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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of English: Composition and Literature, by W.
+F. (William Franklin) Webster
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: English: Composition and Literature
+
+
+Author: W. F. (William Franklin) Webster
+
+
+
+Release Date: February 16, 2009  [eBook #28097]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH: COMPOSITION AND
+LITERATURE***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Carl Hudkins, Fred Robinson, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
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+
+
+
+
+
+ENGLISH: COMPOSITION AND LITERATURE
+
+by
+
+W. F. WEBSTER
+
+Principal of the East High School
+Minneapolis, Minnesota
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Houghton Mifflin Company
+Boston: 4 Park Street; New York: 85 Fifth Avenue
+Chicago: 378-388 Wabash Avenue
+
+The Riverside Press Cambridge
+
+Copyright, 1900 and 1902, by W. F. Webster
+All Rights Reserved
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+In July, 1898, I presented at the National Educational Association,
+convened in Washington, a Course of Study in English. At Los Angeles,
+in 1899, the Association indorsed the principles[1] of this course,
+and made it the basis of the Course in English for High Schools. At
+the request of friends, I have prepared this short text-book,
+outlining the method of carrying forward the course, and emphasizing
+the principles necessary for the intelligent communication of ideas.
+
+It has not been the purpose to write a rhetoric. The many fine
+distinctions and divisions, the rarefied examples of very beautiful
+forms of language which a young pupil cannot possibly reproduce, or
+even appreciate, have been omitted. To teach the methods of simple,
+direct, and accurate expression has been the purpose; and this is all
+that can be expected of a high school course in English.
+
+The teaching of composition differs from the teaching of Latin or
+mathematics in this point: whereas pupils can be compelled to solve a
+definite number of problems or to read a given number of lines, it is
+not possible to compel expression of the full thought. The full
+thought is made of an intellectual and an emotional element. Whatever
+is intellectual may be compelled by dint of sheer purpose; whatever is
+emotional must spring undriven by outside authority, and uncompelled
+by inside determination. A boy saws a cord of wood because he has been
+commanded by his father; but he cannot laugh or cry because directed
+to do so by the same authority. There must be the conditions which
+call forth smiles or tears. So there must be the conditions which call
+forth the full expression of thought, both what is intellectual and
+what is emotional. This means that the subject shall be one of which
+the writer knows something, and in which he is interested; that the
+demands in the composition shall not be made a discouragement; and
+that the teacher shall be competent and enthusiastic, inspiring in
+each pupil a desire to say truly and adequately the best he thinks and
+feels.
+
+These conditions cannot be realized while working with dead fragments
+of language; but they are realized while constructing living wholes of
+composition. It is not two decades ago when the pupil in drawing was
+compelled to make straight lines until he made them all crooked. The
+pupil in manual training began by drawing intersecting lines on two
+sides of a board; then he drove nails into the intersections on one
+side, hoping that they would hit the corresponding points on the
+other. Now no single line or exercise is an end in itself; it
+contributes to some whole. Under the old method the pupil did not care
+or try to draw a straight line, or to drive a nail straight; but now,
+in order that he may realize the idea that lies in his mind, he does
+care and he does try: so lines are drawn better and nails are driven
+straighter than before. In all training that combines intellect and
+hand, the principle has been recognized that the best work is done
+when the pupil's interest has been enlisted by making each exercise
+contribute directly to the construction of some whole. Only in the
+range of the spiritual are we twenty years behind time, trying to get
+the best construction by compulsion. It is quite time that we
+recognized that the best work in composition can be done, not while
+the pupil is correcting errors in the use of language which he never
+dreamed of, nor while he is writing ten similes or ten periodic
+sentences, but when both intellect and feeling combine and work
+together to produce some whole. Then into the construction of this
+whole the pupil will throw all his strength, using the most apt
+comparisons, choosing the best words, framing adequate sentences, in
+order that the outward form may worthily present to others what to
+himself has appeared worthy of expression.
+
+There are some persons who say that other languages are taught by the
+word and sentence method; then why not English? These persons overlook
+the fact that we are leaving that method as rapidly as possible, and
+adopting a more rational method which at once uses a language to
+communicate thought. And they overlook another fact of even greater
+importance: the pupil entering the high school is by no means a
+beginner in English. He has been using the language ten or twelve
+years, and has a fluency of expression in English which he cannot
+attain in German throughout a high school and college course. The
+conditions under which a pupil begins the study of German in a high
+school and the study of English composition are entirely dissimilar;
+and a conclusion based upon a fancied analogy is worthless.
