vocales;" just as the air, by acting upon the strings of an Æolian harp, draws forth its sweet sounds. On the top of the larynx is the "glottis," which is covered by the "epiglottis❞—a covering which descends at a swallow; or if it fails to do so, causes the thing swallowed to "go the wrong way;" but which, if suffered to do so at the time of speaking, causes the stammer. Hence it is necessary to keep the lungs well inflated, in order to have sufficient power to send a proper current of air upon the "chordæ vocales," so as to form the voice. If this be neglected, the lungs will suffer from the strain, and from the violent effort to force a voice unnaturally, and will be liable to inflammation, collapse, &c.; the "uvula" will also become relaxed. Besides, the voice formed under such circumstances will constantly drop: for if there be not a proper inflation of the lungs, so as to supply a sufficient quantity of air to act upon the "chordæ vocales, the voice must necessarily fail and drop; just as does the sound of an Æolian harp, whenever the wind may fail or die away.

Again, if the voice be strained in order to be loud, the sound will be harsh and discordant, just as that of an Æolian harp in a violent wind. To produce an harmonious tone of voice, a moderate power and force of air is required in the case of the human voice, no less than in that of the musical instrument. And hence, a steady and regular inflation of the lungs a proper and constant method of breathing-is required. But this regular inflation ought to be unseen; and all sudden catching of short breath ought to be avoided-being injurious to the lungs. Hence it is desirable to breathe, in part at least, through the nose, i. e. to draw in the breath through the nose, especially in cold weather, when it thus becomes a kind of respirator; in short, to breathe naturally, as in the time of sleep. It is well, too, to take breath (not at stops only, but also) whenever the sense of the matter read will admit of it; which is often once or twice even within the interval of two commas. For example-"And although we ought at all times | humbly to acknowledge our sins before God." It is desirable also, to stand with the chest well open, so as to admit all possible air (a thing to be also observed in sitting to read or write, as it tends to strengthen the chest); and always before beginning to read, to inhale a good supply of breath, either at the mouth or nose. In large buildings, it is wrong to force the voice. The secret is to inhale a good supply of breath, and to send the voice well forwards; this will make even the softest sounds to be audible. For as a deficient quantity of gunpowder will cause a bullet to fall short of the mark, while a few more grains would carry it to its destination without any apparently louder report; so will a proper supply of breath send the voice forwards without any need of violent exertion to the speaker, and without any appearance of loudness to those who are near it. Again, to speak in a higher key often assists the voice, and especially in case of any sudden noise, as coughing, the clatter of foot-steps, &c.; and it cases and relieves the voice occasionally to change the

key, to take both a higher and a lower key occasionally for a sentence or two. It is to be also observed that sound travels in a zigzag line; and therefore rapid sounds tremble into one another, as in the case of a stick drawn along iron railings, and the roll of the drum. Breath should always be taken between the narrative and the dialogue, and vice versa, in the course of reading; this of itself conveys a variation of tone to mark the difference. The voice, too, should generally rise at a semi-colon. To express pathos, it will be found desirable to open well the vowel sounds, especially the double vowels-as saw, door, room, weeping-and to let the voice rest longer on them.

These few remarks may perhaps suggest to many of the Clergy a mode of obtaining relief for distressed lungs and throats, which may be of considerable service to them. In the hope that to some, at least, they may be of service, the writer (who has himself derived the greatest comfort and benefit from the system here suggested) commits them to the perusal of the reader. M. A. OXON.

REVIEW OF NEW PUBLICATIONS.

Wordsworth's Poetical Works. Cheap Pocket Edition, price 2s. 6d. sewed; to be completed in Six Monthly Volumes. Also, New Edition, in Seven Vols. 8vo. Moxon.

