picture an idea of the loveliness with which He has clothed nature. II.— Ipving:*s Pen-Picture of Eveningf on the Hudson.— The sun gradually wheeled his broad disk down into the west. The wide bosom of the Tappan Zee lay motionless and glassy, excepting that here and there a gentle undulation waved and prolonged the blue shadow of the distant mountain. A few amber clouds floated in the sky, without a breath of air to move them. The horizon 6 was of a fine golden tint, changing gradually into a pure apple- green, and from that into the deep blue of the raid-heaven. A slant- ing ray lingered on the woody crests of the precipices that over- hung some parts of the river, giving greater depth to the dark- grey and purple of their rocky sides. A sloop was loitering in the lo distance, dropping slowly down with the tide, her sail hanging uselessly against the mast ; and as the reflection of the sky gleamed along the still water, it seemed as if the vessel was suspended in the air. Br 6 PROSE COMPOSITION. !M III— Miss Duncan's Description of a Snow-Storm at Tokio in Japan. — The air littd n fainiliiir feeling that January night ; a familiar feeling paradoxically strange in this country I tell you of, where even the wiiuis and the clouds are unfamiliar. The streets of Tokio, as we rode through them from Kanda to Kudan, ^ were very quiet. The paper doors wore all shut, the gentle lights that shone delicately through the tiny white panes, and the wide eaves that hung over the little habitations protectingly low, ex- pressed a thought of home, the first I had found in Japan. The sky was flat and grey and furry, and it was softly oold. ' I carrietl *®a budding camellia branch, with pne conscious red flower open-eyed. I mused upon it, thinking how curious it was that a flower could grow and blow to be just the decorative essence that it seemed, and nothing more — without soul of fragrance, or anything to give it kinship with the sweet companies of other countries. Suddenly I ifisaw my camellia through the (birkness red and white. I looked up — the snow had come. It fell silently, lightly, with a sigh ; the streets were soon white with it, and the foolish little roofs by the wayside, and the shoulders of my jinrikisha man trotting hardily l)etween his shafts. It 20 whispered among the twisted branches of the tall pine trees as we rode into the deeper shadows of a sacred grove, and made a soft crown about the head of Dai-Butz — the great grey -stone Dai-Butz that sits there on a little eminence all day under the sun, all night under the stars, and proaches to the people with folded hands. As 2* we rode over the muat into the Ginza, the flakes began to fall more thickly, became unfriendly, drove into our faces. The long wide avenue of tiny shops, each with its dainty swinging lantern, stretched out behind the storm in dazzled bewilderment ; the bare- ' headed little folk we met bent and shivered, and clattered along on 80 their high wooden getas^ under gireat flat paper umb/ellas, with all their graceful garments drawn tight about them. It was fairyland overtaken by a blizzard, in a sta.te of uncomprehending collapse. Presently, ^ OS we turned into our own deserted c/to, through which our runners' footfalls sounded with soft dull pods and thuds, we 86 saw the square lantern of Kudan, on its pyramid of stones, glowing PElf-PWTURES OF NATURAL 8CENBKY. 7 high nmong the swirling flakes with a new eccentricity. Next morning a strange, white blight lay over our toy garden, and thick upon the camellia hedge, from l)ehind which no sound of our little neighlior's siimisen came at all that day ; and it seemed to us that th(> heart of our Ijeautiful Japan was chilled nnd silent, and that 40 it was time to go. Bh pfrmitaitm 0/ the Author. INDUCTION FROM MODELS. Compositional Analysis : 1. Make with a pencil n rudo sketch of the scene descrilied by Chateau- briand in the first example ; indicate the posittuu of each of the objects mentioned. Where du you imagine the spectator stands with reference to the pints about a subject are collected by obserciny, by thinking, and by remliiuj. Tlie best and most original work in descriptive writing is the result of acute observation. Moth, the clever juvenile character in Shakespeare's Love's Labours Lost, being asked how he had purchased his knowledge for a witty descrijjtion, replied, "By my penny of observation ;" and the greatest master of des- cription in all this world, Shakespeare himself, depended almost entirely -on observation for the materials of his greatest pictures. 1 I 1 12 PBOSE COMPOSITION. • Let us Huppose that we have chosen for our essay the subject, A Stwm on the Lake, from the list above. The very best method of collectings points on this subject would be to visit a lake during a storm, taking with us awakened senses, imagination and a good memory, and a note-book pei-haps as an auxiliary to the memory. But someone may object that he does not live near a lake ; then he should not attempt at present to des- cribe what he cannot study for himself : let him choose some other subject, and proceed in a manner analogous to that outlined here. Before beginning our observations we must choose a point of view, and this we must do in a double sense. We must decide where we shall stand to use our eyes and ears, and we must decide what character, that of our own or that of some other, perhai)s some imaginary person, we shall choose to represent as the one who describes the scene. Now for the first we may choose a [tlace on the beach, or on a promontory, or on a pier ; or we may sUition ourselves on a yacht, or on a schooner, or on a steamer. For the second we may write from our own point of view, and say nothing about ourselves ; or we may pretend that the description came from a friend, or from an old sailor, or some other person. If we choose the point of view of an old sailor, we should have to give his words, and that might prove too difficult just yet. Let us 8U})po8e that we decide to write from our own point of view, (that of a boy or girl at school) and to make the beach our station-point. Having determined the point of vietv in both senses we must next con- sider the question of time. This is, for many reasons, an important question in landscape description. We nmst consider the time of year, and the time of day. Let us suppose that we choose the time of late afternoon in the autumn. We may now proceed to note down all the points we can .collect through observing and correct imagining. Let us suppose that we collect the following points without nmch thought of selection or arrangement : 1. The c(dours in the water. 2. A vessel on tlie bay, its masts, sails, hull. 3. The sounds of winds and waves. 4. Birds. 5. Tradition of a similar storm on the same bay. danger and difficulty encountered by a vessel entering the har!Lv.ur. 7. The sand on the beach. PEN-PICTURES OF NATURAL SCENERY. 13 8. The position of the sun. 9. The clouds in heavy masses. 10. The feelings of a person on the sailing-vessel. 11. The feelings of a person on land. 12. A railway train on the shore of the \Ake 13. The contour of the shore. 14. How the winds rose. 15. The increasing fury of the storm. IG. The continuance and final abatement of the storm. 17. What people said about the storui. 18. The colour of the foliage on tlie shore. 19. At the beach next morning — broken boat-houses, &c. 20. The obsen'er loses his hat. We now have a collection of twenty points bearing on one subject : let us make twenty small tickets of blank paper about one inch by two in size, and write one of these points on each, of them. Let us place these tickets before us and study them attentively. We have already selected the point of vieio and made our collection of material, our next concern is to determine quite clearly, the central idea and tone of our sketch ; these have been determined by us, or for us, more or less, already. It now appears more distinctly that the central idea or motive of the sketch is to depict nature in an angry mood, and that the consequent toive of the picture will be one of gloom, fear, and danger, followed perhaps by a more auspicious ending. It follows that if the sketch is to have harmony and unity, we must reject any points of our collection which are not in keeping with the motive and tone of the description. After due consideration we reject the 18th and the 20th jjoints. We decide also that the 10th and 11th points should be treated together on the principle of contrast, so we write both on one ticket. We have now dealt with the point of view, the collection of material, the motive and tone of the work, and the selection of tlie material ; it remains to arrange the material in the most effective order. When this stage in composing is reached, it is wise to fall back on certain well established principles of order, which have been sanctioned by the judgment and usage of the great writers whose works we take for models. 14 PROSE COMPOSITION. Nearly all compositions in English literature are arranged on one or more than one of the following principles : 1. The details (ppints, facts, incidents,) are arranged in the order in which they occur in fact. 2. The details are arranged in the order of their importance. 3 The details are arranged in the order of logic — cause, course, consequsnce. 4. The details are arranged in the order of a proof — enunciation, reuHoning, conclusion. 6. The details are arranged in the order of a scientific induction — facts, inferences. 6. The details are arranged in the order of increasing interest — contour, principal objects, centre of interest. 7. The details are arranged in the order which will make the clearest impression up(m the reader. (These laws have been stated with a view to usefulness to the young writer rather than with a view to logical exactness.) All tliese laws are subject to the higher law known as the priitciple of suftpense, in accordance with which an unnatural order may be used to produce enipluitic effect. The first, second, sixth, and seventh of these principles are the most useful in descriptive writing. When descriptive writing has an element of narration in it, the first law is usually the underlying pi'inciple of arrangement. But few compositions are so simple as to depend for their arrangement on only one principle. When in doubt concerning the best principle of an'angement, use the principle of climax as being the most artistic. Let us now retu«n to our seventeen tickets which we had placed before us in tlje order in whicli they chanced to occur. Before beginning to arrange them let us write two more tickets, one the introduction, and the other the conclnmni. It may be that in the seventeen we shall find suitable tickets for th^ introduction and the conclusion, but meanwhile let us keep these importjvnt points fixed by separate tickets. We put these at the two ends. Now let us consider whether any of our principles of arrangement are applicable to the poilfts before us. It soon becomes manifest that there is an element of narration in the description of a storm, and consequently that a number of the po'ints may be arranged in acc«jrdance with the first principle. We select points 14, I! PEN-PICTUfiES OF NATURAL SCENERY. 15 15, IB, 19, 17, and placti them between the intnxluction and tlie coiiclnsion, but nut necessarily close to one another. It in clear that points 2, 6, 10 (now including 11), should l>e arranged with respect to one another thus, 2, 10, 6, so that the feelings of a person in the vessel may be considered before the vessel reaches harbour. In accordance with the sixth principle we should describe the general contour of the scene before mentioning the vessel which is, on account of its human ties, the centre of interest ; hence points S and 13 must come near the beginning. Through these an I similar considerations, we continue to place one point after another until we have the most natural and effective order we can c(»ntrive. We decide that point 17 offers scope for a brolish, stood 6 ready prepared for the evening meal of Cedric the Saxon. The roof, composed of beams and rafters, had nothing to divide the apartment from the sky except the planking and thatch ; there was a huge fire- place at either end of the hall, but as the chimneys were constructed in a very clumsy manner, at least as much of the smoke found its 10 way into the apartment as escaped by the proper vent. The con- stant vapour which this occasioned had polished the rafters and beams of the low-browed hall, by encrusting them with a black varnish of soot. On the sides of the apartment hung implements of war and of the chase, and there were at each corner folding-doors, 16 which gave access to other parts of the extensive building. The other appointments of the mansion partook of the rude sim- plicity of the Saxon period, which Cedric piqued himself upon main- taining. The floor was composed of ear th mixed with lime, trodden into a hard substance, such as is often employed in flooring our ao modem barns. For about one quarter of the length of the apart- ment, the floor was raised by a step, and this space, which was called the dais, was occupied only by the principal members of the family* PBN-PICTURES OF INTERIORS OF BUILDINGS. 21 and visitors of distinction. For this purpose, a table richly covered with scarlet cloth was placed transversely across the platform, from the middle of which ran the longer and lower board, at which the 2ft domesties and inferior persons fed, down towards the bottom of the hall. The whole resembled the form of the figure T, or some of those ancient dinner tables, which, arranged on the same principles, may be still seen in the antique colleges of Oxford or Camliridge. Mas- sive chuira and settles of carved o»ik were placed upon the dais, and so over these seats and the more elevated table was placed a canopy of cloth, which served in some degree to protect the dignitaries who occupied that distinguished station from the weather, and especially from the rain, which in some places found its way through the ill. constructed roof. . w The walls of this upper end of the hall, as fai' as the dais exteiuled, were covered with hangings or curtains, and upon the floor was a carpet, both of which were adorned with some attempts at tapestry, or embroidery, executed with brilliant or rather gaudy colouring. Over the lower range of table, the roof, as we have noticed, had no 40 covering ; the rough plastered walls were left bare, and the rude earthen floor was uncarpeted ; the board was uncovered by a cloth, and rude massive benches supplied the place of chairs. In the c mk/re of the upper table were placed two chairs more elevated than the rest, for the master and mistress of the family, 45 who presided over the scene of hospitality, and from doing so derived their Saxon title of honor, which signifies "the Dividers of Bread." To each of these chairs was added a footstool, curiously carved and inlaid with ivory, which mark of distinction was peculiar to them. One of these seats was at present occupied by Cedric the so Saxon, who, though but in rank a thane, or, as the Normans called him, a franklin, felt, at the delay of his evening meal, an irritable impatience, which might have become an alderman, whether of ancient or of modern times. 22 PROSE COMPOSITION. INDUCTION FROM MODELS. Oompositional Analysis *. 2> If you were making a drawing of a room would you begin with the outline or with the details ? Point out the expressions in the description by Dickens which give us the (a) location, (6) outline, (c) details, of Fagin's room. Mention details that the author might have mentioned but omits. Account for his selection of details. What details would you select in describing (a) A Ball- Room, (6) The Cabin of a Ship, (c) The Home of an Indigent Family ? Can you suggest any general rule for the selection of details in describing rooms ? 1. In his description of a bed-chamber Irving deals with the following topics : The location in the mansion, the character of the furniture, the walls, the bed, the relation to the world outside, music and moonlight froni the window, sleep : does the author begin with general description or details i How does the author lend beauty to his description ? To which of the senses does he api)eal ? An author sometimes tells what is not to })e seen in a room. How might this device of neyative description be used in the picture of a log scliool-house ? What would a negative description of a sound be ? Suggest cases in which it might be valuable. Make a list of all the points, such as location, dimensions, sounds, atmos- phere, that it might be well to study in collecting material for the descrip- tion of a room. Can you suggest any general rule for the order of the points to be mentioned in such a description ? 3. Make a list of the points selected by Scott for the description of Cedric's dining-hall. Does he begin by describing the general or the par- ticular ? Is there any sense in which this description may be termed a climax ? In which part of tliis descriptitm does the touch of human interest appear i Show how the association of the joys and sorrows of mankind may give an interest to the descri[)tion of a barn, a log-cabin. Which of these descriptions oflfers the clearest directions for the drawing of the room it describes ? Which subject lends itself most readily to literary effects, a humble cottage, a comfortable residence, or a palace ? Why is it difficult to make an interesting description of the commonplace ? Language Lesson : 1. "My room was in the old part of the house, the heavy furniture of which might have been made in the days of the giants. " Dook this change from classical to English words make the style more, or less, in keeping with the subject ? Discuss the unity of the second sentence. Why is a PEN-PICTURES OF INTERIORS OF BUILDINGS. 2'^ rigid adherence to the law of the unity of the sentence not exacted in those parts of descriptive compositions where details are being ehumerated? ' ' With a lofty tester ; " is this phrase clearly connected with the rest of the sentence ? " Niche ; " comp^e alcove. How does the sentence structure of lines 8-14 suggest the act of listening ? " Round the house " (11); compare around the house. " The curtains " (12); point out the ambiguity. " The moonbeams .... apartment " (13-14). In this short sentence occur the words "part,"' "partially," "apartment;" what is cacophony? Some use the word " partially " only in the sense of "with undue favour ;" would it improve the sentence to change " partially " to partly? " As they receded " (15) ; what does " they " refer to ? Can you make its relation to its antecedent appear without ambiguity ? Wliat device, used five times, lends flow or rhythm tf» the last two sentences ? How does the punctuation of the last sentence harmonize with its meaning ? • 2. "Groping and having" (1, 2) ; recon.struct these two participial phrases so as to avoid the awkward co-ordination of "^ro^>i>i3 rarely separated from their principals by commas. 21. Subordinate adverb clauses seldom take commas before them when they follow the predicate in the natural order of such adjuncts ; but, when they are out of the natural order, they are cut off by commas. In any case, when such clauses are meant to be impressive, commas are used to introduce them formally. 1:1 32 PROSE COMPOSITION. 22. In the expression "hut if* use a comma before "t/" if you with to be impressive or deliberate. 23. A short quotation, a maxim, or an important remark, is separated by a comma from the words introducing it, unless it is very briefly introduced. 24. Vocative expressions, whether nouns, or interjections, or responsives, are regularly followed by commas unless followed by interjections. 25. As a general rule the absence of words in elliptical and contracted sentences is indicated by the comma. 26. As a general rule inversions of the natural order of the English sentence are indicated by the comma. 27. If two or more portions of a sentence bear the same grammatical relation to a succeeding word or clause they are followed by commas. 28. Antithesis in a sentence is often accentuated by the comma. 29. A word or phrase added to a sentence as an afterthought, is separ- ated from it by a comma. 30. Use commas in directing envelopes, after the name, the title, the street, the city, indeed after each part except the last word, which is followed by a period. A RUIN. If thou uiould'at view fair Melrose aright, Qo visit it by the pale moonlight; For the gay beams of lightsome day, Olid, but to flout, the ruins grey. When the broken arches are black In night. And each shafted oriel glimmers white; When the cold lights uncertain shower Streams on the ruin'd central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately. Seem framed of ebcn and ivory ; When silver edges the Imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die; When distant Tweed is heard to rave, And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, Then go -but go alone the while- Then view St. David's ruin'd pile; And, home returning, sooth I y swear Was never scene so sad and fair DESCRIPTION OF ANIMALS. 96 CHAPTER III. DBSORIPTION or ANIMALS. MODELS. I.— Enault's Portrait of Z6ro (Le Chien du Capitaine).— Z^ro, the involuntary cause of this deplorable misunderstanding, did not at first sight appear to deserve the love of the husband nor to justify the apprehensions of the wife. Like many men of our acquaintance he was absolutely devoid of charms. Nature had l)eeii sparing of her gifts in his outward adornment. There was 5 nothing brilliant about him. There had fallen to his lot a soft and feeling heart, but certainly it was but poorly housed. He lacked even the distinguishing marks of good breeding : rather long in the body, low on his legs, with a monstrous head set off with a bristling moustache and a woolly tuft of hair, which fell down over his eyes, i„ he had at least an original physiognomy, which saved him from being mistaken for any person. His coat was as mixed as his blood, being of pepper and salt like the beard of a man of fifty-five, straight and curly in patches, close on the back and haunches but heaped up on the neck like a sort of tippet, which fell over his shoulders and is gave him a somewhat leonine aspect. Altogether his appearance was, perhaps, odd, but not in the least genteel. No one would have thought that such a dog could have been the successful rival of a pretty woman. II.— Dr. John Brown's Portrait of Rab.— I wish you could have seen him. There are no such dogs now. He belonged to a lost tribe. As I have said, he was brindled and gray like Rubislaw granite ; his hair short, hard and close, like a lion's ; his body thick- set, like a bull — a sort of compressed Hercules of a dog. He must ^ have been ninety pounds' weight, at the least ; he had a large, blttnt head ; his muzzle black as night, his mouth blacker than any night, 36 PBOSE COMPOSITION. ■ii-t ••■ I a tooth or two — being all he had — gleaming out of his jaws of dark, ness. Hi.4 head was scarred with the record of old wounds, a sort 10 of series of fields of battle all over it ; one eye out, one ear cropped off as close as was Archbishop Leighton's father's ; the remaining eye had the power of two ; and above it, and in constant communi- cation with it, was the tattered rag of an ear, which was forever unfurling itself like an old flag ; and then that bud of a tail, about 16 one inch long, if it could in any sense be said to be long, being as ?>ioad as long — the mobility, the instantaneousness of that bud was very funny and surprising, and its expressive twinklings and winkings, the intercommunication between the eye, the ear and it, were of the oddest and swiftest. 20 Rab had the dignity and simplicity of great size, and having fought bis way all along the road to absolute supremacy, he was as mighty in his own line as Julius Caesar or the Duke of Wellington, and had the gravity of all great fighters. You must have often observed the likeness of certain men to 25 certain animals, and of certain dogs to men. Now I never looked at Rab without thinking of the great Baptist preacher, Andrew Fuller. The same large, heavy, menacing, combative, sombre, honest countenance, the same deep, inevitable eye, the same look — as of thunder asleep, but ready ; neither a dog nor a man to be trifled with. From "Rab and his Friend," by permission of the publisher. III.— Irving's Picture of Ichabod Crane Riding the Steed Gunpowder. — That he might make his appearance before his mistress in the true style of a cavalier, Ichabod borrowed a horse from the farmer with whom he was domiciliated, a choleric old Dutchman of the name of Hans Van Ripper, and, thus gallantly 6 mounted, issued forth, like a knight-errant in quest of adventures. But it is meet I should, in the true spirit of romantic story, give some account of the looks and equipment of my hero and his steed. The animal he bestrode was a broken-down plough-horse, that had outlived almost everything but his viciousness. He was gaunt and 10 shagged, with a ewe neck and a head like a hammer ; his rusty mane and tail were tangled and knotted with burrs ; one eye had lost its pupil, and was glaring and spectral ; but the other had the gleam of DESCRIPTION OF ANIMALS. 37 a genuine devil in it. Still he must have had fire and mettle in his day, if we may judge from the name he bore, of Gunpowder. He had, in fact, been a favorite steed of his master's, the choleric Van is Ripper, who was a furious rider, and hafl infused, very probably, some of his own spirit into the animal ; for, old and broken-down as he looked, there was more of the lurking devil in him than in any young filly in the country. Ichabod was a suitable figure for such a steed. He rode with 20 short stirrups, which brought his knees nearly up to the pommel of the saddle ; his sharp elbows stuck out like grasshoppers' ; he carried his whip perpendicularly in his hand, like a sceptre, and, as his horse jogged on, the motion of his arms was not unlike the flapping of a pair of wings. A small wool hat rested on the top of his nose, for 26 so his scanty strip of forehead might be called ; and the skirts of his black coat fluttered out almost to the horse's tail. Such was the appearance of Ichabod and his steed, as they shambled out of the gate of Hans Van Ripper, and it was altogether such an apparition as is seldom to ' e met with in broad daylight. so INDUCTION FROM MODELS. Compositional Analysis : 1. Under what aspect does Enault describe Z^ro ? Tell how that affects tlie phraseology throughout. Compare the points mentioned here with those mentioned in the picture of Rab. Account for the diflferences and for the" difference of arrangement. Wliat is meant to be shown by the descrip. tion — " rather long in the body — leonine aspect " i Outline as a contrast to this picture a systematic account of some breed of dogs, as The Blood- hound, and note the difference between popular description and scientific description. The one describes individuals, the other describes types. . 2. How has the author avoided abruptness in introducing this elaborate description of Rab ? What is the purpose of the first sentence in the third paragraph ? What are the first five points mentioned in the descrip- tion ? Why is the fifth especially dwelt upon ? Why is so much made of the eye, ear and tail ? W hat distinct purpose do paragraphs two and three 1 J' 38 PROSE COMPOSITION. I'' 5if iil t:. 1 serve ? Show that they combine readily with each other and with the latter part of the first paragraph. What is the tone of the latter part of the description — after " his muzzle," — ? What is the effect of the com- parisons to historical personages ? Note the choice made — " Archbishop Leighton's father," "Julius Csesar," "Duke of Wellington," "Andrew Fuller." 3. What is the purpose of the description given by Irving of Ichabod Crane's steed ? Point out the parts justifying your opinion. Show the suitableness of the first sentence descriptive of the horse — " The animal, etc." Language Lesson: 1. What expectations are aroused, in the reader's mind, by the oj)en- ing sentence ? " Appear to deserve. . . .of the wife " (2, 3,); this part of the sentence is energetic, skilful, rliythmical, and pleasing ; to what device are those qualities mainly owing ? Does " men " (3) mean other men, or should it be read with emphasis ? What effect has the author's playfulness upon the style of the second, third, fourth, and fifth, sentences ? " He lacked. . . .any person." (7, 12,) with this sentence compare the following, " Being rather long in tlie body and low on his legs, he lacked the dis- tinguishing marks of good breeding ; but a monstrous head set off with a bristling moustache, and a woolly tuft of hair falling down over his eyes, gave him at least an original physiognomy which saved him from being mistaken for anyone else." " His coat was as mixed as his blood," (12) ; what (piality does this zeugma add to the style 1 Point out similitudes in the remainder of this sentence, and state their effect. Show the force of the adverbs in the sentence before the last by comparing it with the following : His appearance was odd, but not genteel. What bearing has the last sentence upon the first, and upon the luiity of the paragraph ? Why should " such " in the last sentence be read with emphasis ? 