+
+It is preferable, then, to practice the construction of wholes rather
+than the making of exercises; and it is best at the beginning to study
+the different kinds of wholes, one at a time, rather than all
+together. No one would attempt to teach elimination by addition and
+subtraction, by comparison and by substitution, all together; nor
+would an instructor take up heat, light, and electricity together. In
+algebra, or physics, certain great principles underlie the whole
+subject; and these appear and reappear as the study progresses through
+its allied parts. Still the best results are obtained by taking up
+these several divisions of the whole one after another. And in English
+the most certain and definite results are secured by studying the
+forms of discourse separately, learning the method of applying to each
+the great principles that underlie all composition.
+
+If the forms of discourse are to be studied one after another, which
+shall be taken up first? In general, all composition may be separated
+into two divisions: composition which deals with things, including
+narration and description; and composition which deals with ideas,
+comprising exposition and argument. It needs no argument to justify
+the position that an essay which deals with things seen and heard is
+easier for a beginner to construct than an essay which deals with
+ideas invisible and unheard. Whether narration or description should
+precede appears yet to be undetermined; for many text-books treat one
+first, and perhaps as many the other. I have thought it wiser to begin
+with the short story, because it is easier to gain free, spontaneous
+expression with narration than with description. To write a whole page
+of description is a task for a master, and very few attempt it; but
+for the uninitiated amateur about three sentences of description mark
+the limit of his ability to see and describe. To get started, to gain
+confidence in one's ability to say something, to acquire freedom and
+spontaneity of expression,--this is the first step in the practice of
+composition. Afterward, when the pupil has discovered that he really
+has something to say,--enough indeed to cover three or four pages of
+his tablet paper,--then it may be time to begin the study of
+description, and to acquire more careful and accurate forms of
+expression. Spontaneity should be acquired first,--crude and unformed
+it may be, but spontaneity first; and this spontaneity is best gained
+while studying narration.
+
+There can be but little question about the order of the other forms.
+Description, still dealing with the concrete, offers an admirable
+opportunity for shaping and forming the spontaneous expression gained
+in narration. Following description, in order of difficulty, come
+exposition and argument.
+
+I should be quite misunderstood, did any one gather from this that
+during the time in which wholes are being studied, no attention is to
+be given to parts; that is, to paragraphs, sentences, and words. All
+things cannot be learned at once and thoroughly; there must be some
+order of succession. In the beginning the primary object to be aimed
+at is the construction of wholes; yet during their construction, parts
+can also be incidentally studied. During this time many errors which
+annoy and exasperate must be passed over with but a word, in order
+that the weight of the criticism may be concentrated on the point then
+under consideration. As a pupil advances, he is more and more
+competent to appreciate and to form good paragraphs and well-turned
+sentences, and to single out from the multitude of verbal signs the
+word that exactly presents his thought. The appreciation and the use
+of the stronger as well as the finer and more delicate forms of
+language come only with much reading and writing; and to demand
+everything at the very beginning is little less than sheer madness.
+
+Moreover there never comes a time when the construction of a
+paragraph, the shaping of a phrase, or the choice of a word becomes an
+end in itself. Paragraphs, sentences, and words are well chosen when
+they serve best the whole composition. He who becomes enamored of one
+form of paragraph, who always uses periodic sentences, who chooses
+only common words, has not yet recognized that the beauty of a phrase
+or a word is determined by its fitness, and that it is most beautiful
+because it exactly suits the place it fills. The graceful sweep of a
+line by Praxiteles or the glorious radiancy of a color by Angelico is
+most beautiful in the place it took from the master's hand. So
+Lowell's wealth of figurative language and Stevenson's unerring choice
+of delicate words are most beautiful, not when torn from their
+original setting to serve as examples in rhetorics, but when
+fulfilling their part in a well-planned whole. And it is only as the
+beauties of literature are born of the thought that they ever succeed.
+No one can say to himself, "I will now make a good simile," and
+straightway fulfill his promise. If, however, the thought of a writer
+takes fire, and instead of the cold, unimpassioned phraseology of the
+logician, glowing images crowd up, and phrases tipped with fire, then
+figurative language best suits the thought,--indeed, it is the
+thought. But imagery upon compulsion,--never. So that at no time
+should one attempt to mould fine phrases for the sake of the phrases
+themselves, but he should spare no pains with them when they spring
+from the whole, when they harmonize with the whole, and when they give
+to the whole added beauty and strength.
