it when the passion begins to subside. The second rule is, never personify an object which has not some dignity in itself, and which is incapable of making a proper figure in the elevation to which we raise it. To address the body of a deceased friend is natural; but to address the clothes which he wore, introduces low and degrading ideas. So likewise, addressing the several parts of the body, as if they were animated, is not agreeable to the dignity of passion. For this reason the following passage in Pope's Eloisa to Abelard is liable to censure.

Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd,

Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd,
Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise,
Where, mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies,
O write it not, my hand-his name appears
Already written-blot it out, my tears.

Here the name of Abelard is first personified; which, as the name of a person often stands for the per son himself, is exposed to no objection. Next, Eloisa personifies her own heart; and, as the heart is a dignified part of the human frame, and is often put for the mind, this also may pass without censure. But, when she addresses her hand, and tells it not to write his name, this is forced and unnatural. Yet the figure becomes still worse, when she exhorts her tears to blot out what her hand had written. The two last lines are indeed altogether unsuitable to the tenderness which breathes through the rest of that inimitable poem.

Apostrophe is an address to a real person; but one who is either absent or dead, as if he were present, and listening to us. This figure is in boldness a degree lower than personification; since it requires less effort of imagination to suppose persons present who are dead or absent, than to animate insensible beings, and direct our discourse to them. The poems of Ossian abound in beautiful instances of this figure. "Weep on the rocks of roaring winds, O Maid of Inistore. Bend thy fair head over the waves, thou fairer than the

ghosts of the hills, when it moves in a sunbeam at noon over the silence of Morven. He is fallen! Thy youth is low; pale beneath the sword of Cuchullin."

COMPARISON, ANTITHESIS, INTEROGATION, EXCLAMATION, AND OTHER FIGURES OF SPEECH.

A comparison or simile is, when the resemblance between two objects is expressed in form, and usually pursued more fully than the nature of a metaphor admits. As when we say, "The actions of princes are like those great rivers, the course of which every one beholds, but their springs have been seen by few." This short instance will show that a happy comparison is a sort of sparkling ornament, which adds lustre and beauty to discourse.

All comparisons may be reduced under two heads; explaining and embellishing comparisons. For when a writer compares an object with any other thing, it always is, or ought to be, with a view to make us understand that object more clearly, or to render it more pleasing. Even abstract reasoning admits explaining comparisons. For instance, the distinction between the powers of sense and imagination is in Mr. Harris's Hermes illustrated by a simile: "As wax," says he, "would not be adequate to the purposes of signiture, if it had not the power to retain as well as to receive the impression; the same holds of the soul with respect to sense and imagination. Sense is its receptive power, and imagination its retentive. Had it sense without imagination, it would not be as wax, but as water; where though all impressions be instantly made, yet as soon as they are made, they are lost." In comparisons of this kind, perspicuity and usefulness are chiefly to be studied.

But embellishing comparisons are those which most frequently occur. Resemblance, it has been observed, is the foundation of this figure. Yet resemblance must not be taken in too strict a sense for actual similitude.

Two objects may raise a train of concordant ideas in the mind, though they resemble each other, strictly speaking, in nothing. For example, to describe the nature of soft and melancholy music, Ossian says, "The music of Carryl was like the memory of joys that are past, pleasant and mournful to the soul." This is happy and delicate; yet no kind of music bears any resemblance to the memory of past joys.

We shall now consider when comparisons may be introduced with propriety. Since they are the language of imagination, rather than of passion, an author can hardly commit a greater fault, than in the midst of passion, to introduce a simile. Our writers of tragedies often err in this respect. Thus Addison, in his Cato, makes Portius, just after Lucia had bid him farewell forever, express himself in a studied comparison.

Thus o'er the dying lamp the unsteady flame
Hangs quivering on a point, leaps off by fits,
And falls again, as loath to quit its hold.

Thou must not go; my soul still hovers o'er thee,
And can't get loose.

