nothing but errors and remorse. His health was destroyed, his mind vacant, his heart sorrowful, and his old age devoid of comfort.

3. The days of his youth rose up in a vision before him, and he recalled the solemn moment when his father had placed him at the entrance of two roads-one leading into a peaceful, sunny land, covered with a fertile harvest, and resounding with soft sweet songs; the other leading the wanderer into a deep, dark cave, whence there was no issue, where poison flowed instead of water, and where serpents hissed and crawled.

4. He looked toward the sky, and cried out in his agony: "O days of my youth, return! O my father, place me once more at the entrance to life, that I may choose the better way!" But the days of his youth and his father had both passed away.

5. He saw wandering lights floating away over dark marshes, and then disappear. These were the days of his wasted life. He saw a star fall from heaven, and vanish in darkness. This was an emblem of himself; and the sharp arrows of unavailing remorse struck home to his heart. Then he remembered his early companions, who entered on life with him, but who, having trod the paths of virtue and of labor were now honored and happy on this New-Year's night.

6. The clock, in the high church tower, struck, and the sound, falling on his ear, recalled his parents' early love for him, their erring son; the lessons they had taught him; the prayers they had offered up on his behalf. Overwhelmed with shame and grief, he dared no longer look toward that heaven where his father dwelt; his darkened eyes dropped tears, and with one despairing effort he cried aloud, "Come back, my early days! come back!"

7. And his youth did return; for all this was but a dream which visited his slumbers on New-Year's night. He was still young; his faults alone were real. He thanked God fervently that time was still his own; that he had not yet entered the deep, dark cavern, but that he was free to tread the road leading to the peaceful land, where sunny harvests wave. 8. Ye who still linger on the threshold of life, doubting which path to choose, remember that, when years are passed, and your feet stumble on the dark mountain, you will cry bitterly, but cry in vain: "O youth, return! Oh give me back my early days!"-From JEAN PAUL RICHTER.

LESSON V.-THANATOPSIS.

THANATOPSIS is a compound Greek word meaning a View of Death; or it may be translated "Reflections on Death."

[The air of pensive contemplation that pervades this piece requires the inflections, in the reading of it, to be slight and gentle, and the tone throughout to be one of tender sadness and Christian resignation.]

1. To him who in the love of nature holds

2.

3.

Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer' hours'
She has a voice of gladness', and a smile
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his darker musings with a mild
And healing sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness' ere he is aware'.

When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit', and sad images

Of the stern agony', and shroud', and pall',
And breathless darkness', and the narrow house',
Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart',
Go forth unto the open sky, and list

To Nature's' teaching, while from all around',
Earth and her waters', and the depths of air',
Comes a still voice-

"Yet a few days, and thee,

The all-beholding sun shall see no more

In all his course'; nor yet, in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist

Thy image. Earth, that nourish'd thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again;
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go

To mix forever with the elements',

To be a brother to th' insensible rock

And to the sluggish clod', which the rude swain
Turns with his share', and treads' upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad', and pierce thy mould'.

4. "Yet not to thy eternal resting-place

5.

Shalt thou retire alone, nor could'st thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world', with kings
The powerful of the earth', the wise', the good',
Fair forms', and hoary seers of ages past',
All in one mighty sepulchre'.

"The hills,
Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun'; the vales,
Stretching in pensive quietness between';
The venerable woods'; rivers that move

had governed'; and had been trained up from his youth to the art of war'; not by the precepts of others', but by his own commands'; not by miscarriages in the field'," but by victories; not by campaigns', but by triumphs.

Here a pause of some length is required after wars, provinces, others, etc. I am tempted to give one more example, which I select, not only for its appropriateness in illustrating the principle under consideration, but also for the beauty of the sentiment. It is from Blair's sermon on Gentleness:

As there is a worldly happiness which God perceives to be no more than disguised misery'; as there are worldly honors which in his estimation are reproach', so there is a worldly wisdom which in his sight is foolishness. Of this worldly wisdom the characters are given in the Scriptures, and placed in contrast with those of the wisdom which is from above. The one is the wisdom of the crafty', the other that of the upright'; the one terminates in selfishness', the other in charity'; the one is full of strife and bitter envyings', the other of mercy and of good fruits.

Here the first two clauses should be pronounced in a somewhat elevated tone of voice; then, after a somewhat protracted pause at reproach, the voice should drop into a lower tone, with a slower pronunciation. The first members of the contrasted parts should be pronounced in a higher tone than the latter members. It may be well to recollect that this rule should be observed in all antithetic or contrasted clauses. A contrast in sentiments' requires contrast in voice'.

Crito. Very nearly allied to the kind of pause which we have been considering seems to be that prolonged pronunciation which good readers sometimes give to a word, without actually pausing after it. I have noticed this especially in the following beautiful extract from Pope, where the poet is speaking of the soul of God as seen throughout all nature.

Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees,
Lives through all life, extends through all extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent.-POPE.