+
+It is quite unnecessary at this day to urge the study of literature.
+It is in the course of study for every secondary school. Yet a word
+may be said of the value of this study to the practice of composition.
+There are two classes of artists: geniuses and men of talent. Of
+geniuses in literature, one can count the names on his fingers; most
+authors are simply men of talent. Talent learns to do by doing, and by
+observing how others have done. When Brunelleschi left Rome for
+Florence, he had closely observed and had drawn every arch of the
+stupendous architecture in that ancient city; and so he was adjudged
+by his fellow citizens to be the only man competent to lift the dome
+of their Duomo. His observation discovered the secret of Rome's
+architectural grandeur; and the slow accumulation of such secrets
+marks the development of every art and science. Milton had his method
+of writing prose, Macaulay his, and Arnold his,--all different and all
+excellent. And just as the architect stands before the cathedrals of
+Cologne, Milan, and Salisbury to learn the secret of each; as the
+painter searches out the secret of Raphael, Murillo, and Rembrandt; so
+the author analyzes the masterpieces of literature to discover the
+secret of Irving, of Eliot, and of Burke. Not that an author is to be
+a servile imitator of any man's manner; but that, having knowledge of
+all the secrets of composition, he shall so be enabled to set forth
+for others his own thought in all the beauty and perfection in which
+he himself conceives it.
+
+One thing further. A landscape painter would not make a primary study
+of Angelo's anatomical drawings; a composer of lyric forms of music
+would not study Sousa's marches; nor would a person writing a story
+look for much assistance in the arguments of Burke. The most direct
+benefit is derived from studying the very thing one wishes to know
+about, not from studying something else. That the literature may give
+the greatest possible assistance to the composition, the course has
+been so arranged that narration shall be taught by Hawthorne and
+Irving, description by Ruskin and Stevenson, exposition by Macaulay
+and Newman, and argument by Webster and Burke. Literature, arranged in
+this manner, is not only a stimulus to renewed effort, by showing what
+others have done; it is also the most skillful instructor in the art
+of composition, by showing how others have done.
+
+It would be quite impossible for any one at the present time to write
+a text-book in English that would not repeat what has already been
+said by many others. Nor have I tried to. My purpose has been rather
+to select from the whole literature of the subject just those
+principles which every author of a book on composition or rhetoric has
+thought essential, and to omit minor matters and all those about which
+there is a difference of opinion. This limits the contents to topics
+already familiar to every teacher. It also makes it necessary to
+repeat what has been written before many times. Certain books,
+however, have treated special divisions of the whole subject in a
+thorough and exhaustive manner. There is nothing new to say of Unity,
+Mass, and Coherence; Mr. Wendell said all concerning these in his book
+entitled "English Composition." So in paragraph development, Scott and
+Denney hold the field. Other books which I have frequently used in the
+classroom are "Talks on Writing English," by Arlo Bates, and Genung's
+"Practical Rhetoric." These books I have found very helpful in
+teaching, and I have drawn upon them often while writing this
+text-book.
+
+If the field has been covered, then why write a book at all? The
+answer is that the principles which are here treated have not been put
+into one book. They may be found in several. These essentials I have
+repeated many times with the hope that they will be fixed by this
+frequent repetition. The purpose has been to focus the attention upon
+these, to apply them in the construction of the different forms of
+discourse, paragraphs, and sentences, and to repeat them until it is
+impossible for a student to forget them. If the book fulfils this
+purpose, it was worth writing.
+
+Acknowledgments are due to Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons for their
+kind permission to use the selections from the writings of Robert
+Louis Stevenson contained in this book; also, to Messrs. D. Appleton &
+Co., The Century Co., and Doubleday & McClure Co. for selections from
+the writings of Rudyard Kipling.
+
+                                   W. F. WEBSTER.
+
+MINNEAPOLIS, 1900.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+   Chapter I.--Forms of Discourse
+
+      Composition                                       1
+      English Composition                               1
+      Composition, Written and Oral                     2
+      Conventions of Composition                        2
+      Five Forms of Discourse                           3
+      Definitions                                       4
+      Difficulty in distinguishing                      4
+      Purpose of the Author                             6
+
+   Chapter II.--Choice of Subject
+
+      Form and Material                                 8
+      Author's Individuality                            8
+      Knowledge of Subject                              9
+      Common Subjects                                  10
+      Interest                                         11
+      The Familiar                                     11
+      Human Life                                       12
+      The Strange                                      12
+
+   Chapter III.--Narration
+
+      Material of Narration                            13
+      In Action                                        14
+      The Commonest Form of Discourse                  14
+      Language as a Means of Expression                15
+      Without Plot                                     15
+      Plot                                             16
+      Unity, Mass, and Coherence                       20
+      Main Incident                                    20
+      Its Importance                                   21
+      Unity                                            21
+      Introductions and Conclusions                    23
+      Tedious Enumerations                             23
+      What to include                                  24
+      Consistency                                      25
+      An Actor as the Story-teller                     26
+      The Omniscience of an Author                     27
+      The Climax                                       28
+      Who? Where? When? Why?                           29
+      In what Order?                                   29
+      An Outline                                       32
+      Movement                                         32
+      Rapidity                                         32
+      Slowness                                         33
+      Description and Narration                        34
+      Characters few, Time short                       35
+      Simple Plot                                      36
+      Suggestive Questions and Exercises               38
+
+   Chapter IV.--Description
+
+      Difficulties of Language for making Pictures     49
+      Painting and Sculpture                           50
+      Advantages of Language                           50
+      Enumeration and Suggestion                       52
+      Enumerative Description                          54
+      Suggestive Description                           55
+      Value of Observation                             55
+      The Point of View                                56
+      Moving Point of View                             58
+      The Point of View should be stated               58
+      Mental Point of View                             59
+      Length of Descriptions                           63
+      Arrangement of Details in Description            64
+      The End of a Description                         70
+      Proportion                                       73
+      Arrangement must be natural                      74
+      Use Familiar Images                              75
+      Simile, Metaphor, Personification                77
+      Choice of Words. Adjectives and Nouns            78
+      Use of Verbs                                     79
+      Suggestive Questions and Exercises               81
+
+   Chapter V.--Exposition
+
+      General Terms difficult                          89
+      Definition                                       91
+      Exposition and Description distinguished         91
+      Logical Definition                               91
+      Genus and Differentia                            92
+      Requisites of a Good Definition                  93
+      How do Men explain? First, by Repetition         94
+      Second, by telling the obverse                   95
+      Third, by Details                                96
+      Fourth, by Illustrations                         97
+      Fifth, by Comparisons                            98
+      The Subject                                      99
+      The Subject should allow Concrete Treatment     100
+      The Theme                                       100
+      The Title                                       102
+      Selection of Material                           102
+      Scale of Treatment                              104
+      Arrangement                                     108
+      Use Cards for Subdivisions                      108
+      An Outline                                      109
+      Mass the End                                    110
+      The Beginning                                   112
+      Proportion in Treatment                         114
+      Emphasis of Emotion                             115
+      Phrases indicating Emphasis                     116
+      Coherence                                       116
+      Transition Phrases                              118
+      Summary and Transition                          119
+      Suggestive Questions and Exercises              121
+
+   Chapter VI.--Argument
+
+      Induction and Deduction                         129
+      Syllogism Premises                              129
+      Terms                                           129
+      Enthymeme                                       130
+      Definition of Terms                             130
+      Undistributed Middle                            131
+      False Premises                                  131
+      Method of Induction                             132
+      Arguments from Cause                            133
+      Arguments from Sign                             134
+      Sequence and Cause                              135
+      Arguments from Example                          137
+      Selection of Material                           138
+      Plan called The Brief                           138
+      Climax                                          139
+      Inductive precedes Deductive                    140
+      Cause precedes Sign                             140
+      Example follows Sign                            141
+      Refutation                                      141
+      Analysis of Burke's Oration                     142
+      Suggestive Questions                            148
+
+   Chapter VII.--Paragraphs
+
+      Definition                                      151