2. How does Dr. Brown's humourous diffidence about attempting to describe the great Kab affect the first sentence ? Compare in sound " brindled and gray like Rubislaw granite " with "gray and brindled like Rubislaw granite." The similitudes of this sentence have great harmony with the subject, are they deficient in variety ? What do granite, lion, bull, and Hercules, suggest beyond the ideas they primarily illustrate ? " He must have been jaws of darkness " (5, 9,) ; this sentence contains several distinct statements ; in what degree does it possess unity ? Coou* pare it in point of unity with the following sentence : Our author's father DESCRIPTION OF ANIMALS. 'Ji9 \ was born in the island of Jersey, emigrated to America, and reared a large family of children. By what means does the author achieve emphasis in the expression, "his mouth blacker than any night"? "Scarred with the record of old wounds," (9) ; the oddness of this expression is redeem- ed by its novelty, ingenuity, and fanciful playfulness ; but what does it mean? What expressions below explain "old wounds"? Discuss the unity of this sentence. "Like an old flag," (14) ; this denotes that the ear was thin and fluttering ; what does it suggest beyond its denotation ? Mention other ingenious and humourous expressions in this sentence. " Of great size," amplify this condensed phrase. What does " ab.solute supremacy " connote ? "As Julius Caesar or the Duke of Wellington " ; supply the ellipsis. Is the author's use of "you "'and " I " appropriate ? The longer the author continues to describe Rab the more he speaks of him as if he were a great man, by what means does he make the last sentence a fitting culmination of this humourous climax ? 3. Show the effect on the choice of words in the first eight lines, result- ing from Irving's humourous idea of writing in the " spirit of romantic story." The first sentence leads us to expect a continuati. Every limb and feature had their appropriate expression. 14. I never saw such a man as him. 15. Between you and I he is mistaken. 16. Who can this have been done by ? 17. The story was told by the hunter, he whom I showed you. 18. Let each esteem other better than themselves. 19. He told John and I to go with him. 20. Whom do you think came with us ? 21. He was neither expert in this or that- 22. He isn't here I don't think. 23. We wont hardly succeed in our effort. 24. Nor can I not believe but that hereby great gains are mine. 26. I do not intend to do it, because of his meanness. 26. We do not want bread or milk. 27. They did not speak to John and Mary. 28. He was told that if he couldn't find his hat he might go home. DESCRIPTION OF ANIMALS. 41 29. Notwithstanding his attempts to seem gay, his gloom communicated itself to the Templar. 30. He dont lay down till midnight. 31. They were overcome bj' the news. 32. Has the last bell rang yet ? 33. John has gotten a new liat. 34. Divide the apple in three parts. 35. He told him to get off of the fence. 3. Correct with explanations the following sentences where necessary : 1. He wrote a historical account. 2. They came to an unanimous decision. 3. She WHS mated with an husband. 4. We had a horse and a carriage. 5. A white and a black horse drew the load. 6. The street is a long and a beautiful one. 7. The horse and cow stood on the road. 8. The saint, the father and the husband prays. 9. We walked away with the secretary and treasurer of the association. 10. The chairs and tables were broken. 11. The idle and industrious boys fare alike. 12. This boy is the smallest and the bravest. 13. The black and white horse won the' race. 14. The Third and Fourth Regiments marched past. 15. He put the brass and copper coins in one bag and the gold and silver coins in another. 16. I dont like that sort of a man. 17. I asked him for the fourth of it. 18. They gave him the name of a scoundrel. 19. A lion is the kiiig of beasts. 20. No taller and more powerful a man than he had ever been seen there. 4. Correct or justify the following sentences : — 1. I feel deep sympathy for you. 2. He is a different man to what he was. 3. He compares life with a ship. 42 PEOSE COMPOSITION. 4. He was averse to our plan. 5. The Germans have a different idea of what a good novel is than the English. 6. Under the circumstances he did bis best. 7. He hesitated between every word and looked around. 8. I inquired about what he was speaking. 9. Refuse to obey tyrants and reverence them. 10. They accused him with being unjust. 11. We prefer him rather than her. 12. He died with inflammatory rheumatism. 13. It treats on the whole subject. 14. He assimilated his plan with that of his predecessor. 15. His speech was characterized with eloquence. 16. The teacher inculcated his pupils with these views. 17. They pacified him with gentle remonstrances. 18. He is an example of what a man is capable. 19. I must request you to see to it and do so at once. 20. You are sure to profit from your studies. PRACTICE. Practice List : Write a composition on one of the following subjects 1. The Hill of Ants. 2. An Old Horse. 3. A Thoroughbred Horse. 4. Our Dog. 5. A Nest of Birds. 6. A Feathered Family. 7. A Team of Horses. 8. A Certain Coon. 9. My Neighbour's Dog. 10. A Comical Animal. DESCRIPTION OF ANIMALS. 43 Arrangement of Material : A Nest of Birds. Write a series of topic sentences on the following paragraph subjects and then expand each sentence into a paragraph. Be careful to secure a connection between the paragraphs ; so that when they are written, you may have a succient oomposition on the foregoing subject : — 1. A garden in springtime. 2. The bird and its mate. 3. The building of the nest. 4. The nest and eggs. 5. The young birds. 6. The feeding and protection of the young ones. 7. Learning to fly and departure. Practical Suggestions : 1. Always write your composition twice, at least ; in the first writing think only of your subject, in the second think chiefly of your style of expression, and wherever you can, take the opportunity to correct and improve it. 2. It is a good plan to write directly for the ear of some person of good sense and taste : the prospect of reading your Avork aloud to such a person is a guard against an affected, mawkish way of thinking and writing. 3. To make errors in pronoun and verb forms is to throw doubt on your accuracy and culture. 4. Every composition should have one main and dominant thought which gives it singleness of purpose : this thought may be expressed in one clear statement : the composition elaborates this thought with grace and variety. 5. Every composition should have one dominant tone of feeling. A HORSE. Look, when a painter would surpass the life, In limning out a well-proportion'd steed, His art with nature's workmanship at strife, As if the dead the lluing should exceed ; So did this horse exceed a common one, In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone. Jlound-hoofd, short-jainted, fetlocks shag and long, Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide. High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong. Thin main, thick tail, broad, buttock, tender hide ; Look, what a horse should haue he did not lack, Save a proud rider on so proud a back. Sometimes he scuds far off, and there he stares ; Anon he starts at stirring of a feather; To bid the wind a base he now prepares, And whe'r he run or fly they know not whether ; For through his mane and tail the high wind sings, Fanning the hairs, who waue like feather'd wings. EXTERIORS OF BUILDINGS, 47 CHAPTER IV. EXTERIORS OF BUILDINGS. MODELS. I— Buskin's- Description of the Casa Grimani.— Of all the buildings in Venice, later in date than the additions to the Ducal Palace, the noblest is, beyond all question, that which, having been condemned by the proprietor, not many years ago, to be pulled down and sold for its materials, was rescued by the Austrian & government, and appropriated — the government officers having no other use for it — to the business of the post office ; though still known to the gondolier by its ancient name, the Casa Grimani. It is composed of three stories of the Corinthian order, at once simple, delicate and sublime ; but on so colossal a scale, that the three- lo storied palaces on its right and left only reach to the cornice which marks the level of its first floor. Yec it is not at first perceived to be so vast ; and it is only when some expedient is employed to hide it from the eye, that by the sudden dwarfing of the whole reach of the Grand Canal, which it commands, we become aware that it is to the is majesty of the Casa Grimani that the Rialto itself, and the whole group of neighboring buildings, owe tlio greater part of their impressiveness. Nor is the finish of its details less notable than the grandeur of their scale. There is not an erring line, nor a mistaken proportion, throughout its noble front ; and the exceeding 20 firmness of its chiselling gives an appearance of lightness to the vast blocks of stone out of whose perfect union that front is com- posed. The decoration is sparing, but delicate ; the first story only simpler than the rest, in that it has pilasters instead of shafts, but all with Corinthian capitals, rich in leafage and fluted delicately ; 25 the rest of the walls flat and smooth, and their mouldings sharp and shallow, so that the bold shafts look like crystals of beryl running through a rock of quartz. By perminsion 0/ the publisher. t 48 PROSE COMPOSITION. t II.— Ruskin's Description of St. Mark's.— We will push fast through them into the shadow of the pillars at the end of the " Bocca di Piazza," and then we forget them all ; for between these pillars there openi \ great light, and, in the midst of it, as we « advance slowly, the vast tower of St. Mark seems to lift itself visibly forth from the level field of chequered stones ; and, on each side, the countless arches prolong themselves into ranged symmetry, as if the rugged and irregular houses that pressed together above us in the dark alley had been struck back into sudden obedience and 10 lovely order and all their rude casements and broki&n walls had been transformed into arches charged with goodly sculpture, and fluted shafts of delicate stone. And well they may fall back, for beyond those troops of ordered arches there rises a vision out of the earth, and all the great square 15 seems to have opened from it in a kind of awe, that we may see is far away ; — a multitude of pillars and white domes, clustered into a long low pyramid of colored light ; a treasure-heap, it seems, partly of gold, and partly of opal and mother-of-pearl, hollowed beneath into five great vaulted porches, ceiled with fair mosaic, and 20 beset with sculpture of alabaster, clear as amber and delicate at ivory, — sculpture fantastic and involved, of palm leaves and lilies, and grapes and pomegranates, and birds clinging and fluttering among the branches, all twined together in an endless network of buds and plumes ; and, in the midst of it, the solemn forms of ^^ angels, sceptred, and robed to the feet, and leaning to each other across the gates, their figures indistinct among the gleaming of the golden ground through the leaves beside them, interrupted and dim, like the morning light as it faded back among the branches of Eden when first its gates were angel-guarded long ago. And round the 30 walls of the porches there are set pillars of variegated stones, jasper and porphyry, and deep-green serpentine spotted with flakes of snow, and marbles, that half refuse and half yield to the sunshine, Cleo- patra-like, *' their bluest veins to kiss " — the shadow as it steals back from them, revealing line after line of azure undulation, as a 36 receding tide leaves the waved sand ; their capitals rich with inter- woven tracery, rooted knots of herbage, and drifting leaves of EXTERIORS OF HUILUINdS 40 acanthus niul vine, and niyHtical .signs, all hcginning and ending in th<' Cross ; and above them, in the hroad arehivolts, a continuous vhain of language and of life - angels and the signs of heaven, and the lalKM's of men, each in its appointed season upon the earth ; and *" ahove these, another range of glittering pinnacles, mixed with white arches edged with scarlet Howers, — a confusion of delight, amidst which the breasts of the (Jreek horses are seen bla/ing in their breadth of golden strength, and the St. Mark's Lion lifted on a blue Held covered with stars, until at last, as if in ecsta.sy, the crest of ^•'' the arches break into a marble foam, and to.ss thenvselves far into the blue ,sky in flashes and wreaths of sculptured spray, as if the breakers (m the Lid») shore had been fiost-bound liefore they fell, and the sea-nymphs had inlaid them with coral and amethyst. Hi) pennUxiiiH of the puhliiiher. HI — Halibupton's Description of the Ruined Lodg-e. -After leaving Halifax the road to Windsor winds for ten miles round the margin of Bedford Basin, which is connected with the harbour by a narrow pa.ssage at the dockyard. Tt is an extensive and magnificent sheet of water, the shores of whi. ,, are deeply indented with numer-' ous coves, and well-sheltered inlets of great beauty. At a distance of .'jeven miles from the town is a ruined lodge, built by his Royal Highness the late Duke of Kent, when commander- in-chief of the forces in this colony, once his favourite summer resi- dence, and the scene of his munificent hospitalitie.s. It is impo.ssible ^" to visit this spot without the most melancholy feelings. The totter- ing fence, the prostrate gates, the ruined grottos, the long anatches a young growth of such trees as are common to the country. ,M) As I approached the house I noticed that the windows were broken out, or shut up with rough boards to exclude the rain and snow ; the doors supported by wooden pi-ops instead of hinges, whic-h hung loosely on the panels : and that long luxuriant clover grew in the eaves, which had been originally designed to conduct the water 65 from the roof, but becoming choked up with dust and decayed leaves^ had afforded sufficient food for the nourishment of coarse grasses. The portico, like the house had been formed of wood, and the flat sui'face of its top imbibing nd retaining moisture, presented a mass EXTERIORS OF BUILDINGS. 51 of vegetjihle matter, from which had sprung up a young and vigorous birch-tree, whose strength and freshness seemed to mock the helpless ^' weakness that nourished it. I had no desire to enter the apart- ments ; and indeed the aged ranger, whose occupation was to watch over its decay, and to prevent its premature destruction by the pKin); " sculjjture of alabaster" etc. (20); "solemn forms" jtc. (24); "angel- guarded'' (21)); "variegated st(mes'' (30): "deep-green serpentine spotted'' etc. (31); "Cleopatra-like " (32-33); "waved sand" (35); "continuous chain" (38-31»); "glitter- ing pinnacles" (41); "frost-bound" (48); run over these expressions, classifying the epithets according to their value, making the following en- 7). Why not "royal road to learn- ing?" "In simihir terms'' (99). Compare "similarly." Contrast this extract with the previous one in reference to originality of thouglit and novelty of diction. I < . ■««! Exercises : 1. Point out examples of grammatical agreement in Mo(lel I. 2 What rules of agreement are often violated ? 3 Correct the folhnving whei'e necessary and explain any difficulties ; I. — 1. His father was one of the best men that has ever lived. 2. He was the first man who landed in this country. 3. These words are Socrates, the wisest of men's. 4. Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace. m 56 PROSE COMPOSITIOX. II. III. 6. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 10. 17. 18. VX 20. — 1. 2. a. 4. 5. G. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. IG. 17. 18. 19. 20. -1 o Have any of you a knife ? Have none of you a knife ? I was HurjjriHed at him blushing. He don't like those kind of pen^i. I have no doubt but what we will go. This event, though it was sudden, yet was not altogether unexpected .. Homer as well as Virgil were .studied. He speaks better than any man I ever heard. ^'ou said that you should go home. The ebb and flow of the tides have been explained. It was a l)ook read by many and which all appreciated. Nodding their heads before her goes the merry minstrelsy. Directly he came we set out. Can I leave the room ? No, you cannot. Thou loved and lovely one, who did for me what none beside h.ive done. There was less than a hiuidred people there. Thus nnich is certke. , He wrote a moderately sized volume. EXTERIORS OF BUILDINGS Oi 4. What principles unclerluid audi practice ? 5. He in nut worthy the name of a gentleman. 6. He couldn't have drank two cupsful. 7. Such an one will succeed. 8. The bugle sounded very harshly. 0. That is the more universal opinion. 10. They were illy supplied with clothing. 11. A nation has no right to violate their treaties. 12. I dont know as I can do it now. 13 I will go and lay down. 14. Why don't he like me ? 15. You have weakened instead of strengthened your case. 10. I doubt if he shall come. 17. Men are put in the plural because they are many. 18. This is the easiest learned of the two. 19. I can and have cured this disease. 20. He stot)d firmer than before. PRACTICE. Practice List: Write a composition on one of the following subjects dealing only with the exterior : — 1. A Hovel. 2. A Shop. 8. An Empty House. 4. A Cathedral. 5. A Mansion : Christmas Eve. 6. An old Home. 7. A Haunted House. 8. A Farm House. 9. The Parliament Buildings. 10. A City Hall. i I 58 PROSE COMPOSITION. Arrangement of Material : The Parliament Buihlinj^w. AiTHUge the following paragraph subjects in what you consider the l)e8t order, ex[)and the subjects into paragraphs so as to produce a descrij>tion of tlie Parlianjent Buildings : — 1. The divisions. 2. The grounds. t'i. The situation. i 4. The towers. 5. The Library. (). The buildings as seen from a distance. 7. The scene in front of the buildings at the opening of Parlianient. Practical Suggestions : 1. The composition when finished should be so written that it might be sent without change to a newspaper for publication ; this requires careful punctuation, correct use of cajntals, and the avoidance of abbreviatit)ns that are not recognized as allowable in literaiy English. 2. Before rewriting the composition read each sentence carefully, as you would read a sentence given to be corrected. 3. Before writing your compositicm the first time (a) collect all the material you can on the subject, (b) select such material from your collec- tion as you can use, (c) arriDnje the material selected in the most suitable iii'der. 4. Never begin a sentence without having a clear idea of what you are going to say. 5. Always use shall and should rather than irill and ironld when in doubt, because nine mistakes out of ten in connection with these auxili- aries are made by taking the opitosite course. Never say iciill I? except to j'ourself. Oil be ful >ns on m ;c- )Ie re A VILLAGE. Sweet Auburn! loveliest uillage of the plain; Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed : Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease. Seats of my youth, when every sport could please. How often have I loitered o'er thy gneen, Where humble happiness endeared each scene. How often have I paused on every charm, • The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, The never-failing brook, the busy mill. The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill. The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made I 1 1 111 li- l)t I t DESCRIPTIONS OF TOWNS AND CITIES. 61 CHAPTER V. ^ DKSCRirnONS OP TOWNS AND CITIKS. MODELS. I— Howells' Picture of a Street in Quebec— Quebec lay sjiining in the tender oblique light of the northern sun when they passed next morning through the Upper Town market-place and took their way towards Hope Gate, where they were to be met by the colonel a little later. It is easy for the alert tourist to lose his course in Quebec, and they, who were neither hurried nor heedful, went easily astray. But the street into which they had wandered, if it did not lead straight to Hope Gate, had many merits, and was very characteristic of the city. Most of the houses on either hand were low structures of one story, built heavily of stone or stuccoelil (i2 J' HOSE ( 'OMPOSJ Tli >iV. Hi'«po as T know not what. OM-VVorld stnM^t cun t'oninwiiid : th«' St. Ijentine ; alonj^ the (juays before their ^ates wei-e liiliiiif troops of kni^'hts, n >ble in face and form, da/zlin<^ in crest and shield; horscMind man one labyrinth of (piaint color and <,'leamin^ lij^ht — the purple, and silver, and scarlet fringes flowing ovci theii^ strong limbs and clashing mail, like sea-waves over rocks at sunset, Opening on each side from the rivei" were gardens, couits, ami cloisters; long successions of white pillars among wreaths of \ine ; leaping <)f fountains through buds of pomegranate and orange: and still along the garden-paths, and under and through the crimson of ir. the pomegranate shadows, moving slowly, groups of tlie fairest women that Italy evei* saw— fairest, because purest and thoughtfullest ; trained in all high knowledge, as in all courteous art — in d.-ince, in song, in sweet wit, in lofty learning, in loftier courage, in loftiest love —able alike to cheer, to enchant, or save, the souls of men 20 Above all this scenery of perfect human life, rose dome and l»ell. tower, burning with white alabaster and gold; beyond dome and bell- tower the slopes of mighty hills, hoary with olive ; far in the noi-th, above a j)urple sea of peaks of sohMnn Apennine, the clear, sharp. doveiL Cai'rara mountains sent up their steadfast thimes of inail»le2r> summit into amber sky ; the great sea itself, scorcliing with expanse of light, stretching from their feet to the Gorgonian isles ; and over all these, ever present, near or far — seen through the leaves of vine, or imaged with all its march of clouds in the Arno's stream, or set with its depth of blue close against the golden hair and burning 30 cheek of lady and knight — that untroubled and sacred sky, which : J m iii. m PROSE COMPOSITION. was to all tnen, in those days of innocent faith, indeed the unques- tioned abode of spirits, as the earth was of men ; and which opened straight through its gates of cloud and veils of dew into the awful- as ness of the eternal world ; — a heaven in which every cloud that passed was literally the chariot of an angel^ and every ray of its Evening and Morning streamed from the throne of God. liy permission 0/ the ptibli>ihei: INDUCTION FROM MODELS. Oompositional Analysis : 1. What part does tlie iirst sentence play in t'ije picture of tlie Quebec scene ? Wliat characteristic <»f the city is suggested in the second sen- tence f What is tlie author's pui'pose in describing one street, if we judge Ills purpose from the latter part of the tliird seut»^:ice i Is it possible to give a better description of a city by describing one average street in detail than by a more general description of the whole city ? Why ! After the three introductory sentences, the author describes the appearance of the houses, the sidewalks and the pavement ; his eye wanders nattirally along the converghig lines of these to the "breadth of the city wall " ; wliat is it at tliat i)oiut that suggests the sentiment of the concluding sentence, and why does lie couple with that sentiment the bit of landscaj>e which finishes the picture ! In this slight but vivid sketch of the scene "over the top of the wall," what principle governs the order of the ■); "those ministers of the law" (17); " jxirfe eochere/' (17, 18) ; "those ancient streets, dear to < )ld-World travel, in vvhicli the past and the present, decay and repair, peace and war have made friends iu an ett'ect that not only wins the eye but, however iUogically, touches the heart" (23, 27). C<»nvert the first sentence into the j)eriodic form. In which form does it seem to arouse the greater expectations of the description to follow t Rewrite the second sentence so as to sliow more clearly the bearing of the second clause upon the first. Is the "if" of line eight used in the ordinary conditional sense? With what purpose did the author write the sentence beginning in the ninth line I Why did he not use the full stop at the end of the eleventh line? Why did he not let the sentence run on to the word "door" in the eighteenth line, merely using a :semi-colon after "law" in the seven- teenth i Discuss the luiity of the sentence beginning iu the eighteenth line. In the last sentence, show how the use of " it had " gives ccmipact- ness to the structure. Show how the author might have over-used the word "then" in introducing the rhythmical parallels with which he con- cludes. " And the hazy heaven over them" (31); compare in euphony and connotation, and the doi(d)j sky over them. ; f i I 66 PROSE COMPOSITION. I •• : ' 2. To what central idea does Lytton adapt his description of Grassdale T How does this point of view affect the diction / " Sequestered hamlet " (2) ; simplify. The latter part of the first sentence, " which I have often .... regret," is conceived on the principle of antithesis ; what effect has this on its construction ? "A certain reluctance and regret " (3, 4) ; why not a certain retjret and reluctance, since the latter would be more euphonious? "That still retain" (5); compare ivhich still retain. " Singular " (5) ; compare this appropriate epithet with strange. "The charm of legend " (G) ; it is a favourite device in description to heighten the effect by narration of associated incidents ; how is the effect heightened here? "Arrest" (6); compare interest. "More pastoral beauty " (8) ; compare (ireater pastoral beauty. The last sentence of the tiist paragi-aph shows a skilful management of modifying phrases and chiuses, each being placed in a position at once natural and effective, with one exception. Which is the exception^ The sentence is not improved l)y the second use of " which," because "the hamlet to which " and "in a valley which" make a parallel that is (juite uncalled for. The first sentence of the second paragraph is hopelessly confused ; rewrite it stating clearly what you suppose to be its meaning. "Observed" (14); compare said. "A flower in a cottage garden, or a bird-cage at the cottage casement " (15, 16) ; why does the author say "« cottage garden" and " ^/ic cottage casement?'" " Than their neighbours " (17); is this precise? "Sterile labour" (18) ; compare sordid hdioiir. "To be remarked" (19) ; compare to he observed. "In almost every one .... Grassdale ; " is this consistent with your idea of the meaning of the first sentence of this {)aragrapli ^ "But rather to sweeten the air, etc. ..." (22) ; rewrite the sentence in which this occurs, so as to show more clearly the relation of the last part to the rest. " At its rear its plot " (23) ; rewrite for greater smoothness. " Apportioned " (24) ; write an ecjuivalent. " Fenced also from, etc. . . ."' (25) ; is not this ambiguous { "The vvall-Hower or the stock" (2(), 27) ; why not place the shorter word first .^ "And" (27); might " and " 1)9 omitted here? Might the period before it be made a .semi-colon ? "No ignoble repute " (32) ; what is the advantage of the litotes ? " Tlie gentle craft of the Angle" (33) ; what is . .o gain from the periphrasis ? What is meant by " the Angle " ? " Whom our associations defend in spite of our mercy" (33, 34); simplify by expansion. "This repiite drew welcome and periodical itinerants" (34, 25); siuiplify. "And single" (37); is this justified by the sense ? by the sound / How do you think this sketch compares with the preceding one in the following points : (a) word- painting ; (b) clearness of impression ; (c) correctness of language ; d) beauty of thought and language ; (e) keenness of observation i DESCRIPTIONS OF TOWNS AND CITIES. 