feeling, artistic skill, and, above all, common sense, such an one may hope to become an expressive, effective and pleasing reader or speaker.

There must be a lively imagination, combined with artistic skill. The picture must not only be clear and distinct in the mind of the reader but he must be able to hold it up before his audience as if it were on a canvass, a perfect picture, with perfect lights and shades,

The judgment must be sound else bombast may be mistaken for eloquence, rant for true feeling, and perspiration for inspiration.

Finally, common sense in reading, as in everything else is a most desirable acquisition. He who has it not, "though his voice be as strong as that of a lion, as gentle as that of a dove, will never please."

ELOCUTIONARY MAXIMS.

"There is in souls a sympathy with sounds."

Campbell.

"Give me no more of body than shows soul."

Browning.

"Do not mistake perspiration for inspiration."

Warman.

"There must be impression before there can be expression."

Delsarte.

"Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this special observance, that you overstep not the modesty of nature."

Shakespeare.

"Voices must go deeper into us than other things. I have often fancied heaven might be made of voices."

George Eliot.

"The angels judge of man's feelings by the tones of his voice. Of his thoughts by his articulation."

Swedenborg.

"A stiff uniformity of speech is not only displeasing to the ear, but disappointing in its every effect."

Betterton.

"Action is the predominant power in eloquence, and its chief and most desirable advantage lies in a good voice."

Cicero.

READINGS, RECITATIONS, AND

IMPERSONATIONS.

APOSTROPHE TO WATER.

We read of "the wine

That smacks of the vine

That grows by the beautiful river ".

But oh, did you ever consider the glories of God's pure water? The scientist, looking back over the history of our planet, traces, with admiration, the part which water hath played in the great drama of life-beautiful life upon the earth. Surely it hath been the busiest thing in all this world of ours. Evaporated again and again, it has sped as on angel wings to and fro 'twixt earth and heaven, on its mission of love and goodness. Now down to the roots of the grasses it hath gone, to pump up the green chlorophyll that paints their delicate fronds; then upon the sunbeams' path of gold it hath climbed to the very clouds to paint the bow of beauty on the sky, and to come down to earth again freighted with corn and with abundance; now down into the earth it goes to pump up the sweet juices that fill the apple fountain, and flake its delicate covering with ruby and russet and brown; now cooling the brow of the sufferer when the fiery fever is upon him; then up to the very heavens again to float in mighty continents of clouds to and fro over the earth; now

resting upon the brow of the baptized babe; now down into the ocean depths, where the monsters of the deep are kenneled; then up on silver wings it hath flown to its home in the sky, to flit along cloudy corridors of day, like some fair spirit winging its way to the celestial city; now wreathing the beautiful bridal veil that adorns fair blushing June; now weaving the snowy winding-sheet that drapes the dying year; now flashing in the dew-drop; now falling in the rain; now fretting the dainty frostwork upon the window-pane; now playing its harp Æolian in the far-off depths of the meadow; now thundering in the billows that break upon the shore.

Thus on, ever on, in its unwearying work it has gone; never resting, never lingering, never fainting on the way, this mighty toiler of the ages hath builded up the beauty and strength of this fair world of ours. Surely it hath been the Master Builder of the Ages; pulling down old continents that have fulfilled their day, and building up better and brighter, while flinging over their stony steeps the mantle of the beautiful.

For aught we know the very water in that goblet formed a part of the original creation; that it saw the glories of Creation's morning and heard the voice of Him who said, "Let there be light!" It looked upon the world when like a lovely jewel it first flashed from the Creator's fingers. For aught we know the water now flashing in that goblet may have stood in sparkling dew upon Eden's first flowers, or rested upon the brow of beautiful Eve, when, suffused with blushes, and with pleasure, she stood for the first time before her lordly husband. For aught we know it may have formed a portion of those very drops that pattered on the roof of the ark, or formed the bow of promise that grested the eyes of the old patriarch when he came forth with his strange caravan, or rested on the brow of the baptized Jesus, when he came up from Jordan's wave; and on, ever on, they will go in their unwearying work, until at