plied to physical objects. As men found the stock of their ideas increasing, instead of inventing new terms to describe them, they applied old words with an extended or changed meaning, or, what is the same thing, used them figuratively. In this way the great body of words in a language have, in one stage of their history or another, been used tropically. The word imagination, derived from image, a term applied to a sensible ob ject, was, on its first application to a mental faculty or operation, tropical. But it ceased to be tropical when it had been used so long that its secondary meaning became indissolubly fixed as the principal one, or, indeed, to most minds, as its only Imagination can not now be considered as a figurative term. It has lost its tropical meaning, at least to the mass of readers, if not to the scholar. What is true of imagination is true of vast many words. They can be regarded as faded metaphors. The investigation of their history revives their original meaning and their tropical application.

one.

FIGURES OF SPEECH.

§ 568. One class of Rhetorical Forms are called Figures of SPEECH. These are divided into Figures of Words and Figures of Thought.

Figures of Words are called Tropes, from the Greek τрέ¬, to turn. A Trope is a word turned from its original or literal signification to another, on account of some resemblance. Tropes are founded on the relation which one object bears to another, in virtue of which the name of the one can be substituted for the other. See Examples under Metaphor, Metonomy, Synecdoche, Catachresis, Antonomasia, Syllepsis, Metalepsis.

Figures of Thought are forms of language in which the words are used in their proper and literal signification, but in which the figure consists in the turn of thought. See Examples under Apostrophe, Comparison, Climax, etc.

The common statement concerning Figures is,

1. That they enrich language, make it more attractive, and render it more copious.

2. That they bestow elevation and dignity upon style when used judiciously.

3. That they afford pleasure in presenting two objects at once,

which the mind can take in and compare without confusion, but even with increased distinctness.

4. That they present a clearer and more striking view of the principal object than can be expressed in simple terms.

This statement is especially true of that class of figures called Tropes.

RULES FOR THE USE OF

FIGURES.

§ 569. The rules usually given for the use of figures are, 1. That they be suited to the nature of the subject; that they be neither too many, nor too gay, nor too elevated. As nature and art open their abundant stores of illustration, there is no necessity for recurring to allusions that will raise in the mind disagreeable, mean, or vulgar ideas, except for the purpose of degrading the object illustrated.

2. The resemblance upon which the trope is founded should be clear and obvious, and not far fetched. Trite and common resemblances, however, should be avoided.

3. Tropical and plain language should not be jumbled together in the same sentence.

4. Two different tropes relating to the same object should not meet in the same sentence.

THE STUDY OF RHETORICAL FORMS.

§ 570. I. The Definitions should be carefully committed to memory and recited to the teacher.

II. The examples should be carefully studied, and one at least under each definition should be committed to memory, or, rather, learned by heart as something admired. They are to be studied for the same purpose for which paintings of the great masters are studied by the young artist, that they may have an influence upon the taste, in refining and elevating it, beyond what mere rules can have.

III. Other Examples of each kind of Rhetorical Forms, original or selected, should be exhibited to the teacher by the pupil.

This exercise has been found by experience to be exceedingly profitable in disciplining the mind.

CHAPTER II.

DEFINITIONS AND EXAMPLES.

ALLEGORY.

§ 571. ALLEGORY, Greek dλλnyopía, of äλλoç, other, and dyopɛów, to speak, is a sentence or discourse in which the principal subject is described by another subject resembling it. It is made up of continued allusion, so that while professedly a description of one subject, it has an obvious resemblance to another, to which every part may be metaphorically applied.

THE EMPIRE OF POETRY.

This Empire is a very large and populous country. It is divided, like some of the countries on the Continent, into the higher and lower regions. The upper region is inhabited by grave, melancholy, and sullen people, who, like other mountaineers, speak a language very different from that of the inhabitants of the valleys. The trees in this part of the country are very tall, having their tops in the clouds. Their horses are superior to those of Barbary, being fleeter than the winds. Their women are so beautiful as to eclipse the star of day. The great city which you see in the maps, beyond the lofty mountains, is the capital of this province, and is called Epic. It is built on a sandy and ungrateful soil, which few take the pains to cultivate. The length of the city is many days' journey, and it is otherwise of a tiresome extent. On leaving its gate, we always meet with men who are killing one another; whereas, when we pass through Romance, which forms the suburbs of Epic, and which is larger than the city itself, we meet with groups of happy people, who are hastening to the shrine of Hymen.