67 IS tch x\- e ; 3. Rhetorically this sketch is composed of two paragraphs — the first brief and introductory, the second a climax of three sentences of increas- ing length and power. The introductory paragraph comprises twenty- eight words ; the first descriptive sentence, eighty words ; the second, ninety-nine, and the third, one hundred and ninety-nine. The descrip- tion shows great harmony of spirit and detail, vividness of outline and colouring, richness of metaphor and imagination, intensity of enthusiasm^ and a penetrating and exalted conception of the meaning of the material world, rarely met with except in the great poets. But from a rhetorical (as distinguished from a literary) point of view, the charm, of the para- graph lies in the eloquent sonority of its periods. The wealth of epithets and of elaborating phrases employed by Ruskin in this passage, contribute to the fulness of the sound and to the rhythmical cadence of the accents. No metrical laws govern the following of accents in prose, yet in rhyth- mical prose there is a certain irregular regularity in the rising and falling of the sound through stress and intermission, and this characteristic places rhythmical prose far above common collo(;[uial language, though far below the most musical verse. Rhythmical prose seems to be the natural expression of conviction, persuasion, enthusiasm and similar moods, as poetical rhythm is the expression of passion and emotion. Outwardly it depends largely upon a few simple devices : (a) the use of words in pairs ; (h) the ii8e of words in lists ; (c) the use of i)hrases in succession ; (d) the use of clauses in parallel construction ; (e) the balance of subject and ])redicate in length and in fulness of sound. These eftects are assisted by placing the longer forms last in successions, so as to avoid the flatness of weak endings. English prose makes frequent use of i)hrases beginning with a preposition and an article ; consequently the accents fre(|uently fall at intervals of two syllables. Symbolic monosyllables seldom take stress. Sometimes the rhythm is metrical for a line or two, e.f/., "along the quays before their gates were riding troops of knights " (7, 8) ; is the verb placed before its subject here in order to produce this effect ? Point out the devices of diction and arrangement by which Ruskin achieves sonority in this passage. Mention words which, on account of the nature and dl'rribution of their vowels and consonants, contribute a full or orotund (quality of sound. The spiritual point of view which gives unity to the details of this picture is indicated in the opening paragraph ; it is that of an artist alive to all bright lights and colours ; to all beautiful sounds and forms and to the human and imaginative associations and interpretations of what he sees. How does this point of view influence the diction of the passage i How might the passage be changed in style by changing the um t.i' 68 PROSE COMPOSITION. mental point of view ? The material point of view shifts along the river bank ; how does this affect the perspective of the scene ? Is the rive.i described as a thread of silver, or is. the language concerning it consis- tent with the point of view ? " From their feet " (27) ; is the locatitm of the sea in the landscape (piite clear ? " Sky " (31) ; by what device has the author aroused our intjrest in this word? "Every cloud that passed was literally the chariot of an angel " (35) ; is this in keeping with the preceding line? "Its" (36); compare whose, and notice the conflict between freedom and precision involved in the difference. I Exercises: I. — Criticize the choice of words in the following sentences : — 1. Tom was gi-eatly aggravated by her c(»nduct. '2. They had to expatiate their crimes on the scaffold. V 3. They preferred to go home than to stay with us. 4. They felt themselves condoned by his example. 5. Being very dry, I asked for a drink. •6. He was for a moment in great imminence. 7. There are surely other altei'uatives than these . 8. They say they never saw him before, a fact which I can dis- i^f'ove. D. It is funny that you made such a mistake. ' f 10. The case is the precise converse of what he states. 11. He went away unconvicted of his mistake. 12. Charles I. then ascended tlie throne of Britain, a name famous in the history of the world. 13. No avocation is more worthy of reverence than that of the tetacher. 14. As a fictitious writer Dickens is unsurpassed. ^ 16. He expressed implicit confidence him. 16. The plans they advanced wore synonymous. 17. He preached a sermon on the observation of Sunday. 18. He was a very exipiisite individual. 19. From this standpoint the (piestion has been thoroughly ven- . tilated. 20. His present action will lead to this infallible result. DESCRIPTIONS OF TOWNS AND CITIES. 69 iver ive.i isis- 11 of haa ssed the rtict dis- oiia the en- II. — 1. This fierce onslaught deciiimted tlie army. 2. As a preventative it was highly appreciated. 0.' We have never before experienced such a heavy rain. 4. Potatoes do not grow originally in Europe. 5. His efforts were calculated to assist nie in my attempt. G. I found him blackening his shoes. 7. They had no wish to deprecate the picture. 8. He refused to demean hiniself by such conduct. 0. I saw a capacious rent in the side of his coat. 10. Their conversation was of the finest description. 11. Such a mistake is the climax of ignorance. 12. I did not expect such an auiotuit of depravity in him. 13. This does not, in the least, deteriorate from his merit. ^ 14. Their abilites are due to this institution. 15. His means are said to be very limited. 1(5. You want to be very accurate Jibout this copying. 17. It was the outcome of the 2)iiny jealousy of this man. 18. He is ill but not dangerous. 19. His conduct did not merit such condign punishment. 20. For a lengthened period she appeared to be a continued invalid. III. — 1. He asked t(» l)e made captain or mate or purser, for either of which places he considered himself adapted. 2. The}' treated him very reverendly. 3. They talked over their nuitual enmities. 4. I [)ropose to carry out this plan secretly. 5. Do you mind what we agreed to do ? 6. I wouUl not persuade you to do it now. 7. He administered tire man a most severe blow. 8. He had no call to interfere with you. 9. His defects, as well as lii^ (pialities, were tinctured by this .spirit. 10. In the future Columbus had little ditliculty. 11. He pMit it in writing, a verbal answer not being considered sufficient. M f V 1 •«(, 70 PROSE COMPOSITION. 12. He vowed tlinfc he had made a great mistake. 13. They toM the reporters wliat had transpired at the meeting. 14. He said that, in spite of everything, he was bound to carry out his \Ai\,ii. 15. Wanted— A female teacher for school section No. 6. IG. They took liiia apart and prepared him for the emergency. 17. He bore their persecutions with bravery. 18. Where will I be af)t to find him ? 10. Directly he reached the city he drove to the house. £0. He always blames it on me. IV. — 1. John hollered across the field to his brother. 2. I gue.s his scheme is not a very practical one. 3. Tile library comprised a great quaiitity of books. 4. There were less people there yesterday than to-day. 5. I shall not go except he wants me to. (». The king was a poet and likewise a sportsman. 7. He was exciting the tribes to revolt against their chiefs. 8. What hotel are they stopping at I 0. I imagine you are not likely to find him there. 10. Under this caption he composed an excellent article. 11. I never knew a more sarcastic, contemptible man. 12. Scott was an enthusiastic antiquarian. 13. He stood in our midst, a giant auKtng pigmies. ( 14. The Ottawa empties into the St. Lawrence. 15. They had their shoes fixed before starting. 1(). I would lend you a book but I haven't got one. 17. I have got to do it before four o'clock. 18. I doubt if this will ever reach you. 19. My idea is that his attempt will prove successful. 20 Dt) leave me alone for a while. Practice List: PRACTICE. Write a composition of .ibout sixty lines on one of the following subjects : — DESCRIPTIONS OF TOWNS AND CITIES. 71 JUt ig 1. 2. 3. 4. My Native Town. A Country Village. The Capital. An Indian settlement. 5. 6. 7. 8. A Lumber Camp. A Sunnner Resort. A Western City. A Village Street. 9. 10. A City Scpiare. A Bird's-eye View. Arrangement of Material : A Summer Resort. 1. Trip from the city to the resort. 2. A general view of the resort and the surroundings. 3. The hotels. 4. The cottages. 5. The people. • 6. The anniseuients. 7. The beach. 8. The baths. 9. Landing at the pier. Practical Suggestions : 1. A description is not a mere catalogue of details, but a picture with pur2)ose and harmony, 2. Do not dwell long on what your reader knows thoroughly well ; suggest what is well known, and dwell upon the novel and interesting features. 3. Consider the object to be described until the .salient features of it stand out prominently ; gras{> these, and arrange them in the order most helpful to the reader. 4. The strongest descriptions are those which suggest the moat while menticming the least. , 5. Well-chosen epithets, well-chosen similitude.s, and the use of associated stories and traditions, are powerful aids in description. ,1... jj'ij m fv- ■i f r ft - . - T 4 = 1 1 1 1 J fi FIGHTING FOR HOME. Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums, That beat to battle where he stands ; Thy face across his fancy comes, And gives the battle to his hands: A moment, while the trumpets blow, He sees his brood about thy hnee ; The next, like fire he meets the foe, And strikes him dead for thine and thee. $' .. H DESCRIPTIONS OF CONTESTS. 70 CHAPTER VI. DESCRIPTIONS OF COM HATS. MODELS. I— Scott's Description of Quarterstaff by Moonligrht— " Nay, by my troth, thou gavest me a round knock," replied the captain ; "do as much for this fellow, and thou shalt pass scot-free ; and if thou dost not — why, by my faith, as thou art such a stuidy knave, I think I must pay thy rans<«n myself.— Take thy staff. Miller," he ad to determine. Enough that they who made the ring intituled \'< the scene a " mill," while we who must be thumped inside it tried to rejoice in their pleasantry, till it turned upon the stonuich. Moreover, I felt upon me now a certain responsibility, a dutiful need to maintain, in the presence of John Fry, the manliness of the Ridd family, and the honor of Exmore. Hitherto none had worsted 20 me, although in the three years of my schooling I had fought more than three score battles, and bedewed with blood every |)lant of grass towards the midi| ■Jt .1 ¥- u I: 78 PROSE COMPOSITION. * U:: M ':li ^fi It is not a very large piece of ,i,'rouud in the angle of the cause- ways, liufc quite big enough to fight upon, esjiecially for Christians^ who love to he c'aeek by jowl at it. The great boys stooil in a cii'ch* around, b^ing gifted with strong pi'ivilege, and the little boys had leave to lie flat and look tlirough the legs of the great lioys. But 60 while we were yet pi-oparing, and the candh'S hissed in the fog-cloud, old PJKeUe, of more than four-score years, whose room »vas over the hall-porch, came hobbling out, iis she always did, to mar the joy of the conflict. No one ever heeded h(!r, neither did she expect it ; but the evil was that two senior boys must always lose the fiivs': round of 65 thr tight l»y 'iaving to lead her home agsiin. I Miarvel how Rol)in Snell felt. Veiy lik.-ly hi; thought nothing of it, always Imviiig been a b:iy of a hectoring ami unruly sort. But I feK, my heir:, go up and down as the boys cmie round to sr,rip me ; and greatly fcai'ing to Ite beaten, I l)lew hot upon my knuckles. t;''Tlien T pullei! ofl^" my little cut jerkin and laid it down on my head cap, and over that my waistcoat, and a boy was [)roud to take care of them. Thomas Hooper Wits his name, and T remember how he looked at uui. My mother had made that littl($ cut jerkin in the fpiiet winter evenings, and taken piide to loo[) it up in a fashionable cf) way, and I was loith to soil it with blood, and good Hlberds were in the pocket. Tlum up to me came Kobin Snell (Mayor of E.xetei- thrice since that), and he stood very scpiare and looked at me, .md 1 lackevl not louir to look at him. Round his waist lie h.-.d a kercliie- busking up his small-clothes, and on his feet light pumkin shoe.s, and 70 all his upjier I'iiiment otf. And be danced about in a .vay that made my head swim on my shoulders, and Ik; stood some inches over me. Bat 1, being muddled with much dou)>t about John Fry and his eirand, was only stripped of my jerkin and waistcoat, ami not eom- fortalile to begin. 75 "Come now, shake hands," cried a big boy, jumping in joy of the S))ect;»cle, a third-former nc^arly six feet high ; " slrike hands, you little devils. Keep your pluck up, and show good sport, and Lonl love the better man of you." Robin took me by the hand, and gazed at me disoainfulh', and «o then smote me prinfuUy in the face, ere I could get my fence \i[\ DESCRIPTIONS OF CONTESTS. 79 t'-m " Whutt be 'bout, lad 'J" cried John Fry; "hutt un again, Jan, Willi 'el Well done, then, our Jan boy." For I had replied to Robin, now, with all the weight and cadence of penthemineial caesura (a thing, the name of which I know, but could nevei" make head or tail of it, and the strife began in a serious 85 style, and the boys looking on were not cheated. Although I could not collect their shouts when the blows were ringing upon me, it was no great loss ; for John Fry told n)e afterwards that their oaths went np like a furnace tire. But to these we paid no heed or hap, being in the thick of swinging and devoid of judgment. All I know is, I gg came to my corner when the round was over, with very hard pumps in my chest, and a great desire to fall away. " Time is up," cried head monitor ere ever I got my breath again ; and when I fain would have lingered a while on the knee of the boy that held me. Joim Fry had come up, and the boys were laughing 95 because he wanted a stable-lantern, ami threatened to tell mv mother. " Time is up," cried another boy, more headlong than head monitor. " If we count three before the come of thee, thwacked thou art, and must go to the women." I felt it hard upon me. He began to count : "one, two, three" — but before the "three" was out of his ntouth T joo was facing my foe, with both hands up, and my breath going rough and hot, and resolved to wait the turn of it. For I had found seat on the knee of a V)oy sage and skilled to tutor me. who knew how much the end often diffei-s from the beginning. A rare, ripe scholar he Wiis : and now he hath routed up th» Germans in the matter of 105 criticism. 8ui'e the clever boys and men have most love towanl the stujiid ones. " Finish him off, Bob," cried a big boy, and that I noticed esj)tjially, because I thought it unkind of liini, after eating (tf my toffee as he had done tluit afternoon ; "tini^li him oil' neck and crop ; hq he deserves it for sticking up to a man like you." But I was not to be tinislied off. though feeling in my knuckles now as if it were a bhieuess and a sense of chilblain. Nothing held except my legs, and thoy wore good to help me. So this bout, or round, if you please, was foughted warily by me, with gentle recol- 115 lection of what my tutor, the clever boy, had told me, and some .iif'l 80 PROSE COMPOSITION. resolve to earn his praise before I came l)ack to his knee again. And nevei", I think, in all my life, sounded sweeter words in my ear (except when my love loved me) than when my second and backer, 120 who had made himself part of my doings now, and woidd have wept to see me beaten, said : — " Famously done, Jack, famously ! Only keep your wind up, Jack, and you'll go right through him ! " Meanwhile, John Fry was pTowling about, asking the boys what 125 they thought of it, and whether I was like to be killed, because of my mother's troubh>. But finding now that 1 had foughted three- score tights already, he came u[) to me woefully, in the quickness of my breathing, while I sat on the knee of my second, with a piece of spongious coraline to ease me of my bloodshed, and he says in my 130 ears, as if he were clapping spurs into a hoi'se : — •' Never thee knack under, Jan, or never coom naigh He cmoor no more. With that it was all up with me. A simmering buzzed in my heavy brain, and a light came through my eye-places. At once I set ^•'•^ both fists again, and my heart stuck to mo like cobbler's wax. Either Robin Snell should kill me, or I would concpier Robin Snell. So I went in again with my courage up, and Bob came smiling for victory, and I hated him for smiling. He let at me with his left hand, and 1 gave him my right between his eyes, and he blinked, and was i;ot 1*'^ pleased with it. I feared him not, and spared him not, neither si)ared myself IVIy breath came again, and my heart stood cool, ar^d my eyes struck fire no longer. Only I knew that I would die sooner than .shame my birth-place. How the rest of it was I know not ; only that I had the end of it, and helped to put Robin in bed. Friiiii "Liirna Duonv." liij peninxsion of tiie piMinher. TIT— Lytton's Description of the Fig-ht between Kenelm Chilling-ly and Tom Bowles. — Kenelm made no reply. 'J'iiey both walked on in silence, and had now reach(;d the centre of the village street when Jessie, hjoking up, uttered an abru[)t exclamation, gave an aHVighted start, and tlmii came to a dead stop. r, Kenelm's f^ye followed the direction of hers, and saw, a few yards distant, at the other side of the way, a small red brick house, with . DESCRIPTIONS OF CONTESTS. 81 thatched shods adjoiumg it, tlie wliole standing in a wide yard, over the gate of which leaned a man smoking a small cutty -pipe. " It is Tom Bowles," whispered Jessie, and instinctively she twined her arm into Konelm's — then, as if on secind thought, withdrew it, and said, lo still in a whisper, ** Go hack now, sir — do." " Not 1. It is Tom Bowles whom I want to know. Hush I " For liere Tom Bowles had thrown down his pipe and was coming across the road towards them. Keneliu eyed liim with attention. A singularly powerful man, 15 not so tiill as Kenelm hy some inches, hut still above the middle height, hercnleitn shoulders and chest, the lower limbs not in equal proportion — a sort of slouching, shambling gait. As he advanced the moonlight fell on his face. — it was a handsome one. He wore no liat, and his hair, of a light brown, curled close. His face was f resh- ^o coloured, with a(piiline features; his age apparentl)'^ about six or seven-and-twenty. Coming nearer and nearer, whatever favourable impression the first glance at his physiognomy might have made on Kenelm was expelled, for the expression of his face changed and became fierce and lowering. 25 Kenelm was still walking on, Jessie l)y his side, when Bowles rudely thrust hini.self between them, and seizing the girl's arm with one hand, he turned his face full on Kenelm, with a menacing wave of the other hand, and said in a deej) burly voice — " Wlio be you < " 80 " i.et go that young woman before I tell you." " If you weren't a strangei'," answered Bowles, seeming as if he tried to suppress a rising fit of wrath, "you'd be in the kennel for those words. Jiut I s'|)Ose you don't know that I'm Tom Bowles, and I don't choose the girl as I'm after to kee[) company with any 35 other man. So you be ofi". '' And I don't ciioose any other man to lay violent hands on any girl walking by my nW'i without telling him that he's a brute ; and that I only wait till he has both his hands at liberty to let him know that he has not a poor cripple to deal with." 40 Tom Bowles could scarcely V^elieve his ears. Amaze swallowed up for the moment every other sentiment. Mechanically he loosened 82 PROSE COMPOSITION. f his hold of Jessie, who fled off like a bird released. But evidently she thought of her new friend's danger more than her own escape ; ^5 for instead of sheltering herself in her father's cottage, she ran towai'ds a grouj) of labourers, who, near at hand, had stopped loiter- ing before the i)ublic-house, and returned with those allies towards the sj)ot in which she had left the two men. She was very popular with the villageis, who, strong in their sense of numbers, overcame 50 their awe of Tom Bowles, and arrived at the place half running, half striding, in time, they ho})ed, to inter[)ose between his terrible arm and the bones of the unoffending striuiger. Meanwhile Bowles, having recovered his first astonishment, and scarcely noticing Je.'^sie's escape, still left his right arm extended •'>•'» towards %he ])lace she had vacated, and with ;i quick backstroke of the left levelled at Kenelm's face, growled contem})tuonsly, " 'J'hou'lt find one hand enough for thee." But quick as was his aim, Kenelm caught the lifted arm just above the elbow, causing the blow to waste itself on air, and with r : not returned ; another and another blow — still parried — still unreturned. Kenelm, acting evidently on the defensive, took all the advantages for that strategy which he derived from superior length of arm and lighter agility of frame. Perhaps he wished to ascertain the extent of his adversary's 16(» skill, or to try the endurance of his wind, before he ventured on the DESCRIPTIONS OF CONTESTS. 85 hazards of attack. Tom, galled to the quick that blows that might have felled an ox were thus warded off from their mark, and mildly aware that he was encountering some mysterious skill which turned his brute strength into waste force, and niight ovei'master him in the long-run, came to a rapid conclusion that the sooner he brought tliatifis brute force to bear, the better it would be for him. Accordingly, after thrd rounds, in which, without once breaking the guai'd of his antagonist, he had received a few playful taps on the nose an;', mouth, he drew V)ack, and made a hull-like rush at his foe -bull-like, for it butted full at him with the powerful down-bent head, and the two lOO lists doing duty as horns, liie rush spent, he found himself in the position of a man milled. I takt; it for gi'anted that every English- man who can call himself a man — that is, every man who has been iin English bo}', and, as such, been compelled to use liis fists — knows what a " mill " is. But T sing not only pueris but virginibus. 105 Ladies, — "a mill" — using, with reluctance and contempt for myself, that slang in which lady writers inlanation to tliose foreigners who only understand i"<> the English language as tiiught by Addison and Macaulay — a ** mill," periplirasLicaily, means this ; your adversary, in the noble encounter between list and fist, has so plunged his heatl that it gets caught, as in a vice, between the side and doulded left arm of the adversary, exposing that head, unprotectef skill. Kenelm, his right fist raised, paused for a moment, then, loos ning the left arm, releasing the prisoner, and giving him a friendly slap on the slioulder, he isd turned round to the spectators, and said apologetically, — " he has a handsome face — it would be a shame to spoil it." Tom's position of peril was -so obvious to all, and that good- humoured abnegation of the advantage which the position gave to the adversaiy seemed so generous, that the labourers actually 195 hurrahed. Tom himself felt as if treated like a child ; and alas, and » Sj. •ij 11 86 PliOSE COMPOSITION. alas for l)im ! in wlieeling himself rouiul, and gatlioiing liinis' disgusting sides of tragic scenes such as murders and battles ! • does Lytton redeem the brutal aspects of the contest Ijetween . .enehu Chillingly and Tom Bowles ! Supposing the reader to read this sketch as its author would have wished, that is with tiie author's own symi)athies and strength of feeling, in what mood will he be at the moment when Kenelm trips Tom i What effect will his mood have upon his judgment of what follows ? Write a short contrast between the chai'acters of the two young men, showing how the incidents preceding the tight atlected each. , II '1 l' ■».♦ 88 PROSE COMPOSITION. ||!l!l i'-!8! it V...: I 11. ii I How (lues Lytton treat the (lueHtioiis of Btrength, Hkill, temper, endur- ance, and justice ( How does he preserve that quality between tlie combatants without which our interest wouUl Hag i Wliat artistic vahie attaches to the fact that tlie description is of considerable length :* At what point does sympathy with the hero weaken in favour of pity for Tom '! How does the author endeavour to overcome this sentiment :* Is the endeav<»ur successful / Language Lesson : - 1. The choice of words, the phraseology, and even the sentence-forms, of this sketch are influenced by a variety of considerations : — (rf) the desire to suggest the language of the Norman Period ; (h) a distinction between the collo(|uial English of the characters, and the literary English of the author ; (r) a desire to maintain a characteristic style of e\pres8it)n for each of the leading persons ; (d) the employment of technicalities appro- priate to the sport described ; (e) the necessity, entailed by all minute description, of enumerating concrete ol)jects ; (/) the necessity, entailed by artistic description, of using picturescjue epithets. Show specitically how these considerations have influenced tlie language of the passage. "An thou darest " (15); modernize. ''Chtsed together" (I!)); "rapid dexterity " (22) ; criticize. " Continued clatter '' (22) ; two points make these words an echo of their sense. What is the antecedent of "that'' in line 2(> ( " What we can in prose we will do for these bold chami)ions " (28,29) ; compare — we will do what we can in jtrose for these bold cham- pions. " Stoutly opposed " (.*il) ; show the force by expanding. 'Mireat mastery " (37) ; compare miirh i order : are there any points nt which the seiiHe-connection is not obvious >. If HO, does the abruptnoMs in the change of subject seem intentional or negligent ( In any of the divisions do you tind digressions which nuir the unity of the story ^ Consider the foHowing expressions, point out any peculiarities you observe in them, and state any conclusions you may reach concerning the style of the passage as shown in, or inHuencud l)y tliem : ^2) Sundry of the elder boys (2, li) ; Grave and reverend signors (4); to ward, to parry, to feign and counter, to lunge, etc. (<», 7) ; great masters of the art (7) ; far liefer (9, 10) ; "a snug little null " (10) ; hath (trigin (11) ; asseverated (15) ; intituled (17j ; till it turned upon the stomach (18, 10) ; a dutiful need (22) ; three score (20) ; than a father- long-legs in the heat of a lantern (28) ; I had g()tten my bellyful (32) : as ever I could claim to ))e (30); no store of bad language (37) ; had befallen me (43) ; to cry ofl"(44) ; turn thy thuuib-knuckle inward (47) ; who love- to be«heek by jowl at it (50) ; I marvel (62) ; Thomas Hooper was liis name (00, 07) ; mayor of Exeter thrice since that (08, 09) ; a kerchief busking uj) his small-clothes (72) ; muddled with much doubt ("75, 70) ; jumping m joy of the spectacle (80) ; get my fence up (81, 82) ; " Hutt un again, Jan, wuU'e ? '' (83, 84) ; the weight and cadence of penthemineral ctesnra (85) ; could never make head or tail of it ('80) ; the l)oys looking on were not cheated (80, 87) ; I could not collect their shouts (89) ; like a furnace-tire (tK)) ; in the thick of swinging (91, 92) ; very hard pumps in my chest (97) ; more headlong than head monitor (98) ; before the conie of thee (105) ; routed up the Germans (110) ; neck and crop (111, 112); fet'ling in my knuckles as if it were a blueness (114, 115) ; ))out, (u* r m w y -^ /A 4? ^^ ■«55 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation '€^ \ >v r «\ V ^ .« c^ '^^ 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ■areut. 9. We anticipate that he will be very successful. 10. All of them were there ready for work. 11. It wa propose to leave? 2. This intended improvement is well calculated to bring disiister upon our imrliameutiiry system. 3. Since going West he has made money rapidly. 4. These productions are not of a very high calibre, o. The president convened congress in August. 6. The people have every confidence in the government. 7. They are nothing like so good as he. 8. Did you read the book I gave you i No, I never, I quite forgot it. 9. There were only three people at the meeting. 10. A carriage was waiting at the depot when the train arrived. 11. This was the most splendid prayer ever addressed to a Poston congregation. 12. You have a right to help me up the hill with this load. 13. On Christmas Eve he sent a ton of coal to a poor widow woman. 14. The scenery along the Niagara River is the most gorgeous I ever witnessed. 15. He recommended the man to sow double rowed barley on the ton-acre field. 92 PROSE COMPOSITION. 16. it WAS discovered that the lady had broken her left limb. 17. He re(|ue8ted his banker to send him an immediate remittance. 18. Every female in the village was excited by the approach of the troops. 19. Being fatigued by their journey they retired shortly after ten o'clock. 20. The gent in the checked panta called us into lunch. IV. — 1. Let us now try 8<)me experiments with oxygen. 2. He is liable to meet with a good deal of opposition for the mayor- ality. 3. There have been a great many cusualities in the city this month. 4. Every once in a while we got the report from a fresh con- stituency. 5. It was necessitated by the circumstances of the case. G. There were eleven instances of false orthography in the com- position. 