soon become tired of that oratory which was not enlivened by the occasional sallies of " intellectual vivacity," the moderate use of ornamental language, of metaphors, and figures; the secret lies in a sensible use of them, and their felicitous introduction.

Rhetoric and eloquence are not unfrequently considered as synonymous; but the latter may, with propriety, be held as relating more particularly to fluency and elegance of language, joined with gracefulness of delivery; while the former for the most part applies to solid argument, clear method, an appearance of conviction in the orator that he believes what he asserts, a discriminating but temperate appeal to the passions as well as the judgment, and a judicious use of those conciliating and interesting arts which persuade as well as satisfy the hearers.

Rhetoric may be said to display its powers when it succeeds both in pleasing and instructing, when it uses so temperately the advantages it possesses, that while it charms the ear and illumes the understanding, it leaves the judgment at full liberty to reject or retain what is offered to its consideration. Should it be carried beyond this, and rise to what is called the acme of eloquence; when the "passions" are enlisted in the cause of the orator, and we enter into all his vigorous and startling emotions; when we love and hate, resent and approve, according as he persuades us; when we are induced to act from the impulse of the moment communicated by the impassioned language of the orator; when our reasoning faculties are drowned in the stormy but beautiful sea of oratory he has flung, as it were, before us, and our judgment has no opportunity of exerting itself, we are subject to mistakes of great and lasting importance.

In an oration which pretends to rhetorical precision, there should be a sensible and smart exordium or introduction, calculated to prepare the minds of the hearers for what is to succeed it; the subject should then be proposed, and properly divided; this should be done in the most perspicuous manner, without deficiency or redundancy: then should follow the narration of circumstances, or explication of the doctrines intended to be proved; then the arguments calculated to prove them; afterwards, may follow a proper appeal to the passions, by which the hearers may be rendered more interested in the success of the arguments; and lastly, the peroration or conclusion, which requires to be nicely managed, and to bring the discourse to a close in a graceful manner ; while the interest of the subject is fully main

tained, and the minds of the auditory are not confounded by the too great length of the discourse.

ELOCUTION implies nothing more than a facility of giving utterance to our thoughts, either by speech or writing; but it is generally understood to signify the power of speaking on any subject with elegance, force, and propriety, and with action and gesture suited to the subject.

ELOQUENCE is not confined to the utterance of a discourse in suitable language, with due accent and emphasis, and that modulation of the voice which is really necessary to distinguish solemn and grave from gay and trifling subjects, but embraces every thing which can give forcible and emphatic expression to a discourse, and render it impressive and felicitous to its hearers. Among those things which aid an orator, though not positively essential, we may reckon a well-formed person, a commanding stature, and a sonorous yet obedient voice. They contribute most powerfully to give effect to an oration, and render it dignified and imposing.

Let us figure to ourselves a modern Demosthenes, of an elevated and commanding stature, with a voice capable of uttering the thunders of denunciation, and of changing to the melting tender tones of pity and compassion-of assuming the "solemn expressions" of reasoning and argument, and the bold and manly tones of assertion and dictation; let us suppose that at one time his eye is lighted up with the "fire of indignation," and that at another it beams with the mild rays of benevolence and love; that his features, of a majestic expression, are capable of delineating all the emotions of his mind; how infinitely superior would the effect of an oration be, delivered by such a personage, with all these advantages properly applied, to that of the same speech coming from the lips of a man of low stature, features without expression, a monotonous voice, and apathetic eye! It is possible that such a person may succeed in gaining and fixing the attention of his auditors-the sentiments he delivers may be nervous, elegant, and altogether appropriate; but in spite of all this, the want of the advantages of person, which his rival possesses, will detract greatly from the success of his efforts, and almost, if not altogether, destroy his influence on the minds of his hearers.

SORROW.

OH! whence is the freshness that gives the flower

Its scent and its summer hue?

It came in the dark and midnight hour,

In drops of heavenly dew:

So often in sorrow the soul receives

An influence from above,

That beauty, and sweetness, and freshness gives
To patience, faith, and love.

But the sun is high, and the dew is dry,
And the flower has lost its bloom;
Its bell droops low, and the passer-by
Perceives no sweet perfume;

So like again to the drooping flower,

In the sunshine of fortune's ray:
The graces that bloom'd in a darksome hour
Have faded and pass'd away.-J. EDMESTON.

