Orthophony; Or, The Cultivation of the Voice, in Elocution: A Manual of Elementary Exercises, Adapted to Dr. Rush's "Philosophy of the Human Voice," and the System of Vocal Culture Introduced by Mr. James E. Murdoch. Designed as an Introduction to Russell's "American Elocutionist." (Google eBook)
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accent animated appropriate articulation Aspirated pectoral quality aspirated quality atonies Book of Psalms breath cadence character chest Coriolanus deep degree designation diphthong distinct ditone downward slide earth effect Effusive orotund element elocution emotion emphasis enunciation error exercises explosive expression Expulsive orotund fault feeling force forcible gentle glottis grave guttural habit heart heaven High pitch horror human voice Impassioned impressive language larynx light Lord Low pitch Median stress melody Metre Middle pitch Moderate monotone mouth movement muscles musical scale natural notes o'er orotund quality orthoepy orthophony passion pauses pharynx phrases practice prolonged prosodial pure tone purity of tone quantity radical stress reading render rhythm scale semitone sentence Shakspeare shout sion soft solemn soul speaking speech student style Subdued subtonic syllables termed thee thou tion tonic trachea unimpassioned upward vanishing stress verse vivid vocal organs vocal sound voice wave whispering words
Page 244 - Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart; — Go forth, under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings, while from all around — Earth and her waters, and the depths of air — Comes a still voice — Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more...
Page 284 - Besides, sir, we have no election. " If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery. Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable. And let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come! It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace, but there is no peace.
Page 257 - Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable — and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come. It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace — but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish ? What would they have ? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet,...
Page 125 - Hell from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy coming: it stirreth up the dead for thee, even all the chief ones of the earth; it hath raised up from their thrones all the kings of the nations.
Page 287 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips — "The foe! They come! they come!" And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering...
Page 116 - It must be so — Plato, thou reasonest well ; Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Of falling into nought ? Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? Tis the divinity that stirs within us ; 'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man...
Page 269 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set, but all — Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death...
Page 144 - I hate him for he is a Christian; But more for that in low simplicity He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
Page 61 - Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice; Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes; And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again.