truth thereby. This method is often adopted by Cicero, who uses it frequently in his orations, as well as in his philosophical works. It is not so difficult as the formal dialogue, but it serves admirably to enliven discourse, by giving occasional glimpses, as it were, of the drama of real life. In the oratory of the Bar it is often made available to place testimony in its strongest light.

11. As an example of this imaginary and always irregular dialogue, we give, first, a brief extract from Cicero's oration for Muræna, italicizing the answers which the speaker gives to his own questions.

III. FROM CICERO'S ORATION FOR MURÆNA.

12. "But to return to what I proposed. Away with the name of Cato from this dispute; away with all authority, which, in a court of justice, ought to have no other influence than to save. Join issue with me upon the crimes themselves'. What is your charge', Cato'? What is to be tried'? What do you offer evidence' of? Do you impeach corruption? I do not defend it1. Do you blame me for defending, by my pleading, what I punished by law? I answer, that I punished corruption', and not innocence1a: as to corruption, if you please', I will go hand in hand with yourself in impeaching it."

13. We take from Cicero still another example, which also shows the great use which he makes of the interrogation. It is found in his defense of Milo, to which we have before alluded. His point is to prove that it was Clodius who was attempting to waylay Milo.

IV. FROM CICERO'S ORATION FOR MILO.

14. "Let us now consider the principal point, whether the place where they encountered was most favorable to Milo or to Clodius. But can there, oh judges, be any room for doubt, or for any further deliberation upon this point? It was near the estate of Clodius, where at least a thousand able-bodied men were employed in his mad schemes of build

a The answers are naturally preceded by a long pause, and are pronounced in a lower and more impressive tone of voice than the questions to which they relate.

ing. Did Milo think he should have an advantage by attacking him from an eminence, and did he for this reason pitch upon that spot for the engagement? Or was he not rather expected in that place by his adversary', who hoped the situation would favor his assault'a?

15. "Were the affair to be represented only by painting, instead of being expressed by words, would it not even then clearly appear which was the traitor, and which was free from all mischievous designs, when the one was sitting in his chariot, muffled up in his cloak, with his wife by his side? Which of these circumstances was not a very great incumbrance—the dress, the chariot, or the companion? How could Milo have been worse equipped for an engagement than when he was wrapped up in a cloak', embarrassed · with a chariot', and almost fettered by his wife'?

16. "Observe Clodius, on the other hand, sallying out on a sudden from his villa. For what reason in the evening'? Why at so late an hour'? To what purpose, especially at this season? He strikes off to Pompey's country house. Was it that he might see Pompey'? He knew that he was at Alsium. Was it to view his house'? He had been in it a thousand times'. Then what could be the motive of all this loitering and sauntering about'? Why, to gain time', that he might be sure to be on the spot when Milo came up.'

17. The assumed dialogue is often met with in public ad- . dresses and in sermons-especially where an auditor is supposed to converse with the speaker—and is a spirited form of raising objections for the purpose of answering them. Thus Mr. Everett, in a speech upon the Bunker Hill Monument, fancies an objector arguing against it.

V. WHAT GOOD WILL THE MONUMENT DO?

18. "But I am met with the objection, 'What good will the monument do'?' and I ask, in return, What good does any` thing do? What is good? Does any thing do any good'? Does a railroad or a canal do good'? 'Yes.'—And how`? 'It facilitates intercourse, opens markets, and increases the

a This is virtually an answer to the preceding queries, and is pronounced in a low and impressive tone.

wealth of the country.' And what is this' good for'? 'Why, individuals prosper', and get rich'.' And what good does that' do? Is mere wealth, as an ultimate end,—gold and silver, without an inquiry as to their use,-are these a good'? 'Certainly not.'

19. "I should insult this audience by attempting to prove that a rich man, as such, is neither better nor happier than a poor one. 'But,' the objector says, 'as men grow rich, they live' better. Is there any good in this, stopping here'? Is mere animal life—feeding, working, and sleeping like an ox -entitled to be called good'? 'Certainly not'. But these improvements increase the population.-And what good does that' do'? Where is the good in counting twelve millions instead of six, of mere feeding, working, sleeping animals' ?"

20. This same character of assumed dialogue is often met with in soliloquies, as in the following, wherein the cowardly Falstaff is discussing to himself the point of honor-whether to run away from the battle or not.