7. A man whs arrested for making bogus money. H: He wireing blow and demon dragging of tlie other, but, seized HyhiH-like by the limbs, and tear- ing up the earth in his agony, the victim is dashed into his destruc- 10 tion ; nor is it the sluggish Lethe, nor the fiery lake that bears the cursed vessel, but the oceans of the earth and the waters of the firmanent gathered into one white, ghastly cataract, the riyer of the wrath of God, roaring down into the gulf where the world has melted with its fervent heat, choked with the ruin of nations, and the limbs 16 of its corpses tossed out of its whirling, like water-wheels. Bat-like, out of the holes and caverns and shadows of the earth, the bones gather, and the clay-heaps heave, rattling and adhering into half- kneaded anatomies, that crawl, and startle, and struggle up among the putrid weeds, with the clay clinging to their clotted hair, and •20 their heavy eyes sealed by the earth darkness yet, like his of old who went his way unseeing to Biloam Pool ; shaking off one by one the dreams of the prison-house, hardly hearing the clangor of the trum- pets of the armies of God, lilinded yet more, ais they awake, by the white light of the new Heaven, until the great vortex of the four ■25 winds bears u[) their bodies to the judgment seat ; the firmanent is all full of them, a very dust of human souls, that drifts, and flouts, and falls in the interminable, inevitable light; the bright clouds aie darkened with them as with thick snow, currents of atom life in the arteries of heaven, now soaring up slowly, farther, and higher, and 30 higher still, till the eye and the thought can follow no farther, borne up, wingless, by their inward faith and by the angel powers invisible, now hurled in countless drifts of horror before the breath of their COndeUJ nation. By permitiioH qf the publisher. Ill— Ruskin's Description of the Dogre's Tomb.— Like all the lovely tombs of Venice and Verona, it is a sarcophagus with a i-ecumbent figure aV)ove, and this figure is a faithful but tender por- ti-ait, wrought as far as it can be without painfulness, of the doge as 6 he lay in death. He weara his ducal robe and bonnet — his head is laid slightly aside upon his pillow — his hands ara simply crossed as they fall. The face is emaciated, the features large, but so pure and lordly in their natural chiselling, that they must have looked like DESCRIPTIONS. 00 IKe all ritJi a poi- ;e as ead is sed as and like marble oven in their animation. They are deeply worn away hy tlioiiglit and death ; the veins on the temples Itmnclied anoverished by dreary wastes of theology. r 100 PROSE COMPOSITION. INDUCTION FROM MODELS. Compositional Analyaii: I. What two grunt qualities of a work of art does Shelley ascribe to Raphael'N picture, in the latter half of the first sentence, — "you forget . . . call reality?" What relation has the third sentence to tiie second ? Ih it possible from the remaining sentences to construct any definite conception of the pictura ? Mention any puzzling expressions occurring in the fourth sentence. What facts are most needed to help us in making a mental picture of the grtiup described / Which is the most importiint figure of the group \ How are the others shown to be in unity? Are the i>arts of the description proimrtionate in care and length to the im]M>rtt sleep, but be changed." What is the prevailing tone of the second sentence ( What means are used of impressing us with the emotions intended ? From long and eloquent sentences we get an impression of the entiiusiasm of the author. Noticing the earnestness of Ruskin as shown in the last sentence we are led to consider its cause ; is the subject such as to justify his fervour ? Would a calmer and less vehement style be equally har- monious and appropriate ? In the latter part of this sentence, from "now soaring up slowly'' to "angel powers invisible," we get a glimpse of the bright side of the last judgment ; what use does the author make ■ of this streak of light ? Ruskin held that the great painters were great moralists as well ; how does he set forth the moral value of Tintoret's pictures ? To what elements of painted pictures can written descriptions do least justice ? In what respects may the written descriptions improve ujion the pictures ? 3. In description of works of art, such as statues, pictures, beautiful buildings, poems, acting, singing, playing, playing on musical instruments, it is usual to regard the productions irom various points of view. The attitude of the artist to his work, the work itself in its outline and in its details, and the effect of the work on the writer^ or on the public, are the considerations of most importance. In these descriptions, photographic reproduction of the effect of the work is not possible, but it is possible to reproduce in words the spirit of that effect, and to accomplish this, is the DEaCRIPTIONS. 101 groateit rucoom. What U the general effect on the reader of Ruskin's description uf the marble effigy of the Doge ? Point out the expremions through whose use the author touches the emotions he desires to arouse in us. What motive leads him in the first sentence to use the expressions *' but tender," and "as far as it can be without iminfulness ? " In the thinl sentence, what is meant by *' in their natural chiselling ? " What expression in the last sentence strikes the dominant tone of the descrip- titm ? Is the descriptiim clear and vivid i Is all the information given that you think necessary to form a clear mental picture of the tomb ? Is the arran^fement of material in the sketch that of a climax ? 4. This de-icriptiim comprises three elalionito siinilitudus, and a iNirallel between Milton's greatest epic and the epic deHcrihed. Wlmt is the purpose of the first sentence ? Why is the comiMiristm of the Idijh to a cathu) before " seized ' (8). The latter part of the second sentence is perhaps not lucid, how can it be justified ? " liat-like. . . .their ccmdemnation " (15-33). Such a sentence as this, highly charactei'istic of Iluskin, is to be studied carefully by the yt)uiig writer, although only genius could hope to imitate it success- fully. It shows great premeditation in the opening " Bat-like etc. " The same premeditation is apparent also in the first and sec«»nd sentences, " By Tintoret " and " Only (me, etc " No less care is shown in the con- clusions, " Now hurled in cr " thin," " starting " (10) or " protuberant," " mag- niHcently" (12) or "splendidly." Give the etymology of "sarcophagus" and '^animation." What light does the etynnilogy throw on the meaning of these words as here used ? What is the purpose of the dashes in the second sentence i W^hat wouhl l)e the effect of substituting semi-colt tns I Are the sentences open to tlie charge of lack of unity ? (Cimsider this ([uestion in connection with the development of the description). What would })e the effect of omitting "and this figure is" (3)^ Point out in the [jaragraph any instance of ]>arallel constructi(jn and explain its rheto- rical value. " Tliey are. . . .cheek and brow " (9-15). How has monotony been avoided in tliis sentence in the enumeration of details '. Variety has been given to the movement. Compare the rythmical effect of stop- ping at "sharp-pointed," and at " Hi , '"I ''^ hi'' |i'''H: tji!; !il 104 PROSE COMPOSITION. 4. The city council were considering how to dispose of the sewerage. 5. The will made a very equable division of the estate. 6. Nothing could exceed the enormity of his pretences. * 7. Considerable time had transpired before we got under way. 8 It is to be deducted from that that he is in the wrong. 9. I scarcely think that this is very healthy food. 10. Did he esteem himself worthy of such an honor ? 1 1. No matter what they did, they could never give him sufficient. 12. He was perpetually calling when he was least expected. 13. The discovery of the telescope effected the study of astronomy considerably. 14. He courteously conveyed the ladies through the field. 15. It was due to his lawyer's exertions that the prisoner escaped. 16. The mocher sat on a low stool, the infant weeping in her arms. 17. When I asked him the question he replied in the negative. 18. They found the comnumity in a fomentation. 19. They were without the ])are necessities of life. 20. When they had entered the house he presented to the young man his mother and father. II. — 1. Corporeal punishment had long been forsaken in that school. 2. There was plenty of food in the camp not yet touched. 3. These deadly enemies he succeeded in conciliating except the leaders, who refused his mediation. ] 4. The last news from the city is of a startling description. 5. His conduct was an example of what such fellows do. 6. At this news a deadly pallor overspread his face. 7. The president's action seemed a piece of boyish weakness. 8. He then alluded briefly to the political question before them. 9. Only the merest amateur could have made such a blunder. 10. It was this decided manteuvre that determined the fate of the day. 11. His very first speech in parliament rendered him ren« long as the teacher's eye was upon him. 17. He always commenced the day with a bath in the river. 18. The girl sat by the w ndow patiently paring an orange. 19. The children were warned against confusing the two names. 20. The prince was unwearied in bestowing honor on the knight. III. — Discuss the propriety and the effect of making the changes suggested in the following : — 1. Virtue only (alone) can make us haiipy. 2. He spoke no further (farther) on that subject. 3. I never saw so old a (such an old) man. 4. It was his custom (habit) to lie on the grass by the hour. 6. Tidings (news) had just been received of the ship that was sup- posed to have been lost. 6. He confessed (acknowledged) the mistake they accused liim of. 7. It rained continuously (continually) from morning till evening, 8. The boy stood for a momeiit tottiering upon (on) tliis frail su{)port. 9. Putting his hand in (into) his pocket, the doctor drew forth a sovereign. 10. This seems to be a genuine (authentic) account of the battle of Marathon. 11. The delegates expressed divers (diverse) opinions in reference to prohibition. 12. He was air ingenious (ingenuous) youth of whom a parent's heart might well be proud. 13. It was owing to their negligence (neglect) that the disaster occurred. 14. He lost his position through his friend's falseness (falsehood). 15. All the testimony (evidence) failed to convict the prisoner. 16. The sick man fought desperately under the delusion (illusion) that his antagonist was a maniac. 17. He said he would set out to-morrow {ove the wound — their elastic; spirits soon rise lieneath the pressure — their green and ductile affections soon twine arotind new objects. But the sorrows of the poor, who have no outward 75 appliances to soothe— the sorrows of the aged, with whom life at be.st is but a wintry day, and who can look for no after-growth of joy — the sorrows of a widow, aged, solitary, destitute, mourning over an only son, the last solace of her yeai-s ; — these are indeed sorrows which make us feel the impotency of consolation. 80 II.— Macaulay's Description of the Trial of Warren HaSting^S. — The place was worthy of such a trial. It was the great hall of William Rufus, the hall which had i-esounded with acclama- tions at the inauguration of thirty kings, the hall which had wit- nessed the just sentence of Bacon and the just absolution of Somers, the hall where the eloquence of Stmflbrd had for a moment awed 5 and melted a victorious party inflamed with just resentment, the hall where Charles had confronted the High Court of Justice with the placid courage which has half i-edeemed his fame. Neither military nor civil pomp was wanting. The avenues were lined with grena- diers. The streets were kept clear by cavalry. The peers, robed in 10 gold and ermine, were marshalled by the heralds under Garter King-at-arms. The judges in their vestments of state attended to give advice on ]>oints of law. Near a hundred and seventy lords, three fourths of the Upper House as the Upper House then was, walked in solemn order from their usual place of assembling to the is tribunal. The junior baron present led the way, George Eliott, Lord Heathfield, recently ennobled for his memorable defence of Gibraltar against the fleets and armies of France and Spain. The long pro- H 5 -■ »■ |ji I n' i« 114 PROSE COMPOSITION. ceKHioii was cIoh«hI l»y tlio Duko of Norfolk, Karl MiirHlm) of the ■iitreiiliii, hy tlio great dignatarioH, and by thn hrotluirs and houh of the Kiuf,'. r^ast of all cumo the Prince of VValcH, conspicuous hy liiw Hno poiHon and nohle bearin.^. The ji^rey old walls w<(re hmij; with scarlet. The l()!ig gallari«'H were crowd(»d hy an audi(?nce such as has rarely <'xcited the fears or the emulation of an orator. There wcire gatimred 2:1 together, from all parts of a great, fnn*, enlighten(!(l, and prosperous empire, gracm and feniahj lovelinciss, wit and learning, the repn.'si^uta- tives of every science and of Sorgeanta iiuulo pioclaiimtioii. Ifastings advanced to tl»o bar, ,'>5 and l»ont his knoe. The culprit was iiuhwd not unworthy of that jXioat inesence. Ho had ruhnl an cxtt'iiHivo and pojiuIouH country, and niado lawH and tieatioH, had Hont forth armies, had sot u|» and pulled down princos. And in his high pliico ho had so horno hinisolf, that all hud foarinl him, that most had lov<>eared together since tlie great age of Athenian eloquence. There were Fox and Sheridan, the English »«'' Demosthenes and the English Hyperides. There was Burke, ignor- ant, indeed, or negligent of the art of adapting his reasonings and his style to the capacity and taste of his hearers, but in amplitude of comprehension and richness of imagination superior to every orator, ancient or modern. There, with eyes reverentially fixed on Burke, 100 appeared the finest gentleman of the age, his form developed by every manly exercise, his face beaming with intelligence and spint, the in- genious, the chivalrous, the high-so»iled Windham. Nor, though surrounded by such men, did the youngest manager pass unnoticed. At an age when most of those who distinguished themselves in life 105 are still contending for prizes and fellowships at college, he had won for himself a conspicuous place in parliament. No advantage of for- tune or connection was wanting that could set off to the height his splendid talents and his unblemished honour. At twenty-three he had been thought worthy to be i*anked with the veteran statesmen 110 who appeared as the delegates of the British Commons, at the bar of the British nobility. All who stood at that bar, save him alon^. are gone, culprit, advocates, accusei-s. To the generation which is now in the vigour of life, he is the sole representative of a great age which has passed away. But those who, within the last ten years, have 115 listened with delight, till the morning sun shone on the tapestries of the House of Lords, to the lofty and animated eloquence of Charles Earl Gi-ey, are able to form some estimate of the powers of a race of men among whom he was not the foremost. III.— Irving's Description of a Christmas Eve at Brace- bridge HalL — So intent were the servants upon their sports, that we had to ring repeatedly before we could make ourselves heard. On our arrival being announced, the 'Squire came out to receive us, accompanied by his two other sons ; one, a young officer, in the army, 6 home on leave of absence; the other an Oxonian, just from the imi- vei-sity. The 'Sqiiire was a fine healthy-looking old gentleman, with silver hair curling lightly round an open florid countenance ; in which ASSEMBLAGES. 117 a physiognomist, with the advantage, like myself, of a previous hint or two, might discover a singular mixture of whim and benevolence. The family meeting was warm and affectionate ; as the evening i<^ was far advanced, the 'Squiie would not i>ermit us to change our travelling dresses, but ushered us at once to the company, which was assembled in a large old-fashioned hall. It was composed of different branches of a numerous family connection, where there were the usual proportion of old uncles and aiints, comfortable married dames, 15 superannuated spinsters, blooming country cousins, half-fledged striplings, and bright-eyed boarding-school hoydens. They were variously occupied ; some at a round game of cards ; others conversing round the fireplace ; at one end of the hall was a group of the young folks, some nearly grown up, others of a more tender and budrling 20 age, fully engrossed by a merry game ; and a profusion of wooden horses, i)enny trumjiets, and tattered dolls about the floor, showed traces of a troop of little fairy beings, who, having frolicked through a hapf)y day, had been carried off to slumber through a |)eaceful night. ?6 While the mutual greetings were goin^ on between young Brace- bridge and his relatives, I had time to scan the apartment. I have called it a hall, or so it had certainly been in olden times, and the 'Squire liad evidently endeavored to restore it to something of its primitive state. Over the heavy projecting fireplace was suspended a 30 picture of a warrior in armor, standing by a white horse, and on the opposite wall hung a helmet, buckler, and lance. At one end an enormous i»ir of antlers wei-e inserted in the wall, the branches serving as hooks on which to su8|)end hats, whips, and spurs; and in the cornei-s of the apartment were fowling-pieces, fishing-rods, and as other sporting implements. The furniture was of the cumbi'ous workmanship of former days, though some articles of modern conven- ience had been added, and the oaken floor had l)een carpeted ; so that the whole presented an odd mixture of parlor and hall. The grate had been removed from the wide overwh(;lming fireplace, 4'> to make way for a tire of wood, in the midst of which was an enor- mous log, glowing and blazing, and sending forth a vast volume of light and heat; this I understood was the yule clog, which the 'Squire ! 11 118 PROSE COMPOSITION. if. ■^A f ' I i was jmi'ticuliir in liaving brought in anrl illumined on a Christmas 45 eve, according to ancient custom. It was really delightful to see the old 'Squire, seated in his heredit- ary elbow-chair, by the hospitable fireside of his ancestors, and look- , ing around him like the sun of a system, beaming warmth and glad- ness to every heart. Even the very dog that lay stretched at his 50 feet, as he lazily shifted his ])osition and yawned, would look fondly up in his mastei-'s face, wag his -iail against the floor, and stretch him- self again to sleep, confi his ease. I had not been seated many minutes by the comfortable hearth of the worthy old cavalier, before I found myself as nnich at home as if I had been one of the family. Supi)er was announced shortly after our arrival. It was served xip in a spacious oaken chamber, the panels of which shone with wax, (ioand around which were several family )»ortraits decorated with holly and ivy. Besides the accustonied lights, two great wax tapers, called Christmas candles, wreathed with greens, were placed on a highly polished beaufet among the family plate. The table was abundantly spread with substant'al fare ; but the 'Squire made his supper of f.5 frumenty, a dish made of wheat cakes boiled in milk with rich spice.s, being a standing disli in old times for Christmas eve. I was happy to find my old friend, minced j)ie, in the retinue of the feast ; and find- ing him to be perfectly orthodox, and that I need not be ashamed of my predilection, I greeted him with all the warmth wherewith we 70 usually greet an old and very genteel acquaintance. The mirth of the company'was greatly promoted by the humors of an eccentric j)ersonage, whom Mi*. Braccsbridge always addressed with the quaint appellation of Master Simon He w;'.s a tight brisk little man, with the air of an arrant old bachelor. His nose was sha|)ed 75 like the bill of a j)arrot, his face slightly pitted with the small-pox, with a dry perpetual bloom on it, like a frost-bitten leaf in autumn. He had an eye of great quickness and vivacity, with a drollery and lurking waggery of expression that was irresistible. He was evi- dently the wit of the family, dealing very much in sly jokes and DESCRIPTIONS. 119 innuendoes with the ladies, and making infinite merriment by harp- go ings upon old thenxes ; which, unfortunately, my ignorance of the family chronicles did not permit me to enjoy. It seemed to be his great delight, during 8up])er, to keep a young girl next to him in a continual agony of stifled laughter, in spite of her awe of the re- proving looks of her mother, who sat opposite. Indeed, he was the 8'. idol of the younger part of the company, who laughed at everything he said or did, and at every turn of his countenance. I could not wonder at it ; for he must have been a miracle of accomi>lishmei»ts in their eyes. He could in^itate Punch and Judy ; make aix old wonum of his hand, with the assistance of a burnt cork and pocket handker- 90 chief; and cut an orange into such a ludicrous caricature, that the young folks were ready to die with laughing. I was let briefly into his history by Frank Bracebridge. He was an old bachelor, of a small inde|)endent income, which, by cai-eful management, was sufficient for all his wants. He revolved through <».i the family system like a vagrant comet in its orbit ; sometimes visit- ing one branch, and sometimes another quite remote, as is often the case with gentlemen of extensive connections and small fortunes in England. He had a chirping, buoyant disposition, always enjoying the present moment; and his frecpient change of scene and company 100 prevented his acquiring those rusty, unaccommodating habits, with which old bachelors are so uncharitably charged. He was a complete familv chronicle, beins: v'ii-sed in the I'enealof'V, historv, and inter- marriages of the whole house of Bracebridge, which made him a great favorite with the old folks ; he was a beau of all the elder ladies and un, superannuated sjunsters, among whom he was habitually considered rather a young fellow, and hn was master of the revels among the the children ; so that there was not a more popular being in the sphere in which ho moved, than Mr. Simon Bracbridge. Of late years, he had residetl almost entirely with the '8quire, to whom he 110 had become a factoruni, and whom he |>articularly delighted by jump- ing with his humor in respect to old times, and by having a scrap of an old song to suit every occasion. We had presently a s[)ecimen of his last-mentioned talent ; for no sooner was supper removed, and sp'ced wines and other beverages peculiar to the season introduced, lis l-ll i' i) I i :> » '. 120 PB08E COMPOSITION. than Master Simon was called on for a good old Christinas song. He bethought himself for a moment, and then, with a sparkle of the eye, and a voice that was by no means bad, excepting that it ran occasion- ally into a falsetto, like the notes of a split reed, he quavered forth a 120 quaint old ditty : Now Christmas is come, Let us beat up the drum. And call all our neighbors together ; And when they appear, 12A Let us make such a cheer, As will keep out the wind and the weather, etc. The supper had disposed every one to gayety, and an old harper was summoned from the servants' hall, where he had been strumming all the evening, and to all appearance comforting himsulf with some 130 of the 'Squire's home-brewed. He was a kind of hanger-on, I was told, of the establishment, and though ostensibly a resident of the village, was oftener to be found in the 'Squire's kitchen than his own home ; the old gentleman being fond of the sound of " Harp in hall." The dance, like most dancec after supper, was a merry one ; some vw> of the older folks joined in it, and the 'Squire himself figured down several couple with a imrtner with whom he affirmed he had danced at every Christmas for nearly half a century. Master Simon, who seemed to be a kind of connecting link between the old times and che new, and to be withal a little antiquated in the taste of his accom- 1*0 plishments, evidently piqued himself on his dancing, and was eu- • deavoiing to gain credit by the heel and toe, rigadoon, and other gi-aces of the ancient school ; but he had unluckily assorted himself with a little romping girl from boarding-school, who, by her wild vivacity, kept him continually on the stretch, and defeated all hi» 146 sober attempts at elegance : — such are the ill-sorted matches to which antique gentlemen are unfortunately prone ! The young Oxonian, on the contrary, had led out one of his maiden aunts, on whom the rogue played a thousand little knaveries with impunity ; he was full of practical jokes, and his delight was to tease 160 his aunts and cousin? ; yet, like all madcap youngsters, he was a universal favorite among the women. The most interesting coui)le in w DESCRIPTIONS. 121 the dance was the young officer and a ward of the 'Squire's, a beauti- ful blushing girl of seventeen. From several shy glances which I had noticed in the course of the evening, I sus|)ected there was a little kindness growing Uj) between them ; and, indeed, the young i5.> soldier was just the hero to captivaite a romantic girl. He was tall, slender, and handsome ; and, like most young British officers of late years, had picked up various small accomplishments on the Con- tinent — he could talk French and Italian — draw landscapes - sing very tolerably — dance divinely ; but, above all, he had been wounded ici*^ at Waterloo: what girl of seventeen, well read in poetry and romance, could resist such a mirror of chivalry and perfection ? The moment the dance was over, he caught up a guitar, and lolling against the old marble fireplace, in an attitude which I am half in- clined to suspect was studied, l>egan the little French air of the ^*^'>- Troubadour. The 'Squire, however, exclaimed against having any- thing on Christmas eve but good old English ; upon which the young minstrel, casting up his eye for a moment, as if in an effort of mem- ory, struck into another strain, and with a charming air of gallantry, gave Herrick's " Night-Piece to Julia : " My eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee, And the elves also. Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of tire, befriend thee. No Will-o'-th'-VVisp mishght thee ; Nor snake or slow- worm bite thee ; But on, on thy way, Not making a stay, Since ghosts there is none to affright thee. Then let not the dark thee cuinber ; What though the moon does slumber, The stars of tlie night - ' Will lend thee their light, Like tapers clear without number. irc 180' is.v Then, lulia, let nie woo thee. Thus, thus to come unto me ; And when I shall meet Thy silvery feet, My soul I'll pour into thee. ■ I '< -' 4- 1!M> S '•if I? I' 122 PEOSE COMPOSITION. The song might'or tiiiglit not liave hym inteixdeJ in conipliinent to the fiiir Julia, for so I fouml his partner was called; she, however, was certainly unconscious of any such application ; for she never l<»(jkecl at the singer l)ut kept her eyes cast upon the floor ; her face i!»'> suffused, it is true, with a beautiful blush, and there was a gentle heaving of the bosotn, but all that was doubtless caused by the exercise of the dance : indeed, so great was her indifference, that she was amusing her.self with [ducking to [)ieces a choice bouquet of hot- house flowers, and by the time the song was concluded the nosegay ■-<"» lay in ruins on the floor. The party now V)roke up for the night, with the kind-hearted old custom of shaking hands. As I passed through the hall on my way to my chamber, the dying (;mbers of the yule clog still sent forth a dusky glow ; and had it not been the season when " no spirit dares -f'"' stiv aljroad," I should have been half tempted to steal from my room at midnight, and i>ee]) whether the fairies might not be at their i-evels aV)out the hearth. • INDUCTION FROM MODELS. / Compositional Analysis: 1. Tlie oeciision of his prestSice, the place itself, the persons assembled, tlie most distinguished or remarkable of these persons, tlie jiroceed- ings, and any reflections on wliat he has observed, are the sub-topics on which Irving lius written tin's life-like description of a village funeral. In this most natural piece of art is discovered tlie outline of all compositions of the same general subject : yet there are a sympathetic tenderness, and a refined acnteness of observation about this description, which gi\e it both harmony with its special subject and the charm of marked individu- ality of style ; not only is it a model of descriptions of assemblages, aad a pleasing and appropriate account of a rural funeral, but it is distinctly in Irving's style. The opening sentences are obviously preparatory ; what effect has each of the first four in preparing the mood of the reader ? How is that mood modified by the next four sentences ? What is the eflect of the mention of the attitude of the sexton, of the " humble friend," of the neighboring poor, of the unthinking children ? Why does DESCRIPTIONS. 123 Irving <<:ive the inscription of the coffin in quotation marks ? What evidences of o])servation does the author give us in the second, third, and fourth paragraphs ? VVhat use does he make of " reflected descriptiitn " in this sketch '. What is the principle of arrangement governing the seventh paragraph i 2. Contrast the tone of the second example with that of the first. In which sentence, if at all, does Macaulay deal with the sul)-toi>ics men- tioned in the first sentence of the exercise abo\c ^ What are the two main topics of this description ( By wliat nieans does the author [iro- duce the dominant ett'ect of the picture ? 