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Stu. He has been grossly insulted by Tybalt, but has avoided quarreling with him. Mercutio, Romeo's friend, takes up the quarrel, and is slain by Tybalt ; and the latter, immediately after, is met by Romeo, who accosts him thus :

“ Alive! in triumph, and Mercutio slain!
Away to heaven, respective lenity,
And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now! -
Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again
That late thou gavest me ; for Mercutio's sou.
Is but a little way above our heads,
Staying for thine to keep him company ;
And thou or I, or both, must go with him.”

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Pro. There is a good exercise in high pitch in the reply of Coriola'nus to Aufid'ius. The latter has sneered at the haughty soldier as a “boy of tears”; and Coriolanus retaliates, in words showing over. powering rage. Let me hear you read the passage. Str. It requires practice; but I will do my best.

Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
Too great for what contains it. Boy?' O slave!
Cut me to pieces, Volcians; men and lads,
Stain all your edges on me. • Boy!' False hound !
If you have writ your annals true, 't is there,
That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
Fluttered your Volcians in Co-ri'o-li :
Alone I did it! • Boy!'".

Pro. The tone of choleric defiance in these words of Hotspur affords another exercise in high pitch:

“ Not speak of Mortimer?

But I will speak of him; and let my soul
Want mercy if I do not join with him!
Yea, on his part, I 'll empty all these veins,
And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the dust,
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer

As this ingrate and cankered Bolingbroke."

Stu. The king has refused to ransom Mortimer, who happens to be the brother of Hotspur's wife. The indignant Hotspur again breaks out as follows:

“ He said he would not ransom Mortimer ;

Forbăde my tongue to speak of Mortimer ;
But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I'll hollo Mortimer!
Nay, I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him

To keep his anger still in motion." Pro. With one more exercise we will conclude our illustrations for the present. It is the contemptuous speech of Coriolanus, the haughty patrician of Rome, to the populace:

• What would you have ... you curs,

That like not peace nor war? The one affrights you,
The other makes you proud. He that trusts you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you ... HARES ;
Where foxes . . . GEESE: you are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
Or hailstone in the sun. He that depends
Upon your favors, swims with fins of lead,
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye. ... Trust ye?
With every minute you do change a mind,
And call him noble, that was now your hate,

Him vile, that was your garland!". Stu. These exercises seem to me to require a good deal of practice to do them justice.

Pro. That is true: therefore let them have practice. Learn some of them by heart, and give them forth as you have opportunity ; first being sure, from your teacher's authority, that you deliver them aright and in good taste. The physical benefit derived from such exercise of the lungs, prudently pursued, is as great as that got in many of the feats of the gymnasium. It is an exercise which any one can advantar geously take, in-doors or out.

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CATILINE'S LAST SPEECH TO HIS TROOPS.

LXXX.- CATILINE'S LAST SPEECH TO HIS TROOPS.

Taunt (the au like a in far), n., bit-Co'HORT, n., a troop of soldiers, about

ter or sarcastic reproach. GALL'ING (a as in fall), a., fretting. BUR'DEN (bur’dn), v. t., to encumber.

The following exercise should be read with much spirit and energy. Commencing in the tone of sorrow and despair, the voice should be gradually raised till, at the climaz, It should attain an explosive force, expressive of reckless resolve and defiance.

BRAVE comrādes! all is ruined! I disdain
To hide the truth from you. The die is thrown!
And now, let each that wishes for long life
Put up his sword, and kneel for peace to Rome.
Ye are all free to go. — What! no man stirs ! .
Not one! —a soldier's spirit in you all ?
Give me your hands! - This moisture in my eyes
Is womanish —'t will pass.

My noble hearts! ..
Well have you chosen to die! For, in my mind,
The grave is better than o’erburdened life ;-
Better the quick release of glorious wounds,
Than the eternal taunts of galling tongues ;-
Better the spear-head quivering in the heart,
Than daily struggle against Fortune's curse;
Better, in manhood's muscle and high blood,
To leap the gulf, than totter to its edge
In poverty, dull pain, and base decay.

Once more, I say, — Are ye resolved ? '
Then, each man to his tent, and take the arms
That he would love to die in, — for this hour
We storm the Consul's camp.- A last farewell!
When next we meet, we'll have no time to look
How parting clouds a soldier's countenance :-
Few as we are, we ’ll rouse them with a peal
That shall shake Rome! —
Now to your cohorts' heads! The word 's Revenge!

Rev. GEORGE CROLY. (1788 — 1860.)

LXXXI. - SONG OF HIAWATHA.

LE'GEND (le'jend), n., a wild story. • Ey'ry (a're), n., a place where birds
PATHOS, n., feeling ; passion. 1 of prey build and hatch.
PAL-I-SADE', n., a fence or fortifica- TRA-DITION, n., oral account handed
tion of sharpened stakes.

down from ago to age. Pronounce Hiawatha, He-a-wa'tha (the second a as in fall); the au in haunt like a in far. Heed the long o in shadow, mead'ow.

1. YE who love the haunts of nature, love the sun. shine of the meadow, love the shadow of the forest, love the wind among the branches, and the rain-shower and the snow-storm, and the rushing of great rivers through their palisades of pine-trees, and the thunder in the mountains, whose innūmerable echoes flap like eagles in their eyries, — listen to these wild traditions, to this Song of Hiawatha !

2. Ye who love a nation's lēgends, love the ballads of a people, that, like voices from afar off, call to us to pause and listen, speak in tones so plain and childlike, scarcely can the ear distinguish whether they are sung or spoken, — listen to this Indian legend, to this Song of Hiawatha!

3. Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple, who have faith in God and nature, who believe that in all ages every human heart is buman; that, in even savage bosoms, there are longings, yearnings, strivings, for the good they comprehend not; that the feeble hands and helpless, groping blindly in the darkness, touch His right hand in the darkness, and are lifted up and strengthened, — listen to this simple story, to this Song of Hiawatha!

4. Ye who sometimes in your rambles through the green lanes of the country, where the tangled barberrybushes, hang their tuits of crimson berries over stone walls gray with mosses, — pause by some neglected graveyard, for a while to muse and wonder on a half effaced inscription, writ with little skill of song-craft, homely phrases, but each letter full of hope and yet of heart-break, full of all the tender pāthos of the Here and the Hereafter, — stay and read this rude inscription, read this Song of Hiawatha ! LONGFELLOW.

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The habit which the two boys, introduced in this story, had of clipping the sound of ng in such words as spelling, chopping, &c., is one which, we hope, every youth will avoid in serious delivery.

1. LET no one suppose that in the following story I would underrate the importance of learning to spell correctly. In these days the young person who hopes to attain to positions of trust and profit must be a good speller. What I would impress upon your minds is, that you must not only learn the orthography of a word but acquaint yourself with its meaning; not only know the outside form of a word, its letters and syllables, but penetrate to its inner spirit and life.

2. The most extraordinary spelling, and, indeed, reading machine, in our school, was a boy whom I shall call Mem'orus Wordwell. He was mighty and wonderful in the acquisition and remembrance of words, of signs without the ideas signified. The alphabet he acquired at home before he was two years old. What exultation of parents, what exclamation from admiring visitors ! “ There was never any thing like it.” He had almost accomplished his a-b abs before he was

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