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With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,
Legs wide, arms locked behind,
As if to balance the prone brow
Oppressive with its mind.

Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans
That soar, to earth may fall,
Let once my army leader Lannes
Waver at yonder wall,-"

Out 'twixt the battery-smoke there flew
A rider, bound on bound
Full galloping; nor bridle drew

Until he reached the mound.

Then off there flung in smiling joy,
And held himself erect

By just his horse's mane, a boy:
You hardly could suspect-
(So tight he kept his lips compressed,
Scarce any blood came through)

You looked twice ere you saw his breast
Was all but shot in two.

"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace

We've got you Ratisbon!

The Marshal's in the market-place,

And you'll be there anon

To see your flag-bird flap his vans

Where I, to heart's desire,

Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans

Soared up again like fire.

The chief's eye flashed; but presently

Softened itself, as sheathes

A film the mother-eagle's eye

When her bruised eaglet breathes.

"You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride

Touched to the quick, he said:

"I'm killed, sire!" and his chief beside,

Smiling the boy fell dead.

X. Antithesis

The arrangement of one idea in contrast to another, or the arrangement of the thought symbol in the idea to show either direct or implied opposition in the next thought symbol, is a step most important to people in every profession,-primarily the preacher, orator, lecturer, and lawyer. It is through the means of Antithesis that we are enabled to awaken the joy and sorrow, love and hate, comparable to the shadow and highlight in the painting, the loudness and delicacy in the musical realm, the minor and major chords, the outer sunlight and shadow, or the day and the night as represented in His universe. In the following selections we have excellent illustrations of this wonderful contrast:

Some doubt the courage of the negro. Go to Hayti, and stand on those fifty thousand graves of the best soldiers France ever had, and ask them what they think of the negro's sword.

I would call him Napoleon, but Napoleon made his way to empire over broken oaths and through a sea of blood. This man never broke his word. I would call him Cromwell, but Cromwell was only a soldier, and the state he founded went down with him into his grave. I would call him Washington, but the great Virginian held slaves. This man risked his empire rather than permit the slave trade in the humblest village of his dominions.

You think me a fanatic, for you read history, not with your eyes, but with your prejudices. But fifty years hence, when Truth gets a hearing, the Muse of history will put Phocion for the Greek, Brutus for the Roman, Hampden for England, Fayette for France, choose Washington as the bright consummate flower of our earlier civilization, then, dipping her pen in the sunlight, will write in the clear blue, above them all, the name of the soldier, the statesman, the martyr, Toussaint L'Ouverture. Phillips.

To be a patriot is to love one's country; it is to be ready and willing, if need comes, to die for the country, as a good seaman would die to save his ship and his crew.

Yes! To love our country, to work so as to make it strong and rich, to support its government, to obey its laws, to pay fair taxes into the treasury, to treat our fellow-citizens as we like to be treated ourselves,-this is to be good American patriots.

F. Dole.

But, my lords, who is the man that, in addition to the disgrace and mischiefs of the war, has dared to authorize and associate to our arms the tomahawk and scalpingknife of the savage?-to call into civilized alliance the wild and inhuman inhabitants of the woods?—to delegate to the merciless Indian the defence of disputed rights, and to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our brethren? My lords, these enormities cry aloud for redress and punishment.

Pitt.

THE HUNTER'S SONG

Barry Cornwall.

Rise! sleep no more! 'Tis a noble morn.
The dews hang thick on the fringed thorn,
And the frost shrinks back, like a beaten hound,
Under the steaming, steaming ground.
Behold, where the billowy clouds flow by,
And leave us alone in the clear gray sky.
Our horses are ready and steady. So, ho!
I'm gone like a dart from the Tartar's bow.

Hark! hark! Who calleth the maiden Morn

From her sleep in the woods and the stubble corn?
The horn! the horn!

The merry, sweet ring of the hunter's horn.

Now, through the copse where the fox is found,

And over the stream at a mighty bound,

And over the high lands and over the low,

O'er furrows, o'er meadows, the hunters go,
Away: as a hawk flies full at his prey,
So flieth the hunter,-away, away!

From the burst at the cover till set of sun,
When the red fox dies, and the day is done.

Hark! hark! What sound on the wind is borne?
"Tis the conquering voice of the hunter's horn!
The horn! the horn!

The merry, bold voice of the hunter's horn!

Sound, sound the horn! To the hunter good
What's the gully deep or the roaring flood?
Right over he bounds, as the wild stag bounds,
At the heels of his swift, sure, silent hounds.
Oh! what delight can a mortal lack,

When once he is firm on his horse's back,
With his stirrups short, and his snaffle strong,
And the blast of the horn for his morning song?
Hark! hark! Now home and dream till morn
Of the bold, sweet sound of the hunter's horn.
The horn! the horn!

Oh! the sound of all sounds is the hunter's horn.

XI. Central Symbols

The symbol in each successive idea which expresses the real thought of that idea should be brought out in such a manner as to have it breathe to the listener the breath of life for which it stands.

While there is one symbol in each idea expressing the body of it, there is one great symbol in each group of ideas which conveys the summing up of the several others; and in order to bring this out, the Pausation, Pulsation and Colorization must be thoroughly understood by the speaker in order to get the true interpretation.

MAN'S MORTALITY

Simon Wastell.

Like as the damask rose you see,
Or like the blossom on the tree,
Or like the dainty flower in May,
Or like the morning of the day,
Or like the sun, or like the shade,
Or like the gourd which Jonas had,-
E'en such is man:-whose thread is spun,
Drawn out, and cut, and so is done,-
The rose withers, the blossom blasteth,
The flower fades, the morning hasteth,
The sun sets, the shadow flies,
The gourd consumes,-and man he dies.

Like to the grass that's newly sprung,
Or like a tale that's new begun,
Or like the bird that's here to-day,
Or like the purl'd dew of May,
Or like an hour, or like a span,
Or like the singing of a swan,-

E'en such is man: who lives by breath,
Is here, now there, in life and death.-
The grass withers, the tale is ended,
The bird is flown, the dew ascended.
The hour is short, the span is long,
The swan's near death,-man's life is done.

XII. Sustention

Of all steps contained in the subject of the Spoken Word, there is none equal to the mastery of sustention for the purpose of bringing out the thought contained in the selections and to give it the professional and artistic finish; for instance, in reading the following extract, a portion from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar in Brutus' reply to Cassius' exclamation, Chastisement,

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