3. What effect has the first sentence as a pre})aration for the description that follows { Are the characters outlined in the first paragraph interest- ing for the i)urj)(jses of this sketch ? What is the artistic value of the vagueness with which the niunbers and the charactei-s of the subordinate persons are given us in the second paragraph ( What do we learn of the life of the family from the sketch of the hall in the third paragraph ( Why does the fire-place receive the honors of a separu'e paragraph ! Show the force and the beauty of the principal strokes by which Irving hits oft' the character of the squire. What considerations save tliis des- criptitm of the supper from being a n»ere appeal to the palate I Imagine the paragraph stripped f>f its humor, elegance and sentiment ; What would then be the substance of the last sentence '. What points are dealt with in (a) the pen-[)ortrait, (/») the character sketch of Master Simon i By what means are his characteristics made vivid and readily hnaginable to us ? Account for the time ()f the introduction of the harper I In what spirit does Irving describe the dancing in the paragraph beginning "the dance " ^ What is the author's attitude toward "the young Oxonian " and Jidia ? Is the song from Herrick in harmony with the scene ! In your opinion does Irving always interprtst correctly the manner of Julia ( What impression is left upon us by the concluiling lines of this charming sketch ! Is it jxtssible, beneath the anecdotes, ornaments, and humours of this description, to discover the simple, solid frame work whicii gives figure and proportion to all descriptions of assemblages ! !■■ Language Lesson : 1. Pope in his Enmij o)( Criticism says, " True ease in writing comes from art, not chance. As those move easiest wiio have learned to dance. 'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence, Tlie sound must seem an echo to the sense. " (I ^f ^« •' i ' II ! !i; 124 PliOSE COMPOSITION. How dues the Hecond Netitence of this extract illustrate these lines ( What is the emotional value of the epithets of the sentence in lines 12- 13^ ( )bserve the effect of dropping "new-made," "only," and "poor." "They were the obsequies of poverty" (15, Ifi) ; to what does "they" refer ( What relation do lines l()-27 hear to the sentence in lines 16-lH / Why do nntinuity, and (r) variety. Account for the reference to the culprit and Jiis accusers in the tirst sentence. Account for the order of the personal descriptions. Why does Macaulay consider it necessary to explain the absence of Pitt and Lord North ? Why are the names of Windham and Earl Grey introduced each after the description of the man himself^ W^hat name is given to this device? Show, in each case, the effect of the repeti- ti«mof "his" (89); "English" (93, 94); "There" (93, 94, 98); and " British " (109, 110) ; and of the use of "the ingenious, the chivalrous, thehigh-souled"(100, 101); "unblemished" (107); and "culprit, advo- cates, accusers" (111). Explain the exact significance of the descrip- tion, "the English Demosthenes and the English Hyperides." 9. Criticise the form of (94, 98) the sentence. Contrast the effect of the last sentence in the above extract with that of the following one, accounting for Macaulay's use of the additional particulars : But those who, mithin the l((st ten yectrx, have listened till inorni)Kj in the House of Lords, to the eltxjxence of Earl Gre>i, can form an estimate of the poirers of men some of whom imre better than he. By reference to "illustrious" (83); "urbanity" (89); " reverentially " (98) ; "delegates" (109); and "ani- mated'' (115) ; show how light may be thrown upon the exact meaning of a word (a) by means of its etymology, and (h) by distingyishing it from its synonyms. Give the tci'ins that describe the style of the alxjve extract, and explain their application. Illustrate from the above extract the characteristics of Macaulay's style, (a) which writers should imitate, and (b) which they should avoid. Give in each case the reascms for your opinion. If .: ( .i i. 1 i 1: . If ■4 '1 i' '•! \\ : li 120 rnoSE roMPOTITION. 3. Ill what Hun.sti iiiHy tlio fivNt sunteiicti bti called the key-note of tlii» (It'scrijttioii I Tlie three Hentences of the tirst panigmph Hiiiiply state three facts observed l)y the author as ho^entured tlie liouse ; the paragraph lacks unity, hut this hick is forgotten in the naturahiess with wliich these sentences describe the actual occurrence. Point out the stroke of play- ful (iynical humour in the sentence "The 8)" but." DLscuss the order of the personal nouns in the sentence "It whs coiiipo,sed. . . .hoydun.s'" ( ). Illn.strati! the rhetorical value of similitudes and of the balanced construc- tion foom tlie last sentence of the .second ])aragra|>h. How does Irving coiicful the somewhat abru])t change of subject at the beginning of the third paragia])h ! What purpose has iiiMuenced the selectit»n of objects mentioned in the description of the liall / Why is the grate accorded the honour of a separate paragrajih !* What is tlie subject of the fifth para- graph i Show the I'elatioii of the second, third, and fourth .sentences to the first, and to one another. I'oint out any .strokes of literary merit in this |)aragraph. Observe the order of details in the sixth paragraph ; the author does not tell us that he mentions the oltjects in the order in which they would naturally strike him upon entering the room, and seating him- self at the table: yet that is the concealed art of the arrangement. INnnt out the humourous strokes of the last .sentence of the sixth paragraph. In the two paragraphs devoted to Ma.ster Simon, illu.strate the authm's minute observation, as disjdayed ni mentioning details ; illustrate his fondness for humourous desci-iption verging on caricature ; his tendency to suit the .style to the subject by de.scribing antic piated subjects in anti- ( plated language. In the ninth paragra[)h the author introduces the music for the dance which follow's ; observe in the expressions "strunnning,'' " to all appearance,'' "I was told," how he preserves the attitude of a refined and impartial observer. The concluding paragraphs are marked by lunnour, tenderness, and sympathy, never approaching coarseness and butlbonery on the one hand, nor sentimentality and mawkishness on the other ; illustrate the (|ualities mentioned. Observe the tine climax in the mention of the accomplishments of the young British oiBcer. Exercises : I -1. He was sjiid at that time to have been the only man present capable of the task. 2. Try and do it as soon as possible. 3. I think I will go to-morrow. DKSCIUPTWNS. 1J7 eiicy iuiti- esent 4. Will I find you at homo thin ovunin},' I 5. Jdliu hiiH (leturininud that hu Hlutuld do it iit oiico. le. 14. Were ho in tho wrong and wo should know it ho could \\v\v\ forgive us. 15. He saw them as he walked on the road as most of us had. 10. Ho dove from a stoei) bank into the river 17. Cidling his attention tt) the state of the hoat ho said he wniilil put it in order. 18. In spite of his boast he dares not go there. 10. He never had gone there but he said he was going to. 20. Tho judge don't often make a mistake. IT. — 1. The captain with his crew were st)on landed on the French coast 2. Of all tho figures of speech none C(jme so near painting as tin- Metaphor. 8. The good old man continued to take life easily. 4. The smith said he didn't know as ho couhl do it at once. 5. Scarcely hiul day dawned than the peoide began to throng intn the village. 6. There is no doubt but what the l)ridge was swei)t away. 7. Ho stood by him like a father by his S(m. 8. He tended them carefully st) as they would be ready in time. 9. It won't without he looks after it constantly. 10. They were that tired that they had to be carried into the house. 11. Professor is undoubtly as learned if not more learned than his predecessor. 12. Each vassal placed his hand between those of the lioge-lord and swore their allegiance. Sn T 128 PROSE' CfJMPOSITION. I'A. To luH own indolunce, indeed, whh owing nutHt of his ditticultius. 14. The jury had not rendered tlieir verdict nt ten o'dock. 15. Of nil the hoys he in the stnmgeHt huilt. 1<(. His nssiHttmce Iihh done more towHrds hringing about tluH result thnn nny <»ther gentlenmn. 17- He went from one house to the other niaking enquiries. 18. Their orders were to cut to pieces whomsoever should venture to guze on the ludies ns they passed. 19. He showed us a picture of Sir Joshua Reynold's. 20. It is easy for us to fall into error if one allows himself to l)e guided by othoi'S. III. — Distinguisli between the present reading and the one suggested. 1. If the i)risoner is (bo) guilty he should be punished. 2. If he goes (go) I go (shall go). 3. I may (might) go if it prove (proved) satisfactory. 4. He saw them before me (I). 6. I'll show you difterent (differently). 6. The ti'ain leaves (will leave) in the morning at nine o'clock. 7. He stood firmer (more firmly) than ever. 8. The captain treated his men better than us (we). 9. The man answered that he saw (had seen) his friend. 10. He showed me a ^minting of his sister (sister's). 11. The committee gives (give) its (their) opinion (opinions) on this (juestion. 12. (a) I saw him getting from his horse, (b) I saw him get from his horse. 13. (a) I should think he was wrong, (b) I think he's wrong. 14. The teacher sent for William's (William) and Mary's book. 15. The ambassador is (has) just arrived from France. 16. The friends stood by each other (one another). * 17. The plan should (ought to) be carried out at once. 18. I doubt that (whether) this will serve onr purpose. 19. (a) A book was given him. (b) He was given a book. 20. Here stood the brother I spoke of (of whom I spoke). DEHCHIPTIONH. 129 PRACTICE. Practice List : Write H (luscription of an H»st'iiil)lHyo : — 1. A ClniHtt'ninj,^ 2. Scene in a Lo;;' Scliool-Hoiise. 3. A Wedding. 4. A Military (iatlierin^v 5. A Trial Scene. 0. A Golden Wedding. 7. A Funei-al. cS. A State Ceremony. 9. A Fair. 10. A Bee. ' 1 ii Arrangement of Material : A Trial Scene. 1. 'Wq accusation. 2. The court room. 3. llxe crcnvd. 4. The Bench. 5. The counsel for the defence. (J. The counsel for the prosecution and the first witness. 7. The jury. 8. The prisoner. 9. The reporters. 10. What was afterwards read of the trial and its result. In '1 1 ! r I- 130 PROSE COMPOSITION. Practical Suggestions : 1. " For priicticjil purposes there is no better detinition of a good style than Swift's, — 'Proper words in proper places.' " — Professor Hill. 2. The relation between the conclusion of a composition and its in- troduction is analogous to the relation between the conclusion of a proposition in Euclid and its enunciation. Sometimes, however, it is artistic not to state the substance of a coni- pn each ; arrange and re-arrange these until you find the most effective order. 4. "A glance at any printed page will show that in paragraphs, even more notably than in sentences, the points which most readily catch the eye are the beginning and the end." — Professor Wenddl. 5. "It is my custom to advise pupils to make their style as periodic as they can without palpable artifice." — Professor Wendell. :i. A FOP. My liege, I did deny no prisoners : But I remember, when the fight was done. When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword. Came there a certain lord, neat, and trimly dress'd. Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reap'd Show'd like a stubble-land at haruest-home : He was perfumed like a millinet. And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his. nose and took 't away again ; Who therewith angry, when it next came there, Took it in snuff : and still he smil'd and talk'd ; And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by. He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly, unhandsome corpse Betwixt the wind and his nobility. V h many holiday and lady terms He .juestion'd me; among the rest demanded My prisoners in your majesty's behalf I then all smarting with my wounds being cold, To be so pester'd with a popinjay. Out of my grief and my impatience Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what. He should, or he shonid not; for he made me mad To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman Of guns, and drums, and wounds,— Ood save the mark f- And telling me the sovereign'st thing on earth Was parmaceti for an inward bruise ; And that it was great pity, so it was. That villainous saltpetre should be digg'd Out of the bowels of the harmless earth. Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd So cowardly ; and but for these vile guns He would himself have been a soldier. < n PEN-PORTRAITS. 133 CHAPTER IX. PES-PORTRAITS. 10 MODELS. I.— Macaulay's Pen-Portrait of William the Third.— He was now in his tliirty-seventh year, but both in body ami mind he was older than other men of his age, indeed it may be said that he had never been young. His external a[)pearance is almost as well known to us as to his own captains and councillors. Sculptors, painters, and medallists exerted their utmost skill in the work of transmitting his features to posterity, and his features were such as no artist could fail to seize, and such as, once seen, could never be forgotten. His name at once calls up before us a slender and feeble frame, a lofty and ample forehead, a nose curved like the beak of an eagle, an eye rivalling that of an eagle in brightness and keenness, a thoughtful and somewhat sullen brow, a firm and somewhat peevish mouth, a cheek pale, thin, and deeply furrowed by sickness and by care. That pensive, severe, and solemn aspect could scarcely have ^^ belonged to a hapi)y or good humored man. But it indicates in a manner not to be mistaken, capacity equal to the most arduous enter- prises, and fortitude not to be shaken by reverses or dangers. From Macaulay's ' History of England." By permission of the pttblishera. II.— Macaulay's Pen-Portrait of Judgre Jeffreys.— He was a man of quick and vigorous parts, but constitutionally prone to indolence and to the angry passions. When just emei'ging from boy- hood he had risen into practice at the Old Bailey bar, a bar where advocates have always used a license of tongue unknown in West- ^ minster Hall. Here, during many years, his chief business was to examine the most hardened miscreants of the great capital. Daily conflicts with the vilest criminals called out and exercLsed his powers so effectually that he became the most consumate bully ever known in his profession. lo r :l J 134 PROSE COMPOSISION. I 4 ! All tenderness for the feelings of others, all self-respect, all sense of the becoming, were obliterated from his mind. He acquired a boundless command of the rhetoric in wliich the vulgar express hatred and contempt. The profusion of malediction and vituperative ^^ epithets which composed his vocabulary could hardly have been rivalled in the fish-market or the bear-garden. His countenance and his voice must always have been unaniiable. But these natural advantages, — for such he seemed to have thought them, — he had improved to such a degree that there were few who, in 20 his paroxysms of rage, could see or hear him without emotion. Im- prudence and ferocity sat upon his brow. The glare of his eye had a fascination for the unhappy victim upon whom they were tixed. Yet his brow and eye were said to be less terrible than the savage lines of his mouth. His yell of fury, as was said b}' one who had often " heard it, sounded like the thunder of the Judgment-day. From Macaulay'g "History of Fnglawi." By permission of the publishers. III.— Carlyle's Pen-Portrait of Dante.— An unimportant, wandering, sorrow-stricken man ; not much note was taken of him while he lived, and the most of that has vanished in the long space that now intervenes. r> It is five centuries since he ceased writing and living here. After all the commentaries the Book itself (The Divine Come<• ■i PBOSE COMPOSITION. Such a voice could only come from a broad chest, and the broad chest belonged to a large-boned, muscuhir man, ncaily six feet high, 25 with a back so flat and a head so well poised that when he drew him- self up to take a more distant survey of his work ho had the air of a soldier standing at ease. The sleeve rolled up al)ove the elbosv showed an arm that was likely to win the prize for feats of strength ; yet the long, supple' hand, with its broad Hnger tips, looked ready aofor works of skill. In his tall stahvartness Adam Bode was a Snxon, and justified his name ; but the jet-black hair, made the more notice, able by its contrast with the light paper cap and the keen glance of the daik eyes that shone from under strongly maiked, prominent, and mobile eyebrows, indicated a mi.vture of Celtic blood. The face '^5 was large and roughly hewn, and when in repose had no othei- beauty than such as belongs to an expression of good humoured, honest Fi tm " Adam Bede." By permission of the puhlighern. intelligence. v.- irvingf's Description of the School-master of Sleepy Hollow* — The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to tliis per- son. He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet tliat might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely i">hung together. His head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, large green, glassy eyes, and a long snij)e no.se, so that it looked like a weathercock perched upon his spindle neck, to tell which way tli» wind blew. To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might 10 have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or sonje scarecrow eloped from a cointield. VI.— George Eliot's Pen-Portrait of Dinah Morris the Methodist Preacher. — The traveller pushed his horse on to the Green as Dinah walked rather quickly, and in advance of her com- panions, toward the cart under the maple-tree. While she was near Seth's tall figure she looked short, but when she mounted the cart, .5 and was away from all comparison, she seemed above the midtlle height of woman, though in reality she did not exceed it — an effect which was due to the slimness of her figure, and the simple line of PEN-PORTRAITS. 137 her black stuff dress. The strunger was struck with surprise as he saw lit'i' approach and mount the cart--suri)rise, not so much at the feminine delicacy of her appearance as at the total absence of self-cot;- lo soiousness of her deuieanor. He had made u[) his mind to see her advance with a measured stej\ and a deunn-e solemnity ot counten- ance ; lie had felt sure that her face would be mantled with a smile ot" conscious saintship, or else chari,'ed with denunciatory bitterness. He knew but two tyi)es of Methodists — the ecstatic and the bilious_ v> But Dinah walked as simply as if she were going to market, and seemed as unconscious of her outward appearance as a little boy ; there was no blush, no tremulousness, which said, " I know vou tiiink me a pretty woman, too young to preach"; no casting up or down of the eyelids, no com[)ression of the lips, no attitude of the-" arms, that said, " but you tnust think of me as a saint." She held no book in her ungloved han brow, ])y a neat Quakw cap. The ey(!bro\vs, of the same color as tlie hair, were perfectly horizontal, and firndy penciled; the eyelashes, thouijh no darker, were loni; and abundant ; nothini; was left blurred or xmfinished. It was one of those faces that make one think of white flowers with light touches of color on their i)ure petals. The 4'). eyes had no peculiar beauty beyond that of expression ; they looked so sim[)le, so candid, so gravely loving, that no accusing scowl, no light sneer could lielp melting away before their glance. From " Adam Bede." By permistion of the publishers. lif'l I l:i8 PROSE COMPOSITION. INDUCTION FROM MODELS. Compositional Analysis : 1. In (loMcrihing n lHne it is customary to sketch tho contour of tliu scene lirst, and then to clothe tliat outline with the ajjpropriate c<)Iour and life. In Macaulay's j)en-i)ortrait of William the Third which lines give the general description -the rapid sketch which places the picture liefore us in outline. What is the purjjose of the sec(md and third sen- tences !^ It is ol)vious from the second [)ai'agraph that Macaulay had collected a great anumntof information concerning this king's a|>pearance ; all good description nmsthe based upon careful and sufficient observation; but the author would not have achieved the success he has if he had mentioned every fact he had learned in his ol)servation8. Discuss the wisdom of the xehcfion (in these matters aelertiun and art are almost synonymous; which presents to us the frium', the fovehead, the noin'., the ('*/»', the hron; the month, and the check of this scholar, soldier, and king. In what sense is the last paragraph a justification of the preceding des- eripticm ? State briefly the sul)8tance of each paragraph, thus c(mstructing a synopsis of the extract. Use this synopsis, making any slight alteratitms you find necessai-y, as the outline of a description of any distinguished soldier or statesman with wlio.se appeanvnce you are familiar. 2. Make a full list of the points that might be mentioned in describing a man, such as age, complexion, height, expression, dress, attitude, hair ; make some general rules of selection for pen-portraits of different classes of persons. Which features seem to be mentioned in nearly all the pen- portraits i Why ? In what" sense are the paragrai)h on the early life of the brutal chief-justice, and that on his disposition and address, i)arts of the pen-portrait '. Wliat is the advantage of the tejiectcd ctcacviption of Jert'rej's in the latter jiart of the second sentence of the last paragraph, of "few who. .. .without emotion?" "Imprudence and ferocity sat up — his brow," what is the literal meaning of this assertion ! When Macaulay mentions the fascination of the judge's eye, what comparistm seems to be in his mind ? Write the ccunparison explicitly. What is gained by the coniparison in the closing sentenced Is it appropriate? The author makes much of the voice of Jeftreys in order to accentuate the ferocity of his ntiture ; does the description of his voice give us any help in forming an idea of his appearance I Is it customary to a.ssociate (jualities of voice with appearance ( Does the author in this instance give us any general idea of the appearance of the subject of the portrait before entering into ve some- times find (III int rod lid ion corresponding to the first general impression, then a closer stmbj of the complexion features, and other points of interest, and finally a conehiduiii reference Ui the general impression, more distinct and penetrating than the introducti<»n. Can these phrases of description be traced in any of the pen-portraits of this chapter? What meaning does Carlyle seem to attach to the fact that the face of Dante was "painted as on vacancy, with the simple laurel wreath aroinid it T' Why does the author dwell so forcibly upon the mournfulness, the teiin of the hist sentence tr motive in this sketch ? What means are used to effect that puri)ose ? P). How has Macaulay given this sentence compactness and fi>rce '. The third paragraph gives a multiplicity of details in describing the appearance of William. Into what fault would an ine.vperienced writer bu likely X.o fall in such an enumeration \ How has this danger been avoided \ N«>te the marked similarity of construction in the different |)arts of this sentence. Dttes it add to the value of the sentence or detract fmui it \ How '. What would the last sentence lo.se if it were written \ " liut it indicates in an unmis- takable manner fortitude not to be shaken by reverses or dangers, and capacity ecpial to the most arduous enterprises?" State with reasons which of the following is preferable, — " l)oth in ])ody and mind" (2), or "in both body and mind,' or "both in body or in mind" ; "external appear- ance " (5) or "appearance"; "in the work of tran.smitting '' (7) or "in transmitting;" "by sickness and by care" (14) or "by sickness and care" ; " that pensive, severe, and solemn aspect " or "such an aspect.' Why should the prose of this sketch l)e ternied orfdoiintl ? 2. The first two sentences are vigorous and telling ; this is owing partly to the fact that these sentences are somewhat similar in foi-matitm. What is the point of similarity I Would the ettect of the first sentence be in- jured by omitting " quick and " (2) and " to " (!i) ? The seccaid sentence is longer and freer than the first. Is it suited to its position in these respects? Why did Macaulay say " a bar " (4) instead of "Old Bailey etc.,"' and "tongue" (5) in.stead of " si)eech :' " Is there any ambiguity in the use of "Here''((i)^ W^)uld it be an improvement to read "criminals'' for "mi.screants " (7) and "miscreants" for "criminals' (8). Account for the order of the parts of the subject in the tirst sen- tence of the second paragraph. Discu.ss the ellert of substituting "blotted" for "obliterated" (12), "gained" for "acquired" (12), "language" for " rhetoric " (13), "conunon i)eople "' for "the vulgar' (13), " scorn " for "contempt " (14), and " matclied " for " rivalled " (KJ)' "His countenance. .. .unamialde." What use does Macaulay make of such short, clear, .sentences, as this? In what parts of the composition are such sentences usually found ? Would " face " be a good substitute for " countenance " ? Why? State the general objection to the employ- i 142 PTiOSE COMPOSITION. mont of luivunthoHiH. Is tlio imreiithosiH "for such. .. .theme" (18-1!>) juNtiHiil)lo / "Yet his brow. . . .nututh." What is the lieiiriiij^ of this seiitt'ijco on the two precediiijj Hcnteiices I How is this connection uuidu clear t<» the reader. To what does '* it " (25) refer '( 3- Wlien several nioditiers arc attached to a noun tlioy are usually arraiii^cd in the order of their length, the shortest first. Why is this order deviated from in "unimportant, wandering, sorniw-stricken " (1, '2) f Note th<' construction of the first sentence. How do the succession of modifiers "unimportant, wandering, sorrow-stricken;" and "wliik- he lived" and "in the long 8|)ace that now intervenes'' effect its tone!' Uewrite the sentence condensing the nioditiers and compare with the sentence as it stands, Di.scuss the propriety of inserting a comma after " conunentaries '' (r>). "Cannot help inclining to think '" (ii). Suggt-st a substitute for this expression. Note througlu)ut the composition the repetition of the words, "face "(11), "faces "(11), "face" (15, Hi and 25), "deathless" (lHand 14), " implacable " (20, 27 and 28), " withall " (22 and 24), " thing " (2.'{ and 24), "a kind of" (29) etc. Do these repe- titions detract from the merit of the extract or add to it? State the etfect in each case. Criticise the use of "most" (IT). "Blank Dante" (12-14). Account for the lack of consecutive statement in this sentence. The clauses, "whoever did if (10) and "which is also deathless'' (14) arc (piite in Carlyle's manner; why are they so effective? "I think,... reality '' (15). Compare " I consider it the most mournful face that was ever painted from reality." The author has often placed two or more co-ordinate words side by sitle ; as, " unimjiortant, wandering, sorrow- stricken" (1-2), "deathless sorrow and pain, and known victory " (l.'i), "an altogether tragic, heart-att'ecting " (10), "softness, tenderness, gentle affection '' (17), " sharp contradiction, into abn*Jgiition, isolation, proud, hopeless pain " (18-19), " stern, implacable, grim-trenchant" (20), "slow, ecpiable, implacable, silent" (28) etc. These expressions show the entliu- siasm of the writer for his subject. State the emotional value of each of them. Justify the redundant "it" (29). Criticise "so he looks, thi.s 'voice' etc.," (31). Point out in the passiige instances of striking or original diction. 4. Geurge Eliot in introducing this paragraph expresses the intention of vividly reproducing a scene ; consequently the reader may expect a clear and picturesque style. Show that in almost every sentence the desire for picturesqueness has affected the phraseology. Mention what you consider the most striking instances of picturesque effect. The desire for clearness leads naturally to careful paragraph structure. If the para- •llii PEN-ronriiAiTS. i4:( ;eiition pect a ce the what desire para- graph topic were "Adam IJede, the Wdrkiimn," would the extract lu' «)pen to tht) charge of a lack of unity? CriticJHe the opening and oou- cluding sentenceM as hucIi. Show h<»w the connection In made Itetweeu each Hentence and the one innue«liately preceding. Are there any in- HtanceH where too great pains has been taken to maintain this connect ii in i' Show that in some cases the reference to the preceding sentences could l>i' made even clearer than it is. Is a change desindde :* What is the foicu of '* there "' (2) / Jtemove any lack of clearness ohscrvaltlu in"l»ut the jet hlack hair .... Celtic blood" (.'U-.'