MONOTONE.

The monotone may be defined as that inflexible movement of the voice which is heard when fear, vastness of thought, force, majesty, power, or the intensity of feeling, is such as partially to obstruct the powers of utterance.

This movement of the voice may be accounted for by the fact that, when the excitement is so powerful, and the kind and degree of feeling are such as to agitate the whole frame, the vocal organs will be so affected, and their natural functions so controlled, that they can give utterance to the thought or sentiment only on one note, iterated on the same unvarying line of pitch.

Grandeur of thought, and sublimity of feeling are always expressed by this movement. The effect produced by it is deep and impressive. When its use is known, and the rule for its application is clearly understood, the reading will be characterized by a solemnity of manner, a grandeur of refinement, and a beauty of execution, which all will acknowledge to be in exact accordance with the dictates of Nature, and strictly within the pale of her laws. This will clearly be exemplificd in reading the following extracts:

"Vital spark of heavenly flame,
Quit, oh, quit this mortal frame !
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying—
Oh, the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.

"Hark! they whisper; angels say,
'Sister spirit, come away.'
What is this absorbs me quite,
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath?

Tell me, my soul, can this be death ?"

If the reader utter the thoughts and sentiments, in the last stanza of the above extract, with a just degree of impres

siveness, he will appear as if he actually heard, saw, and felt, what the poet described the Christian as hearing, seeing, and feeling. What constituent in vocal intonation, or what ele ment in expression, enables the reader to give force and true coloring to the thoughts and sentiments in the passage just cited? In what way can it be explained and made clear to the understanding?

The above extract, it will seem, is descriptive of a state of inconceivable solemnity, and expressive of the deepest feelings, the most solemn thoughts, and the most profound emotions; and the natural expression of such feelings, thoughts, and emotions, requires the monotone.

Why not, then, lay it down as a principle, that passages expressive of similar sentiments are to be read in a similar manner?

If any one fail to see and acknowledge the effect of the monotone in reading the above extract, let him read it again in the key of the monotone, and then without it; and if the difference in the effect be not very perceptible, let it be read to him, first on the key of the monotone, and then with the same stress, tone, quantity, inflection, and rate of movement that would be appropriate in reading the following extract from Prior:

"Interr'd beneath the marble stone
Lies sauntering Jack and idle Joan.
While rolling threescore years and one
Did round this globe their courses run,
If human things went ill or well,
If changing empires rose or fell,
The morning pass'd, the evening came
And found this couple still the same.
They walk'd, and ate, good folks :-What then?
Why then they walk'd and ate again.
They soundly slept the night away;
They did just nothing all the day:
Nor good, nor bad, nor fools, nor wise,
They would not learn, nor could advise.

Without love, hatred, joy, or fear,

They led-a kind of as it were;

Nor wish'd, nor cared, nor laugh'd, nor cried;
And so they lived, and so they died."

If this measure leave him in doubt, if he then do not see how the monotone may be employed with effect, further efforts will be of no avail. He may be considered as belonging to hat "kind of--as it were" class of individuals, who have not the ability either to note faults and detect blemishes, or to define beauties and enumerate graces.

The force and beauty of the monotone may be further exemplified in the reading of some portions of the following extracts:

"The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless and pathless; and the icy earth.
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air."

"Eternity! thou pleasing dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untried being,

Through what new scenes and changes, must we pass !
The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me;
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it."

"Departed spirits of the mighty dead!

Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled!
Friends of the world! restore your swords to man,
Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van."

"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was without form and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep: and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light."

QUANTITY.

UANTITY consists in the extended time of utterance, with out changing the standard pronunciation of words. It is produced by a well-marked radical, a full volume of sound, and a clear lessening vanish. When it is well executed, the syllable will be kept free from a vapid, lifeless drawl.

The power of giving a gracefully extended quantity to syl lables is not common. The principal source of difference beween a good reader and a bad one lies in their varied degrees of ability in this respect.

Although writers on elocution seem, in a measure, to have overlooked quantity as an important element of expression, still it is one of the most important which a distinguished speaker employs in giving utterance to the sentiments of sublimity, dignity, deliberation, or doubt.

When judiciously applied and skilfully executed, it seems to spread a hue of feeling over the whole sentence. It gives that masterly finish, and that fine, delicate touch to the expression, which never fails to impress the deepest feeling, or to excite the most sweet and enchanting emotions.

A well-marked stress, and a gracefully extended time, form the basis of the most important properties of the voice such as gravity, depth of tone, volume, fulness of sound, smoothness, sweetness, and strength. If the mind were a pure intellect, without fancy, taste, or passion, the above-named function of the voice, which may properly enough be termed the signature of expression, would be uncalled for. But the case is widely different. The impassioned speaker, overpowered by his subject, and at a loss to find words to express the strength of his feelings, naturally holds on to and prolongs the tones of atterance, and thereby supplies any deficiency in the words themselves.

EXAMPLES IN QUANTITY.

"With woful measures, wan Despair-
Low, sullen sounds his grief beguiled;

A solemn, strange, and mingled air;

'Twas sad by fits; by starts 'twas mild."
"Thou art, O God! the life and light

Of all this wondrous world we see;
Its glow by day, its smile by night,

Are but reflections caught from thee.
Where'er we turn, thy glories shine,
And all things bright and fair are thine."
'Spirit of Freedom! when on Phyle's brow

Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train,
Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour that now
Dims the green beauty of thine Attic plain ?"
"The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years,
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth
Unhurt, amidst the war of elements,

The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds."

It is apparent that one predominating sentiment pervades the whole of the above extracts. They are of a solemn, sublime, and dignified description; and a gracefully extended quantity diffused over the whole with evenness and continuity, will bring out the sentiment in the most impressive manner.

Quantity is employed in giving utterance to feelings of ma lignity and emotions of hatred; also in cases of irony, and in those of affected mawkish sentimentality, and when so managed that the clear lessening vanish shall blend with the full opening of the succeeding word, it will give a fine effect to that morbid sensitiveness which exaggerates every feeling.

"That lull'd them as the north wind does the sea."

"And do you now put on your best attire?

And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood ?"

"The languid lady next appears in state,

Who was not born to carry her own weight;

P