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OF THE PRINCIPAL POSITIONS IAND ACTIONS IN SIGNIFICANT
THE FEET AND LOWER LIMBS. Their firm position signifies courage, determination, or obstinacy. Bended knees-timidity or weakness. Frequent change—disturbed thought. In desire or courage—advance. In aversion or fear-retire. In terror-start. In authority or anger-stamp. In submission and prayerkneel.
THE BODY. The body beld erect, indicates steadiness and courage. Thrown backpride or self-importance. Stooping forward-condescension, compassion, or courtesy. Bending-reverence or respect. Prostration—the utmost humility or abasement.
THE ARMS. The arm is projected forward in authority. Both arms are extended in admiration. Elevated, in supplication or imprecation. Held forward – imploring help. Fall suddenly-disappointment.
THE HANDS. The hand on the head, indicates pain or distress. On the eyes-shame or confusion. On the lips-injunction of silence. On the breast-appeals to conscience, or intimates desire, hope, affection. The hand waves or flourishes, in joy. Is shaken, in disdain. Is projected forward, in contempt. Both hands are held supine, applied, or clasped, in prayer. Both descend prone, in blessing. They are clasped or wrung, in afliction. They are held forward and received, in friendship.
THE EYES. They are raised, in prayer. They weep, in sorrow. They are cast on Vacancy, in thought. They look downwards, in shame. They are turned in different directions, in doubt and anxiety. They are downcast or turned away, in disappointment or displeasure.
THE HEAD AND FACE. The hanging down of the head denotes shame or grief. The holding it up, pride, courage, or valour. To nod forward implies assent. To toss the bead back, dissent. The inclination of the head implies bashfulness or languor. The head is averted, in dislike, antipathy, or horror. It leans forward, in attention.
NOTATION OF GESTURE AND MOTION.
Three kinds of Gesture.-REPRESENTATIVE, SYMPATHETIC, and COLLOQUIAL.
THE FEET AND TRUNK.
R.1 c., R. 2c., R. 3 c., L. 1c., L. 2 c., L. 3 c. The same, intermediate () and extended (w). Advancing (a), retiring (r), starting (st), stamping (stp.) kneeling (kn), traversing (tr.) The notation of the Feet always marked. below the line.
DIRECTION AND ELEVATION OF THE ARM. The right arm generally understood. The left arm expressed by a dash
before the notation. Rest, R. Across,
Preparation, / Downwards, d. Forwards, f. Continuation, Horizontal, h, Oblique,
Alternate, al. Zenith, 2. Backwards,
Both arms, B. PRINCIPAL MOTIONS OF THE ARMS. Ascending, Outwards,
A-kimbo, k. Descending, d. Inwards,
Reposed, тр. Revolving, v. Waving,
st. Grasping, . gr. Undercurve, Flourishing, A. Rejecting, rj. Serpentine, Trembling, tr. Encumbered, en.
Both hands. B. The arms generally to describe diagonal returning curves (page 61).
The NINETEEN special motions as illustrated by the Diagrams. (Pages 64-68.)
PRINCIPAL POSITIONS AND MOTIONS OF THE HANDS. Natural,
addressing, declaring. Supine,
appealing, exhorting, entreating. Prone,
p. forbidding, rejecting, commanding, Clinched,
strong passion or violent agitation. Indexing,
pointing, reproving, warning. Applied,
ар. prayer, supplication, entreaty. Clasped,
cl. an energetic form of the preceding. Wringing,
anguish, remorse, distraction. Orossed,
resignation, meekness. Enumerating,
analytical parts of discourse. PARTS OF THE BODY ON WHICH THE HAND MAY BE PLACED. Breast, B. | Eyes, E. | Lips, L. | Forehead, F. | Chin, C.
POSTURES AND MOTIONS OF THE HEAD.
Marked on the margin of the page. Erect,
E. Shaking, . Sh. Assenting, As. Inclined, I. Aside,
S. Denying Dn. LOOKS OF THE EYES.—Marked in the margin. Forwards, F. Downwards, D. Around,
R. Averted, A.
U. Vacuity, V.
SELECTIONS IN POETRY.
I.—THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH.-A. W. Longfellow. UNDER a spreading chestnut-tree the village smithy stands; The Smith, a mighty man is he, with large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long, his face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, he earns whate'er he can; And looks the whole world in the face, for he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night you can hear his
bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, with measured
beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village-bell, when the evening sun
And children coming home from school look in at the open
door; They love to see the flaming forge, and hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly like chaff from a
goes on Sunday to the church, and sits among his boys; He hears the Parson pray and preach—he hears his daugh
ter's voice Singing in the village choir, and it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her Mother's voice, singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, how in the grave
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes a tear out of his Toiling-rojoicing-sorrowing, onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begun, each evening sees it
close; Something attempted, something done, has earned a night's
repose. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, for the lesson
thou hast taught! Thus at the flaming forge of life our fortunes must be
wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped each burning deed and
II.-EXCELSIOR.-H. W. Longfelloro.
At break of day, as heavenward
III.-A PSALM OF LIFE. —H. W. Longfellow. TELL me not, in mournful numbers, “Life is but an empty
dream!” For the soul is dead that slumbers, and things are not what
they seem. Life is real! life is earnest! and the grave is not its goal: "Dust thou art, to dust returnest,” was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, is our destined end or way; But to act, that each To-morrow finds us farther than To-day. Art is long, and time is fleeting; and our hearts, though
stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating funeral marches to the
grave. In the world's broad field of battle, in the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! be a hero in the strife ! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! let the dead Past bury
its dead! Act-act in the living Present! heart within, and God o'erhead! Lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives
sublime; And, departing, leave behind ils footprints on the sands of
time; Footprints that perhaps another, sailing 'er Life's solemn
main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, seeing, shall take heart
again. Let us then be up and doing, with a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing,–learn to labour and to wait.