{4). (Jeorge Kliot's prose is fri- • juently remarkalde for its mehidy. Do you think this panigrajth strikini,'ly I'hythmicaW Account for the fact. Write connneiits on the smnid ut **tlie standing. ... plane " (5-7) and the closing cadences of the hist sen- tence. Critici.se the use of "transparent" (<>), "that" (<»j, which (i;j». which (18), "again "(20), and "that" {[V,i). Freshness of diction is u supreme merit in descriptive composition. It cannot be attained by the young writer except as the result of careful, thoughtfid observation. It is desiral)le to see things vividly and express yourself with truth and fidelity. Show from the extract that tiie author observed keeidy and witli imagination, and that conseipiently her diction is novel and striking. 6. Would the author have considered "(he name of Crane corresponded to his appearance " a good sub.stitute for ihr tir.st sentence:' Why / Why is the use of long and unusual words sometimes slightly Innuorous :* Criticise the emph»yment of " but " (2), What is the connection of "and his whole frame mo.st loosely hung together" (4-5). Suggest an improve- ment. Note the use of hyperbole for a humorous purpose in the second sentence. Explain the force of the connective " so that " (<>). T(» what does "it"' ((>) refer I Observe the peculiar u.se of " with'' (2, 5, and 9). Substitute some other connective .so as to avoid the repetition. What effect is sought for in "at t(jp" (5), "huge" (5), " .snii>e '' (m light into darkness. 7. He was still doing some work at his farm on the new road. 8. We brought forward many samjiles rare and beautiful for their insjjection. 9. His parents might have done much better for him surrounded by such affluence. 10. He recommended the fruit that had been sent him on account of its ex(iuisite flavour. 11. The martyr was once more led into the square and burned by oi'der of the governor. 12. The prince is said to have resembled his royal mother as well as the princess. FEN-PORTRAITS. 147 13. He depicted to a highly interested audience in glowing colors the adventures of this wonderful man at the institute last evening. 14. Such punishments may be quite properly employed in extreme cases. 15. Tnventoi's have turned their attention to the use of electricity as a locomotive power obtaining good results. 16. He said he couldn't ' for a moment consider an insult to such a man <»f no importance. 17. He weakly allowed them to bring forward a force that command- ed the situation without opposition. 18. He was trying at the time of his death to settle the difficulty that was pressed on his attention by some new means. 19. Spencer has touched upon the subject of literary style in the small treatise now under review. 20. He listened to opinions which he himself had previously advanc- ed with the greatest deference. PRACTICE. Practice List : Make a Pen-Portrait of some person Avhose appearance you are able to study. 1. A French-Canadian, 2. A Newsboy. ' 3. The Policeman on Our Beat. 4. A Be«,^gar. 5. A Fruit- Vendor. 6. Our Doctor. 7. A PoHtical Leader. 8. A Judge. . 9, An Old Slave, " ' . 10. An Indian. u 148 PROSh COMPOSITION. Arrangement of Material : A French Canadian. 1. Size and general figure. 2. Costume. 3. Movements, gestures, etc. 4. Face and character. 5. Occupations. 'I'l Practical Suggestions : 1. To hit oflF the general expression of tlie face in a single phrase is to secure unity — to make a picture— with one stroke of the pen. 2. If a detailed description would be too tedious relate an incident about the person and introduce the description as subordinate to the incident. 3. To describe the ett'ect of a person's appearance is often the best means of suggesting that appoai'ance. Coleridge uses this device when he makes the Ancient Mariner say : — "I moved my lips ; the Pilot slirieked And fell down in a iit." 4. In literature where the appearance of an imaginary character is so described as to produce an illusion, elaborate description is usually avoided. Words cannot produce photographic effects, and only suggestion can produce the eft'ect of truth. In The Meirhdtd of Venice thei-e is a remarkable passage (Act III., Sc. 2) in which a minute description pro- duces a powerful and pleasing illusion. It is noticeable, however, that Bassanio is looking at a picture of Portia while speaking of her face. 5. Pen-Portraits as a rule should be short — otherwise they degenerate into mere catalogues of the features. Pen-Portraits may ])e more minute when their aim is to recall the appearance of famous jnen and women. Ml 115 ase is to incident J to the the best when he er IS so usually Ingestion ere is a on pro- er, that ice. [enerate minute ncn. HOSTILE CAMPS ON THE EVE OF BATTLE. Now entertain conjecture of a time men creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army still sounds, That the flx'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch ■ Each battle sees the other's umber'd face ■ Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercng the night's dull ear; and from the tents The armourers, accomplishing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up Give dreadful note of preparation. .K '^IJ HI. I I CHARACTER SKETCHES. 161 CHAPTER X. CHARACTER SKETCHES. MODELS. I —Hudson's Character-Sketch of Shylock.— Sliylock is a stiUicUng marvel of power and scoi)e in the dramatic art ; at the same time apj)earing so nmcli a man of Nature's making, that we scarce know how to look u|)oii him as the Poet's workmanshi|>. In the delineation Shakespeare had no less a task than to inform with 5 individual life and ])ectiliarity the broad, strong outlines of national character in its most fallen and revolting state. Accordingly Shylock is a true representative of his nation ; wherein we have a pride which for ages never ceased to [)rovoke hostility, but which no hostility could ever subdue ; a thrift which still invited rapacity, but which non> rapacity could ever exhaust : and a weakness which, while it exposed the subjects to wrong, only dee|)ened their hate, because it left them without the moans or the hope of redress. Thus Shylock is a type of national sufferings, sympathies, ;nul antipathies. Hiuiself an ob- ject of bitter insult and scorn to those about him; surrounded by ir> enemies whom he is at once too proud to conciliate and too weak to op}>oso ; he can have no life among them but money; no hold on them but interest ; no feeling towards them but hate ; no indemnity out of them but revenge. Such being the case, wiiat wonder that the elements of national greatness became congealed or petrified into -20 malignity? As avarice was the [Kission in which he mainly lived, of course the Christian virtues that thwarted this were the greatest wrong that could be done hiui. With these strong national traits are interwoven personal traits equally strong. Thoroughly and intensely Jewish, he is not more a 25 Jew than lie is Shylock. In ins hard, icy intellectuality, and his ^' dry, mummydike tenacity " of purpose, with a dash now and then of biting sarcastic humour, we see the remains of a great and noble nature, out of which all the genial sap of humanity has been pressed ;i u 152 PROSE COMPOSITION. :« by accumulated injuries. With as nuicli elasticity of mind as stiff- ness of neck, every step he takes but the hist is as firm as the earth he treads upon. Nothing can daunt, nothing disconcert hitn ; re- monstrance cannot move, ridicule cannot touch, obloquy cannot exasperate him : when he has not provoked them, he has been forced 3.1 to bear them ; and now that he does provoke them, he is proof against them. In a word, he may V)e broken ; he caniu)t be bent. These several elements of character are so complicated in Shylock^ that we cannot distinguish their respective influence. Even his avarice has a smack of patriotism. Money is the only defence of his^ 4<» brethren as well as himself, an griping usiuer ; as Antonio, himself Shylock, Moreover, who but a Christian, one of Antonio's faith and fellowship, has stolen away his daughter's heart, and drawn her into revolt, loaded with his ducats, and his precious, precious jewels ? Thus his religion, his patriotism, liis avarice, his affection, all concur to stimulate his enmity ; and his 5(> personal hate, thus reinforced, for once overcomes his avarice, and he grows generous in the prosecution of his design. The only i*eason he will vouchsafe for taking the pound of flesh is, " if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge ; " — a reason all the more satis- factory to him, fomsmuch as those to whom he gives it can neither Mallow nor refute it : and until they can rail the seal from off" his bond, all their railings are but a foretaste of the revenge he seeks. In his eagerness to taste that moisel sweeter to him than all the luxuries of Italy, his recent afllictions, the loss of his daughtei", his ducats, his jewels, and even the precious ring given him by his departed wife, 60 all fade from his mind. In his cool, resolute, unrelenting, impertiu'b- able hardness at the trial, there is something that makes our blood to tingle. It is the sublimity of malice ! We feel, and tremble as ■we feel, that the yearnings of revenge have silenced all other cares and all other thoughts. Fearful, howevei*, as is his malignity, he comes 65 not off" without moving our pity. In the very act whereby he think* CHARACTER SKETCHES. 15a to avenge his own an*! his brethren's wrongs, the national curse over- takes him : in stamling up for the law he has but strengthened his enemies' hamk, and sharpened their weapons against himself; and the terrible Jew sinks at last into the poor, pitiable heart-broken Shylock. II— Irvingr's Character-Sketch of the Old Angler.- in i morning's stroll along the banks of tiie Alun, a beautiful little stream which flows down the Welsh hills and throws itself into the Dee, my attention was attracted to a group seated on the margin. On ;>p- r. proaching I found it to consist of a veteran angler and two rustic disciples. The former was an old fellow with a wooden leg, with clothes very nnich but very csirefuUy patched, betokening poverty honestly come by, and decently maintained. His face bore the marks of former storms, but present fair weather ; its furrows had been worn n> into an habitual smile ; his iron-gray locks hung about his ears, and he had altogether the good-humored air of a constitutional philoso- pher who was disposed to take the world as it went. One of his companions was a ragged wight, with the skulking look of an aiiant poacher, and I'll warrant could find his way to any gentleman's tish v< pond in the neighborhood in the darkest night. The other was a tall, awkward, country lad, with a lounging gait, and apj)arently somewhat of a rustic beau. The old man was busy in examining the maw of a trout which he had just killed, to discover by its contents what insects were seasonable for bait ; and was lecturing on the sub- in ject to his companions, who appeared to listen with infinite deference. I have a kind feeling toward all " brothers of the angle," ever since I read Izaak Walton. They are men, lie affirms, of a '* mild, sweet, and peaceable spirit." I thought that I could perceive in the veteran angler before me an srv exemplification of what I had read ; and there was a cheerful eou- tentedness in his looks that quite drew me toward him. I could not but remark the gallant manner in which he stumped from one pait of the brook to another ; waving his rod in the air, to keep the line from dragging on the ground or catching among the bushes ; and the •!•► adroitness with which he would throw his fly to any particular place ; sometimes skimming it lightly along a little rapid, sometimes casting 154 PBOSE COMPOSITION. tm 11 1 I it into one of those dark lioles made by a twisted root or overhanging lijink, in which the hirge trout are apt to hirk. In the meanwhile he was giving instructions to his two disciples ; showing them the 35 manner in which they should handle their rods, fix their flies, and play them along the surface of the stream. I soon fell into conversation with the old angler, and was so much entertained that, under pretext of receiving instructions in his art, 1 kept comi)any with him ahuost the whole' day ; wandering along the 40 banks of the stream, and listening to his talk. He was very com- municative, having all the easy garrulity of cheerful old age ; and I fancy was a little flattered by having an oi)portunity of displaying his piscatoiy lore ; for who does not like now and then to i)lay the sage ? 4;. He had lieen much of a rambler in his day, and had passed some years of his youth in America, particularly in Savannah, where he had entered into trade, and had been i-uined by the indiscretion of a partner. He hail afterward experienced many ups and downs in life, until he got into the navy, where his leg was carried away by a cannon-ball, at the battle of Camperdown. This was the only stroke of real good-foitune he had ever experienced, for it got him a pension, which, together with some small patei-nal property, brought him in a jevenue of nearly forty i>ounds. On this he retired to his native village, where he lived tpiietly and independently ; and devoted the remainder of his life to the '' noble art of angling." I found that he had read Izaak Walton attentively, and he seemed to have imbibed all his simple frankness and prevalent good-humor. Though he had been sorely buffeted about the world, he was satisfied that the world, in itself, was good and beautiful. Though he had been as roughly used in different countries as a poor sheep that is fleeced by every hedge and thicket, yet he spoke of every nation with candor and kindness, ai)pearing to look only on the good side of tilings. On parting with the old angler I inquired after liis place of abode ; •«5and happening to be in the neighborhood of the village a few even ings afterward, I had the curiosity to seek him out. I found him living in a small cottage, containing only one room, but a perfect curi- 51) •(1(1 CHA RA CTER SKETCHES. 155 ositv in its method and arnumement. It was on the skirts of the vilhige, on a green bank, a little back from the road, with a Kinall garden in front, stocked witli kitchen-herbs, and adorned with a few 70 flowers. The whole front of the cottage was overrun with a honey- suckle. Oh the top was a ship for a weatlHM'cock. The interior was fitted u[» in a truly nautical style, his ide;»s of comfort and conveni- ence having been iu'<|uired on the berth-deck of a nianof-war. A hammock was sluiig from the ceiliii;^, which, in the day-tin»e, was hislied 75 np so as to take but little roout. From the centre of the chamlxM- hung a model of a ship, of his own worknmnship. Two or three chairs, a table, and a large sea-chest, formed the principal movables. About the wall were stuck up naval ballads, such as " Admiral Hosier's Ghost," " All in the Downs," and *' Tom Bowline," intermingled with pictin-es »'• of sea-tights, among which the battle of Cami)erdo\vn held a distin- uished place. The nianteljuece was decorated with sea-shells ; over which hung a quadi'ant, flanked by two wood-cuts of most bitter-look- ing naval commanders. His implements for angling wtMe carcjt'iiily di.sposed on nails and hooks about the room. On a shelf was arranged «r. his library, containing a work on angling, much worn, a bibh; eoveied with canvas, an odd vohune or two of voyages, a nautical alinaiuic, and a book of songs. His family consisted of a hirge black cat with one eye, and a par- rot which he liad caught and tamed and educated himself, in the sxt course of one of his voyages, and which uttered a variety of sea- phrases with the hoarse brattling tone of a vetei-an boatswain. The establishment reminded me of that of the renowned Robinson Crusoe ; it was kept in neat order, everything being " stowed away " with the regularity of a ship-of-war ; and he informed uw that he "scoured m the deck every morning, and swept it l)etween meals." I found him seated on a bench before the door, smoking his pipe in the soft evening sunshine. His cat was purring sobeily on the threshold, and his parrot descriljing some strange evolutions in an iron ring that swung in 'the centre of his cage. He had beiMi angling kki all day, and gave me a history of his sport with as much minuteness as a general would talk over a campaign ; being particularly animated in relating the manner in which he had taken a large trout, which i 1. im PH08E WMP08ITI0N. ^li liiul completely taHked all liin Hkill and warineHS, and which he hud m:, Hent as a trophy to mine hosteHS of the inn. How comfortin<{ it is to see a cheerful and contented old Hge ; and to heliold a poor fellow like this, after being tempest-tossed through life, safely moored in a snug an favorite in the village, and the oracle of the taproom, where he delighted the rustics with his songs, and, like Sinbad, astonished them with his stories of strange lands, and ship-wrecks and sea-fights. He was much noticed, too, by gentlemen sportsmen of the neighbor- hood ; had taught several of them the art of angling, and was a 1-20 privileged visitor to their kitchens. The whole tenor of his life was (piiet and inoffensive, being [)rineipally passed about the neighboring streams, when the weather and season were favorable ; and at other times he employed himself at home, preparing his fishing-tackle for the next campaign, or manufacturing rods, nets, and flies, for his I'ir. patrons and pupils among the gentry. He was a regular attendant at church on Sundays, though he generally fell asleep during the sermon. He had made it his particular request that wlien he died he should be buried in a green spot, which he could see from his seat in church, and which he had marked out 1*1 ever since he was a boy, and had thought of when far from home, on the raging sea, in danger of being food for the fishes ; it was the spt»l where his father and mother had been buried. 4 III.— Parkman's Character-Sketch of Wolfe.— James WoJfe was in his thirty-third year. His father was an otKcer of distinction, Major-General Edward Wolfe, and he himself, a delicate and sensi- tive child, but an im[)etuou8 and somewhat headstrong youth, had served thr; King since the age of fifteen. From childhood he had dreamed of the army and the wars. At sixteen he was in Flanders, CHA RACTEH ,S KETCHES. w udjutiuit of his rejijinieiit, (liHclniiging tliu duties of his post in a w,iy that gaineil him early {irutiiotioii ami, along with a paiiiHtuking assiduity, showing a piocooious faculty for commanding mon. H« passed with credit tliruugh several campaigns, took part in the in victory of Dettingen, and then w«!nt to Scotland to fight at (.'ulloden. Next we find him at Stirling, Perth, and (Jlasgow, always ardent and always diligent, constant in military duty, and giving his spare hours to mathematics ami Latin. He presently fell in love ; and being disappointed, ]>lunged into a variety of dissipations, contraiy i'' to his usual hahits, which w(M-e far ahovc^ the standard of that profli- gate time. At twenty-three he w«s a lieutenaiit-i-oloin'I, conniiMnding his regiment in the then dirty and l»arliarous town of In\<'rness, amid a disaffected and turbulent pr)pulation whom it was his duty (o k»!ep in -'i' order: a diflicult task, which he aceomplisheil so wt-ll as to gain the special commentlation of the King, and even tluf goodwill of the Highlanders themselves. He was live years iimong the.s(! nortliein hills, battling with ill-health, and rle consolation, — to reflect that the Power which has hitherto pre.served me may, if it !te his pleasure, continiie to do so ; if not, that it is l)Ut a few days or a few years nu)re or less, and that tho.se who peri«h in their duty and in tin* ser- vice of their countiy die honorably." Then he pioceeds to give par- ticular directions about his numerous dogs, for the welfare of which S(f mo « IN' ! r 100 PROSE COMPOSITION. 11'' ill his absence he jn-ovides with anxious solicitude, especially for " my fiiend Ciesaiv who has er, dress in the General's little parlor, and dine where you did. The most percep- tible difterence and change of affairs (exclusive of the bad table I keep) is the nuuiljer of dogs in the yard ; but by coaxing Ball [his vii> f'(,f/,e7''i^ do(j] and rubbing his back with my stick, I have reconciled him with the new ones, and [)ut them in souie measure under his jirotection." When about to sail on tlie expedition against Louisbourg, he was anxious for his parents, and wrote to his luicle, Major Wolfe, at v.',u Dublin : " I trust vou will leases, and that 1 am ready for any undertaking within the com[)ass of my skill and cunning. I am in a very bad i"'" condition both with the gravel and rheumatism; but I had much CHARACTER 8KETCSES. 161 rather die than decline any kind of service that oflTei's. If I followed my own taste it wotild lead nie into Germany, However, it is not our part to choose, but to obey. My opinion is that I shall join the army in America." Pitt chase him to command the expedition then fitting out against 156 Quebec ; made him a major-general, though, to avoid giving offence to older officers, he was to hold that rank in America alone ; and permitted him to choose his own staff. Appointments made for merit, an I not throiigli routine and i>atronage, shocked the Duke of Newcastle, to whom a man like Woll'e was a hopeless enigma; and ^80 he told George TI. that Pitt's new general was mad. " Mad is hel " returned the old King ; " theri 1 hope he will bite some others of my generals." INDUCTION FROM MODELS. Compositional Analysis : 1. Character-sketches form a large and important feature in histories and in fiction. Two of the greatest forms of literatui-e, the Drama and the Novel, are devoted mainly to the study of character. The ideal method of description is to show the character to the reader by giving the words and acts of the person under consideration, especially those words and acts which accompany such events and situations as call for earnest- ness and energy. This method is followed in the works of Shakespeare and George Eliot where we find our greatest delineations of the human mind. In the brief sketches possible in school compositions it would be well to keep the ideal method in view. The dramatist differs from the novelist in the respect that while the dramatist never speaks except through his characters the novelist speaks both thrctugh and about his chfvracte''»». The method of the novelist is perhaps best when it most nearly approaches that of the dramatist. In school compositions the character must be described by speaking about it, rather than by the dramatic method ; it must be abstract rather than concrete ; but this fault may be redeemed to some extent by relating incidents, and quoting characteristic sayings, of the person. Many character-sketches aim at describing some phase or foible of a person rather than at describing the person completely. 'I' -I'm ■SI 111: Mil I 182 PROSE COMPOSITION. A complete character-sketch usually gives some intimation of the appearance, because of the close relation between the mind and the body. Though Shylock is a character in fiction Hudson constantly speaks of him as a real person. There is a reality, surpassing the reality of fact, in Shakespeare's great characters ; we know them more intimately than we can know most of the persons we meet every day. Observe the method of Hudson's Cijmposition : in the first se iteiice he takes a general esti- mate of the subject of the sketch, as a work of dramatic art : he then proceeds to examine him from various points of view, racial, personal, professional, and religious ; he illustrates some of the (lualities he has mentioned by giving us the words and acts of Shylock : the sketch con- cludes with a masterly estimate of the Jew as seen in that terrible crisis of his life, the Trial Scene, where nearly every i)assion of humanity searches and exercises his powerful nature Make a list of the ([ualities of Shylock mentioned by Hudse of the class ; cheerful, adroit, didactic, com- municative — his former life as a traveller, trader, soldier — his means of subsistence — the influence of Walton- his abode — his nautical habits of life — his pets —his way of spending thv. evening — his happy nature — his popularity — his daily life — his simple faith. Indicate which sentences correspond to these minor topics. Is the character developed by the abstract method or by the presentation of the facts of the Angler's life ? What principle governs the order of the topics dealt with ? Is the appear- ance as described in harmony with the character ? What social, mental, and moral qualities may we infer from the information given us ? How is the sketch brought to a natural and satisfaccory conolnsion CHARACTER SKETCHES. 163 I the body, .f him ,ct, in an we ipthod ti esti- i then rsonal, lie ha» ;h con- e crisis rnauity 3. How does this sketch differ from each of the preceding two in re- spect of the material at the disposal of the author ? What phase of Wolfe's character is of most interest to Parkman ? How has this fact influenced his selection from the material at his disposal? Parkman might have contented himself with a bare abstract statement of Wolfe's qualities ; be might liave said — Wolfe as a child was delicate, sensitive, impetuoup, head-strong, ardent, diligent ; as a man he was soldierly, successf'al, hot-tempered, affectionate, filial, fi'ank, good-hearted, intrepid, playful, grimly humourous, and so on ; how does his sketch as it stands differ from such a bald catalogue of ([ualities? What is the nature of the introduction ? What is the appi'opriateness of the last paragraph as a conclusion ! Do you discover any princiiile of order in the arrangement of the body of the sketch 1 lention shylock sts our ily bad i to the Mdema, hylock? ve see bserver, cresting trusive honoun ? leting of appear- tler's in lc, com- Leans of labits of lire — his intences by the life? lappear- Imental, How is Language Lesson: 1. Cimipare with " at the same time appearing " (2-3) "even while he appears." What are the advantages and disadvantages of using participial phrases ] Make the connection between the first sentence and the second more definite. Examine the bearing oi the third sentence on the second. Is this bearing well brought out by the word "accordingly'' (7)? To what does "wherein" (8) i-efer? "Accordingly redress." What effect has the author attained in this sentence I What means has he em- ployed to that end ! How has monotony been avoided ? Would you prefer "He" to "Thus Skylock " ? Why? "Himself. .. .revenge"— Study the construction of this sentence and tell to what it owes its force. Could you omit — " Himself " i If you omitted this word where would a additional emphasis then fall? What induced the writer to insert "or petrified " (20) ? "As avarice done him " — To what class of sentence does this belong ? For what rhetorical puri>oses are such sentences usually employed ? What duty in the paragraph structure is performed by " With these strong national traits" (24X and " These several elements of character " (37) ? Comment upon the opening sentence of the second paragraph as an opening sentence. This paragraph affords a good example of forcible writing. Examine each sentence in reference to that quality. " In his hard. . . .accumulated inquiries " (26-30). Would this sentence be improved by the omission of the last clause I Criticise the conclusion cjf this paiHgtHph. Couipare with "their respective influence" (38) "the respective influence of each," with "himself" (40) "of himself," with "sake" (40) "sakes," with "his own" (41) "for his own," with "to H m h 164 PROSE COMPOSITION. tingle" (62) *' tingle," with "thwarted him of his usurious gains" (42-43) "thwarted his usurious bargains," with "loaded" (47) "laden." "Antonio. .. .himself Shylock " — What is the rhetorical value of this sentence 1 Account for the repetition of " precious " (48) and criticise the repetition of "avarice" (50). Justify the redundant "all" (49). What is the advantage of ({uoting the words "if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge " / Where does the paragraph come to a climax ? Compare the tone of the concluding sentences with that of the preceding ones. Is this change of tone the (nitcome of a difference in the language or a diflFerence in the thought ? 