uttered, and most effectually impresses that meaning, or fails to impress it upon the minds of all listeners.

The tones of the voice can be so modulated that they will indicate joy or grief, pleasure or pain, confidence or doubt, etc.

The prophet, Ezra, and his assistant readers of the Book of the Law of God, are said to have read the Word distinctly, and to have given the sense; that is they so modulated their voices, as to impress the sense or meaning upon the minds of the people, that they could clearly understand and feel the truth; and, as if this was not enough, they caused them to understand the meaning either by repeating, or explaining, or illustrating the meaning.

The voice can be modulated in several ways as follows:

1st. By varying the tone, higher or lower, with reference to the key note.

2d. By changing its quality-making the tones pure, or smooth, or rough or harsh.

3d. By changing the quantity of sound; as loud or soft.

4th. By inflections of the tone.

5th. By monotone

or using the same tone for all words. 6th. By emphasis or by giving a louder, or varied tone to the more important word or words.

-

All these modulations are to be governed by the sense or meaning of the language used, subject to the will of the reader. As a general thing they are to be governed by customary laws.

By common consent, these laws require uniformity of modulation; so that certain shades of meaning, and certain emotional language, will require uniform modulation.

All good oral reading and speaking require first: distinctness of enumeration, and of articulation of all words and terms, and also of pronunciation.

Second, they require a proper modulation of voice adapted to the meaning of the language used.

Let us illustrate modulation of voice by referring to the familiar question, "Will you ride to town today?"

By varying the tones and inflections, this question may have six different meanings. Each word in this question may be emphasized by the inflections of the voice as follows:

Will you ride to town today? [or to-morrow?]

town

?

or to the country?]

But it may be that some adult person will say that "this voiceculture is all right for the young people of our schools; but how shall we older people remedy our own defects, as we have left the schools?"

The remedy is at hand, for all who are ready to use it. Still, it must be admitted, that very few persons whose voices and ears have not been properly trained in childhood and youth, will acquire the same culture and skill in training their voices now, that they would have done in their youth.

A long disuse of any physical power is destructive to the power itself.

The eyeless fish, in the Mammoth Cave river, have places for eyes, tightly closed indeed because the Cave is totally dark, and they have no use for their eyes. Whether or not the eyesight of these fish would be restored if they were to be removed to waters exposed to common daylight, no one has yet satisfactorily shown.

But there is abundant evidence to prove that an adult, uncultivated voice can be greatly improved by use and good training, and in some cases reach a high degree of culture.

The best way, and in fact almost the only efficient and expeditious way of doing this desirable work, is to begin by practicing a careful and correct analysis of all common words into their elementary sounds.

This practice should always, at first, be under the direction of one, who is master of the vocal scale, or of the 41 sounds.

This practice should also include enunciation and articulation and pronunciation; and it should be continued regularly, until all the sounds can be enunciated and articulated correctly and easily.

As a general thing, if a speaker is not heard readily, the demand is made at once, "Speak louder." But oftentimes, and generally increased loudness increases the indistinctness. The direction

should therefore, be "enunciate, and give every sound in each word clearly"; and then "articulate, or join the sounds distinctly, and deliberately"; then let the voice be properly modulated, and there will be little or no difficulty in hearing by partially deaf people.

ΟΝ

SUNRISE ON THE RIGHI.*

PROF. FRANKLIN B. SAWVEL, GREENVILLE, PA.

N a bright day late in July, I entered Switzerland by way of the Rhine, Baden, Basle and Olten to Lucerne. My first taste of Alpine scenery was a moonlight ride in an observation car from Basle to Lucerne, a distance of fifty-nine miles. The gibbous moon played in and out, up and down among fleecy cloudheaps, and the black cones of the Juras, with soft blue sky-fields for a back-ground. From the brakes and brambles came through the open windows occasional notes and snatches of song of the katydid, the only genuinely American sound afloat that evening; and a gladdening sweet music it seemed.

At

Upon reaching Lucerne at half past ten I hastened to rest. four the next morning I was aroused by the breaking of a thunder storm with its stunning peals, vivid lightnings and threatening crash as it swept around and among the snow-streaked summits of the Lopperberg and Mons. Pilatus.

