in that Saviour which the gospel offers to sinners, and, firmly persuaded of the safety of believers, cheerfully hoped that his own faith, although weak, was really sincere. The frame of his mind, in relation to spiritual things, was almost uniform: never extremely gloomy, never extremely joyous. It differed surprisingly from the natural temperament of his mind. In the concerns of common life, he was the slave of sensibility, the mere child of circumstances. He knew this. His religious life appeared to himself a third estate, supernaturally called into existence in the empire of his soul, which created a distinct interest, to which all his affections were drawn ; and which gradually progressing in strength and in influ ence, checked the dangerous efforts of the opposite principles of his constitution, rendering his joys less vivid and more lasting, and rendering his sorrows more easy to endure and overcome."

No man ever stood more in need of the aid of friendship and domestic sympathy than Dr. Linn; and no stronger proof could be given of the purity and rectitude of his character, than his feelings on this head. His father and his sisters were his friends, in the highest sense of that term. In the bosom of his own family he sought for objects in whom to repose his confidence, and from whom to claim consolation. To entertain a general regard for the worldly welfare and advantage of near relatives is so common, and originates so frequently in selfish motives, that it can scarcely be deemed a merit in any one; but Dr. Linn's attachment to his family was of a higher order. It led him, not only into the tenderest concern for their welfare, but into an intimate union of his heart and affection with theirs. From the time of his entering on the study of theology to his death, he kept up a frequent correspondence with his father. To him he imparted all his hopes and fears, and thus afforded the strongest proof of integrity of thought and action, since eminently pure must that mind be, which can repose unbounded confidence in a father. Such confidence, indeed, is no less honourable to the father who obtains, than to the son who bestows it; and justice will not discountenance the favourable inference which may be suggested by the present case.

The best companions of his early youth, those whom a similarity of age and inclinations had endeared to him, were, indeed, removed, by their diverse destinies, to a great distance from him; and this circumstance might have been a source of some regret to those who loved him, had not the filial and fraternal charities glow

ed as warmly as they did in his heart, and supplied the place of all other friendship.

He was esteemed and beloved by great numbers, but it was his fondness for seclusion, and not any froward or morose passions, which occasioned him to have but little intercourse with mankind. This little intercourse was by no means fettered or disturbed by personal prejudices. With all his clear and cogent principles, on moral, political, and religious subjects, he combined a charity open as day, and extensive as mankind, and no one's deportment could be more benign and inoffensive than his, towards those who differed with him, even in essential points. He avoided the company of these whom he had no reason to love or respect. He did not seek beyond the small circle of his nearest kindred the company of those who had secured his regard, but when propriety or accident led him into contact with the former, his treatment of them was adapted to win their reverence, and he never refused his confidence or kindness, when claimed by the latter. Short as was his date, and clouded as was the morning of his life by infirmities and sorrows, few there are whose memory will be treated by his adversaries, if any such exist, with more lenity, or will live longer in the hearts of his friends. To mankind at large his short life was useful and glorious, since it was devoted to the divine purpose of inculcating moral and religious duty, and the purpose, only less divine, of illuminating the imagination with the visions of a glowing and harmonious poetry.

RHETORICFOR THE PORT FOLIO.

INTRODUCTORY LECTURE

ON

THE ARTS OF READING AND PUBLIC SPEAKING,

DELIVERED IN THE PHILADELPHIA ACADEMY, Nov. 17, 1806, AND IN THE HALL OF THE UNIVERSITY, Nov. 16, 1807.

(Continued from page 113.)

THE fundamental law of Oratory is, "Follow Nature"-without an attentive regard to which, all other rules will only produce stiff and

affected declamation—not just elocution. For no one can deserve the appellation of a good reader or speaker, much less of an accomplished orator, who does not to a distinct articulation, a ready command of voice, and just pronunciation, accent, and emphasis, add the various expressions of emotion and passion: but in this part of his office, written precepts alone can afford him little assistance. "To describe in words," says Dr. Enfield, "the particular expression which belongs to each emotion and passion, is, perhaps, wholly impracticable. All attempts to enable men to become orators, by teaching them, in written rules, the manner in which the voice, countenance, and hands are to be employed in expressing the passions, must, from the nature of the thing, be exceedingly imperfect, and consequently ineffectual." A man might as well attempt to teach fencing, by pictures of gladiatorial exercises, or to evolve the graceful mazes of a dance, by the mummery of diagrams.

Precepts, it has been observed, are, with regard to Rhetoric, what the skeleton is to the human body. By studying it one may learn to know the distribution of the muscles, and the connexion of the bones; but it never can give an adequate idea of the force and beauty of the living form. The study of the rules of rhetoric is, therefore, to the pupil of eloquence, what anatomy is to the young painter. In order to design correctly, he must know the structure of the human body; but, however perfect he may be in his knowledge, the art of colouring is still wanting; and to give life to the canvas, he must study nature, and those who have excelled in imitating it.

