the inmost character come out in the natural cadence, and in the living rise and fall of the voice. If this is true, we have another rule:

Write as you would speak.

It is probable that we shall write best so, for we shall then write most naturally. This rule also allies itself with the Law of Sincerity. That is, while the Law of Fulness is the mental side of the Law of Sincerity, the Law of Rhythm represents it on the side of feeling. The one excludes emptiness and dishonest work; the other excludes affectation and pretence of sentiment.

But, if we are to write as we speak, we ought also to train ourselves to speak. This is best done by much reading aloud, especially of those authors who have written with the greatest amount of force, personal feeling, fire, and passion. Such are, in the present time, Macaulay, Ruskin, and John Bright. Good reading aloud will be certain to result in good writing. No one can throw himself with complete sympathy into the statements, arguments, and feelings of a writer, without imbibing some of the power and spirit of that writer-without adding to his own stock of words and phrases, increasing his power of expression, and gaining something of the verve, swing, and grace of the writer he is studying.

It is unnecessary in this part of this book to discuss the question fully. But this main fact may be mentioned, that rhythm resides chiefly in the end of the sentence. Every sentence ought to have a musical close. If it has not, it produces the same effect upon the nerves that is felt when we take a false step in the dark. The nerves are prepared to go down one step, and there is no step; and hence results an unpleasant shock. The ear expects a harmonious close;

and the ear is disappointed. Cicero, one of the greatest masters of the musical sentence, says: "As the ear is always directed to the close of a sentence, it should never be destitute of harmony."

It must not be forgotten, too, that, as rhythm is the most spiritual element of a sentence, it is that which is the outcome of the whole man-his feelings, his character, and his past experiences; that it cannot be taught or acquired by teaching, but that it comes from orderly thought, tranquil and kindly feelings, and the habit of promoting the happiness of other people. This fact comes out with strong prominence when we study the sweet and homely rhythms of Chaucer and Leigh Hunt, and still more in the fine and delicate and kindly prose of Charles Lamb. In one word, it is in the rhythm that the personal character of the writer lives, and moves, and has its being. The following passage from Washington Irving is sufficient to prove this.

"There is nothing in England that exercises a more delightful spell over my imagination than the lingerings of the holiday customs and rural games of former times. They recall the pictures which my fancy used to draw in the May morning of life, when as yet I only knew the world through books, and believed it to be all that poets had painted it; and they bring with them the flavour of those honest days of yore, in which, perhaps with equal fallacy, I am apt to think the world was more home-bred, social, and joyous than at present."-Sketch Book.

CHAPTER VII.

PRACTICAL DIRECTIONS TO BEGINNERS IN THE ART OF COMPOSITION.

I. Get up all the facts given in each Exercise with the greatest care. Take notes of them, and then compare these notes with the OUTLINE given.

II. Read over the Phraseology, and connect each phrase with the particular incident or feeling it is intended to describe. Do this two or three times.

III. When you begin to write, keep the OUTLINE before you, but consult the PHRASEOLOGY as seldom as possible.

IV. Write with the greatest possible fulness of detail, and be as profuse of words as you please.

V. After you have written, cut out all detail that interferes with the more prominent features of the narrative or essay; and, secondly, cut down your phraseology as much as you can, without altering the sense, or dwarfing the feeling, or spoiling the rhythm.

The above process is in exact analogy with nature and the art of the gardener. He gives a tree every possible encouragement to grow; but in the spring he cuts away all superfluous wood and leaves, in order that full justice may be done,—that the strength of the tree may be given—to the fruit. It must also be remembered that we can make a severe, spare, and compact style out of a wide-spreading and luxurious one; but, if a style is too meagre to begin with,

if this meagreness is encouraged from a too rigid adherence to spareness and severity, the power of expression will decrease more and more in the young writer. Whately's words are of importance in connection with this view :

"It is remarked by anatomists, that the nutritive quality is not the only requisite in food,-that a certain degree of distention of the stomach is required, to enable it to act with its full powers; and that it is for this reason hay or straw must be given to horses, as well as corn, in order to supply the necessary bulk. Something analogous to this takes place with respect to the generality of minds, which are incapable of thoroughly digesting and assimilating what is presented to them, however clearly, in a small compass."

SHORT DIRECTIONS FOR POINTING.

I. A sentence should always be read aloud before being pointed.

II. Under-pointing is better than over-pointing.

III. When the ear and the common sense tell me to make a distinct pause, I ought to put a comma.

IV. If, for any reasons whatever, two sentences are made into one, they should be separated by a semicolon.

V. A colon should be employed only to introduce a formal statement.

CAUTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.

THESE cautions are intended as helps to criticism and correction of papers after they have been written; but they should not be kept in the mind during the process of writing. That would be a great error. It would induce a weak, timid, and colourless style, and would also stand in the way of our attaining what is the main end of all writing -free power in giving expression to our meaning. While we are writing, we ought to think of nothing but the

subject; after we have done writing, we ought to think of nothing but the language. That is, at the end of every sentence, we ought to ask ourselves: Does this fully convey my meaning, and nothing else?

I. AVOID TAUTOLOGICAL EXPRESSIONS.

These very easily intrude themselves into English, as in fact our language possesses two vocabularies-an English and a Latin one. When, for example, Alison says, "It was founded mainly on the entire monopoly of the whole trade with the colonies," the fact that the word entire, which is Latin, the prefix mono, which is Greek, and the word whole, which is English, mean the same thing, escaped his notice. So with the elder D'Israeli, "whenever the same happy combination of circumstances and persons shall occur together."

II. PLACE THE ADVERB AS NEAR AS POSSIBLE ΤΟ THE WORD OR WORDS IT MODIFIES.

"He not only found her employed, but also pleased and tranquil." Here the not only seems to modify found, and we are led to expect another verb; but it really modifies employed, and should stand next to it.

III. NEVER USE THE PRESENT PARTICIPLE IN ing AS AN ABSOLUTE CASE WHEN YOU CAN AVOID IT:

Especially not at the end of a sentence.

Avoid the use of the PRESENT PARTICIPLE entirely until you have made very great progress in the art of expressing your meaning.

The participial construction gives a loose and slovenly