and his precision, though not great, is as great as his subjects generally require. The construction of his sentences is easy, agreeable, and commonly very musical. In figurative language he is rich; particularly in metaphors; which are so employed as to render his style splendid, without being gaudy. There is not the least affectation in his manner: we see no mark of labor; nothing forced or constrained; but great elegance joined with great ease and simplicity. He is particularly distinguished by a character of modesty and politeness, which appears in all his writings. No writer has a more popular and insinuating manner; and the great regard which he every where shows for virtue and religion, recommends him highly. If he fails in any thing, it is, that he wants strength; which renders his manner, though perfectly suited to the essays in the Spectator, not altogether a proper model for any of the higher kinds of composition.

Of affectation in style, which is opposed to simplicity, we have a remarkable instance in our language. Lord Shaftesbury, though an author of considerable merit, can express nothing with simplicity. He seems to have considered it vulgar, and beneath the dignity of a man of fashion, to speak like other men. Hence, he is perpetually in buskins; replete with circumlocutions and artificial elegance. In every sentence the marks of labor are visible; no appearance of that ease which expresses a sentiment coming natural and warm from the heart. He abounds with figures and ornaments of every kind; is sometimes happy in them; but his fondness for them is too conspicuous; and having once seized some metaphor or allusion that pleased him, he knows not how to part with it. He possessed delicacy and refinement of taste, to a degree that may be called excessive and sickly; but he had little warmth of passion; and the coldness of his character suggested that artificial and stately manner which appears in his writings. No author is more dangerous to the tribe of imitators than Shaftesbury, who,

Of the construction of his sentences, and of his metaphors, particularly, what is remarked? What remarks follow? For what is he particularly distinguished; and what recommend him highly? If he fails in any thing, in what is it; and what is its effect? Of affectation in style, who is the most remarkable instance in our language; and what is remarked of him? In every sentence what are visible; and without any appearance of what? With what does he abound; and what is observed of them? What did he possess; and to what degree? Why is he dangerous to the tribe of imitators?

amidst very considerable blemishes, has, at the same time, many dazzling and imposing beauties.

It is very possible, however, for an author to write with simplicity, and yet to be destitute of beauty. He may be free from affectation, and not have merit. The beautiful simplicity supposes an author to possess real genius; and capable of writing with solidity, purity, and liveliness of imagination. In this case the simplicity or unaffectedness of his manner is the crowning ornament: it heightens every other beauty; it is the dress of nature, without which all beauties are imperfect. But if the mere absence of affectation were sufficient to constitute the beauty of style, weak and dull writers might often have pretensions to it. And accordingly we frequently meet with pretended critics, who extol the dullest writers on account of what they call the 'chaste simplicity of their manner;' which, in fact, is nothing but the absence of all ornament, through the mere want of genius and imagination. A distinction, therefore, must be made between the simplicity which accompanies true genius, and which is perfectly compatible with every proper ornament of style, and that which is no other than a careless and slovenly manner.

Another character of style, different from those which have already been mentioned, is the vehement. This always implies strength; and is not, in any respect, inconsistent with simplicity. It is distinguished by a peculiar ardor; it is the language of a man whose imagination and passions are heated, and strongly affected by what he writes; who is, therefore, negligent of lesser graces, but pours himself forth with the rapidity and fullness of a torrent. It belongs to the higher kinds of oratory; and, indeed, is rather expected from a man who is speaking, than from one who is writing in his closet. The orations of Demosthenes furnish the fullest and most perfect example of this species of style. Having ascertained and explained the different characters

How does it appear that an author may write with simplicity, and yet be destitute of beauty; and what does the beautiful simplicity suppose? In this case what is the crowning ornament; and why? hy? But if the mere absence of affectation were sufficient to constitute the beauty of style, what would follow? Accordingly, with what do we frequently meet; and what is observed of it? Between what, therefore, must a distinction be raade? Of the vehement style what is remarked; and with what is it not inconsistent? What is farther observed of it; and to what does it belong? Whose orations furnish an example of this species of style? Having explained the different characters of style, with what shall we conclude ?

of style, we shall conclude our observations with a few directions for the attainment of excellence in writing.

The first direction proper to be observed, is, to study clear ideas on the subject concerning which we are to write or to speak. This direction may appear, at first, to have little relation to style; but its relation to it is extremely close. The style and thoughts of a writer are so intimately connected, that, as has already been frequently hinted, it is often difficult to distinguish them. Wherever the impression of things upon our minds are faint and indistinct, or perplexed and confused, our style, in treating of such things, will infallibly be so too. But, what we conceive clearly and feel strongly, we shall naturally express with clearness and with strength. We should, therefore, think closely on the subject, till we shall have attained a full and distinct view of the matter which we are to clothe in words till we become warm and interested in it; then, and not till then, shall we find expression begin to flow.

