firmly believe, and the depth of which we humbly adore."

Compound verbs should seldom be used at the end of sentences; and the pronoun it is generally a very improper close.

4thly. We should endeavour to contrive that the members of our sentences shall rise upon one another, and beware of making the last sentence the echo of the former.

This kind of arrangement is called a climax, when, as we proceed, every member seems to grow in importance. Cicero particularly studied this grace of composition; and there is a fine example of it in his oration for Milo:

"Si res, si vir, si tempus ullum dignum fuit, certe, hæc in illa causa, summa omnia fuerunt." We have another example in Lord Bolingbroke's idea of a Patriot King:

This decency, this grace, this propriety of manners and character is so essential to princes in particular, that whenever it is neglected, their virtues lose a great degree of lustre, and their defects acquire much aggravation. Nay more; by neglecting this decency and this grace, and for want of a sufficient regard to appearances, even their virtues

may betray them into failings, their failings into vices, and their vices into habits unworthy of princes, and unworthy of men."

The finest instance of climax extant is, however, that of St. Paul, 2 Cor. xi. 22, &c.

"Are they Hebrews? so am I; are they Israelites? so am I; are they the seed of Abraham? so am I. Are they the ministers of Christ? (I speak as a fool) I am more: in labours more abundant, in stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in deaths oft."

The instance mentioned of Crassus by Cicero in his treatise "De Oratore," is also worth your attention. In examining a witness who appeared against his client-" Perhaps, said the orator, the person spoke these words only in a passion?" The witness not making any reply, he proceeded-" Perhaps you did not rightly understand him?" The witness continuing silent, he adds-" Perhaps you did not hear it at all?"

From all that has been said you will be prepared for my 5th and last observation, which is, that the most ungraceful circumstance in composition is what I may call a kind of appendix to a sentence: something added after the na

tural close, and which is frequently even of a very trivial nature, or which might have been included in the body of the sentence. Dr. Blair very properly terms such sentences "more. than finished," and as I have his work before me, and no better instances occur, I shall give you the two that he has quoted. In the first of these the words succeeding the natural close, which is "indignation," might have been omitted; and in the second, you will see the appended words are better included in the body of the sentence.

Sir William Temple, speaking of Burnet's Theory of the Earth, and Fontenelle's Plurality of Worlds, observes:

"The first could not end his learned treatise without a panegyric of modern learning in comparison of the antient; and the other falls so grossly into the censure of the old poetry, and preference of the new, that I could not read either of these strains without some indignation; which no quality among men is so apt to raise in me as self sufficiency."

The other instance is from Swift's Letter to a Young Clergyman:

"With these writings young divines are

more conversant than with those of Demosthenes, who by many degrees excelled the other; at least as an orator.'

The proper correction of this sentence need scarcely be pointed out:

"With these writings young divines are more conversant than with those of Demosthenes, who, at least as an orator, by many degrees excelled the other.'

Much has been said by critical writers, but to little purpose, on the subject of long and short sentences. I have already explained why what are called long sentences are usually faulty it is because they are perplexed by involving the matter of two or three, and this is generally the case with Clarendon's "Periods of a Mile," as they are well entitled by a judicious modern poet. Sometimes they have an appendix attached to them, and in old writers frequently conclude with a by, a with, an of, or some other insignificant word; otherwise where a sentence is clear, and strong, and well compacted, it is never the worse for being long, if kept within the bounds of moderation. Mr. Burke, who was a model of every grace and excellence of composition, was remarkable for

the length of his periods; but they were at the same time full and sonorous.

If it were asked, however, to what species of composition long or short sentences are most adapted, I would say that long sentences are the language of oratory, short sentences of conversation. Gravé and studied composition best accords with a length of period, and some degree of inversion of language is then an excellence, since it serves to dignify and raise it above the level of colloquial discourse. For the gay and familiar, short sentences are best adapted; as such composition is commonly an imitation of common conversation. On this account Montesquieu's Spirit of Laws is a most ill-written book. The number of short sentences tires excessively; and they succeed each other so rapidly, as not to leave impressions sufficiently strong and distinct.

Composition purely didactic, however, in which there is no appeal to the passions, ought not to abound in very long sentences, nor should there be much departure from the natural order of the words. I would almost prescribe the same rule for narrative, especially where there is no description. Where, however, descrip