WE can imagine a little disdain on the part of a man of literary taste, not included in the number or sympathizing with the views of "our readers," who should accidentally take up this publication, and open at this page. It would be natural for him to mutter something about the absurdity of Puritans giving their opinion of poets, and especially of such a poet as this. We can imagine also some of that class, whom we are so much bound to respect, "our readers," looking at the title of this article with some surprise, and thinking it almost preposterous that we should at this time of day discuss the merits of Wordsworth, and meddle with a name which shines with such fixed and steady effulgence, in a different hemisphere of literature from that in which we commonly move.

Little need be said here, of the not unusual notion, that those who desire to regard everything in the light the Gospel throws around it are, by that very habit of mind, disqualified for appreciating rightly the beauty and sublimity of human sentiment and imagination. Our future reflections will necessarily have some bearing on this subject, and may tend to lay open some both of the truths and falsities which lie at the foundation of this opinion. But we are anxious to explain, in the outset, what the task is which we have now undertaken, and what are the feelings with which we address ourselves to it.

Let it not, then, be supposed that we take up Wordsworth with the same purpose of general criticism, with which we might sit down to form an opinion, and give a character, of a hundred other publications of the day. We well know that we have now before

us works which have been long regarded as a precious contribution to the mind of the country; and which are already recognized, as the genuine language of a high poetical inspiration, by a whole generation of those whom natural sensibility and other high qualities have endowed with this species of discernment. In the literature of the day we meet at every turn with some of the felicitous expressions in which the author has embodied thoughts and feelings not easily uttered; nor are there wanting other indications of the extent to which the public mind is feeling his influence. The new edition of his works now before us, which is designed to give the public a cheap and portable copy of them, must shew us that this influence is still extending in the direction of the middle classes of society; amongst whom, we doubt not, it will gradually make itself felt in many of those minds which are raised, by a naturally delicate and aspiring taste, above the intellectual level of their associates, and are thus enabled to imbibe something of the thoughts and feelings which float in the higher regions of education and refinement.

We are not, then, preparing ourselves either for critical attacks or eulogies upon works already fixed in such a position as to render any ordinary attacks on them preposterous, or any ordinary commendations impertinent. But we consider that position as itself justifying, if not demanding, a candid consideration of the religious character of these works. An enquiry into the relation in which the sentiments of the leaders of the human mind stand to the religion of the Gospel, cannot be uninteresting to those who, on the one hand, justly appreciate all such literature as is of a high and serious cast, and, on the other, regard the Gospel as the universal rule of truth and perfection.

We will proceed at once to consider the longest of Mr. Wordsworth's Poems-"The Excursion," a fragment, as our Author tells us, of a larger work, "The Recluse," in which he states himself to have "meditated a more perfect unfolding of his thoughts on man, and nature."

We begin, then, by saying that no man could be fit to comment on "The Excursion," who was not filled, as well by its plan as by its tone, with a sentiment of the profoundest respect. The poet, as we discover from the first moment we touch his work, is a man of deep earnestness and seriousness of spirit. He has a high purpose, and a mind occupied with deep sympathies and great thoughts. He conducts us into the midst of scenes, in which we are made to feel the majesty and beauty of Nature, and to feel them as one does whose home is among those scenes; who has wandered through them at every season and in every mood; whose eye is familiar with the varying aspects and tenderest lines of beauty, and whose mind has learned to attach a sort of life and meaning to the outward objects, from association with the sentiments which have been awakened or soothed in their presence. He introduces us to persons, the conception and drawing of whose characters are full of beauty, and peoples all the landscape with human interests, by the little fragments of rustic history which

are connected with "the grey cottage by the murmuring stream," or with the hillocks in the "churchyard among the mountains." Yet the poet's purpose is not merely to indulge himself, or delight his reader by descriptions of scenery or character. We are conducted into that particular scenery, and are introduced to those particular persons, because they are to minister to the development of thoughts, by which all minds are visited at times, and which often painfully oppress or deeply absorb those distinguished by high aspirations and tender feelings.

"On man, on nature, and on human life,
Musing in solitude, I oft perceive
Fair trains of imagery before me rise,
Accompanied by feelings of delight;

Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixt ;

And I am conscious of affecting thoughts,

And dear remembrances, whose presence soothes,
Or elevates the mind, intent to weigh

The good and evil of our mortal state."

So begins the fragment of the "Recluse," which is found in the Preface to the Excursion; and this account by the Author, of the impulse which prompted the poem, and the aim which he had in it, is fully justified by the poem itself. The "fair trains of imagery," the "affecting thoughts," the "dear remembrances," are all there, but they appear only as ancillary to the musings "on man, on nature, and on human life." They do not divert from its purpose the mind "intent to weigh the good and evil of our mortal state."

It certainly seems to us that one grand beauty of the poem consists in the exquisite adaptation of scene and character to the line of thought which they are intended to assist us in pursuing. We are carried among the lakes and mountains, not merely to enjoy their beauty, but that their aspect may soften and subdue our minds to tranquil, serious, and kindly thought. We have left far behind us, and below us, all that might fret the mind, or distort the views, in the busy world of cities. Here is no place for the selfish, the acrimonious, and the mean. The shadows of the mountains fall solemnly upon the soul; the farspread landscape, "seen in the streamy distance," prepares the mind for large views of things, half-veiled in mystery, which true wisdom knows it cannot dissipate. The characters also are formed in the same subserviency to the poet's purpose. The "Wanderer," and the "Solitary," exhibit respectively the healthful and the morbid states, in which the mind may be left by the exercises, observations, and experience of life. They develope, in turn, the wounds which the world inflicts upon the spirit, and the healing influences which are provided for it, until the course of inquiry arrives at a point where it must be carried on to other ground, and into other company.

"Is man

A child of hope? Do generations press

On generations, without progress made?]
Halts the individual, ere his hair be grey,
Perforce? Are we a creature in whom good
Preponderates, or evil? Doth the will
Acknowledge reason's law? A living power
Is virtue, or no better than a name,
Fleeting as health or beauty, and unsound?
So that the only substance which remains,
(For thus the tenor of complaint hath run),
Among so many shadows, are the pains
And penalties of miserable life,

Doomed to decay, and then expire in dust ?" (p. 182.)

For the fuller solution of these questions, we are carried from the haunts of the Solitary to "the churchyard," and on ground solemnized by death and hallowed by religion, hear from the pastor the impressions which he has received from the contemplation of human life from that point of view to which he has been raised by his spiritual office and occupation. For this purpose he does not dogmatize, or argue, or preach; he presents the actual character of human life as it has passed under his eye, and exhibits its better side in examples mingled with reflections.

"We safely may affirm that human life

Is either fair and tempting, a soft scene
Grateful to the sight, refreshing to the soul,
Or a forbidding tract of cheerless view;
Even as the same is looked at, or approached.
Thus, when in changeful April fields are white
With new-fallen snow, if from the sullen north
Your walk conduct you hither, ere the sun

Hath gained his noontide height, this churchyard, filled
With mounds transversely lying side by side
From east to west, before you will appear
An unillumined, blank, and dreary plain,

With more than wintry cheerlessness and gloom
Saddening the heart. Go forward and look back;
Look, from the quarter whence the lord of light,
Of life, of love and gladness doth dispense
His beams; which, unexcluded in their fall,
Upon the southern side of every grave
Have gently exercised a melting power;
Then will a vernal prospect greet your eye,
All fresh and beautiful, and green and bright,
Hopeful and cheerful; vanished is the pall
That overspread and chilled the sacred turf,-
Vanished or hidden;-and the whole domain,
To some, too lightly-minded, might appear
A meadow-carpet for the dancing hours.
-This contrast, not unsuitable to life,
Is to that other state more apposite,

Death, and its two-fold aspect! wintry-one

Cold, sullen, blank, from hope and joy shut out;

The other, which the ray Divine hath touched,

Replete with vivid promise, light as Spring." (p. 184.)

Accordingly, the pastor "goes forward and looks back" on various instances in which, in greater or less degree, something of the ray divine has fallen on common characters, and humble