1. Thrust the thorn into the flesh.

2. Thick and thicker fell the hail.

3. Thanks to the thoughtful giver.

4. Through the thronged crowd he thrust his way. 5. Three thousand thistles were thrust through his thumb.

MOVEMENT.

Movement is the rate with which words and sentences are uttered. It includes not only the length of time occupied in the utterance of words, but the pauses between the words and sentences. It is really a combination of quantity and pauses.

ADVANTAGES.

Movement is an element of immense power and wonderful effect when properly employed. But it must be skillfully used. "Every mood of mind, every variety of emotion, every burst of passion has its appropriate movement. Solemnity must move slowly, joy rapidly, argument moderately, and excitement hurriedly. This is indicated by the slow and measured step of the funeral march, the rapid movement of the merry dance, the firm but moderate step of the determined army.

No defect sooner wearies the hearer or more certainly kills the effect of expression than a drawling, lifeless movement, and continuous rapidity as certainly destroys all deep and impressive utterance. No element should be more carefully practiced than movement. The general divisions of this element are VERY RAPID, RAPID, MODERATE, SLOW, AND VERY SLOW.

Moderate Movement.

Moderate is that rate used in ordinary conversation by persons who have not fallen into incorrect habits.

It must not be understood that Moderate Movement is a fixed rate to which all persons must conform, but one that will vary with different temperaments. That which would be moderate for one may be slow for another. From Moderate Movement all the other divisions are determined. Exercise in movement may be practiced on sounds and words, but they can be better illustrated with sentences. Practice each of the following sentences a number of times with a Moderate Movement in the following combination.

EXERCISES IN Moderate Movement.

Middle Pitch, Radical Stress, Moderate Force, Pure Tone, Expulsive Form. 1. We will have rain to-night.

2. The true American patriot is ever a worshiper. 3. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to

you.

4. I have been accused of ambition in presenting this measure.

MODERATE MOVEMENT-WHEN USED.

Moderate Movement is appropriate for the delivery of narrative, didactic, and unimpassioned thought in the form of scientific and literary lectures and introductions to speeches.

EXAMPLE: DESCRIPTIVE AND DIDACTIC.

Moderate Movement, Middle Pitch, Radical Stress, Moderate Force, Fure Tone, Expulsive Form.

An Order for a Picture.

ALICE CARY.

1. O, good painter, tell me true,

Has your hand the cunning to draw
Shapes of things that you never saw ?
Ay? Well, here is an order for you.

2. Woods and cornfields, a little brown-
The picture must not be over-bright,
Yet all in the golden and gracious light
Of a cloud when the summer sun is down.
Alway and alway, night and morn,
Woods upon woods, with fields of corn
Lying between them, not quite sear,
And not in the full, thick, leafy bloom,
When the wind can hardly find breathing room
Under their tassels-cattle near,

Biting shorter the short green grass,
And a hedge of sumach and sassafras,
With bluebirds twittering all around,—
(Ah, good painter, you can't paint sound!)
These, and the house where I was born,

Low and little, and black and old,
With children, many as it can hold,
All at the windows, open wide-
Heads and shoulders clear outside,
And fair young faces all ablush:

Perhaps you may have seen, some day,
Roses crowding the self-same way,

Out of a wilding, way-side bush.

3.

Listen closer: When you have done

With woods and cornfields and grazing herds,

A lady, the loveliest ever the sun

Looked down upon, you must paint for me;

O, if I only could make you see

The clear blue eyes, the tender smile,
The sovereign sweetness, the gentle grace,
The woman's soul, and the angel's face,
That are beaming on me all the while,

I need not speak these foolish words:
Yet one word tells you all I would say-
She is my mother: you will agree
That all the rest may be thrown away.

4. Two little urchins at her knee
You must paint, sir; one like me,

The other with a clearer brow,
And the light of his adventurous eyes
Flashing with boldest enterprise:
At ten years old he went to sea-

God knoweth if he be living now:
He sailed in the good ship Commodore;
Nobody ever crossed her track

To bring us news, and she never came back.
Ah, 'tis twenty long years and more
Since that old ship went out of the bay

With my great-hearted brother on her deck:
I watched him till he shrank to a speck,
And his face was toward me all the way.
Bright his hair was, a golden brown,

The time we stood at our mother's knee:
That beauteous head, if it did go down,
Carried sunshine into the sea!

5. Out in the fields one summer night

We were together, half afraid

Of the corn-leaves' rustling, and of the shade

Of the high hills, stretching so still and far-
Loitering till after the low little light

Of the candle shone through the open door;
And over the haystack's pointed top,

All of a tremble, and ready to drop,

The first half-hour, the great yellow star,
That we, with staring, ignorant eyes,

Had often and often watched to see,

Propped and held in its place in the skies

By the fork of a tall red mulberry-tree,

Which close in the edge of our flax field grew—
Dead at the top-just one branch full

Of leaves notched round, and lined with wool,
From which it tenderly shook the dew
Over our heads, when we came to play
In its handbreadth of shadow, day after day.
Afraid to go home, sir; for one of us bore
A nest full of speckled and thin-shelled eggs;
The other a bird held fast by the legs,
Not so big as a straw of wheat:

The berries we gave her she wouldn't eat,
But cried and cried, till we held her bill,
So slim and shining, to keep her still.

6. At last we stood at our mother's knee.
Do you think, sir, if you try,
You can paint the look of a lie?
If you can, pray have the grace
To put it solely in the face

7.

Of the urchin that is likest me :

I think 'twas solely mine indeed:
But that's no matter-paint it so;

The eyes of our mother (take good heed),
Looking not on the nestful of eggs,

Nor the fluttering bird held so fast by the legs,
But straight through our faces down to our lies,
And O, with such injured, reproachful surprise!

I felt my heart bleed where that glance went as though
A sharp blade stuck through it.

You, sir, know

That you on the canvas are to repeat

Things that are fairest, things most sweet

Woods and cornfields and mulberry-tree-
The mother-the lads, with their bird, at her knee:
But O, that look of reproachful woe!

High as the heavens your name I'll shout,
If you paint me the picture and leave that out.