will indeed be charmed with the beautiful diction, but will lose the entire design of the writers. There is a striking allegory contained in a short poem by Poe, called "The Haunted Palace." In the first part, the poet intends to describe a man in mental and physical health, the embodiment of the maxim mens sana in corpore sano; but in the second he portrays the same goodly structure stricken by insanity : "But evil things in robes of sorrow, Assail the monarch's high estate; "And travellers now within that valley, In the last Through the red-litten windows see, While like a rapid ghastly river, A hideous throng rush out for ever, stanza, "the red-litten windows," to represent the eyes of a madman, form a strong figure; and the mouth, with its "discordant" words, "a hideous throng," is powerfully portrayed in "the pale door" of the palace. Allegory is the common form in use among the eastern story-tellers. There is something akin to wit in telling a man what is personal, and leaving it to himself to make the application of it; and if, as in the powerful story of David and Nathan, it is so adroitly done that the meaning remains hidden until the moral has been inculcated in an impersonal manner, the application, "Thou art the man," is all the more forcible and complete. (106.) Antithesis. By Antithesis (Greek, avri and rionui, to place opposite or against, is the placing of two objects in themselves contraries or contradictories, so that each is rendered more striking and distinct by the contrast. Thus, "The wicked flee when no man pursueth; but the righteous is bold as a lion." By the use of this figure we exalt what is truly great, and belittle what is already low and mean. In discourse, as in painting, as everything is drawn with relative proportions, it is by antitheses that we determine these proportions. In many instances, antithesis is the principal element in wit; the unexpected contrast of objects. This figure seems to be, in effect, the opposite of comparison and metaphor, designed to show, not resemblance or similitude, but difference and contrast. It is this which gives point to the epigram in many cases; not by bringing together objects in themselves unlike, but by stating, as a conclusion, something entirely different from what we expected. Such points are found in some of the stanzas of Dr. Holmes's spirited poem "On Lending a PunchBowl:" "That night affrighted from his nest the screaming eagle flew, He heard the Pequot's ringing whoop, the soldier's wild halloo; And there the Sachem learned the rule he taught to kith and kin, 'Run from the white man when you find he smells of Holland Gin."" Not less striking is the contrast between what is expected and what occurs in the last stanza : "Then fill a fair and honest cup, and bring it straight to me, The goblet hallows all it holds, whate'er the liquid be; And may the cherubs on its face protect me from the sin, That dooms one to those dreadful words-' My dear, where have you been?"" It is by means of the Antithesis that the best results are obtained by writers in their passage "From grave to gay, from lively to severe." Truth appears more beautiful when we turn directly to it from the contemplation of error; beauty shines more brightly when arranged side by side with deformity. The long and dark night is the best usher of the glorious day. (107.) Onomatopoeia. This figure (Greek, ovoμa, a name, and now, to make) consists in the making or invention of words to imitate sounds; as hurly-burly, to indicate confused but turbulent sounds; did-der-rum-dum-dum, to express the sound of a drum; mew and purr, to imitate a cat; bow wow, for a dog; rat-tat-tat, to mark the knocking at a door. It is by the use of this figure that words were originally formed in imitation of the sound, as the roar of the tempest, or whistle of the wind; the buzzing of the bee; the booming of the cannon, &c.; and some persons have the faculty, in the use of this figure, of coining such words for present use. It is, however, a dangerous power, and should be very sparingly used. (108.) Climax. The last figure mentioned, and the one which will close our consideration of figurative language as conducive to the energy of style, is Climax. This word is derived from the Greek word xλuas, which means a stair or ladder. It consists in passing from the weakest or least striking statements, the words or members of a sentence or paragraph, successively to those which are stronger, and reserving the strongest for the last. When the reverse of this process is made, the figure is called an anti-climax. Sometimes the short succession of sentences, in which the last idea is constantly repeated in connection with a new one, called in logic a chain argument, is denominated a climax. A fine illustration of this figure, is found in a recent volume of Bancroft's History of the United States. It is the effect of the battle of Lexington : "Darkness closed upon the country and upon the town, but it was no night for sleep. Heralds on swift relays of horses transmitted the war-message from hand to hand, till village repeated it to village; the sea to the backwoods; the plains to the highlands; and it was never suffered to droop, till it had been borne north, and south, and east, and west, throughout the land. It spread over the bays that receive the Saco and the Penobscot. Its loud reveille broke the rest of the trappers of New Hampshire, and ringing the bugle notes from peak to peak, overleapt the Green Mountains, swept onward to Montreal, and descended the ocean river, till the responses were echoed from the cliffs of Quebec. The hills along the Hudson told to one another the tale. As the summons hurried to the south, it was one day at New York; in one more at Philadelphia; the next it lighted a watch-fire at Baltimore; thence it waked an answer at Annapolis. Crossing the |