ever since! But I have done with him-he's anybody's son for me-I never will see him more-never-never-never-never. Capt. A. Now for a penitential face!

Sir A. Fellow, get out of my way!

Capt. A. Sir, you see a penitent before you.

Sir A. I see an impudent scoundrel before me.

Capt. A. A sincere penitent. I am come, sir, to acknowledge my error and to submit entirely to your will.

Sir A. What's that?

Capt. A. I have been revolving, and reflecting, and considering on your past goodness, and kindness, and condescension to

me.

Sir A. Well, sir!

Capt. A. I have been likewise weighing and balancing what you were pleased to mention concerning duty, and obedience, and authority.

Sir A. Why, now, you talk sense, absolute sense; I never heard anything more sensible in my life. Confound you, you shall be Jack again!

Capt. A. I am happy in the appellation.

Sir A. Why, then, Jack, my dear Jack, I will now inform you who the lady really is. Nothing but your passion and violence, you silly fellow, prevented me telling you at first. Prepare, Jack, for wonder and rapture-prepare! What think you of Miss Lydia Languish?

Capt. A. Languish! What, the Languishes of Worcestershire? Sir A. Worcestershire! No! Did you never meet Mrs. Malaprop and her niece, Miss Languish, who came into our country just before you were last ordered to your regiment?

Capt. A. Malaprop! Languish! I don't remember ever to have heard the name before. Yet stay: I think I do recollect something. She squints, don't she?

Languish-Languish!

A little red-haired girl?

Sir A. Squints! A red-haired girl! Zounds, no!

Capt A. Then I must have forgot: it can't be the same

person.

Sir A. Jack, Jack! what think you of blooming, love-breathing seventeen?

Capt. A. As to that, sir, I am quite indifferent; if I can please you in the matter, 'tis all I desire.

Sir A. Nay, but Jack, such eyes! such eyes! so innocently wild! so bashfully irresolute! Not a glance but speaks and kindles some thought of love! Then, Jack, her cheeks! her cheeks, Jack! so deeply blushing at the insinuations of her telltale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips! Oh, Jack, lips, smiling at their own discretion! and, if not smiling, more sweetly poutingmore lovely in sullenness! Then, Jack, her neck! Oh, Jack! Jack!

Capt. A. And which is to be mine, sir, the niece or the aunt? Sir A. Why, you unfeeling, insensible puppy, I despise you! When I was of your age, such a description would have made me fly like a rocket! The aunt, indeed! Odds life! when I ran away with your mother, I would not have touched anything old or ugly to gain an empire!

Capt. A. Not to please your father, sir?

Sir A. To please my father-zounds! not to please-Oh! my father? Oddso! yes, yes! if my father, indeed, had desiredthat's quite another matter. Tho he wasn't the indulgent father that I am, Jack.

Capt. A. I dare say not, sir.

Sir A. But, Jack, you are not sorry to find your mistress is so beautiful?

Capt. A. Sir, I repeat it, if I please you in this affair, 'tis all I desire. Not that I think a woman the worse for being handsome; but, sir, if you please to recollect, you before hinted something about a hump or two, one eye, and a few more graces of that kind. Now, without being very nice, I own I should rather choose a wife of mine to have the usual number of limbs, and a limited quantity of back; and tho one eye may be very agreeable, yet, as the prejudice has always run in favor of two, I would not wish to affect a singularity in that article.

Sir A. What a phlegmatic sot it is! Why, sirrah, you are an anchorite! a vile, insensible stock! You a soldier! you're a walking block, fit only to dust the company's regimentals on! Odds life, I've a great mind to marry the girl myself!

Capt. A. I am entirely at your disposal, sir, if you should

think of addressing Miss Languish yourself, I suppose you would have me marry the aunt; or if you should change your mind, and take the old lady, 'tis the same to me— -I'll marry the niece. Sir A. Upon my word, Jack, thou art either a very great hypocrite, or-but, come, I know your indifference on such a subject must be all a lie-I'm sure it must. Come, now, hang your demure face; come, confess, Jack, you have been lying, haven't you? You have been playing the hypocrite, hey? I'll never forgive you, if you haven't been lying and playing the hypocrite.

Capt. A. I am sorry, sir, that the respect and duty which I bear to you should be so mistaken.

Sir A. Respect and duty! But come along with me. I'll write a note to Mrs. Malaprop, and you shall visit the lady directly. Her eyes shall be the Promethean torch to you-come along, I'll never forgive you if you don't come back stark mad with rapture and impatience-if you don't, 'egad, I'll marry the girl myself.

[Exeunt.

1

CHAPTER VIII

HOW TO TRAIN THE MEMORY

The extemporaneous style of delivery should be the ultimate aim of every public speaker. To this end the memory should be cultivated to the highest possible degree. Many persons despair because of their poor and unreliable memories, but they are unwilling to give the time and practise necessary to develop them. There is no royal road to this as to any other branch of study. The memory can be cultivated, however, by any one having the necessary perseverance and application.

Memory is largely a matter of association of ideas. If we cultivate the habit of being interested, we are at the same time strengthening the memory. Memory depends upon securing vivid first impressions. These come through concentration, and we concentrate when we are sufficiently interested.

There are numerous so-called "memory systems," but the objection usually offered to them is that the end does not justify the means. If the average student had sufficient time and patience to carry the exercises to completion, he would doubtless be greatly benefited, but in most cases he soon becomes disheartened and gives up his study before any substantial results are possible.

What constitutes a good memory? One might answer, the ability to recall accurately and instantly the greatest

number of things at the moment of need. A well-trained memory, then, may be likened unto a series of pigeon-holes, in which knowledge may be found so systematized as to make it casily available.

If the memory be poor it will be helpful at first to inquire into the reason for this condition. Such questions may be asked as: Is it lack of proper practise? Is it due to ill health? Is it lack of observation or of interest? Is there a systematic plan of gathering and recording knowledge? Are the daily habits of thinking and reading well-ordered? Is there lack of thoroughness, accuracy, and deliberateness? These and similar questions should be answered frankly, and a determined effort made to correct such faults as are noted.

To strengthen the memory it is advisable to form the habit of making comparisons and contrasts. In reading a book one should take notes and at the first opportunity try to repeat from memory, to some other person, the general ideas of what has been read. It is helpful also to interrogate one's self as to what has been seen or read. A good exercise is to read a passage from some writer and endeavor to repeat the same ideas in different words and in as many ways as possible. Vivid picturing of the thought helps to impress it upon the mind, and frequent repetition of a passage or speech will gradually fix it in the memory.

Committing to heart each day a verse or prose extract will train the memory with surprizing rapidity. An exercise that has been used with good results is to enter a room, take a quick glance around, walk out, and write down what you remember of the things that you have seen. The same exercise can be applied to passing a shop-window.

The following selections are suggested for memorizing,