In the second place, to the acquisition of a good style, frequency of composing is indispensably necessary. Many rules respecting style have been delivered, but no rules will answer the end without exercise and habit. At the same time, it is not every sort of composing that will improve style. This is so far from being the case, that by frequent, careless, and hasty composition, we shall acquire a very bad style; and shall have more trouble afterwards in unlearning faults, and correcting negligences, than if we had not been accustomed to compose at all. In the beginning, therefore, we ought to write with great deliberation and care. Facility and rapidity are the fruit of practice and experience. We must be cautious, however, not to retard the course of thought, nor cool the ardor of imagination, by pausing too long on every word we employ. There is, on certain occasions, a glow of composition which should be kept up, if we hope to express ourselves happily, though at the expense of some inaccuracies. A more severe examination must be the work of correction. What we have written should be laid aside for some time, till the ardor of compo

What is the first; and what is remarked of it? How is this remark illustrated? What should we, therefore, do; and why? In the second place, to the acquisition of a good style, what is requisite; but at the same time, why will not every kind of composition improve it? In the beginning, therefore, how should we write; but of what must we be cautious; and why? How should we correct what we may have written?

sition be past; till the partiality for our expressions be weakened, and the expressions themselves be forgotten; and then, examining our work with a cool and critical eye, as if it were the performance of another, we shall discover many imperfections, which at first escaped our notice.

In the third place, an acquaintance with the style of the best authors is peculiarly requisite. Hence a just taste will be formed, and a copious fund of words be supplied, on every subject. No exercise, perhaps, will be found more useful for acquiring a proper style, than to translate some passage from an elegant author, into our own words. Thus to take, for instance, a page of one of Mr. Addison's papers in the Spectator, and read it carefully two or three times over, till we are in full possession of the thoughts it contains; then to lay aside the book; to attempt to write out the passage from memory, as well as we can; and having done so, open the book, and compare what we have written with the style of the author. Such an exercise will, by comparison, show us where our defects lie; will teach us how to correct them ; and, from the variety of expression which it will exhibit, will conduct us to that which is most beautiful and perfect.

In the fourth place, a caution must be given against a servile imitation of any one author whatever. Imitation hampers genius, and generally produces stiffness of expression. They who follow an author minutely, commonly copy his faults as well as his beauties. No one will ever be an accomplished writer or speaker, who has not some confidence in his own genius. We ought carefully to avoid using any author's particular phrases, or transcribing passages from him: such a habit will prove fatal to all genuine composition. It is much better to possess something of our own, though of inferior beauty, than to endeavor to shine in borrowed ornaments, which will, at last, betray the utter barrenness of our genius.

In the fifth place, it is an obvious, but material rule, with respect to style, that we always study to adapt it to the subject, and also to the capacity of our hearers, if we are to

What is the third direction? What exercise is recommended; and what illustration is given? What will be the effect of such an exercise? What is the fourth direction; and why is it given? Without what will no one ever be an accomplished writer or speaker; what ought we, therefore, carefully to avoid; and why? What remark follows? In the fifth place, what is an obvious rule with respect to style; and what is awkward and absurd ?

speak in public. To attempt a poetical style, when it should be our business to argue and reason only, is, in the highest degree, awkward and absurd. To speak with elaborate pomp of words, before those who cannot comprehend them, is equally ridiculous and useless. When we begin to write or speak, we should previously impress on our minds a 'complete idea of the end to be aimed at; keep this steadily in view, and adapt our style to it.

We must, in the last place, remember, that attention to style must not engross us so much, as to prevent a higher degree of attention to the thoughts. This rule is the more necessary, since the present taste of the age seems to be directed more to style than to thought. It is much more easy to dress up trifling and common thoughts with some ornament of expression, than to afford a fund of vigorous, ingenious, and useful sentiments. The latter requires genius; the former may be attained by industry, with the aid of very superficial parts. Hence the crowd of writers who are rich in words, but poor in sentiments. The public ear is now so much accustomed to a correct and ornamented style, that no writer can, with safety, neglect the study of it. But he is a contemptible one, who looks not beyond the dress of language; who lays not the chief stress upon his matter; and who does not regard ornament as a secondary and inferior recommendation.

What is equally ridiculous and useless; and what remark follows? What must we, in the last place, remember; and why is this rule the more necessary? What remark follows; and why is this the case? What is the present state of the public ear; and who, consequently, is a contemptible writer ?

E. Style to be adapted to the

subject.

F. Thoughts to be attended to rather than style.