Is this a time to throw away the shield of faith, slain? when His arrows are drunk with the blood of the slain?— hail and the great hail is falling from heaven upon men, and every mountain, sea, sea, and ísland, is fleeing in dismay from the face of an incensed God? Dr. BEECHER. ADDRESS TO MONT BLANC. Hast thou a charm || to stay the morning star, How silently! || Around thee, and above, Deep is the sky, and black: || transpicuous deep, An ebon mass! | methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! || But when I look again, It seems thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, O dread and silent form! I gazed on thee, Till thou, || still present to my bodily eye, Didst vanish from my thought. | Entranced in prayer, I worshipped the invisible alone. Who | sank thy sunless pillars in the earth?\ filled thy countenance with rosy light?\ Who Who And you, made thee father of perpetual streams?\ ye five wild torrents fiercely glad, Who called you forth || from night and utter death? From darkness, let you loose, and icy dens, Down those precipitous, || black, jagged rocks, Forever shattered, and the same forever?\ life, Who gave you your invulnerable life Unceasing thunder and eternal foam ?— And who comman commanded, "Here shall the billows came Il and the silence stiffen and have rest?" Ye ice-falls! || ye, that, from yon dizzy heights, ice-falls slope, Adown enormous ravines || steeply slope, Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty noise, lunge, And stopped, at once, || amidst their maddest plunge Motionless torrents! || silent cataracts! cataracts! heaven, Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven, Beneath the keen, full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? | Who, with lovely flowers And pine groves, with their soft and soul-like sound. The silent snow-mass, [God! loosening, || thunders, Ye dreadless flowers, that fringe the eternal frost! Ye wild-goats, bounding by the eagle's nest! Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain blast! Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds, Utter forth God! and fill the hills with praise. COLERIDGE, CHAPTER IV. TRANSITION BETWEEN PARAGRAPHS. Ir being a primary requisite of a good delivery, that it exhibit the course of thought throughout a composition, the division into paragraphs must be manifested to the ear, as clearly as it is shown by the broken lines in printing, to the eye. As each paragraph possesses a true unity, it must be uttered as a whole. The winding off required at its close, has already been treated of, under the head of Cadence; a careful management of which must of course be the first object of attention, in exhibiting the transition to the next paragraph. The commencement of a new one, must if possible, be given with a marked variation of manner. This is sometimes difficult to accomplish, when, as often happens, the new paragraph does not begin with any considerable change of subject or style. If indeed it introduces a different course of thought, or a decided variation in style, and if in addition, these are made prominent by words of strong emphasis, no difficulty need be experienced. In such cases, nothing more is required than a close adherence to the demands of the subject and language. When there is no sudden or striking change of thought or language, the reader or speaker is thrown upon his skill in delivery, and must make a particular and careful effort to render manifest the completion of one paragraph, and the commencement of another. Failures in this respect, generally begin with a neglect of the deliberate close and the decided pause, which are required in the extended cadence of the preceding paragraph. Let these be carefully executed. Then let the change of position and attitude, and the actual rest which a speaker naturally indulges, be encouraged, and indeed studied. In general, no pains ought to be taken to conceal them; since the audience also need the relief which they afford. If the speaker or reader has actually rested between two paragraphs, his voice, and indeed his whole delivery, will exhibit a certain fresh excitement upon entering on the next passage, which will almost be sufficient, of itself, to mark the transition. Yet in following this direction, care must be exercised not to fall into a monotonous, yet common, habit, of beginning every paragraph in a loud and high tone, and one of such a sort as indicates either an undue excitement, or nothing more than freshness of animation. Let a careful effort be made, to exhibit a tone of entering upon a new and different train of ideas. The tone actually used in any particular case, will be made up of a complication of various slight differences of modulation, yet it is not necessary to their exhibition that we know at the time, what modulations we are actually using. An earnest effort to accomplish the desired effect, will be sufficient to produce them. In short, let the reader or speaker, adhere closely to the demands of the words he is at any one time uttering. But let him also study to vary, as much as possible, his method of commencing paragraphs, by means of other changes than those of inflexion and emphasis. As a general rule, we must aim at striking variations. It is most easy, and in many respects most natural, to proceed in reading or speaking, with an unvarying uniformity. The increased exertion necessary for large audiences, makes this tendency so strong, that nothing but intentional skill, united to a high degree of self-possession, can counteract it. An instructer finds the subject of the present chapter, extremely difficult to teach. Even after the student has faithfully practised himself, in pausing between the divisions of his discourse, and in exhibiting a decided transition of manner on a few words, he is yet liable, after uttering not more than one or two lines, to revert to the same modulations, attitudes and gestures, which he had been previously using. Especially, therefore, in delivery adapted to large rooms, must not only a change of manner be exhibited at the begin |