VI. FALSTAFF'S SOLILOQUY UPON HONOR.

"What need I be so forward with Death, that calls not on me'? Well, 'tis no matter; Honor pricks me on. But how if Honor prick me off, when I come on'? how thên11? Can Honor set a leg'? No. Or an arm'? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honor hath no skill in surgery then'? No. What is' Honor'? A word. What is that word 'honor?' Air. A trim reckoning'!—Who hath it? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible, then? Yes, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it.-Therefore I'll none of it: Honor is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism."—First Part of Henry IV., Act V., Scene 1.

21. There is still another form of dialogue, commonly called the colloquial style of writing, which often employs both narration and description; for in it the author narrates or describes the conversation of the persons whom he introduces, not merely by telling what they said, in the third

person, but by giving it in their own language. This method of writing is probably more ancient than simple narration; and we find it in the books of the Old Testament, which abound with speeches, with answers and replies, upon the most familiar subjects. It is very happily used in describing the interview between Joseph and his brethren.

VII. JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN.

22. And Joseph said unto his brethren, "Whence come ye'?" And they said, "From the land of Canaan', to buy food'.' And Joseph said, "Ye are spies': to see the nakedness of the land' ye are come."

23. And they said unto him, "Nay, my lord, but to buy food are thy servants come. We are all one man's sons; we are true men; thy servants are no spies." And he said unto them, "Nay, but to see the nakedness of the land ye are come." And they said, "Thy servants are twelve brethren, the sons of one man in the land of Canaan; and behold, the youngest is this day with our father, and one is not."

24. And Joseph said unto them, "That is it that I spake unto you, saying, Ye are spies. Hereby ye shall be proved: By the life of Pharaoh, ye shall not go forth hence except your youngest brother come hither."

25. At a subsequent interview, the conversation of Joseph's brethren among themselves is also given in the narrative form.

And they said one to another, "We are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul, when he besought us, and we would not hear; therefore is this distress come upon us." And Reuben answered them, saying, "Spake I not unto you, saying, Do not sin against the child; and ye would not hear'? Therefore, behold, also, his blood is required."

26. This form of the dialogue, which holds a conspicuous place in the modern novel, allows the author to keep his readers informed of any thing concerning the characters, or the plot, which it may be desirable for them to know. It admits every variety of composition, and is especially adapted to the delineation of the familiar scenes of every-day life.

LESSON XCIII.

MRS. CAUDLE'S UMBRELLA LECTURE.

From the Manuscript of the late Mr. Caudle; by WILLIAM DOUGLAS JERROLD. [WILLIAM DOUGLAS JERROLD, born in London, England, in 1803; died in 1857. At the age of ten he was a midshipman, then a printer, and lastly he became a man of letters by profession. He wrote humorous dramas, was a frequent contributor to the magazines, and a man of brilliant wit in conversation. His "Caudle Lectures," from which the present lesson is taken, first appeared in the London "Punch."

Mr. Caudle having lent an acquaintance the family umbrella, Mrs. Caudle lectured him thereon. The supposed brief responses of Mr. Caudle, spoken in a low tone, are here inserted, italicized, and in brackets. The piece is one that combines the scolding lecture, the assumed dialogue, and the soliloquy, and will be found a fine exercise for a good reader.}

1. THAT'S the third umbrella gone since Christmas. [What was I to do?] What were you to do'? Why', let him go home in the rain, to be sure. I'm very certain there was nothing about him that could spoil'! [He might have taken cold.] Take cold! indeed! He doesn't look like one of the sort to take cold. Besides, he'd have better taken cold than taken our only umbrella.

2. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle'? I say, do you hear the rain? And, as I'm alive, if it isn't St. Swithin's day! Do you hear it against the windows'? Nonsense: you don't impose upon me: you can't be asleep with such a shower as that! Dou you hear it, I say'? [Yes, I hear it.] Oh! you do hear it! Well, that's a pretty flood, I think, to last for six weeks'; and no stirring all the time out of the house'. [Perhaps he'll return' the umbrella.] Pooh! don't think me a fool, Mr. Caudle; dont't insult me; he return the umbrella! Any body would think you were born yesterday. As if any body ever did return an umbrella!

3. There': do you hear it'? Worse' and worse'. Cats' and dogs! and for six weeks'! always six weeks; and no umbrella! I should like to know how the children are to go to school to-morrow. They sha'n't go through such weather; I am determined. No; they shall stop at home, and never learn any thing (the blessed creatures!), sooner than go and get wet! And when they grow up, I wonder