press the tongue gently against the inner surface of the upper incisor teeth, instead of which, in forming the sound of s, they must breathe gently against the gums of the upper incisor teeth. In order to avoid making th for s they should draw the tongue back a little and turn its point upward against the gums of the upper teeth.

CHAPTER V. THE PASSIONS AND THEIR EXPRESSION. It is not intended to give anything like a complete list of the pas. sions, feelings, and emotions which have been classified, described, and numbered with so much care by Sheridan and Walker. Allthat is purposed is to present examples of the more prominent, in order that hints and illustrations may be furnished to those who wish to realise its importance, for “it should be remarked in passing, that feeling cannot be expressed by words alone, or even by the tones of the voice. It finds its best, and ofttimes its only expression in the flush of passion on the cheek, in the speaking eye, the contracted brow, the compressed lip, the heaving breast, the trembling frame, in the rigid muscle, and the general bearing of the entire body; and when emotion or passion thus speaks, its language is often confined to no particular part of the body, but the living frame as a whole sympathises in the action."

Shakspeare has given us an admirable picture of passion in its violence, and has made even the violent tension of the sinews a considerable part of its composition :

Now imitate the action of the tiger!
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood ;
Lend fierce and dreadful aspect to the eye ;
Set the teeth close, and stretch the nostrils wide ;
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit

To its full height. To this might be added that admirable picture of violent anger which Shakspeare puts in the mouth of Suffolk in the second part of Henry VI. :

Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan,
I would invent as bitter, searching terms,

As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear,
Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many signs of deadly hate
As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave.
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words,
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint,
Mine hair be fixed on end like one distract,
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban ;
And even now my burdened heart would break,

Should I not curse them.
Let us now proceed to notice a selection which we may call

PICTURES OF THE PASSIONS.

TRANQUILLITY. Tranquillity appears by the composure of the countenance and general repose of the whole body, without the active exertion of the muscles. The countenance open, the forehead smooth, the eyebrows arched, the mouth not quite shut, and the eyes passing with an easy motion from object to object, but not dwelling long upon any one. To distinguish it, however, from insensibility, it seems necessary to give it that cast of happiness which borders on cheerfulness.

INFLUENCE OF NIGHT.
How beautiful this night! The balmiest sigh,
Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear,
Were discord to the speaking quietude
That wraps this moveless scene. Heaven's ebon vault,
Studded with stars unutterably bright,
Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls,
Seems like a canopy which love has spread
To curtain her sleeping world. Yon gentle hills,
Robed in a garment of untrodden snow :
Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend-
So stainless, that their white and glittering spires
Tinge not the moon's pure beam ; yon castled steep,
Whose banner hangeth o'er the time-worn tower
So idly, that rapt fancy deemeth it
A metaphor of peace ; all form a scene
Where musing solitude might love to lift
Her soul above this sphere of earthliness;
Where silence, undisturbed, might watch alone,
So bright, so cold, so still. --Shelley.

CHEERFULNESS. When joy is settled into a habit, or flows from a placid temper of mind, desiring to please and be pleased, it is called gaiety, good humour, or cheerfulness. Cheerfulness adds a smile to tranquillity, and opens the mouth a little more.

Cheerfulness in Retirement.
Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court ?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The season's difference; as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say,
This is no flattery ; these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
That like a toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in its head ;
And this our life exempt from public haunts,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones and good in everything.

As You Like It.

MIRTH. When joy arises from ludicrous or innocent amusements in which others share with us, it is called merriment or mirth.

Mirth or laughter opens the mouth horizontally, raises the cheeks high, lessens the aperture of the eyes, and, when violent, shakes and convulses the whole frame, fills the eyes with tears, and occasions holding the sides from the pain the convulsive laughter gives them.

Jaq. A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest,
À motley fool; a miserable world !
As I do live by food, I met a fool ;
Who laid him down and basked him in the sun,
And railed on lady Fortune, in good terms,
In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
Good-morrow, fool, quoth I; No, sir, quoth he,
Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune :. .
And then he drew a dial from his poke ;,
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock.

Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags.
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after an hour more 'twill be eleven ;
And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
And then from hour to hour-we rot and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep contemplative ;
And I did laugh, sans intermission,
An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.

Joy. Joy, when moderate, opens the countenance with smiles, and throws, as it were, a sunshine of delight over the whole frame. When it is sudden and violent, it expresses itself by clapping the hands, raising the eyes towards heaven, and giving such a spring to the body as to make it attempt to mount up as if it could fly. When joy is extreme, and goes into transport, rapture and ecstacy, it has a wildness of look and gesture that borders on folly, madness and sorrow.

Joy Expected.
Ah ! Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more
T, blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
Unfold the imagined happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.-Romco and Juliet.

Joy Approaching to Transport.
Oh! joy, thou welcome stranger, twice three years
I have not felt thy vital beam, but now
It warms my veins, and plays about my heart;
A fiery instinct lifts me from the ground,
And I could mount. --Dr. Young's Revenge.

Pity. Pity is benevolence to the afflicted. It is a mixture of love for an object that suffers, and a grief that we are not able to remove those sufferings. It shows itself in a compassionate tenderness of voice, a feeling of pain in the countenance, and a gentle raising and falling of the hands and eyes, as if mourn. ing over the unhappy object. The mouth is open, the eyebrows are drawn down, and the features contracted or drawn together.

THE DEATH-BED.
We watched her breathing through the night,

Her breathing, soft and low,
As in her breast the wave of life

Kept heaving to and fro.
So silently we seemed to speak,

So slowly moved about,
As we had lent her half our powers

To eke her living out.
Our very hopes belied our fears,

Our fears our hopes belied;
We thought her dying when she slept,

And sleeping when she died.
For when the morn came, dim and sad,

And chill with earthly showers,
Her quiet eyelids closed-she had

Another morn than ours.-Thomas Hood.

HOPE.

Hope is a mixture of desire and joy agitating the mind and anticipating its enjoyment. It erects and brightens the countenance, spreads the arms and hands open as to receive the object of its wishes. The voice is plaintive and inclining to eagerness, the breath drawn inward more forcibly than usual, in order to express our desires more strongly, and our earnest expectation of receiving the object of them.

Collins, in his Ode on the Passions, gives us a beautiful picture of

Hope. .
But thou, O Hope! with eyes so fair,

What was thy delighted measure ?

Still it whispered promised pleasure,
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail.

Still would her touch the strain prolong,
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
She called on Echo still through all her song ;

And, where her sweetest theme she chose,

A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, And Hope, enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair