how every thing that is great, new, or beautiful, is apt to affect the imagination with pleasure, we must own, that it is impossible for us to assign the necessary cause of this pleasure, because we know neither the nature of an idea, nor the substance of a human soul : and therefore, for want of such a light, all that we can do, in speculations of this kind, is, to reflect on those operations of the soul that are most agreeable; and to range under their proper heads, what is pleasing or displeasing to the mind, without being able to trace out the several necessary and efficient causes, from whence the pleasure or displeasure arises."

The following amendment, besides breaking down the period into several sentences, exhibits some other useful alterations: "In yesterday's paper, we showed that every thing which is great, new, or beautiful, is apt to affect the imagination with pleasure. We must own, that it is impossible for us to assign the efficient cause of this pleasure, because we know not the nature either of an idea, or of the human soul. All that we can do, therefore, in speculations of this kind, is to reflect on the operations of the soul which are most agreeable, and to range under proper heads what is pleasing or displeasing to the mind."

A third rule for preserving the unity of sentences, is, to keep clear of all unnecessary parentheses.

On some occasions, when the sense is not too long suspended by them, and when they are introduced in a proper place, they may add both to the vivacity, and to the energy, of the sentence. But for the most part their effect is extremely bad. They are wheels within wheels; sentences in the midst of sentences; the perplexed method of disposing of some thought, which a writer wants judgment to introduce in its proper place.

The parenthesis in this sentence, is striking and proper;

“And was the ransom paid? It was: and paid

(What can exalt the bounty more?) for thee."

But in the following sentence, we become sensible of an impropriety in the use of it. "If your hearts secretly reproach you, for the wrong choice you have made, (as there is time for repentance and retreat; and a return to wisdom is always ho-nourable,) bethink yourselves that the evil is not irreparable." It would be much better to express, in a separate sentence, the thoughts contained in this parenthesis; thus: "If your hearts secretly reproach you for the wrong choice you have made, bethink yourselves that the evil is not irreparable. Still

there is time for repentance and retreat; and a return to wis dom is always honourable."

CHAPTER III.

OF THE STRENGTH OF A SENTENCE,

See Vol. ii. Part 5. Exercises. Strength. Chap. 3.

THE THIRD requisite of a perfect sentence, is, Strength.

By this is meant such a disposition and management of the several words and members, as shall bring out the sense to the best advantage, and give every word, and every member, its due weight and force.

A sentence may be clear, it may also be compact in all its parts, or have the requisite unity, and yet, by some circumstance in the structure, it may fail in that strength of impression, which a better management would have produced.

The first rule for promoting the strength of a sentence, is, to prune it of all redundant words and members.

It is a general maxim, that any words which do not add some importance to the meaning of a sentence, always injure it. Care should therefore be exercised, with respect to synonymous words, expletives, circumlocutions, tautologies, and the expression of unnecessary circumstances. The attention becomes remiss, when words are multiplied without a correspondent multiplication of ideas. "Content with deserving a triumph, he refused the honour of it;" is better language than to say, "Being content with deserving it," &c.

"In the Attic Commonwealth," says an author, "it was the privilege and birthright of every citizen and poet, to rail aloud and in public." Better simply thus: " In the Attic commonwealth, it was the privilege of every citizen to rail in public."

Another expresses himself thus: "They returned back again to the same city from whence they came forth;" instead of, "They returned to the city whence they came." The five words, back, again, same, from, and forth, are mere expletives, that bave neither use nor beauty, and are therefore to be regarded as incumbrances."

The word but is often improperly used with that: as, "There can be no doubt but that he seriously means what he says." It is not only useless, but cumbersome: There can be no doubt that he seriously means what he says." By transposing the parts of the sentence, we shall immediately perceive the pro

priety of omitting this word: "That he seriously means what he says, there can be no doubt."

Adverbs promote energy of expression. But this happens only when they promote brevity too, and are sparingly used, and chosen with judgement. A superabundance of them, or of adjectives, makes a style unwieldy and tawdry. For it is from its nouns, rather than from its attributives, that language derives strength: even as a building derives stability, rather from the walls and rafters, than from the plastering, wainscotting, and painting. Young writers, however, are apt to think otherwise; and, with a view to invigorate their expression, qualify every verb with an adverb, and every noun with an epithet By this means, their compositions resemble a house, whose walls are supported by posts and buttresses; which not only make it unseemly to the eye, and inconvenient by taking up too much room, but also justify a suspicion of weakness in the work, and unskilfulness in the architect. Such a period as the following will explain our meaning.

"i am honestly, seriously, and unalterably of opinion, that nothing can possibly be more incurably and emphatically destructive, or more decisively fatal, to a kingdom, than the introduction of thoughtless dissipation, and the pomp of lazy luxury." Would not the full import of this noisy sentence be better expressed thus: "I am of opinion, that nothing is more ruinous to a kingdom, than luxury and dissipation.'

Some writers use much circumlocution in expressing their ideas. A considerable one, for so very simple a thing as a man's wounding himself, says, "To mangle, or wound, his outward form and constitution, his natural limbs or body." - But, on some occasions, circumlocution has a peculiar force; as in the following sentence: "Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?"

In the sentences which follow, the ill effects of tautology

appear.

"So it is, that I must be forced to get home, partly by stealth, and partly by force."

"Never did Atticus succeed better in gaining the universallove and esteemn of all men."

The subsequent sentence contains several unnecessary circumstances. "On receiving this information, he arose, went out, saddled his horse, mounted him, and rode to town." All is implied in saying, "On receiving this information, he rode to town."

This manner, however, in a certain degree, is so strongly characteristic of the simple style of remote ages, that in books of the bigbest antiquity, particularly the Bible, it is not at all ungraceful. Of this kind are the following scriptural phrases.

"He lifted up his voice and wept." "He opened his mouth and said." It is true, that, in strictness, they are not necessary to the narration, but they are of some inportance to the composition, as bearing the venerable signature of ancient simplicity. It may, on this occasion, be further observed, that the language of the present translation of the Bible, ought not to be viewed in an exceptionable light, though some parts of it may appear to be obsolete. From universal admission, this language has become so familiar and intelligible, that in all transcripts and allusions, except where the sense is evidently injured, it ought to be carefully preserved. And it may also be justly remarked, that, on religious subjects, a frequent recurrence of scripture-language is attended with peculiar force and propriety.

Though it promotes the strength of a sentence, to contract a round-about method of expression, and to lop off excrescences, yet we should avoid the extreme of pruning too closely : some leaves should be left to shelter and surround the fruit. Even synonymous expressions may, on some occasions, be used with propriety. One is, when an obscurer term, which we cannot well avoid employing, needs to be explained by one that is clearer. The other is, when the language of the emotions is exhibited. Emotion naturally dwells on its object: and when the reader also feels interested, repetition and synonomy have frequently an agreeable effect.

The following passage, taken from Addison, who delighted in a full and flowing style, will, by most readers, be deemed not very exceptionable. "But there is nothing that makes its way more directly to the soul, than beauty; which immediately diffuses a secret satisfaction and complacency through the imagination, and gives a finishing to any thing that is great or uncommon. The very first discovery of it strikes the mind with inward joy, and spreads a cheerfulness and delight through all its faculties." Some degree of verbosity may, however, be discovered in these sentences, as phrases are repeated which seem little more than the echo of one another; such as-diffusing satisfaction and complacency through the imagina tion-striking the mind with inward joy-spreading cheerfulness and delight through all its faculties. But, perhaps, some redundancy is more allowable on such lively subjects, than it would be on other occasions.

After removing superfluities, the second rule for promoting the strength of a sentence, is, to attend particularly to the use of copulatives, relatives, and all the particles employed for transition and connexion.

These little words but, and, or, which, whose, where, then, therefore, because, &c. are frequently the most important words

of any; they are the joints or hinges upon which all sentences turn; and, of course, much of their strength must depend upon such particles. The varieties in using them are, indeed so many, that no particular system of rules respecting them can be given. Some observations, tending to illustrate the rule, may, however, be mentioned.

What is called splitting particles, or separating a preposition from the noun which it governs, is to be avoided. As if I should say, "Though virtue borrows no assistance from, yet it may often be accompanied by, the advantages of fortune." Here we are put to a stand in thought, being obliged to rest a little on the preposition by itself, which, at the same time, carries no significancy, till it is joined to its proper substantive.

Some writers needlessly multiply demonstrative and relative particles, by the frequent use of such phraseology as this: "There is nothing which disgusts us sooner than the empty pomp of language.' In introducing a subject, or laying down a proposition, to which we demand particular attention, this sort of style is very proper; but, on common occasions, it is better to express ourselves more simply and briefly : "Nothing disgusts us sooner than the empty pomp of language." Other writers make a practice of oinitting the relative where they think the meaning can be understood without it: as, "The man I love;" "The dominions we possessed, and the conquests we made." But though this elliptical style is intelligible, and is allowable in conversation and epistolary writing, yet in all writings of a serious and dignified kind, it ought to be avoided. There, the relative should always be inserted in its proper place, and the construction filled up. "The man whom I love." "The dominions which we possessed, and the conquests which we made."

With regard to the copulative particle and, which occurs so frequently in all kinds of composition, several observations are to be made. First, it is evident, that the unnecessary repetition of it enfeebles style. The following sentence from Sir William Temple, will serve for an instance. He is speaking of the refinement of the French language: "The academy, set up by Cardinal Richelieu, to amuse the wits of that age and country, and divert them from raking into his politics and ministry, brought this into vogue; and the French wits have, for this last age, been wholly turned to the refinement of their style and language; and, indeed, with such success, that it can hardly be equalled, and runs equally through their verse and their prose.' "Here are no fewer than eight ands in one sentence. Some writers often make their sentences drag in this manner, by a careless multiplication of copulatives.

But, in the next place, it is worthy of observation, that