Reading may, with propriety, be called artificial speaking; as it is indeed the imitation of natural eloquence. Hence, like all other imitative arts, its end is defeated by every appearance of study, habit, or affectation. "Ars est," said the Romans, "celare artem," and to no subject does this adage more forcibly apply than to the art of reading. Any peculiarity, therefore, of tone and manner in reading must be disagreeable, as it is unnatural. It is, nevertheless, very certain, that as there are few common readers who have not a disagreeable tone; so there are few pretended adepts in this art, who are not declaimers. It is difficult to say, which of the two is the most disgusting. It is plain, however, that as the former must get rid of his acquired habit, so the latter must unlearn almost all he hath learned, before he can possibly be a good reader; and to reform bad habits is infinitely more difficult, than to commence and proceed correctly.

Indeed, before any rules can be received for the study of this art, it is necessary to eradicate those prejudices which will prevent people

"It is the perfection of art to conceal its exertions."

from profiting by them. For men's prejudices have a powerful effect upon their judgment, and often pervert it when they perceive it not themselves. But to eradicate entirely a vitious habit of pronunciation, must be the work of time, and the effect of repeated exertions.

The groundwork, or fundamental principle of both the arts of reading and of public speaking, is, distinctness of articulation, or the giving to every sound which is uttered its due proportion, and making every word, syllable, and even every letter in the word be heard distinctly. An accurate knowledge of the simple elementary sounds of the language, and a facility in uttering them, are so necessary to distinctness of expression, that it will be in vain to indulge the hope of being a good reader, if every elementary sound of the language cannot be first completely and easily articulated.

Next to an accurate knowledge of, and facility in uttering the elementary sounds, in their various combinations, a command of the principles of accentuation must be acquired, though in this respect our language is subject to frequent changes. Accent appears to be the most unstable part of the English language. We can all remember words differently accented, from the present practice, and many might be, collected which still are fluctuating with their accent unsettled. Academy had formerly the first syllable accented:

Hence the vulgar, who are more tenacious of old modes of speech than people in higher life, still talk of a good or bad character, Triumph: (verb)

"Let others still triu'mph and gain their cause."
Dryden, Ep.

And almost universally throughout Milton:

"Who now triu'mphs, and in th' excess of joy
"Sole reigning, holds the tyranny of heaven.

Par. Lost.

Many others might be enumerated from unquestionable authority, tl time permit. Every thing human, however, is susceptible of change VOL. I.

Bb

and so irresistibly powerful is the authority of fashion, that in a course of years the accentuation of every living language undergoes a considerable alteration: and our own language, in particular, which, it has been facetiously observed, is made up of the shreds and clippings of all other languages, is, of course, infinitely more exposed than any other to the arbitrary caprice of custom and the fluctuating aberration of popular opinion. The next important principle to be attended to is that of emphasis. The offices of emphasis and accent have a very near analogy; that of the former being to mark for notice, and raise to eminence words in sentences; that of the latter syllables in words. Their purposes being thus analogous, similar means serve, in a great degree, for each; but they have very material differences. Accent is allotted to its syllable by the law of custom only, whether founded upon grammatical system, or the caprice of fashion, and there remains immovable. Whereas emphasis, subject to no control of custom, but always obedient to reason, may change its place with the speaker's or author's meaning, through all the words of a sentence. Great judgment is, therefore, necessary in the application of it: for if emphasis does not improve it always vitiates, nay, sometimes perverts the sense.

The influence of false emphasis in perverting the sense of a passage might be illustrated by a variety of examples, of which the following is a remarkable one:

A Rector calling upon the Curate of his parish to read prayers for him, the 13th chapter of the first book of Kings, containing an account of the se. duction and death of the Prophet of Judah, being the first lesson for the day, the Curate read the 27th verse thus; And he spake unto his sons, saying, Saddle me the ass, so they saddled him.' The Rector remonstrating against this false emphasis, and pointing out the word ass as the word on which it ought to be laid, the Curate in reading the service the next year, remembering the Rector's reproof, determined not only to place the emphasis according to his just criticism, but to add another emphasis in order to render his manner of reading more impressive; and he accordingly read it thus: 'And he spake unto his sons saying, Saddle me the ass, so they saddled him.

To lay the emphasis with exact propriety requires the constant exercise of good sense and attention. It is far from being an inconsiderable attainment. It is one of the greatest indications of a true and a just taste; and must arise from feeling delicately ourselves, and from judging accurately of what is fittest to strike the feelings of others. There is as great difference between a chapter of the Bible, or any other piece of plain prose, read by one who places the several emphases, and modulates the tones of his voice everywhere, with taste and judgment, and by one who mistakes or neglects them, as there is between the same tune played by a masterly hand, or that of the most bungling, blundering performer.