2. What is the topic of the first paragraph ? Which sentence disobeys the rule of unity in the paragraph i What sentences introduce the minor topics ? The paragraph will be found to be carefully planned. Trace the line of thought. Would it be allowalile to change the order of the parts of tlie first sentence so as to bring the word "group" near the beginning f Compare with the sec 3. Study the first paragraph in reference to the time of the events mentioned. In this respect improve "A delicate youth.... had served'' (3-5), "he was" (6) etc., "Next we find. .. .Glasgow," (12) and "He presently, fell'' (14). Explain the connection of "along with a painstaking assiduity" (8-9). Render the connections between the sentences more definite in the second paragraph. Compare "Among these northern hills he spent five years" with "He was. .. .hills " (23-24). Suggest some other punctuati(tn for the colon after "order'' (21). Which is the better "stupidity and prejudice" (39) or "prejudice and stupidity " ? How far does the third paragraph (42-63) of this extract treat of Wolfe's " domestic inclinations " ? Which is the topic sentence? "Sometimes .... soldier " (46-49) — Make clearer the bearing of this sentence on the preceding. Mention a praiseworthy feature in its construction. Which do you prefer " held " (47) or " would hold," "which last " (50) or " the latter," "capable almost" (51) or "almost capable," "could" (52) or "would," "for he was" (68) or "he was." With whom did Wolfe's virtues (mentioned in lines 62 and 63) atone for his faults ? Classify the sentences of the fourth paragraph (64-88) as loose and periodic. Criticise the ending "and his desire was accomplished " (79). " Never was wish more signally fulfilled" — Compare "Never was a wish more signally ful- filled," and " No wish was ever more signally fulfilled." Justify the use of "Once and again" (80-81). " But .... distinguished her" (89-92) What do you consider to be the chief defect of this sentence i This sketch of Wolfe abounds in quotation, especially the latter part (92-154). To quote with good effect requires a careful exercise of the judgment. Quotations should not overburden the subject. They should be appro- M! KiO PliOSE COMPOSITION. priate. How far is Piirkman justiciable in quoting Wolfe so much ? Explain tlie relevancy of the (juoted portions of the fifth, sixth, and seventh jtaragraphs (89-139). "Of his friends .... in his absence " (137- 139). Account for the inverted order of this sentence. Is there any oljjection to it as it stands i Criticise the eighth paragraph (140-154) under the following heads : (a) opening sentence, (h) unity, (c) relevancy of the (|Uotation. Which is to be preferred "the expedition then fitting out" (155) or " tlie expedition then being fitted out," "in America alone" (157) or "only in America," " told " (IHl) or " exclaimed to " i* Exercises : Upon his arrival in England Nelson was given an enthusiastic welcome. At Yarmouth the naval, the military and the civil authorities received him with every mark of joyous devotion. At Ipswich the people came out to meet him, and, detaching the horses from his carriage, drew him in triumph to the town. In L(mdon the reception given him was even warmer. The enthusiasm of the populace knew no bounds. ' He was borne to the Guildhall, where the common council presented him wit^ a golden-hilted sword in acknowledgment of his great services. The Parlia- ment and court vied with each other in showering honours upon him. In all England was no prouder name than that of Nelson. 1. What is the topic of this paragraph ( Is there any part of the para- graph that doesn't touch upon this subject i Show what each sentence contributes to the development of the topic. 2. Where is the topic most plainly enunciated ? Which other sentence strikes you as most general in its character ? Would you consider the paragraph defective if it began : "Thereupon Nelson sailed for England. At his arrivcl, etc.?" 3. Account for the order in which the events are mentioned. Could you with good effect change the position of any of the .sentences ? 4. In each of the sentences, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, pick out a word that connects it with the preceding context. If in any case sucli a word is lacking, make tip the deficiency and note the effect. Suggest a concluding sentence for a paragraph to go before this one, and an opening sentence for a paragraph to come after. The former paragraph might be in refer- ence to Nehon's journey through Europe from the Mediterranean, and the latter in reference to his unhappy domestic relations about this time. CHARACTER SKETCHES. 1H7 5- What similHrity is there in the materials of sentences 2, 3 and 4 ? Huw has this similarity been marked by the form of the sentences/ 6. Point out the sub-topics of the paragraph. Justify the amount of space given to each sub-topic. What is the object of dividing a composi- tion into paragraphs ( 7. What is the general rhetoricjvl effect of all the devices brought out in •luestions 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6^ This is the object of careful paragraph c«)nstruction. 8. <)n the supi)osition that all paragraphs are or ought to be constructed on the same principles as the foregoing, the following laws or rules have been formulated : — i. Unity. — Unity in a paragraph implies a sustained purpose and for- bids digressions and irrelevant matter. ii. Topic Sentence. — The opening sentence, unless obviously prepara- tory, is expected to indicate the scope of the paragraph. iii. Continuity. — The materials of the paragraph should be arranged in a natural and progressive order. iv. Explicit Reference. — The bearing of each sentence of the para- graph on the sentences preceding needs to be explicit. v. Parallel Construction. — When several consecutive sentences iterate or illustrate the sivme idea, they should, as far as possible, be formed alike. vi. Due Proportion. — As in the sentence, so in the paragraph, principal and subordinate statements should have their relative import- ance clearly indicated. Do you consider these statements laws or rules i Why i '' ■ 9. When and to what extent are these directions binding on the young writer ? If a direction given in Rhetoric is merely a suggestion of how to obtain a certain effect, does it not follow that these directions are })inding only when the rhetorical effect brought out in question 7 is desired, and only in so far as these directions tend to this effect i 10. What limits the number of these directions !■ Why cf)uld we not add — the language <}f the paragraph should be as simple as pf "Victory's men fell by the ei:emy's musketry. 4. The opinions which he has expressed respecting the nature of the Deity, the eternity of matter and the observation of the Sabbath, might, we think, have CHU.sed more just surprise. We will not go into the discussion. 5. In a rude state of society men are children with a greater variety of ideas. We may expect to find the poetical temperament in its highest perfection. 6. Infinite toil would not enable you to sweep away a mist, but, by ascending a little, you may often look over it altogether. We wrestle fiercely with a vicious habit, which would have no hold upon us if we ascended into a higher moral atmosphere. 7. The public mind of Italy had long contained the seeds of free opinions, which were now rajjidly developed by the genial influence of free institutions. The people had observed the whole machinery of the church too long and too closely to be duped. 8. The same experiment had been recently tried with the same result at the battle of Ravenna. The infantry of Arragon hewed a passage through the thickest of the imperial pikes and effected an unbroken retreat. 9. Many enemies of public liberty have been distinguished by these private virtues. Strafford was the same throughout. 10. Many persons persuade themselves that the life and well-being of a State are something like their own fleeting health and brief prosi>erity. Portentous things are seen in every sub- ject of political dispute. Much is added to the intolerance of party spirit. The State will bear much killing. Many generations of political prophets have been outlived — and the present ones may be. CHARACTER SKETCHES. 160 It aame ragoii pikes these 11. A peculiar auHterity marks alinost all Mr. Southey'H judginonts of men and actiouH. We are far from V)laming him. Rigor ought to be accompanied by discernment, and of discurnment Mr. Southey HeemH to be utterly destitute. 12. The matter has already been very fully treated. We shall be very concise. 13. Every royalist felt himself bound to obey the king. The right to govern without the control of jiarliament had l>een i»ut forward. The cavalier party supported his claim. 14. But Byron the critic and Byron the poet were two very ditt'erent men. The eifects of a theory may, indeed, often be traced in his practice. His disposition led him to accomm*Klate himself to the literary taste of the age in which he lived. 15. Boswell had, indeed, quick observation and a retentive memory. One is saircely justified in calling him a great man. 16. Charles was gay, affable and compliant. James was gloomy, arrogant and stubborn. 17. The share of the tax which fell to Hampden was very snmll. The sum demanded was a trifle. The principle involved was fearfully important. 18. From the political agitation of the eighteenth century sprang the Jacobins. The Anabaptists date their history from tlie reli- gious pertubation of the sixteenth century. 19. The great object of the king of Spain, and of all his counsellors was to avert the dismemberment of the monarchy. Charles determined to name a successor. A will was framed by which the crown was bequeathed to the Bavarian prince. 20. He framed measures for the relief of the English poor. Poverty in England did not cease to exist. being Hi and siib- Irance [any -and PRACTICE. Practice List: On the plan learned by a study of the models, make a character sketch of one of the following : — " • y ■* ■ ' 170 PROSE COMPOSITION. 1. Portia. 2. Hanilft. Ji. Heatrice. 4. A Humourous Character. 5. OoMsniitli. 6. Mr. Pecksniff. 7. A Hero. 8. A Boy I know. 9. An Odd Character. 10. Ryerson. Arrangement of Material: Goldsmith. 1. Goldsmith's iiUeness. 2. His ainilessness. 3. Improvidence. 4. Good nature. 5. Humour and playfullness. 6. Charity. 7. Awkwardness. 8. Character in his writings. Tractical Suggestions : • 1. The jmiwiple of suspense teaches us to make use of the reader's curiosity, by liolding back what he wishes to know until he has given attention to subordinate matters. 2. The principle of contrast teaches us to emphasize a statement by displaying it in juxtaposition with its contrary. 3. The principle of comparison teaches us to elevate and strengthen an idea by comparing it with better known or more beautiful ideas. CHARACTER SKETCHES. m 4. Thd pnnc tide of teounmir (mUr tuachuH us to arrnngu wordu in such a way that the mental piutureH they awiiken may not he dinturhud aH the sentence proceeds. 6. The prinnplf of efomtmii of irords teaches us that if we upend our strongest words on i)etty matters, we shall he l)Oggars when great occasions arise. 6. The most popular types of character in literature are princes, priests, soldiers, villains, jesters, lovers, eccentric persons, heroes, artists, poli- ticians. It is sometimes important in descrihing a character to give the reader a distinct idea from the heginning of the general class or type to which the character belongs: especially is this true in short dramatic sketches. A SWOON. What next befell me then and there I know not well-/ never hnew— fifst came the loss of light, and air. And then of darkness too : I had no thought, no feeling-none- Among the stones I staod a stone. And was, scarce consc'ous what I wist As shrubless crags within the mist ■ For all was blank, and bleak, and grey. It was not night-it was not day. It was not even the dungeon-light, So hateful to my heavy sight. But vacancy absorbing space. And fixedness-without a place ■ There were no stars-no earth-' no time- ' ^^''^^^f-'^o change-no gocd-no crime- tSui silence, and a stirless breath Which neither was of life nor death ■ A sea of stagnant idleness. Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless! W W ■ I' S ii DESCRIPTIONS OF MOODS. 176. CHAPTER Xr. DESCRIPTIONS OF MOODS. MODELS. I —Mrs. Shelley's Description of Walton's Sorrow at the Death of His Mother. — Siie died cjilmly ; and her couuten- auce expressed affection even in death. I need not descril)e the feelings of tliose whose deai-est ties are rent by that most irrepaj-Mhle evil, the void tliat presents itself to the soul, and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance. It is so long before the mind can per- 5 suade itself that she, whom we saw eveiy day, and whose veiy existence ai)peared a part of our own, can have depart m1 for ever— that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been extinguished, and the sound of a voice so familiar, and dear to the ear, can be hushed, never more to oe heard. These are tlie reflections of the first days ; i'^ but wlien the lapse of time proves the reality of the evil, then the actual bitterness of grief commences. Yet from whom has not that nide hand rent away some dear connexion ; and why should T des- cribe a sorrow which all have felt, and must feel ( The time at length arrives, when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity ; and the .smile that plays upon the lip.s, although it n)ay be deemed a^*^ sacrilege, is not banished. My mother wks ilead, but we had still duties which we ought to perform; we must continue our course with the rest, and learn to tliink ourselves fortunate, whilst one remains whom the spoiler has not sei7'»d. m IT.— The Anger of the Chief Justice.— The chamber v/as not very ai*ge, though lofty to my eyes, and dark, with wooden panels roimd it At the further end were .some raised seats, such as 1 have seen in churche.s, lined with velvet, and having broad elbows, and a canopy over the middle seat. There were only tiiree men sitting here, one in the center and one on each tiide, and all three were done i 176 PROSE COMPOSITION. i i rt' i up wonderfully with fur, and robes of state, and ciirls of thick gray horse-hair, crimped and gathered, and plaited down to tlieir shouldei'S. Each man had an oak desk before him, set at a little distance, and 8i)read with jiiens and papers. Instead of writing, however, they ^^ seemed to be laughing and talking, or rather the one in the middle secMued to he telling some good story, which the others received with approval. By reason of their great perukes, it was hard to tell how old they were ; but the one who was speaking seemed the youngest, although he was the chief of them. A thickset, burly, and bulky ^■'' man, with a blotchy, broad face, and great square jaw.s, and fierce eyes full of blazes ; he was one to be dreaded by gentle souls, and to be abhorred by the noble. Betweei; me and the three loril judges, some few lawyers were giithering up bags and papers and pens and so forth, from a narrow 2" table in the middle of the room ; as if a ease had been disposed of, and no other were called on. But before I had time to look round twice, the stout, fierce man, espied me, and shouted out, with a flash- ing stare : " How now, countryman, who art thoul" ■ • 2'> " ]VIay it please your worship," I answered him loudly, " I am John Kidd, of Oare parish, in the shire of Somerset, brought to this London some two months back by a special messenger, whose name is Jeremy Stickles ; and then bound over to be at hand and ready, when called upon to give evidence, in a matter unknown to me, but 30 touching the peace of our lord the king, and the well-being of his subjects Three times I have met our lord the king, but he hath said notiiing about his peace, and o'lly held it toward me ; and every day save Sunday I have walked up and down the great hall of West- minster, all the business part of the day, ex|>ecting to be called u{)on ; 35 yet no one h>vth called upon me. And now I desire to ask your wor- ship whether I may go home again." " Well done, John," replied his lordship, while I was panting with all this speech. " I will go bail for thee, John, thou hast never made such a long speech before ; and thou art a spunky Briton, or thou 40 couldst not have made it now. I remember the matter well ; and I myself will attend to it, although it arose before ray time " — he was DESCRIPTIONS OF MOODS. m \nit nowly chief-justice — '* hut I Cfinnot take it now John. There is no fear of losing tiiee, John, any nionj than the Tower of London. I grif've for his majesty's exciiequer, i'.f lev keeping thee two montjjs or nioi-e." 4ri " Nay, my lord, I crave your pardon. My mother hath been keep- ing ine. Not a gj'oat have I received." •'Spank, is it so !" his lordship cried, in a voice that shook the cohweljs, and the frown on his brow shook the hearts of men, and mine as nnich as the re.st of theui — "Spank, is his majesty comedo to this, that he starves his own apj)rovers I " "My lord, my lord," whispered Mr. Spank, the chief officer of t;vi(lence, " the thing hatli been overlooked, my lord, among such grave matters of treason." " I will overlook thy head, foul Spank, on a spike from Temple .-);■• Bar, if ever I hear of the like again. Vile varlet, what art thou ])aid for ] Thou hast swindled the money thyself, foul Spank; I know thee, though thou art new to nn\ Bitter is the day for thee that ever 1 came across thee Answer me not — one word more, and I will have thee on a hurdle." And he swung himself to and fro on Wj liis bench, with both hands on his knees ; and every man waited to let i* pass, knowing better than to speak to him. " John Ridd," said the lord chief justice, at last recovering a sort of dignity, yet daring Spank fi-om the corners of his eyes, to do so much as look at him " thou iiast been shamefully i.sed, John Kidd. 65 Answer me not, boy ; not a word ; but go to Master Spank, and let me know how he behaves to thee I" here ho made a glance at Spank, which was worth at least ten |)ounds to me ; " be thou here again to- morrow ; and before any other case is taken, I will see justice done to thee. Now be off, boy ; thy name is liidd, and we are well rid of 70 thee."' r was only too glad to go, after all this tempest, as yon may well sup])ose. For if ever I saw a man's eyes beconio two holes foi- the devil to glare from, I saw it that day ; and the eyes wei-e those of the Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys. 75 I I i •? t I 178 PHOSE COMPOSITION. Ill— The Indignation of Nicholas Nickleby —" He is off," said Mrs. Scjueers. " The cow-lioiise and stable aie locked up, so lie can't be there; and lie's not down stairs atiy where, for the girl has looked. He nnist have gone York way, and i)y a j)ublic road, too." r, "Why must he?" incjuired Squeers. •' Htu|ud ! " said Mr.s. 8queers augiily. " He hadn't any njoney, had he?" "Never had a penny of his own in his whole life, that I know of,"' replied Squeers. K, "To be sure" rejoined Mrs. Scjueers, "and he didn't take anything to eat with him ; that I'll answer for. Ha I ha ! ha ! " " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " laughed Squeers. "Then, of course," said Mrs. S., "he must beg liis way" and he could do that, nowhere, but on (he ))ublic road." 15 " That's true exclaimed Sijueers, clapping his hands " " True ! yes ; but you would never have thought of it, for all that, if I h.idn't said so," replied his wife. " Now, if you take the chaise and go ou3 road, and I borrow Swallow's chaise and go the otlic!', wliat with keeping our eyes open, anil asking questions, one or other of us 20^8 pretty certain to lay liold of him." The worthy lady's [)lan was adopted and put in execution without a moment's delay. After a hasty breakfast, and the prosecution of gome inquiries in the village, the result of which seemed to show that he was on the right track, Squeers started forth in the pouy- 25 chaise intent upon di.scovery and vengeance. Shortly afteiwards Mrs. Sipieers, arrayed in white the top-coat and tied up in various shawls and handkerchiefs, issued forth in another chaise and another direction taking with her a good-sized bludgeon, several odd [)ieces of sti'ong cord and a stout laboring man: all provided and cai-rieil upon :«)the expedition, with the sole object of assisting in the capture, and (once caught) insuring the safe custody of ? e rnfortunate Sniike. Nicholas remained behind, in a tumuit ot feeling, sensible that whatever might be the upshot of the boy's flight, nothing but painful and deplorable consequences were likely to ensue from it. Death, :tr> from want and exposin-e to the weather, was the best that could be ex- l)ected from the proti-actcd wandering of so poor and helj)less a DESClilPTIONS OF MOODS. 171> tlioiit ion of show )ouy- Wiircls lions lotlier ces of upon tluit iiufiil eatl), )e ex- ess a creatiire, alone and unfriended, through a country of which lie was wholly ignorant. There was little, perhaps, to choose between this fate aud a letiun to the tender mercies of the Yorkshire-school: hut the unhappy being had established a hold upon his sympathy and com- 40 passion which made his heart ache at the prospect of the suffering he was destined to uiulergo. He lingered on in restless anxiety, picturing a thousand possibilities, until the evening of the nevt day, when St glance at his a.ssistant and a look ol' most compreiieusive desjiotism 01: the boys, left the room, and shortly aftei-ward returneil, di'agging Smike by the collar — or lather )>y that fragment of his i3(i , jacket which vas nearest the place where his collar would have been, had lie boasted such a decoration. In any other |)lace, the ai)pearance of tlit^ wretched, jaded, s|)irit- less abject would have occasioned a murmur of coiui)assion and remonstrance. It had some etiect even there ; for the lookers-on 13,-, nrve' ineasily in their seats ; and a few of the l)old<'st ventured to si A looks at each other, expressive of indignation and pity. - They were lost on Squeers, however, whose gaze was fastened on the luckless Smike, as he inquired, according to custom in such cases, whether he had anything to say for hniuself. H" " Nothing, I suppose ] " said Sqiieers, with a diabolical grin. Smike glanced roiuid, and his eye I'ested, for an instant, on N icholas, I 182 J' HOSE CO MVOHITION. i|' \\i as if lie liiul ox|K,'et<>(l him to iiitnrcode ; but his look was riveted on his desk. 14.-. '' Have you anytliiii^ to say ]" demanded S. " said Squeers. " Yes, I'll Hog you within an inch of yoiii- life, and spare you that." " Ka, ha, ha," laughcid Mrs. Stjuecrs, "that's a good un !" '• I was driven to do it," said Suiike faintly ; and casting another imploring look ahout him. 1.-,-, " Driven to do it, were yon \" said Squeers. "Oh ! it wasn't your fault; it was mine, I supi)Ose — eh/" " A nasty, luigrateful, pig-headed, hrutish, oljstinate, sneaking dog," exclaimed Mrs. Scpieer.s, taking Smike's head under her arm, and administering a cut! at every epithet ; " what does he mean hy iflothat?" *' Stand aside, my dear," replied Squeers. " We'll try and Hnd out." Mrs, Squeers being out of breath with her exertions, complied. Squeers caught the boy Hrmly in his grip ; one des[)ei'ate cut had it):> fallen on his body — Ik; was winching from the lash and uttering a scream of pain — it was raised again, and again about to fall — when Nicholas Nickleby suddenly starting \x\), cried " Stop ! " in a voice that made the rafters ring. " Who cried stop/" .said S([ueers, turning savagely i-ound. 170 " I," said Nicholas, stepping forward. " This nnist not go on." " Must not go on ! " cried Squeers, almost in a shriek. " No ! " thundered Nichola.s. Aghast and stupefied by the boldness of the interference, Scpieers released his hold of Sin ike, and, falling back a |)ace or two, gazed 175 upon Nicholas witli looks that were positively frightful. " I say must not," repeated Nicholas, nothing daunted ; " shall not. I will prevent it." Squeers continued to gaze upon him, with his eyes starting out of DESCllIPTIONS nF MOODS. ih;{ Ills head ; l>ut iitstoiiisliiiieiit liiul uctuiilly fur tliu motneut, bereft liiiu of speech. \m " You liave (lisn^Lfiivded all my miiet iiitei'f(;reiice in tlio iniscnible linT.s helmlf," siiid NicliDhis ; "you have n^turuiid no answer to the lettei- ill which f he;,fj,'ed focijiveueHS for him, and otlered to be re.S[)on- silile that h«! wouhl remain qui(!tly luMe. Don't bhime me for this liiiblic interfei-ence. You have l)roni;ht it upon yourself; n(jt I." i""'. •Sit down, l)ei,'low across the face with his instrument of torture, jm* which raised up a bar of livid tiesh as it was inflicted. Smarting with the agony of the blow, aiul concentrating into that one moment all his feelings of rage, scorn and indignation, Nicholas s[>rang upon liHu. wrested tla; weapon from his harul. and pinning him l)y the throat, beat the ruftiati till he roai-ed for mercy. 20,'. Th(! boys — with the exception of Master 8(pieers, who, coming to his father's assistance, harassed the enemy in the rear — moved not hand or foot; but Mr.s. Scjueers, with many shrieks for aid, iiung on to the tail of her partniM-'s coat, and endeavored to drag him from his infuriated adversary; while Mi.ss Stpieers, who had be(^n pee|)ing 210 through the key-hole in the ex[)ectation of a very different .scene> itated Mrs. Squeers com pletely over ;iu adjacent form ; Squeers striking his head against it in his descent,^ 225 lay at his full length on the ground, stunned and motionless. Having brought affairs to this happy termination, and ascertained, to his thorough satisfaction, that Squeers was only stunned, aniiie England grieved that funeral oei-cnionies, and public monuments, and posthumous rewards wei-e a.l (<> would have awakened the church bells, have given school-boys a holiday, have drawn children from their sports to gaze ii{M>n him, and " old men from the chimney corner " to look U|)on Nelson ere they died. The victory of Trafalgar was celebrated, indeed, with the usua' f I'lns of rejoicing, b»it they were without joy ; for such already was -'s the glory of the British navy through Nelson's surpassing genius^ that it scarcely seemeil to i-eceive any addition from the most sisjnal victory that ever was achieved iipon the seas ; and the destruction of this mighty fleet, by which all the maritime schemes of Fiance were totally frustrated, hardly «pi)eared to add to our security or strength, •«> for while Nelson was living to WHtch the combined scpiadrons of the enemy we felt ourselves as secure as now, when they were no lonyer in existence. There was i-eason to suppos'^, from the appeai*s»nct?s u(>on openiuix the body, that in the coui'K<^ oi nature he might have attaimd, like .{5. his lather, to good old age. Yet he cannot be said to have fallm prematurely whose work was done, ner ought he to l>e lamented who •lied so full of honours and at the height of human fjime. The most triumphant death is that of the martyr; the most awful is that of the martyred patriot ; the most s]>lendid that of the hero in the lioui- c»f 411 victory ; and if the chariot and the horses of tire had been votichsa't-ii for Nelson's translation, he eonhl scarc«*ly hav«' departed in a brighter blaze of glory. He has left us, not indeed his mantle of inspiration, but a name and an example which are at this hour inspiring tliou- sands of the youth of England - a name which is our pritle, and an 45 example which will continue to be our shield and our strength. Tims it is that the spirits of the gi-eat and the wise continue to live and to net after them, verifying in this sense the language of the old mythologist '• Tot fitv Sai'Aovt^ etVt, Jtoc fiiyakou Sid ^uokdz ^EedkiHf iri^Ouvioty (fftkaxsq Ovr^Tutv dvOfttujtwv. , \\ \\ ; Jil lHlo governs the order of the thought us the sketch proceeds from the vnuw in the sentence where the mournei* can say "my mother wiw dead, hut we had still duties, ete ;" '. observe how tlie feelings are represented as ))ecoming less poignant from sentence to sentence. What phase of grief is denoted by the expressi<»n "a sorrow which all have felt,"y while the words "she died" of tlie first sentence give rise to expressions of j,'loom and almost desjiair ; the words, "my mother was dead," in the last sentence are followed by cnuiparatively calm and philosophical reflections. 2. Make a synopsis or an abstract of this sketch showing its general ]»]Hn. Compare tlie methml of describing the anger of Jeffreys with the method of describing the anger <»f Walton in the preceding sketch. 