Bernardo. You have selected a fine illustration of an important principle. If we will notice our own conversation, or listen to any extempore speaking in which nature is followed, we shall find that while some words and clauses, apparently used as mere connectives, are quickly passed over, others, of more importance, are prolonged in the pronunciation. The proper management of the voice in this respect, so as to give to every word just the degree of importance to which it is entitled, is another of the beauties of good reading. The ways in which the voice manages to express every possible variety of thought are almost numberless. We can represent but few of them to the eye.

THIRD EVENING.

ANALYSIS.-Indirect questions that take the rising inflection. First example-not a completed sentence. Deceptive examples, which have the falling inflection, although they appear to have the rising. The questions completed in these examples. The rising inflection at the close of sentences: explained on the principle of the ordinary pause of suspension. The pause of suspension in inverted sentences. The rising inflection in cases of gentle entreaty or expostulation. Negation and affirmation. On what the inflections depend. They are natural signs of thought.

Bernardo. If you have met with any more points of difficulty', Crito', which relate to the Rules laid down in the "Elements," if you will bring them forward, we will consider them this evening; for there are some new principles to which I wish to call your attention in our subsequent conversations.

Crito. I shall be very glad, indeed, to have a few difficulties removed,

if it can be done. To begin, then: I have found several examples of indirect questions which I can not reconcile with Rule Third. Thus, in the following:

Question. Will he go'?
Ans. I think it doubtful'.
Question. Why not'?

The Ball of he aver

The last question here is indirect; that is, it can not be answered by yes or no, and yet it is evident to me that it takes the rising inflection. I do not see that either the Rule', or the Note', provides for a case of this kind Can you explain it'?

Bernardo. I think you yourself will discover, by a little reflection, that the example does not, in reality, violate the Rule. You will observe that the answer, "Why not' ?" is not a completed sentence. What would the

answer be if completed'?

Crito. Indeed, I did not think of that; but I can explain it now. The complete answer is, "Why will he not' go'?" which has the falling inflection. Bernardo. Yes, you have given the correct explanation-partially so, at least. In nearly all cases the falling inflection begins at a point higher than the key-note; and in this case it strikes the word "not" on a high key, preparatory to its downward slide. As soon as the voice strikes it, however, it begins to fall; and, if I were to be critically correct, I should perhaps say this very word "not" is pronounced with the falling inflection. I admit that it appears to have the rising slide. In the word "doubtful"," in the same example, we find a parallel case, for the first syllable of it is struck on a high key, and might, with the same propriety as in the case of the word "not," have received the rising inflection.

Crito. But I have still another kind of indirect question, which I think can not be explained in this way. It is the following, which I recently heard an eloquent divine read, giving the rising inflection to all the questions:

How, then, shall they call on him in whom they have not believed'? and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard'? and how shall they hear without a preacher'? and how shall they preach except they be sent'?

Now, although these questions may be read with the falling slide, yet it seems very evident that they may also be read with the rising, with equal propriety.

Bernardo. And yet I think it may be maintained, with very good reason, that all these questions, even as you have read them, take the falling slide in the closing syllable, the voice merely striking the closing words at a high pitch, and then immediately falling. The word "preacher" is pronounced, in the example given, in a manner very different from what it is in the following example, "Is he a preacher' ?" As the latter is plainly the rising inflection, it may well be doubted if the former is.

Crito. I perceive a difference; and yet I think most persons would consider that the examples given have the rising inflection. The voice certainly rises very high to strike the closing words; and its downward slide, if there be any, is scarcely perceptible.

Bernardo. If we should admit that these questions may be pronounced with the rising inflection as well as with the falling, then I should say that the precise meaning, or the force of the expression, can not be the same in both cases; and this brings us back to one of the principles which we established in our first evening's conversation-that, "if two persons have the same understanding of a passage, both ought to read it in the same manner."

Crito. But I do not see that this principle furnishes any reason for a de

6.

In majesty, and the complaining brooks

That make the meadows green'; and, pour'd round all',
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste

Are but the solemn decorations all

Of the great tomb of man.

The golden sun',

The planets', all the infinite host of heaven',
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages.

All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings
Of morning', and the Barcan desert pierce',
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon', and hears no sound
Save his own dashings'-yet the dead are there';
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began', have laid them down
In their last sleep': the dead reign there alone.
7. So shalt thou' rest; and what if thou shalt fall
Unnoticed by the living', and no friend

Take note of thy departure'? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone'; the solemn brood of care
Plod on'; and each one, as before', will chase
His favorite phantom'; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glides away', the sons of men',

The youth in life's green spring', and he who goes
In the full strength of years', matron and maid',
The bow'd with age', the infant in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent age cut off,
Shall, one by one', be gather'd to thy side',
By those who, in their turn', shall follow them'.
8. So live that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan that moves

To the pale realms of shade', where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death',

Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night,

Scourged' to his dungeon'; but, sustain'd and soothed

By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave

Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch

About him', and lies down to pleasant dreams'.-BRYANT.

LESSON VI.-THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH.

1. UNDER a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands,

The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;

LONGFELLOW.