89. TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY.

On turning one down with the plough, in April, 1786.

WEE, modest, crimson-tipped flower, thou's met me in an evil hour; for I maun crush amang the stoure thy slender stem: to spare thee now is past my power, thou bonnie gem. Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet, the bonnie lark, companion meet! bending thee 'mang the dewy weet! wi' spreckled breast, when upward-springing, blythe, to greet the purpling east. Cauld blew the bitter-biting north upon thy early, humble birth; yet cheerfully thou glinted forth amid the storm, scarce reared above the parent earth thy tender form. The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, high sheltering woods and wa's maun shield, but thou, beneath the random bield* o' clod or stane, adorns the histief stibble-field, unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, thy snawy bosom sunward spread, thou lifts thy unassuming head in humble guise; and now the share uptears thy bed, and low thou lies! . . .

Such is the fate of simple bard, on life's rough ocean luckless starred! unskilful hè to note the card of prudent lore, till billows rage, and gales blow hard, and whelm him o'er! . . . Even thou who mourn'st the daisy's fate, that fate is thine — no distant date! Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate, full on thy bloom, till crushed beneath the furrow's weight shall be thy doom.

90. SALLY IN OUR ALLEY.

Of all the girls that are so smart there's none like pretty Sally;
She is the darling of my heart, and she lives in our alley.
There is no lady in the land is half so sweet as Sally;

She is the darling of my heart, and she lives in our alley.

Burns.

Her father he makes cabbage-nets and through the streets does cry 'em;
Her mother she sells laces long to such as please to buy 'em:
But sure such folks could n'er beget so sweet a girl as Sally!
She is the darling of my heart, and she lives in our alley.
When she is by, I leave my work, I love her so sincerely;
My master comes like any Turk, and bangs me most severely
But let him bang his bellyful, I'll bear it all for Sally;
She is the darling of my heart, and she lives in our alley.
Of all the days that's in the week I dearly love but one day—
And that's the day that comes betwixt a Saturday and Monday;
For then I'm drest all in my best to walk abroad with Sally;
She is the darling of my heart, and she lives in our alley.

My master carries me to church, and often am I blamed
Because I leave him in the lurch as soon as text is named;
I leave the church in sermon-time, and slink away to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart, and she lives in our alley.
When Christmas comes about again, oh, then I shall have money;
I'll hoard it up and box it all, I'll give it to my honey:

I would it were ten thousand pound, I'd give it all to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart, and she lives in our alley.
My master and the neighbours all make game of me and Sally,
And, but for her, I'd better be a slave, and row a galley;
But when my seven long years are out, oh, then I'll marry Sally,-
Oh, then we'll wed, and then we'll bed, but not in our alley!

Carey

XII. ANIMATION.

91 THOU Comest! Yes! the vessel's cloud
Hangs dark upon the rolling sea.

Oh, that yon sea-bird's wings were mine,
To win one instant's glimpse of thee!

Arnold.

IMPLICITY is present in proportion as the ideas directly

SIMPI

and immediately cause the expression. Animation is in proportion to the vividness of the conceptions, the vigor of their response, and their rhythmic sequence. At first thought, animation may seem to be the direct opposite of simplicity; but this is not the case, for true simplicity, and true genuineness, are characteristic of all life. The direct road to true animation is simplicity. To be full of life, we must be unostentatious, sincere, and genuine. To be one's self is to be alive. Animation and simplicity are not only essential elements of all expression and art: they are also co-essential to each other; they are necessary complements of each other.

The word 'animation' comes to us from the Latin word 'anima,' which means 'soul,' or 'life.' An animated style is a style full of life and vigor. That which gives life to a word is the vividness of the conception that is suggested by it. The animation, therefore, is in direct proportion to the vigor of the

mind in thinking, and to the vividness with which each conception is seen, or heard, or felt.

92 CONSIDER the lilies of the field how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

This sentence is considered one of the most beautiful and perfect ever penned. It is simple, each word is the most appropriate possible. It awakens a simple conception, one that is possible to every mind. It fulfills the conditions of what Herbert Spencer calls 'economy,' each word chosen awakening the conception with the least possible expenditure of mental energy. Then the images stimulate a rhythmic sequence of thought in the mind of the reader or hearer. Each tends to create the next: the mind is made to move. The simplicity and animation of this passage are also tested in that it is easily read. The successive conceptions are so definite and vivid that they awaken emotion and all the normal impulses toward expression. How each image dominates its phrase, how naturally do the pauses recur, and how easily does the voice modulate pitch and inflection in revealing the progress of ideas!