As comparison is not the style of strong passion, so, when designed for embellishment, it is not the language of a mind totally unmoved. Being a figure of dignity, it always requires some elevation in the subject to make it proper. It supposes the imagination to be enlivened, though the heart is not agitated by passion. The language of simile lies in the middle region between the highly pathetic and the very humble style. It is however a sparkling ornament; and must consequently dazzle and fatigue if it recur too often. Similes even in poetry should be employed with moderation; but in prose much more so; otherwise the style will become disgustingly luscious, and the ornament lose its beauty and effect.

We shall now consider the nature of those objects from which comparisons should be drawn.

In the first place, they must not be drawn from things which have too near and obvious a resemblance

of the object with which they are compared. The pleasure we receive from the act of comparing, arises from the discovery of likenesses among things of dif ferent species, where we should not at first sight expect a resemblance.

But in the second place, as comparisons ought not to be founded on likenesses too obvious, much less ought they to be founded on those which are too faint and distant. These, instead of assisting, strain the fancy to comprehend them, and throw no light upon the subject..

In the third place, the object from which a comparison is drawn, ought never to be an unknown object, nor one of which few people can have a clear idea. Therefore similes, founded on philosophical discoveries, or on any thing, with which persons of a particular trade only, or a particular profession, are acquainted, produce not their proper effect. They should be drawn from those illustrious and noted objects, which most readers have either seen, or can strongly conceive.

In the fourth place, in compositions of a serious or elevated kind, similes should never be drawn from low or mean objects. These degrade and vilify; whereas similes are generally intended to embellish and dignify. Therefore, except in burlesque writings, or where an object is meant to be degraded, mean ideas should never be presented.

Antithesis is founded on the contrast or opposition of two objects. By contrast, objects opposed to each other, appear in a stronger light. Beauty, for instance, never appears so charming, as when contrasted with ugliness. Antithesis therefore may, on many occasions, be used advantageously to strengthen the impression which we propose that any object should make. Thus Cicero, in his oration for Milo, representing the improbability of Milo's designing to take away the life of Clodius, when every thing was unavoidable to such design, after he had omitted many opportunities of effecting such a purpose, heightens our conviction of this improbability by a skilful use of this

figure. "Quem igitur cum omnium gratia interficere noluit; hunc voluet cum aliquorum querela? Quem jure, quem loco, quem tempore, quem impune, non est ausus; hunc injuria, iniquo loco, alineo tempore, periculo capitis, non dubitavit occidere ?" Here the antithesis is rendered complete by the words and members of the sentence, expressing the contrasted objects, being simiJarly constructed, and made to correspond with each other.

We must however acknowledge that frequent use of antithesis, especially where the opposition in the words is nice and quaint, is apt to make style unpleasing. A maxim or moral saying very properly receives this form; because it is supposed to be the effect of meditation, and is designed to be engraven on the memory, which recals it more easily by the aid of contras ted expressions. But, where several such sentences succeed each other; where this is an author's favourite and prevailing mode of expression, his style is exposed to censure.

Interogations and exclamations are passionate figures. The literal use of interogation is to ask a question; but when men are prompted by passion, whatever they would affirm or deny, with great earnestness, they naturally put in the form of a question; expressing thereby the firmest confidence of the truth of their own opinion, and appealing to their hearers for the impossibility of the contrary. Thus in scripture; "God is not a man that he should lie; nor the son of man, that he should repent. Hath he said it and shall he not do it? Hath he spoken it? and shall he not make it good?"

Interogations may be employed in the prosecution of close and earnest reasoning; but exclamations belong only to stronger emotions of the mind; to surprise, anger, joy, grief, and the like. These being

natural signs of a moved and agitated mind, always, when properly employed, make us sympathize with those who use them, and enter into their feelings. Nothing, however, has a worse effect, than frequent and unseasonable use of exclamations. Young and un