Everything around Lucerne is instinct with life, beauty and strength; mountain spires shoot up on the south, east and west and wild foaming torrents rush down the "Garden of the Glaciers" fit abode of Dryads and Naiads; and the Thorwaldsen "Lion of Lucerne" chiselled into the broad face of the mountain. And was there more than once immortalized in art such pain and willing agony mingled with such divine resignation. Historical ruins, tombs, vales, caves and cliffs sacred to the name of Tell and rich in reminiscences of the brave Swiss Guards and the Hapsburghs.

An occasional shower with broad stretches of dreamy sunshine between, rescued the day from fatigue and monotony, and the whole was an inspiriting prelude to the twofold elevation of mountain-climbing.

Promptly at six in the afternoon, I left the Port and crossed the lake, which is only a few miles wide, to ascend the Righi.

This mountain is in central Switzerland between the two charming lakes, Zug and Lucerne, and has long been famous for its

*Copyrighted 1894 by Franklin B. Sawvel.

beautiful sunrise. It rises abruptly up and up to the height of nearly five thousand feet. This is no marvellous height to be sure, but from its isolation and vast theatre-like surroundings, it commands magnificent views. To the north-east lies a narrow plain, and eastward the horizion pushes out over descending crests till lodged among the foot-hills; close on the south and around through the south-west and west, spreads an amphitheater of mountain and valley, rising row after row till crest and sky meet.

See that irregular block of conglomerate of unknown thickness, two to five miles broad, and seven to ten miles long, with one corner buried in the lakes and the opposite northeast corner tilted up almost a mile above the plain, and the sharp point chipped off to a level top not larger than a garden spot! That is Righi

Mountain.

But to the sunrise. I ascended from Vitznaw at the western foot to within a half kilometer of the top and lodged for the night as advised by a guide. The next morning I resumed the journey on foot. One must sleep on the mountain as well as muse there, for the dream fugue of Alpine slumber is a mental elixir, as well as imagination's paradise. The climb was brisk, through crisp pure air and quickened by an exhilarating expectancy, just the tonic for such a feast of eye and soul. I gained the summit at three, and was the solitary watcher for ten minutes.

The mountain breaks off abruptly. Down, down, three and a half thousand feet, vertically below, nestles a beautiful lake under the overhanging mountain. Twilight is already darting fan-shape up the sky. A storm in the night had swept the heavens and left the sky an unbroken dome of blue, except a few lagging remnants -black-visaged heaps-above the eastern horizon with smaller ones scattered back toward the north and south waiting to unfurl their fleecy banners.

An increasing stream in ones, twos and fives to scores, pours up the side, up the crest, and out of hotels and inns, till more than three hundred are formed in eager lines and groups along the dizzy height. A thousand feet below bunches of leaden-clouds, with one edge clinging to the rocks, are unfolding and stretching across the mist-dotted lake. Daylight is just lighting up the slopes, plain and valleys, clad in summer beauty. The dark, distant west is receding. Each moment now adds new interest and fresh beauties.

Salesmen-and-women, with packs of many sizes and shapes arrive as in course, and spread out their stores of laces, embroideries, wood-carvings, souvenirs and countless trinkets, while with equal zeal and promptness the trembling tones and windings of a genuine Alpine horn break the gathering spell with weird, wild music and expectant gaze,—more gaze than music, and more expectancy than enchantment. Neither incident catches the growing enthusiasm— not even the fairy echoes from the adjoining slopes. The lines sway, but soon all eyes return transfixed. There is an easy, artful shifting for advantage of view, but no demonstration. A kind of spirited calm! No noise of lashing waves below or distant roar; no measured tread or crash of bursting storm! Only the rustle of waking Nature, that stillness which is the voice of power and immensity.

The hand has crept once around the dial, and time is now to be counted by quickening pulse-beats.

A yellow band appears above the cortege of waiting clouds, which are now flushed and overflowing with crimson, while the margins of the widening rift are beaded and flecked with gold and purple, melting into silvery flakes of whiteness. The moment arrives. The whole scene moves. The cloud-wings lift and amid the stillness and peering, breathless gaze of that eager multitude, forth into the deep sky-meadows beyond, steps the King of Day.

An "Ah" of inexpressible delight goes up from every heart and lip as a sea of light pours over one hundred twenty miles of snowfields and mountain peaks, green slopes and leaping cataracts, and breaks around the horizon for three hundred miles! Thirteen crystal lakes in full view, flash and sparkle at the kiss of his beam, and a score of towns and villages awake at the touch of his ray. It is sunrise! Sunrise on the Righi!