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not reverse the order? Why not pronounce both with the same modulation? What peculiar reference is found to be involved in the interrogative verb, so different from that of the interrogative pronoun or adverb, that the one has been supposed to require the rising slide, and the other the falling?

It is clear that the question direct is more affirmative in its sense than the other, inasmuch as it involves a certainty of object or existence. "What is the hoùr?" implies the existence of the hour. "Whát is his name?" involves the name. "Hów do you feel?" supposes the feeling inquired after, and, consequently, is naturally allied to the affirmative member of Principle First. On the contrary, the interrogative verb implies no such certainty. " Will you gó?" leaves the going doubtful. "Have you heard the néws?" so far from being existent in its import, suggests the response," What news?" Hence, probably, the suggestion of the rising inflection as expressive of doubt, inconclusiveness, indefiniteness, in harmony with the penultimate, the supposition, the introductory member of former rules.

This hypothesis receives additional force from the fact that the interrogative verb more frequently implies antithesis than the pronoun or adverb. "Do you gò to-day?" suggests the possible antithesis of going to-morrow. "Do you ride to town?" suggests the possibility of walking,— thereby forcing the interrogative verb into the rising modulation, that the implied term of the antithesis may take the falling.

Besides the interrogative verb has the power of assimilating the question to an exclamation. Let the student. consider how frequently questions occur in which the spirit and import of the exclamation are obviously involved, and where no response is asked or expected. Instances of this are innumerable, in which surprise, delight, admiration, are clearly expressed, and where the rising modulation of the exclamation seems so indispensable as to neutralise all con

sideration of the interrogative word. The interrogative verb is frequently the language of impassioned eloquence, and has been appropriated by our most celebrated orators as the figure of speech best fitted to exhibit the loftiest efforts of the rhetorician. Were the reader to contrast the effect of the two interrogative forms the one so nervous and animated, the other so grave and sententious—he could not fail to be struck with the difference. Hence the constant use of the falling modulation by argumentative speakers and scholastics—in business transactions, and the ordinary routine of life-in all of which the importance of the thing to be done or demonstrated, finds an easy and a natural mode of communication in the affirmative member and its falling inflection. The rising slide suits the declaimer and orator-the falling, the educator and the man of business. The former is the handmaid of poetry-the latter, of precise, sententious prose. Where sound is to obscure sense, the fancy to be amused, or the fortress of conviction to be carried by storm, the special pleader will find the rising modulation a powerful auxiliary. Truth clings to the falling by it facts are stated, circumstances are explained, rebukes and injunctions rendered the more impressive, by the very character of the falling modulation in which they are administered.

Extracts illustrative of Principle Fourth :


I find myself existing upon a little spót, surrounded every way by an immense unknown expansion.-Whére àm I? What sort of a pláce do I inhàbit? Is it exactly accòmmodated in évery instance to my convénience? Is there no excèss of cold, none of héat, to offénd me? Am I never annoyed by animals either of my own kind or a different? Is everything subsérvient to me, as though I had ordered àll myself?—Nd—nothing like it—the farthest from it possible. The world appears not, then, originally made for the private convenience of me alone?—It does not.

But is it not possible so to accommodate it, by my own particular índustry? If to accommodate màn and beast, hèaven and earth, if this be beyond me, it is nòt possible. What consequence, then, follows? or can there be any other than this?—If I seek an interest of my own, detached from that of others, I seek an interest which is chimérical, and can never have existence.

Hów, then, must I detèrmine? Have I no interest at áll? If I have not, I am a fool for staying hère; 'tis a smòky house, and the sooner out of it the bètter. But why no interest? Can I be conténted with nòne but óne sèparate and detached? Is a sócial interest, joined with others, such an absúrdity as not to be admítted? The bée, the beaver, and the tribes of hérding animals, are enough to convince me that the thing is somewhere, at least, pòssible. How, then, am I assured that 'tis not équally true of màn? Admít it; and what follows? If so, then hónour and jùstice are my interest then the whole train of móral vìrtues are my interest without some portion of which, not èven thieves can maintain society.


But farther still-I stop not hére-I pursue this sócial interest as far as I can trace my séveral relations. I pass from my own stock, my own neighbourhood, my òwn nátion, to the whole race of mankind, as dispersed throughout the earth. Am I not related to them all, by the mútual àids of cómmerce, by the gèneral íntercourse of arts and létters, by that cómmon nàture of which we all partícipate?

Again--I must have food and clothing. Without a proper gènial warmth, I ínstantly pèrish. Am I not related, in this view, to the very earth itself? To the distant sún, from whose beams I derìve vígour? To that stupendous course and order of the ìnfinite host of heaven, by which the tímes and séasons ever uniformly pass ón? Were this order ònce confounded, I could not probably survive a mòment; so àbsolutely do I depend on this common general welfare. What, then, have I to dó, but to enlarge vírtue into piety? Not only honour and jústice, and what I owe to mán, is my interest; but gràtitude also, acquièscence, resignàtion, adorátion, and all I owe to this greàt pólity, and its greàter Góvernor, our common Pàrent. Harris.


Retire. The world shut out. Thy thoughts call home. Imagination's airy wing repress.

Lock up thy senses.

Wake all to reason.

Let no passion stir;

Let her reign alone

Then, in thy soul's deep silence, and the depth
Of Nature's silence, midnight, thus inquire:
What am I? and from whence? I nothing know
But that I am; and, since I am, conclude
Something eternal. Had there e'er been nought,
Nought still had been. Eternal there must be.
But what eternal? Why not human race,
And Adam's ancestors without an end?
That's hard to be conceived, since every link
Of that long-chain'd succession is so frail;
Can every part depend, and not the whole?
Yet grant it true, new difficulties rise :

I'm still quite out at sea, nor see the shore.
Whence earth, and these bright orbs? Eternal too!
Grant matter was eternal; still these orbs

Would want some other father. Much design

Is seen in all their motions, all their makes.
Design implies intelligence and art:
That can't be from themselves—or man.

That art,

Man scarce can comprehend, could man bestow,—
And nothing greater yet allowed than man?
Who, motion, foreign to the smallest grain,
Shot through vast masses of enormous weight?
Who bid brute matter's restive lump assume
Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly ?
Has matter innate motion? Then, each atom
Asserting its indisputable right

To dance, would form a universe of dust.

Has matter none? Then, whence these glorious forms
And boundless flights, from shapeless and reposed?
Has matter more than motion? Has it thought,
Judgment, and genius? Is it deeply learned
In mathematics? Has it framed such laws,


Which, but to guess, a Newton made immortal?
If art to form, and counsel to conduct,
And that with greater far than human skill,
Resides not in each block-a GODHEAD reigns;
And if a GOD there is-that God how great!



Owe Heaven a death! 'Tis not due yet; and I would be loath to pay him before his day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me! Well, 'tis no matter-honour pricks me But how if honour prick me off when I come on? How then? Can honour set to a leg? No: Or an arm? No: Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then? No. What is honour? A word. What is that word honour? Air: a trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that died a Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I'll none of it. Honour is a mere 'scutcheon-and so ends my catechism.-Shakspeare.



RULE.-The Parenthesis takes the modulation of the preceding member, is pronounced quicker and lower than the rest of the sentence, and is preceded and followed by a pause sufficient to give it an isolated and independent character.

A parenthesis or explanatory clause is a member inserted in the body of a sentence, of which the other members are altogether independent. The parenthesis should be carefully tested by this principle, since the sign is sometimes inserted, through inadvertency or ignorance, where no parenthesis is involved. It should be remembered also that the parenthe


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