The mountains of Tragedy are also in the province of Upper Poetry. They are very steep, with dangerous precipices; and, in consequence, many of its people build their habitations at the bottom of the hills, and imagine themselves high enough. There have been found on these mountains some very beautiful ruins

of ancient cities, and, from time to time, the materials are carried lower to build new cities; for they are now never built nearly so high as they seem to have been in former times.

The Lower Poetry is very similar to the swamps of Holland. Burlesque is the capital, which is situated amid stagnant pools. Princes speak there as if they had sprung from the dung-hill, and all the inhabitants are buffoons from their birth. Comedy is a city which is built on a pleasant spot; but it is too near to Burlesque, and its trade with this place has injured the manners of the inhabitants.

I beg you will notice, in the map, those vast solitudes which lie between High and Low Poetry. They are called the Deserts of Common Sense. There is not a single city in the whole of this extensive country, and only a few cottages scattered at a distance from one another. The interior of the country is beautiful and fertile, but you need not wonder that there are so few that choose to reside in it; for the entrance is very rugged on all sides, the roads are narrow and difficult, and there are seldom any guides to be found capable of conducting strangers.

Besides, this country borders on a province where every person prefers to remain, because it appears to be very agreeable, and saves the trouble of penetrating into the Deserts of Common Sense. It is the province of False Thoughts. Here we always tread on flowers; every thing seems enchanting. But its general inconvenience is, that the ground is not solid; the foot is always sinking in the mire, however careful one may be. Elegy is the capital. Here the people do nothing but complain; but it is said that they find a pleasure in their complaints. The city is surrounded with woods and rocks, where the inhab itant walks alone, making them the confidants of his secrets, of the discovery of which he is so much afraid that he often conjures those woods and rocks never to betray them.

The Empire of Poetry is watered by two rivers: one is the River Rhyme, which has its source at the foot of the Mountains of Reverie. The tops of some of these mountains are so elevated that they pierce the clouds. Those are called the Points of Sublime Thoughts.

Many climb there by extraordinary efforts; but almost the whole tumble down again, and excite, by their fall, the ridicule

of those who admired them at first without knowing why. There are large platforms almost at the bottom of these mountains, which are called the Terraces of Low Thoughts. There are always a great number of people walking on them. At the ends of these terraces are the Caverns of Deep Reverie. Those who descend into them do so insensibly, being so much enrapt in their meditations that they enter the caverns before they are aware. These caverns are perfect labyrinths, and the difficulty of getting out again could scarcely be believed by those who have not been there. Above the terraces we sometimes meet with men walking in easy paths, which are called the Paths of Natural Thoughts; and these gentlemen ridicule equally those who try to scale the Points of Sublime Thoughts as well as those who grovel on the terraces below. They would be in the right if they could keep undeviatingly in the Paths of Natural Thoughts, but they fall almost instantly into a snare by entering into a splendid palace which is at a very little distance. It is the Palace of Badinage. Scarcely have they entered it, when, in place of the natural thoughts which they formerly had, they dwell upon such only as are mean and vulgar. Those, however, who never abandon the Paths of Natural Thoughts are the most rational of all. They aspire no higher than they ought, and their thoughts are never at variance with sound judgment.

Besides the River Rhyme, which I have described as issuing from the foot of the mountains, there is another, called the River of Reason. These two rivers are at a great distance from one another, and, as they have different courses, they could not be made to communicate except by canals, which cost a great deal of labor; for these canals of communication could not be formed at all places, because there is only one part of the River Rhyme which is in the neighborhood of the River Reason; and hence many cities situated on the Rhyme, such as Roundelay and Ballad, could have no commerce with the Reason, whatever pains might be taken for the purpose. Further, it would be necessary that these canals should cross the Deserts of Common Sense, as you will see by the map, and that is almost an unknown country. The Rhyme is a large river, whose course is crooked and unequal, and, on account of its numerous falls,