CCXII. Bulk.-Uncouth Size.-Polyphemus not a Beauty.-Leviathan.- Picture of Death.—CCXIII. Classicality. — Fine Instance from Sir Walter Raleigh.—CCXIV. Rallying-Cries.—Battle of Bannockburn.— A Great Contest coming Soon.-CCXV. Appeal to Knowledge.-Bat- tle of Blenheim. — CCXVI. Reverse. - Smart Hit by a Yankee. — CCXVII. Specification of Place. — CCXVIII. Specification of Time. -On Eve of Marathon.-Before the Armada.-The Normans Start for England. - CCXIX. Cry of Warning. - Dreadful Preparations to Kill Two-Chickens.-A Jackass Brays.—CCXX. Familiarity.—Beautiful by Luther.-No Buffoonery in the Pulpit.-CCXXI. The Obverse.— From Macaulay. — Praise and Blame of Woman.-Closing Remarks: 1. Our English is but Half Developed.-Grand New Words.-A Great Attempt in this way by Author to Coin a New Word-Cosmarch.- Our Country is not yet Baptized. 2. The Homely is again Urged.— Examples, and Good Ones from Dr. Mott. - A Mighty Effect made by "You Sha'n't!"-3. Sources whence Figures may be Obtained. Shakespeare's Three Chief Faults. 5. One Hundred Figures still to be Discovered.-Send them in, for our Tenth Edition.-6. Certain Ad- mirable Productions to be Read by you. - 7. Suggestiveness, Try to -Panegyric on the Bible, by a Romanist.-Dryden Lauds Cromwell.- Martyrdom of Honest Hugh Latimer.-Fine Poem from Spanish, Trans- FIGURES OF RHETORIC.-PART TWENTIETH. CCXXII. Parody. — What Caricature is in Portrait-painting. — The Last INTRODUCTION. ONE main object of this volume is to set forth the power, beauty, wealth, and wit of language-the Might and Mirth of Literature-by taking a wide survey of our American and English writers, from the Anglo-Saxon times till now; not from many unconnected points of view, but from strictly one point-whence, as from a green hill-side in the centre of a great domain, the whole. rich landscape can be beheld. That one view-point is Figurative Language; by their mode of using which you may with accuracy judge of our authors, by almost all of whom figures of speech are largely employed, from the gravest disquisition to the airiest breathing of song that ever milk-maid chanted over her milking-pail. This volume will thus possess strict artistic and scientific unity. Besides and of this assertion the severest scrutiny is challenged, the affirmation being very venturesome and improbable the author avers that this plan of his has the merit, even at this late day, of the most entire originality; never before has figurative language been taken as a point from which to examine a whole literature. Nobody will readily believe that, after the most inventive minds have been treating of literature for twenty-two centuries, an entirely new and exceedingly comprehen sive and searching mode of treatment can possibly remain to be discovered; yet such is the case, remarkable as is the fact; as the quaint old French essayist, Montaigne, has said: "The flowers I have gathered are from others; the string that ties them together is mine own." A string to which we ascribe great worth. This volume. claims to be of the greatest value in studying language and literature, and of special use to all public speakers— for instance, to clergymen and to lawyers. Farther, there is no even tolerably good treatise on Figures existing at present in our language—Is there in any other tongue? There is no consecutive discussion of them of more than a few pages; the examples brought forward by all others being trivial in the extreme and threadbare; while the main conception of what constitutes the chief class of figures is altogether narrow, erroneous, and unphilosophical. Writers generally, even the ablest, are wholly in the dark as to the precise distinction between a trope and a metonymy; and very few even of literary men have so much as ever heard of Implication or Hypocatastasis, one of the most important figures, and one, too, that is perpetually shedding its light on us. On all occasions, mournful and joyous, figures break in; if any thing is natural, they are. Professor Wilson, the once celebrated editor of Blackwood's MagazineChristopher North he called himself-one of the noblestlooking of men, was waited on in his study by the young gentleman who had won his daughter's heart: the youth wished to obtain papa's consent. The Professor heard him, and was satisfied; the match was in every respect a good one. He rung the bell for Miss Wilson. She came blushing like the morn. An author had sent a book to Wilson, on the fly-leaf of which were written the words, "With the author's compliments." The Professor tore out the leaf, pinned it to his daughter's dress, and presented her to her lover-certainly a figurative use of the inscription. Two things might almost scare you from the study of these forms of expression. The first is, the great number of them which rhetoricians enumerate. Holmes, in his "Rhetoric Made Easy," published in 1755, gives a list of two hundred and fifty; and in this volume two hundred and twenty are catalogued, all of eminent value, besides many elegant subvarieties: for instance, thirtytwo metonymies; but thus you should the more be convinced beforehand how overflowing is the exuberance of our theme, whose every variety is a variety of beauty. Language! How many-tinted a mountain haze is this, through which the sun of thought is shining! The other circumstance, for a moment alarming, is the hard names, meaningless save to such as are profound in Greek, by which rhetors catalogue the weapons of oratory. A great pity we have not English names for them-a long word, unmeaning to all but classical scholars, though it may be taken direct from the most refined of languages, being to an English, a Celtic, or an American ear nothing better than a barbarism. Joseph Addison, in one of his wonderfully graceful papers in the Spectator-which renowned periodical was begun in 1710 and discontinued in 1714— thus ridicules these names so overrun with syllables: "I remember a country schoolmaster of my acquaintance told me once that he had been in company with a gentleman whom he looked upon to be the greatest paragrammatist among the moderns. Upon inquiry, I found my learned friend had dined that day with Mr. Swan, the |