The principle underlying animation in style also underlies all true life in Vocal Expression. The conceptions of the mind must be clear, distinct, and full of life. The most vivid passage may be read with dry, cold abstraction on account of a failure to realize the successive ideas. The mechanical method is often adopted in teaching Vocal Expression, as a substitute for vigorous thinking. Students are often more fond of a mechanical method, and resent any reference to their thinking. They are looking for some system which will save the trouble of thinking. According to the method of nature, all animation and power in Vocal Expression must depend upon the vigor of thought; the thinking must be so vigorous, ideas must be so realized, that all the faculties and powers of the man will be brought into harmonious action.

We find that the development of a good style in writing, and a proper mode of reading or speaking, is dependent upon the same principles. Speaking and reading alone cannot develop a good style in writing; but right work in Vocal Expression will aid good work in writing. A child learns to speak before he learns to write. We find also that Vocal Expression is a better, or at least a more immediate test of the vividness of ideas. The teacher may see the student's process of thinking more direct even than in writing. Writing may more adequately test clearness and definiteness of statement, but reading will test the vigor, the vividness of the thought, and the freedom of knowledge from symbolic modes of thinking.

Not only is Vocal Expression the best means of testing the vigor and life of thinking, which is shown in the animation of the successive ideas, but it is also an important means of training the act of thinking. It develops the power of simple conception, the philosophic memory, and the imagination. Whatever form the reproductive action of the mind may take, Vocal Expression, rightly taught, is a most important means of studying and developing proper mental action.

In the work of developing animation there are many dangers. There is a tendency merely to declaim, or to give loudness; but physical earnestness is not true earnestness, nor is muscular energy the highest energy. Loudness has nothing to do with animation; it is a false animation, a mere physical animation. True animation is always simple: it is the union of thinking and feeling, and it shows itself by subtle changes of pitch, and pauses, by definiteness of touch, and by resonance of tone. True earnestness and true animation act from the centre outward. Earnestness and animation must be genuinely reposeful; true animation comes from the harmonious co-operation of all the faculties of the man.

We must also distinguish between excitement and animation. Animation is the result of intensity and concentration of the

ness.

mind, and a co-operation of all the powers of thinking; excitement is due entirely to emotional awakening, or even to nervousAnimation belongs to thought and feeling; excitement is more physical. To develop animation, therefore, take a wellwritten passage, and read it with as vigorous a mental life as possible. Avoid too much physical excitement and loudness: let the animation cause the vividness of the ideas, and the movement of the rhythmic pulsations of the mind, and reveal it, as far as possible, by change of pitch, by length of pause, by definiteness of touch and variation.

Work upon such forms of literature as will awaken vigorous and definite conceptions, so that we shall see, feel, and hear the events the mind is re-creating as vividly as though they were happening in actual life. Such extracts should be practised as will awaken the deeper and more subtle emotions of the man, such as will stimulate his true earnestness, and his genuine feeling, and arouse that responsive condition of his whole nature, which is necessary to all expression.

There are certain emotions to be practised which are especially helpful, such as patriotic passages, or those full of love of nature. Some passages are more or less animated in their very nature; but animation means the presentation of ideas of all kinds as vividly as their nature will admit.

Problem XVII. Simply and directly impart the life and energy of a vivid succession of ideas to the modulations of the voice.

93 HAPPY, happy liver, with a soul as strong as a mountain river, pouring out praise to the Almighty Giver, joy and jollity be with us both! "Skylark." Wordsworth.

94 HE rose at dawn, and, fired with hope, shot o'er the seething harbor bar, and reached the ship, and caught the rope, and whistled to the morning star. And while he whistled long and loud, he heard a fierce mermaiden cry, "Oh, boy, tho' thou art young and proud, I see the place where thou wilt lie. The sands and yeasty surges mix in caves about the dreary bay, and on thy ribs the limpet sticks, and in thy heart the scrawl