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tical clause is not always so denoted—the curves or brackets being now generally dispensed with, and the comma or dash used in place of them. The principle is the same in all: whatever member is not necessary to the leading idea, but merely of an explanatory nature, is to be considered parenthetical, and read accordingly.
As the parenthesis is commonly connected with the introductory division of a sentence, its modulation will generally be rising; the only exceptions being in the case of its ex-pressing some important distinction or affirmation, in which, instances the falling may be adopted.
EXAMPLES.- "The fair and happy mílkmaid makes her hand hard with lábour, and her heart sóft with pity; and when winter evenings fàll éarly (sítting at her mèrry whéel) she sings a defíance to the giddy wheel of fòrtune. The lìning of her apparel (which is herself) is fàr bétter than outsides of tissue; fór, although she is not arrayed in the spirit of the glowworm, she is décked in ìnnocency, a fár better wearing."
"If énvious people were to ask themselves whether they would exchange their entíre situàtions with the pèrsons énvied-I mean their minds, pàssions, nòtions, as well as their pérsons, fórtunes, dígnities-I presúme the sélf-lòve cómmon to human nature would gènerally make them prefer their own condition."
"The business of an òrator is not to convince, but to persuade; not to infórm, but ròuse the mind; to build upon the habitual préjudices of mankìnd (for rèason of itself will do nothing); and to add feèling to préjudice, and action to feeling."
“At léngth, sòme píty wärmed the master's breast;
There are certain colloquial phrases which the reader is apt to class with the parenthesis, but which do not properly belong to it. These occur in such passages as the Story of Le Fevre, in which the familiar phrases, "says he," "says the landlord," "added the corporal," are frequent; all of which are to be read elliptically, that is, without modulation, running them into the inflection of the preceding member.
The Principle of the Parenthesis recommends itself to the particular notice of the student on this account, that it takes up the intermediate members of sentences; those to which the preceding rules do not apply. They refer chiefly to concluding members, or to certain well-defined introductory divisions about which there can be no misapprehension, as in the Suspension; whereas Principle Fifth applies entirely to the loose intermediate clauses; those numerous insertions that serve to compose the body of a sentence. These, if of a purely explanatory character, are all parenthetical, by whatever punctuation they are denoted, and must be read accordingly.
The following Extracts exemplify this Principle, in which the parenthetical division may occasionally be detected without the parenthetical curves—the dash or comma being now more generally substituted.
UNCLE TOBY'S BENEVOLENCE.
My uncle Toby was a man patient of ìnjuries—not from wánt of courage-I have told you in a fórmer chapter that he wàs a man of coúrage: and I will add hére, that where just occasions presénted or called it fórth, I know nò man under whose arm I would have sooner taken shèlter. Nor did this arise from any insènsibility or obtùseness of his intellectual párts, for he felt as féelingly as a man could dò. But he was of a peaceful, plácid nàture; no jàrring élement ìn him: all was mixed up so kíndly with him, my uncle Toby had scarce a heart to retaliate upon a flỳ.
Gò-says he, one day at dinner, to an overgrown one which had buzzed about his nose, and tormented him cruelly all dinner time, and which, after infinite attempts, he had caught at lást as it flew bỳ him—I'll nót hùrt thee—says my uncle Toby, rīsing from his chair and going across the room with the flý in his hànd-I'll not hurt a háir of thy head: Gò-says he, lifting up the sash, and opening his hand as he spoke, to let it escàpe―gò, poōr creāture; gét thee gòne; why should I hurt thèe?—This world surely is wide enough to hold both thèe and mé.
This lesson of universal good-will, taught by my uncle Toby, may serve instead of a whole vòlume upon the subject.-Sterne.
A poor monk, of the order of St Francis, came into the room to beg something for his convent. The moment I cast my eyes upon him, I was determined not to give him a single sous; and accordingly I put my purse into my pocket-buttoned it up—set myself a little more upon my centre, and advanced up gravely to him. There was something, I fear, forbidding in my look; I have his figure this moment before my eyes, and think there was that in it which deserved better.
