other, like the distinction between crotchets and quavers. In the reading of poetry, which will be dealt with later on (see p. 87), accent plays a very important part, since it is the basis of rhythm in English verse. It will then be pointed out that it is allowable to alter the conventional accent of a word in the interest of the melodious flow of sound; e.g., the words revenue, aspect, and complete, &c., may be pronounced revenue, aspect, complete.

PRONUNCIATION.

Although the pronunciation of at least forty-ninefiftieths of English words is definitely settled by the universal custom of the educated classes, and recorded in standard dictionaries, English and American, there is a fringe of debatable ground all round our vocabulary which necessitates vigilance and care on the part of those who desire to speak the Queen's English pure and undefiled. With respect to this margin, seeing that the old seats of learning differ in a few instances, and that the Imperial Parliament of the realm maintains a mint stamp of its own in some others, the ordinary Englishman has reason to feel grateful for the liberty which enables him to use his own taste and judgment in the matter, though to a very limited extent. The best advice that can be given to the student upon this subject is to exercise a keen ear to the speech of highly educated men and women, and to consult a good dictionary in cases of doubt. He must certainly not adopt the latitudinarian view of the Yorkshireman, in the well-known anecdote, who, when called upon to decide

the dispute as to whether the word either should be pronounced ether or ither, stated that orther of them would do for him. It matters, however, very little whether we choose to say tenure or tenure, isolate or isolate, for example, so long as we are correct in the use of what is absolutely settled.

A large number of people seldom have occasion to look into a pronouncing dictionary during their whole life, and speak correct English without ever having studied the grammar rules of their own tongue, but in these cases the environment has been exceedingly select,

It may be useful to indicate a few glaring errors in pronunciation that seem indigenous to certain parts of the country.

The vowel sounds A and U are grossly abused in some parts of the country; the former in the London district, the latter in the North. The first sound of a as in bate is usually turned by the native of the metropolitan district into the diphthong, ah-ee. He says, "It's a hot dah-ee" (day), and that he'll take "a half-pint of ah-eel" (ale). He calls his glass a gla(r)ss, and takes a tram to the Elephant and Ca(r)stle. He prefers corfee to tea, but would rather have horf-and-horf (half). The sound of the fourth diphthong, represented by ow in cow, he turns into a combination of three vowel sounds, which is difficult to represent otherwise than as ee-ah-00.

The North-countryman mixes up the three sounds of the u in a way that is rarely heard in the Midlands or the South. Even the well-educated Yorkshire and Lancashire man, who has never lived out of his own county, may be caught tripping in the repetition of such a string of words as but, put, pulpit, sugar, bosom. While the illiterate Yorkshireman will turn a cup into a coop, a Londoner will convert it into a cap.

The consonant sounds fare better upon the whole than the vowels. The nasal ng perhaps comes off the worst. Whilst kingdom is sometimes pronounced kin-dom, singing is sounded sing-ging, and Birmingham, Birmin-gum. The proper sound of ng is also often omitted in the middle of such words as strength, length. Again, the burr of the letter r in some parts of the North, and in Ireland, as in tur-ruth, wor-rld, &c., though disagreeable, is decidedly less offensive than its intrusion by the cockney into such words as lawr.

It is, perhaps, hardly necessary to point out here that the provincialisms which form so marked a feature in the colloquial speech of various parts of the country, and which are relics of our Doric mother-tongue, must not be placed in the same category as the vulgarisms pointed out above, and such other barbarisms as mischiev-ious for mischievous, horrable for horrible, umberella for umbrella, o-casion for occasion, dooty for duty, feller for fellow, nothink for nothing, and the like.

DELIVERY.

HAVING laid down in detail the sounds of which our tongue is composed, and enlarged upon the incidents to be observed in combining them correctly into individual spoken words, we now enter upon the practical part of our subject, viz., the effective delivery of continuous speech. Taking for granted that every sound in discourse must be distinctly enunciated, rightly accented, and correctly pronounced, we have to inquire what are the essentials, and what are the accidents, that go to make up good speech and effective oratory.

It is as true to-day as it was nearly two thousand years ago, when Horace gave expression to the famous dictum, "A poet is born, an orator made." But this, like most other sweeping assertions, requires modification and limitation to bring out its whole truth. While not more than half-a-dozen men of a generation have the natural gifts which enable them by training and knowledge to give utterance to what we are apt to call "heaven-born oratory," nearly every man who has the requisite patience and industry may become a graceful and pleasing reader and speaker. If there is no defect, organic or acquired, in the organs of speech, every man and woman may acquire the power of holding an audience attentive and interested, or even spell-bound, by the polished delivery of their own well-considered thoughts, or the choice language of others. What is

it, then, that converts our common speech into such an instrument of pleasure and power? that enables one man to sway the judgment and touch the feelings of hundreds and thousands that are listening to him? to call forth tears and laughter at will, and even to arouse his hearers to deeds of daring, or to paralyse them with fear?

We must ascribe this power first and foremost to the wonderful organ by which speech is produced. The "human voice divine," even apart from its musical capacities, is perhaps man's most god-like gift. Its capabilities of sound-production, in every variety of intensity and modulation, is practically illimitable. From the shriek of horror down to the gasping whispers of despair, it runs through the gamut of expression of every human feeling and passion-now pouring forth, trumpet-like, fiery denunciation, now calmly enunciating every-day thoughts and desires, and anon, in flute-like sweetness, giving utterance to the tender accents of love. The magic of a rich and powerful voice thrills every human being within its range; its vibrations set in motion the common ties of race and humanity; it stirs into unison, or perchance throws into discord, the thoughts and feelings of all whom it reaches. Not to go beyond the present generation, three Englishmen may be singled out who have had this marvellous gift in a special degree-Bright, Spurgeon, and Gladstone; and no one who has heard the mellow richness of their tones, however he may differ from the views they were advocating, can withhold his admiration of their charm and influence. Altogether, apart from the sense of the words, there is the same