ANCIENT PHILOSOPHERS AND PHILOSOPHY,

Not only the poetry, but the "philosophy" of the ancients, had its origin among the Asiatic Greeks. The same climate which produced Homer and Hesiodus, gave birth also to the first and greatest of philosophers, not only to Thales and Heraclitus, who founded in their own time the Ionian school, properly so named; but also to those who extended the influence of its doctrines in Magna Græcia, and among the southern Italians; as, for example, the poet Xenophanes, and the institutor of the great learned confederacy, Pythagoras. We are all accustomed to regard with wonder and reverence the art and poetry of the ancients, yet perhaps their genius appears no where so active, so inventive and so rich, as in their philosophy; even their errors are instructive, for they are always the "fruit of reflection." They had no M'Adamized path of truth prepared for them, but were obliged to seek out and beat a pathway for themselves; and accordingly, they are best able to teach us how far men can, by the unassisted power of their own ennobling nature," advance in the inquiry after truth. This philosophy is, therefore, well deserving of a little farther consideration. It was the custom of the Ionian philosophers to reverence one or other of the elements as the first and primary principle of nature; some water, as Thales; others fire, as Heraclitus. It is scarcely to be believed, that they meant this in a mere corporeal acceptation. They re

cognized in the liquid element, not only the nourishing and connecting power of water, but also the principle of perpetual change and variety in nature. In like manner, when

Heraclitus maintained that fire was the origin of all things, he did not merely refer to external and visible fire, but meant rather that hidden heat, that internal fire, which was universally considered by the ancients as the peculiar and vivifying power in every thing that lives. Heraclitus, the founder of this doctrine, seems to have had conceptions of a nature more profound and spiritual" than any of the contemporary philosophers. But perhaps the incapacity of all these sages to set themselves free from the fetters of materialism, may be best illustrated by the example of Anaxagoras. This philosopher is well worthy of mention, for he was the first before Socrates, who recognized the existence of a 66 'supreme intelligence" directing and governing the whole system and concerns of nature and the universe; and yet he attempted to illuminate the world by recurrence to these minute and imperceptible elemental atoms, of which, according to the doctrine of materialism, the whole universe is composed. This atomical philosophy, which accounts for the creation of the universe on the principle of mechanical attraction, was very early reduced to the shape of a regular system, by Leucippus and Democritus; but afterwards it became, by means of Epicurus, as prevalent among the Greeks and Romans, as it ever was among the moderns of the eighteenth century. This is that proper materialism which strikes at once at the root of the idea of a God. It is in vain to suppose that these were mere speculations, and destitute of any influence on active life. The utter defectiveness of the popular faith of the ancients, and of their philosophy previous to the time of Socrates, will be most evident, if we direct our attention to the opinions which they embraced with regard to the immortality of the soul. That indistinct and gloomy world of shades, which was celebrated by the poets, and believed in by the common and uneducated people, was at the best a mere poetical dream; and, the moment reflection awakened, either sank into doubt, or gave place to total incredulity. In the mysteries, it is true, or secret societies, the influence of which was so extensive, both in Egypt and in Greece, some more accurate and stable notions with regard to a future life appear to have been preserved and inculcated; but these, whatever they might be, were carefully confined to the "small circle of the initiated!"

Both the earlier and later philosophers who sought to

establish the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, had, in general, nothing farther in view than the indestructible nature of that intellectual principle of the universe, whereof, according to their belief, every human soul formed a part; they had no conception of any such thing as the continuance of personal existence. The doctrine of the immortality of the soul, properly so called, was first rendered popular among their philosophers by Pythagoras. Even in his systems, indeed, the truth was mingled with a considerable degree of falsehood; for he embraced, in its full extent, the oriental doctrine of Metempsychosis, or the transmigration of souls ; yet, as it is, he is even in this respect superior to all the other old philosophers of Greece, and is well entitled to our reverence, both as a discoverer of truth and as a benefactor of the world.

But the celebrated Society of Pythagoras (whose chief design was certainly political power, and whose principles could not have been adopted without the total overthrow of the popular belief) was very soon dissolved; and after that time the "state of philosophy" became daily more and more anarchical down to the period of Socrates. One great class of these ancient philosophers, however their opinions might differ on other matters, agreed in one thing;-they all regarded nature only on the side of mutability and variety of her productions. "Every thing," said they," is perpetually changing, like the water of a river." So far, indeed, did they carry this principle, that they refused to believe in the existence of any thing steadfast and enduring. They denied that there could be any thing stable in being, any thing certain in knowledge, any thing universally useful in morals; in other words, they treated as a fable the existence, not of God alone, but of" speculative truth and practical rectitude." Another party, who held fast by the tenet of an "unchangeable unity in all things," fell into an altogether opposite opinion; they denied the possibility of any mutability in that which is, and were thus reduced to deny the real existence of the sensible world.

In the midst of this universal scepticism and atheism, Socrates arose, and taught again the existence of a God, in a manner altogether practical. He encountered the Sophists on their own ground, and exposed to all the world the fallacy and nothingness of their opinions; he demonstrated to men that "virtue and goodness are not empty names:" and convinced them, in spite of their prejudices, that, in their own hearts, are seated many pure and noble principles, derived, at first, from a superior Being, and giving birth to