The monk, as I judged from the break in his tonsure, a few scattered white hairs upon his temples being all that remained of it, might be about seventy-but from his eyes, and that sort of fire which was in them, which seemed more tempered by courtesy than years, could be no more than sixty-truth might lie between.He was certainly sixty-five; and the general air of his countenance, notwithstanding something seemed to have been planting wrinkles in it before their time, agreed to the account.
It was one of those heads which Guido has often paintedmild, pale, penetrating: free from all commonplace ideas of fat contented ignorance, looking downwards upon the earth-it looked forwards; but looked as if it looked at something beyond this world. How one of his order came by it, Heaven above, who let it fall upon a monk's shoulders, best knows: but it would have suited a Bramin; and bad I met it upon the plains of Hindostan, I had reverenced it.
The rest of his outline may be given in a few strokes; one
might put it into the hands of any one to design; for it was neither elegant nor otherwise, but as character and expression made it so. It was a thin, spare form, something above the common size, if it lost not the distinction by a bend forwards in the figure -but it was the attitude of entreaty; and, as it now stands present in my imagination, it gained more than it lost by it.
When he had entered the room three paces, he stood still; and, laying his left hand upon his breast (a slender white staff with which he journeyed being in his right)—when I had got close up o him, he introduced himself with the little story of the wants of his convent, and the poverty of his order-and did it with so simple a grace—and such an air of deprecation was there in the whole cast of his look and figure-I was bewitched not to have been struck with it
-A better reason was, I had predetermined not to give him a single sous.
'Tis very true, said I, replying to a cast upwards with his eyes, with which he had concluded his address-'tis very true-and Heaven be their resource who have no other than the charity of the world; the stock of which, I fear, is no way sufficient for the many great claims which are hourly made upon it.
As I pronounced the words great claims, he gave a slight glance with his eyes downwards upon the sleeve of his tunic-I felt the full force of the appeal-I acknowledge it, said I—a coarse habit, and that but once in three years, with meagre diet, are no great matters: but the true point of pity is, as they can be earned in the world with so little industry, that your order should wish to procure them by pressing upon a fund, which is the property of the lame, the blind, the aged, and the infirm: the captive, who lies down counting over and over again the days of his afflictions, languishes also for his share of it; and had you been of the order of mercy, instead of the order of St Francis, poor as I am (continued I, pointing to my portmanteau), full cheerfully should it have been opened to you for the ransom of the unfortunate. The monk made me a bow-But, resumed I, the unfortunate of our own country surely have the first right; and I have left thousands in distress upon the English shore. The monk gave a cordial wave with his hand as much as to say; No doubt there is misery enough in every corner of the world, as well as within our convent. But we distinguish, said I-laying my hand upon the sleeve of his tunic,
in return for his appeal-we distinguish, my good father, betwixt those who wish to eat only the bread of their own labour, and those who eat the bread of other people, and have no other plan in life but to get through it in sloth and ignorance, for the love of God.
The poor Franciscan made no reply: a hectic of a moment passed across his cheek, but could not tarry-Nature seemed to have done with her resentments in him; he showed none-but letting his staff fall within his arm, he pressed both his hands with resignation upon his breast, and retired.
My heart smote me the moment he shut the door-Pshaw! said I, with an air of carelessness, three several times-But it would not do; every ungracious syllable I had uttered crowded back into my imagination. I reflected I had no right over the poor Franciscan, but to deny him; and that the punishment of that was enough to the disappointed, without the addition of unkind language-I considered his grey hairs—his courteous figure seemed to re-enter, and gently ask me what injury he had done me, and why I could use him thus ?—I would have given twenty livres for an advocate-I have behaved very ill, said I within myself; but I have only just set out on my travels, and shall learn better manners as I get along.-Sterne.
THE SERIES, CLIMAX, OR ENUMERATION.
RULE. The Commencing Series, each successive clause of which is introductory, takes the rising modulation on its ultimate particular; the preceding particulars receiving the modulation which the general sense of the passage suggests, as being of a negative, concessive, or interrogative character— whereas the Concluding Series, each successive clause being conclusive, takes the falling inflection on its ultimate particular, the previous particulars receiving the inflection suggested by the general sense. The preceding particulars of the