England, and all further effort there being at an end, that if Junius lived he would change his base of operations if a favorable opportunity offered, and strike once more for the liberties of the people. Thus the natural order of things leads us to an irresistible conclusion. But in order not to be too hasty we ought to ask: Is there not one fact in the whole life and character of Mr. Paine incompatible with Junius? When it is found I will surrender the argument. But let us proceed.

Nature is prodigal of varieties. No two individuals are alike, either in physical form or mental features. Great differences may be found even among those most resembling each other, but when we find a man prominent among his fellow-kind, it is because of marked characteristics in which he greatly differs from the rest. These characteristics are expressed in action. A record of these actions is the history of men. Faust gives us movable type, and Watt the steam-engine. Newton asks nature to reveal her mode of operation in the movement of matter. Bacon asks her for her method. Buckle inquires after the science of history. Napoleon was a magazine of war. And thus great minds reveal themselves in their own way; and the more striking and peculiar the characteristic, the more easily can we distinguish and describe the person. Mr. Paine was a literary adventurer. And unlike adventurers in conquest or discovery, he left the record of his course as he went along. His was not a path in the sea, nor foot-prints in the sand, but a work like that of Euclid or Laplace, carved out of thought; he called

out of chaos a new world of politics; he fought great battles and won victories with the pen. To know the man, then, we must examine his writings. To this end, therefore, I call the reader's attention to his style.

STYLE.

I WILL first make some concise remarks upon this subject, to aid us in comparing Junius with Mr. Paine; because I propose to show that the style of the one is the style of the other.

Style, by most authors, is treated under the following heads: Perspicuity, Vivacity, and Beauty. Perspicuity, I define, the clear and true expression of our thoughts in the fewest words. Vivacity is the energy or life of expression; it attracts the attention, and excites the imagination. It takes the will by storm and produces conviction. Combined with perspicuity it becomes eloquence. Beauty is the harmony and smoothness of of expression, and is often made synonymous with elegance.

The first requisite in style is perspicuity. It is a prevalent notion among the vulgar that clearness of expression leads to dryness and dullness in speaking or writing, owing to the plain garb in which ideas are clothed. But the fact is, the very reverse of this is true, and as the legitimate result.

Words are said to be the signs of ideas, or symbols of thought. But words spoken is thought passing in the air; they are ideas in invisible vibrations, and a sound can neither be a sign nor a symbol. But words written are sym

bols of thought. Language addresses both the ear and the eye. The true end and aim of language is to make others feel the full force of an idea as it is felt by the speaker. Language must therefore be forever imperfect, and this from the nature of things, or at least till ideas can be silently conveyed upon the waves of some subtle nerve force. Ideas flit from the mind with the rapidity of lightning. To the inward beholder truth becomes visible at times instantaneously. He sees it, he feels it; it fills him with emotions; it struggles for utterance. Truth writhes to get free and become universally, instead of particularly, known and felt. It may be and is felt instantaneously, yet it can not be expressed in words for hours, and perhaps never; certainly never as it should be. Truth rests in the mind, or flutters there in ideal beauty. It requires an artist transcending earthly perfection to breathe it to the ear or throw it out to the eye on canvas. The tongue and hand both fail, the sounds are discordant, and the lines are broken. In the one instance we have a jumble of sounds, and in the other a daub for a picture.

It becomes apparent at once, the more words we use to express thought, the more it is cumbered with technicalities and idiomatic phrases, just so much more gross, and feeble, and uninviting it becomes, because robbed of its ideal beauty. But, on the contrary, if a word or a look or a touch could express it, its beauty, and its power, and its worth would not be thus blemished. Byron would have spoken that word were it lightning. Hence arises the interest and charm in beholding the picture of an artist, where so much is revealed at a glance; for it is thought which is

expressed there. Hence, also, it becomes evident that far more can be expressed in a figure of speech, quickly and boldly put, than could be otherwise presented in hours or days. "A single hieroglyphic character,' says Champoleon le June, "would probably convey more to the mind of an ancient Egyptian than a quarto page would to a European."

Perspicuity, therefore, is not necessarily devoid of energy or elegance, in fact the only means to secure a clear and concise style is to use the trope-especially in the two forms of metaphor and comparison: observing always that long and labored figures of speech are generally ambiguous, and always have a bad effect. Their beauty, and worth, and power consist in the brevity and clearness with which they are expressed. "The thought expressed in a single line by Chaucer," says Lord Kames, "gives more luster to a young beauty, than the whole of his much labored poem,

"Up rose the sun, and up rose Emilie."

Perspicuity, then, we would consider the very soul of vivacity, and vivacity the soul of eloquence.

The elegance or beauty of expression is of far less consequence, and must often be sacrificed to the very nature of ideas. It can not be said that all ideas are beautiful. There are uncomely and hideous things on earth; there are disagreeable and hateful subjects to be spoken of, and there are painful feelings to be expressed, Language would fail to subserve the end for which it exists, did it not correspond to the sources of thought and the objects to be described; otherwise it would not be language. To be elegant, therefore, at all times, in