3. Indioite the )Mirts of this sketch which deal with (x) the cause, ('<) the course, (r) tlie conse<|uences, of the indignation of Nicholas. State witli reasons what y«m think of the proportion of s|)ace allotted to these divisions. Has the author used any material that seems to you unnatural or improbable^ If so, what reasons seem to have prompted the use of such details^ What is the atlvantage <»f giving the very w«)rds of the charactei's in this description '. In what respects does this sketch resemble a scene in a drama.' In what respects does it differ from a scene in ;i drama '. • 4- Make out the (dan on which this passage is constructed. In what respects is the introduction suitjvble to the c«unp«Jsition '. What were the facta about the death of Nelson ? How does the Author [u-ejiare us for the enthusiastic epethet " hero ' in the last paragraph i Language Lessons : 1. When is it better to use short, Sax«m words ? When are the long, cltissical woi-jIs more suitable t What is the difference in force between saying " her countenance expressed affection " (1-2) and. " her face looked sweet and loving'' / Does this paragraph contain a lai'ge or small propor- tion of classical terms considering the nature of 'the subject-matter? UKSrHIPTinXH OF MOODS. m Wliiit IN thti reliition in niuaniiiK of the w«»nl "connectiun'' (13) to tlu; terms "fntlier," " inothur," "brother," etc. VVhHi wtnihl be the fll'tct of siihstitiitiii^ some of tliese f<»r "connection" '. What is tho vnlue of thiit timu'e of Hpeech emph»yen under three ditt'erent anpectM. Would the sen- tencH be improved by tlie rearnin^enieiit «»f the jMirts '. Is it advisaltle to insert "that" after "and" (8; >. Criticise the connective "These ' (10). Explahi the force of "yef (I'J) and "that' (12). Distinguish "at length " (14-15) and "at last." Wliich is prefenible in this place ( Com- pare with "grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity " (16) " grief is an indulgence rather than a neceKsity." With what preceding clause does " And the smile not banished " (10-17) connect / Make this clearer. Compjire with "ought to" (18) "should" and with "whilst" (1») "while." 2. This account of the anger of tlie Chief Justice is HUp]M»Hed to be given by one of the participants in the scene, .b)hn Ilidd, a siniple-niinde*! countryman. It is necessjiry. therefore, that the iliction should suifgest the language of the end of the seventeenth century, anS|Nink, should reHect the wnri'te' of John Ui«ld. CJo over the extract noting the instances in which these c«insi«lera- tions weighed with tlie author in his choice of phra-seohtyy. Is there any oV)jection t<» the word "perukes" 'l."i) "disposeil" \21) i Stiggest substi- tutes. Conunent on "thick-set, burly, and bulky man, with a blotchy, broad face " (15-10), and "flashing stare" (23-24). This extract affords an excellent example of convers;iti<>nal prose (25-72). In this kind of composition such language must be used in each case as tits the mouth of the speaker and the situation, and a oireful connection must be maintained between the speeches. Sh«»w in reference to this passage : (d) that col- loquial H])eecli has been use«l throiighont, (h) that John Kidil's language suits a simple, n. Show the lieanng of each speech on the one innuediately preceding by n;ference to the wording. Mention instances in this extract where tlie dicti«»n is effected by the language of the court of law. Comment on "I will overlus- sion" (40-4). Could you write "sympathy and pity" or "pity and compassion" instead ? Comimre with "lingered on in" (42), "c(mtinued in a state of." Mention errors made by Squeers in his conversation with Nicholas (45-61). What are the expressions that give Squeers' speeches a bullying tone; "We shall" (53)— Why not " We will" ? Criticise " whining vaporings" (60). Compare with " remembering " (63) " recall- ing." What are the chief defects in "Nicholas ...the latter anticipated "^ (62-75) ] Consider the bearing of the clause intrtnluced by " while " (71). Compare "and in exultation, ordering " (78) and '" ordering in exulta- tion." What is the antecedent of "he "(84)? What is the purpose <>f relocating "bring him in" (87)/ Comment cm the following: "un- loosened" (91), "operate" (94), "hungry" (10?)), "or so" (113), "amiable " (113), " iH»rtentou8 impiirt" (114), and "fearful instrument of flagelia- tilas (167-197) and sIkhv how Dickens has made tlie language coiTespond with his hero's state of mind, first, his determinaticm, second, his vehement indignation. To what does "which " (201) refer / What is the purpose of the implied conqwiri- son in " harassed the enemy '(207)? Compare with "from "(209) "out of reach of." What does "at no time «me of the weakest" (217) imply ? What is the advantage of this form of expression ? DESCRIPTIONS OF MOODS. 189 4- Justify by reference to the expreHsions used in it the statement that thiH passage is simple, dignitietl, rhythmical, melodious and ''almost metrical," atristic, lofty, and figurative. The last {Niragraph " sings a H prose elegy " on the death of Nelson : explain the force of this criticism. Wliat device is made use of to lend force to the third sentence of the last [paragraph ? 52) t(. levies - imply ? Exercises : Rewrite each of the following in good literary form, omitting or supplying whatever may be necessary to form a properly constructed paragraph : — 1. According to the statement of the public analyst, the water supply in Montreal, as a rule, is wholestmie. The beer and ale made there are unimpeachable and of fair ((uality. He never found strychnine in any sample. The milk was usually good, but ten yearH ago was Imdly diluted witli water and adulterated by the removal of cream. Plentiful (trosecu- tions had prevented this. He had examined specimeuH of bread, and found alum in extremely few cases — say less than one per cent. He did not consider potatoes necessary to the making of bread. They gave a }>righter color to the bread. He thought potatoes improved the bread, supplying the want of fresh vegetables. Alum would l>e injurious to the liealth of the consumer if used in large quanticies. He had examined many specimens of pepper and spice and found the majority impure. Mustard was usually adulterated. Coffee and tea, as usually sold liere, were deficient in the strengthening portions. Tea often had exhausted tea leaves and stalks in it. Some samples were adulterated with sandy, W(»rthless matter in the form of tea dust. He considered the coloring matter added to tea injurious to health. Coffee was usually largely adulterated. People could not be sure of getting ppre ground coffee. The adulterations usually were chicory, peas, corn and wheat (damaged). He never found any substance in coffee injurious to health. The sugar sold here was within a reasonable degree of purity. Sugar refined here was as pure as that imported. Very little raw sugar went on the market for family use. Sugar made from beets was not as sweet as that made from cane. He had not found any muriate of tin in any sugars of late years. I » ! 190 PROSE COMPOSITION. 2. The camp uf the NorniaiiH being seven miles from Beverley, a report was iiromul^ated in the said camp that Beverley Church was the refuge of the rich inhabitants and the deposititry of the riches (if the country ; and several adventurers (one Toustain commanding) hastened to be the first to inaugurate the pillage. Entering Beverley without resistance, nuircliing direct to the cemetery where the terrified crowd had sought shelter, and leaping the walls, without heeding the Anglo- Saxon saint any more than those who invoked him, Toustain, the leader of the band, running his eye over the groups of English, descried an old man richly attired and wearing gold bracelets, according to the custom of his nation, and galloped towards him, sword in hand. Upon this the terrified old man sought refuge in the church, but Toustain followed him into the cliurch. He had however scarcely p.if ruinous corrup- tion. The Roman population, recruited in a great measure frnm emancipated captives or slaves, became almost ung(»vernable, indolent and eager, as it were, for nothing but gratuitous distribution of corn and the games «>f the circus. On the sands of the arena many )>rave men lost their lives, who, if they had been allowed to remain in their own lands. might have si)eHt many happy years in jwtriotic service. .\ flection w.is lavished upon those perarms who (^tifled the people by liberal gifts and by the frequency of popular exhibitions, such as that of gladiators <>r combatants fighting for their Imrlmrous diversion. The former feuds between the patricians and plebians, which had been suspended by the importance of foreign events, were renewed with increased animosity, and there needed but a 8p>ark to produce a dreadful conflagration in the very centre of the republic. 5. He had used every possilde means — nay, sometimes base expedients — to arrest the course of his mighty rival, but had constantly failed ; in particular he had tried the chancesof war and was inevitably beaten. He fled as far as Ec))atana, the capital of Media. The regal splendour and oriental magnificence of the palaces and public buildings were unsurpass- able. Ho was not safe ; the approach of Alexander compelled him to (piit the city and retire to a greater distance. He was still followed by a respectiible body of triM)ps ; but, during their further march, Bessus, one of their generals, having bribed most of them, made himself nuister of the person of the king, whom he loaded with chains. This traititr learned that the Macedonians were fast approaching, and both he and his aeconi- plices pierced Darius with their arrows, and left liiui covered with wound.s. though still alive, at a short distance from the road. Polystrates, (»f whom he asked a drink of water, found the unfort\inate monarch in a sjid condi- tion. Having received and taken it, he expressed ids lively gi-atitude for the boon, and, pressing the stddier's hand in his own, requested him to thank Alexander in his name for the great kindness he had shi>wn to his family, and to recommend to the justice of that prince the punishment of a monster of injustice and cruelty, wjio, by putting his king and bene- Itt2 PROSE COMPOSITION. fnctur to death, had outraged all aovereigns in hit permm. He then breathed hiH lant. Alexander arrived in a few moments, and, weeping over him, oauned Iuh funeral ohHequiea to be performed with royal magni- ficence and hiH luMly to lie hurietl in the aepulchre of the kinga, hia |)reeare. 2. The laugungo of passion is terse and usually quite simple. In descriptions of dramatic incidents or words, the dramatic form is the best. 3. In most descriptive sketches the purpose of the description should be clearly indicated in the intro|)earance, inclined her to pat his head repeatedly with her fore foot, with her claws, however, sheathed, and not in anger, b\it in the way of philosophic inquiry and examination. To prevent her fulling a victim to so laudable an exer- 26 oise of her talents, I interposed in a moment with the hoe, and per- foimed upon him an act of decapitation, which, though not immediately mortal, proved so in the end. Had he slid into the (Mssages where it is dark, or had he, when in the yaixl, met with no interruption frem the cat, and secreted himself in any of the outhouses, it is hardly 30 possible but that some of the family must have been bitten; he might have been trodden upon without being jierceived, and have slipped away before the sufferer could -have distinguished what foe had wounded him. Three yeara ago we discovered one in the same place, which the barber slew with a trowel. DESCRIPTIONS. 190 Mr. Bull, a dissenting minister of Newport, a learned, ingenious, ss good-natured, pious friend of ours, who soniotimes visits us, and whom we visited last week, has put into my hands three volumes of French poetry, composed by Madame Guion. ' A quietist,' say you, ' and a fanatic ; I will have nothing to do with her.' 'Tis very well — you ai*e welcome to have nothing to do with her ; but in the meantime 40 her vei-se is the only Fi-enoh verse I ever read that I found agreeable; there is a neatness in it equal to that which we applaud with so much reason in the compositions of Prior. I have translated several of them, and shall proceed in my translations, till I have filled a Lilli. putian paper-book I hapiien to have by me, which, when filled, I shall 46 present to Mr. Bull. He is her passionate admirer ; rode twenty miles to see her pictura in the house of a stranger, which stranger politely insisted on his acceptance of it, and it now hangs over his chimney. It is a striking portrait, too characteristic not to be a strong I'esemblance, and, were it encompassed with a glory, instead of f^^ being dressed in a nun's hood, might pass for the face of an angel. Youra, W. C. Ill —Shelley's Deseription of Venice.— I have not written to you, I think, for six weeks, but I often felt that Tf had many things to say ; but I have not been without events to disturb and distract me, amongst which is the death of my little girl. She died of a disorder {leculiar to the climate. We have all had bad spirits ^ enough, and I, in addition, bad health. I intend to be better soon ] there is no malady, bodily or mental, which does not either kill or is killed. We left the baths of Lucca, I think, the day after I wrote to you, on a visit to Venice, partly for the sake of seeing the city. We made j„ a very delightful ificquaintance thsre with a Mr. and Mrs. Hoppner, the gentleman an Englishman, and the lady a Swissesse, mild and Ijeautiful, and unprejudiced, in the best sense of the word. The kind attentions of these {)eople made our short stay at Venice very pleas- ant. I saw Lord Byron, and really hardly knew him again : he b ^5 changed into the 4iveliest and happiest-looking man I ever met. He wm 200 PROSE COMPOSITION. read me the first canto of his " Don Juan," a thing in the style of " Beppo," but infinitely better, and dedicated to Southey in ten or « doisen stanzas, more like a mixture of wormwood and verdigris thuit 20 satire. Venice is a wonderfully fine city. Theajjproach to it over tim Laguna, with its domes and turrets glittering in a long line over the blue waves, is one of the finest architectural delusions in the world. It «eems to have, and literally it has, its foundations in the sea, Th»v silent streets are paved with water, and you hear nothing but the 'indnshing of the oars, and the occasional cries of the gondolieri. T heard nothing of Tasso. The gondolas themselves are things of a most romantic and picturesque appearance ; I can only com|mre theui to moths, of which a coffin might have been the chrysalis. They are hung with black, and painted black, and carpeted with grey ; they 80 curl at the prow and stern, and at the former there is a nondescript beak of shining steel, which glitters at the end of its long black mass. The Doge's palace, with its library, is a fine monument of aristo- cratic ])ower. I saw the dungeons, where these scoundrels usetl to torment their victims. They are of three kinds, one adjoining the sf) place of trial, where the prisonei-s destined to immediate execution were kept. I could not descend to them, because the day on wliicli I visited it was festa. Another under the leads of the palace, where the sxiflerers were roasted to death or madness by the ardoui*s of an Italian sun ; and othei-s, called the Pozzi — or wells, deep underneath, 40 and communicating with those on the roof by secret passages — where the prisonera were confined sometimes half up to their middles in stinking water. When the French caime here they found only one old man in the dungeons, and he could not si)eak. But Venice, which was once a tymnt, is now the next worse thing, a slave ; for, in fact, 45 it ceased to l»e free, or worth our regret as a nation, from the moment that the oligarchy usuri)ed the rights of the people ; yet, I do not imagine that it was ever so degraded as it has been since the French,. and especially the Austrian yoke. The Austrians take sixty per cent. in taxes, and impose free quartei's on the inhabitants. A horde of M German soldiers, as vicious and more disgusting than the Venetians themselves, insult these miserable people. I had no conception of the excess to which avarice, cowardice, superstition, ignorance, passionless DESCRIPTIONS. 201 lust, and all the inexpresKible brutalities which degrade human nature, could be carried, until T had passed a few days at Venice. We have been living this last month near the little town from which I date this letter, in a very pletisant villa which has been lent to us, and we are now on the \H)ini of proceetling to Florence, Boine, and lilaples, at which last city we shall si)end the winter, and return northwards in the spring. Behind us here are the Euganean Hills, not so beautiful as those of the Bagni di Lucca, with Arqua where Petrarch's house and tomb are religiously pressed and visited. At the end of our garden is an extensive gothic castle, now the habita- tion of owls and bats, whei-e the Medici family resided before they came to Florence. We see l*efore us the wide flat plains of Lon)bardy, in which we see the sun and moon rise and set, and the evening star, and all the golden magnificence of autumnal clouds. But I reserve wonder for Naples. I have been writing, and indeed have just tinished the first act of, a lyric and clHS.sical drama, to be called " Prometheus Unbound." Will you tell me what there is in Cicero about a drama supi)0.se 70 oh,. 'Ut. of tins the es* INDUCTION FROM MODELS. Compositional Analysis : 1. No form of coni)M>8iti(>n is less restrained by formality of structure than the friendly letter. The style of the best letters is a mingling of literary beauty with collociuial evte and simplicity. It is commonly held that the style in letters should conform closely to our style in conversation ; but it would seem that writing is nearly always more formal and deliberate than speaking. mmaam 202 PROSE COMPOSITION. The mo8t obvious diviHioiis of the subject-matter of letters, are, (a) matters of general or public interest, (6) matters of interest in the circle in which the correspondents have common friends, (c) matters of a private or confidential nature. In descriptive letters the first division would include ilescriptions of public buildings, and ceremonials ; the second, descriptions of parties, houses, costumes ; the third, descriptions of moods and experi- ences. When a letter is planned uptm these divisions it will often be wise to follow the order indicated above. But an examination of the letters of the greatest masters of the art of letter- writing, Cowper, Shelley, Sterne, Byron, Keats, ^^caulay, and others, reveals the truth that no law gf)verns the arrangement of a friendly letter, but the law of the writer's caprice. Some of the most beautiful letters are lacking in coherence, and a great many of them make no pretence of unity. C/hoice of paper and envelopes, modes of beginning, closing, folding and directing letters, are matters of personal and conventional tjiste, and sliould be learned as similar matters of good usage are learned. What is the substance of Cowper's letter about his boudoir J What features make it a pleasing letter i What can one learn about letter- writing from a consideration of it? 2. In composing the letter about the kitten and the snake, Cowper begins by giving utterance to a solemn aiJiorism in an impiessive and epigi'aunuatic style : what does this manner of beginning add to the des- cription of the incident that follows ? (Observe how the fact that the description in a friendly letter justifies an elaborate account of this trifling incident; in no other form of composition could so great 'a man indulge this playful style with a result so charming. What continuity exists between the second and the first [)aragraphs ? 3. Shelley in this letter proceeds as follows : first he ccmfesses that he sln)uld have written before but gives reasons why he has not ; then he relates in order the matters concerning himself which will interest his , correspondent — his meeting the Hoppners, his seeing Lord Byron anJ hesvring a canto of his new poem, his impressions of Venice, his present residence, his literary work, his reading. Wliat ideas give unity to this succession of ideas 1 In what respects is the letter like friendly conver- Siition ? Make a list of the points which impress you as making the letter pleasing. In what respects can you not imitate these points? DESCRIPTIONS. 203 n\t this [er- tter Language Lesson : 1. Tliis description of Cowpei''s Ih vury eHsy uiid lei.sure1y in itn tone. What is there in the lunguagu to pr«Kluce this etiect \ It iilwj htw n cluimi- ing funiiliarity. Mention purticular parts in wliich this quidity is uoticeahle. Ci-iticise the use of "that'' in lines 2 and 4. Distinguish "big" and "large." How do yon justify the use of "bigger" (3)? What is the purpose of the hyperbole " not much bigger than a sedan- chair" (2-3)/ Compare "flowers" with "pinks, roses, and honey- suckles" (4). Point out the ambiguity of "it" (8). Explain the force kS " sublimer uses " (8). Is the repetition of '.' write " (10) a defect I Would it be an improvement to place brackets about " for intruders. . . .at (Jlney " (12-13) and remove them from about "thanks to my lK>udoir " I (13) f Explain the reference of " it " (15). What is suggested by the expression "ordered my volume to your door" (lB-17) / Compare "profession" with "fraternity " (18). What effect is attjuned in " he will empty " (22) ? How does "Patience. . . .trials" (23-24) compare in mood with the rest of the paragraph ? Compare with "the numberless trials of your own " (24-25) " your own numberless trials." 2. This extract is characterized by a quiet, easy, unpretentious hinnour. Show how the author's humorous bent has suifgested certain phrases and words. Make an enumeration of the striking example.^, explaining the special effect of each phrase or word enumerated. Account for the forma^ construction of the firat sentence. For what .sort of incident would such an introduction naturally prepare the reader ? How did Cowper come to use the expression " apparent contra liction '' (4) ? What effect on the style of this composition has the parenthesis " for rt'e have .so many in our retinue" (6) i Why did the author say "a dt)or nailed up" (7) rather than "a nailed up docu-" or "a door which had been nailed up" ? Why is it better to say "the largest that I remember to have .seen" (9-10) tiian '"the largest I remember having seen" ? Justify the use of the adverb form "immovably" (15). What is the subject of "inclined" (19)^ Criticise "with her fore foot, with her claws, however, sheathed, and not in anger," (20-21). Write a substitution for "it is hardly possible but that some of the family must have been bitten," and show the diil'erence between the two expressions. " Three years. . .with a trowel " (31-32). Is the order of phrases in this sentence the best possible / Acct»unt for the arrangement of the adjectives " leai*ned, ingenious, good-natured, pious " (33-34). Is this the usual rhetorical sequence or did Cowper write them down as they occurred to him ? If the latter how did they occur to him in this order / Compare "has pnt into my hands " (35) with "has ao4 PROSE COMPOSITION. i '. lent me," or "has given me." In what spirit does the writer say "A ({iiietist. . . .but in the meantime " (36-38) ? This passage gives the com- position an agreeable naturalness. Which is better "paper-book.... present" (43-44) or " jiaper-lxjok which I happen to have by me and which I shall then present ? " Criticise " He is her passionate admirer over his chinmey " (44-47) (a) in reference to its unity, (b) in reference to its repetitions. Would the last sentence be improved by inserting " the face " after " and " (48) ? 3. Mention in this extract fonns of expression that w:ould not be in place in more dignified and less familiar composition. Give instances also of sudden deviations from the subject under consideration. Stiffness should especially be avoided in friendly letters. Has Shelley succeeded in shunning this danger ? Remodel the first sentence so as to avoid the frequent repetition of the pronoun " I. " This is a fault that one is imr- ticularly liable to in beginning a letter. Some lay down the rule that letters should never begin with the word *' I." Explain and remedy the defect in " which does not either kill or is killed '' (7). Improve the collo- cation of the parts of the sentence "WeMt... seeing the city " (8-9). Bring out more clearly the meaning expressed in "The approach ... in the sea " (19-22). " The gondolas .... chrysalis " — This sentence is marked by a lack of correspondence in the numbers of the nouns. Correct thi.«« fault. To what does "its'' (30) refer? What "scoundrels" are meant in line 32 i Would anything be lost by the omission of " for " (43) { " The Austrians .... inhabitants " — Make a clear statement of what is in- tended to be expressed, here. Correct '* as vicious and more disgusting than " (49). Would it be an improvement to insert " thence '' after "and ' (57) ? Is Shelley's arrangement of the parts of " At the end of our garden .... came to Florence " the best possible ? Do you object to the repetition of "we see " (64) ? What expression is co-ordinate with " have just been writing" (67). Justify this use of language. Give examples in this extract of the author's use of forcible language, and especially of telling descriptive terms. Exercises: I. — Write panigraphe using each of the following as an opening sen- tence : — 1. After many attempts and in face of great difficulties Wolfe defeated the French under Montcalm. 2. Marlborough's appearance and address were no less remarkable than his talent. DESCRIPTIONS. 2U5 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. II.— 1. 2. The scene in the court-room was such as to awe the innocent and strike terror into the heart of the guilty. From our present situation we have a fine view of one of the most striking sections of these mountains. The wedding had evidently attracted to the little church over half the population of the village. Macaulay had gained considerable fame as a legislator, an essayist and an historian. As the moving mist rolled away the little town spread itself before him. Among the other great men of the time, Wentworth stands out a dark and not unimpressive figure. The voyage from the source of the river t<* its mouth was ended by thirty-six hours continuous |)addling. The artist slowly withdrew the curtain and displayed to his visi- turs his newly-finished work — his master-piece. His favorite dog Carlo was a massive St. Bernard of great intelligence. Inside, the house was as neat and cosy as one could imagine. We found her Grace's flower garden a pleasant retreat in the early afternoon. As he struck into the depths of the forest our traveller was filled with new and unexpected emotions. The old log school-house stood a short distance from the road partly shaded from view by two immense elms. To fully understand the battle of Waterloo we must first get a clear conception of the ground and the disposition of the French and the English forces. Cautiously concealed in the gloom of the tree we behold the lui- couth creature arise from its lair. Everything in nature seemed to herald the coming of a fearful storm. The heat was intense ; in the white square the air was breath- less, and seemed to pulsate with its own fervency. Seen from this point the fall is wonderfully impressive. True liberty is found only in following the dictates of duty. The pursuit of an unlawful ambition leads to failure and remorse. fl06 PROSE COMPOSITION. I t I t 3. Great virtues carried to excenft become faults. 4. It has been naid that those studies that are the most pleasing to us will be of the greatest value in educating us. 5. In a poem we require finish in proportion to brevity. G. Poetry can confer upon each period of life its appropriate blessing. 7. "Plate sin with gold, and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks." 8. We become happy only when we give oureelves up to the service of others. 9. That man does the Tiest for others who does the best for himself. 10. A man may learn great virtues by the contemplation of the lower animals. 11. True love of country is not inconsistent with the love of humanity. 12. " Books, we know, are a substantial world both pure and good." 13. "Genius is an immense capacity for taking trouble." 14. Tlie genuine philosopher's stone is content. 16. " Every man's task is his life-preserver." 16. Continual aspiration is prayer that assures its own answer. 17. No man has a right to claim all his rights. 18. Ruskin teaches that we have no right to hold opinions except concerning the work under our hands. 19. Juvenal thought the greatest blessing the gods could bestow was the possession of a sound mind in a sound body. . 20. The greatest courage is the fear of wrong. Ill, — 1. Napoleon's invasion of Russia was one of the most disastrous stei)s in his oireer. 2.' The boys spent the afternoon rambling about the farm. 3. It was not until six o'clock in the evening that the fate of the battle became apparent. 4. It was only after considerable discussion that the meeting passed a vote of confidence in the leader. 5. Cromwell succeeded in forming a body of troops capable of com- peting with and overthrowing the royalist cavalry. 6. It had been arranged that the cricket match was to take place Friday morning. DESCRIPTIONS. 2<)T the ^sed lom- llace 7. When the general mw that an attack was imminent he drew ui> hi8 forced in the form of a hollow (M|uare and prefmred for rufriHtanco. 8. We took our places on the top of the Htage cf>ach in the early morning and set off for Hchool. 9. The iMHketH, rods and lineH, and other re