+      Long and Short Paragraphs                       151
+      Topic Sentence                                  157
+      No Topic Sentence                               161
+      The Plan                                        162
+      Kinds of Paragraphs                             163
+      Details                                         163
+      Comparisons                                     165
+      Repetition                                      167
+      Obverse                                         169
+      Examples                                        171
+      Combines Two or More Forms                      173
+      Unity                                           173
+      Need of Outline                                 174
+      Mass                                            174
+      What begins and what ends a Paragraph?          175
+      Length of opening and closing Sentences         178
+      Proportion                                      179
+      Coherence and Clearness                         180
+      Two Arrangements of Sentences in a Paragraph    181
+      Definite References                             187
+      Use of Pronouns                                 188
+      Of Conjunctions                                 190
+      Parallel Constructions                          192
+      Summary                                         195
+      Suggestive Questions                            196
+
+   Chapter VIII.--Sentences
+
+      Definition and Classification. Simple Sentences 200
+      Compound Sentences                              200
+      Short Sentences                                 204
+      Long Sentences                                  204
+      Unity                                           205
+      Mass                                            207
+      End of a Sentence                               208
+      Effect of Anti-climax                           210
+      Use of Climax                                   211
+      Loose and Periodic                              212
+      The Period                                      212
+      Periodic and Loose combined                     214
+      Which shall be used?                            215
+      Emphasis by Change of Order                     217
+      Subdue Unimportant Elements                     219
+      The Dynamic Point of a Sentence                 221
+      Good Use                                        223
+      Clearness gained by Coherence                   224
+      Parallel Construction                           226
+      Balanced Sentences                              227
+      Use of Connectives                              228
+      Suggestive Questions                            231
+
+   Chapter IX.--Words
+
+      Need of a Large Vocabulary                      236
+      Dictionary                                      237
+      Study of Literature                             238
+      Vulgarisms are not reputable                    240
+      Slang is not reputable                          240
+      Words must be National. Provincialisms          242
+      Technical and Bookish Words                     242
+      Foreign Words                                   243
+      Words in Present Use                            244
+      Words in their Present Meaning                  245
+      Words of Latin and Saxon Origin                 245
+      General and Specific                            248
+      Use Words that suggest most                     249
+      Synecdoche, Metonymy                            250
+      Care in Choice of Specific Words                250
+      Avoid Hackneyed Phrases                         253
+      "Fine Writing"                                  253
+      In Prose avoid Poetical Words                   254
+
+   Chapter X.--Figures of Speech
+
+      Figurative Language                             257
+      Figures based upon Likeness                     259
+        Metaphor                                      260
+        Epithet                                       260
+        Personification                               260
+        Apostrophe                                    261
+        Allegory                                      261
+        Simile                                        261
+      Figures based upon Sentence Structure           262
+        Inversion                                     262
+        Exclamation                                   262
+        Interrogation                                 262
+        Climax                                        262
+        Irony                                         262
+      Metonymy                                        263
+      Synecdoche                                      263
+      Allusion                                        263
+      Hyperbole                                       263
+      Exercises in Figures                            264
+
+   Chapter XI.--Verse Forms
+
+      Singing Verse                                   269
+      Poetic Feet                                     272
+      Kinds of Metre                                  273
+      Stanzas                                         275
+      Scansion                                        276
+      Variations in Metres                            276
+      First and Last Foot                             281
+      Kinds of Poetry                                 284
+      Exercises in Metres                             286
+
+   APPENDIX
+
+      A. Suggestions to Teachers                      293
+      B. The Form of a Composition                    296
+      C. Marks for Correction of Compositions         300
+      D. Punctuation                                  301
+      E. Supplementary List of Literature             309
+
+
+
+
+A COURSE OF STUDY
+
+IN LITERATURE AND COMPOSITION
+
+
+The Course of Study which follows is presented, not because it is
+better than many others which might be made. For the purposes of this
+book it was necessary that some course be adopted as the basis of the
+text. The principles which guided in arranging this course I believe
+are sound; but the preferences of teachers and the peculiarities of
+environment will often make it wise to use other selections from
+literature. Of this a large "supplementary list" is given at the back
+of the book.
+
+It is now a generally accepted truth that the study of English should
+continue through the four years of a high-school course. The division
+of time that seems best is to take Narration and Description in the
+first year. In connection with Description, Figures of Speech should
+be studied. The next year, Exposition and Paragraphs form the major
+part of the work. This may be pleasantly broken by a study of Poetry,
+following the outline in the chapter on Verse Forms. In the third
+year, while the work in literature is mainly the Novel and the Drama,
+Sentences and Words should be studied in composition, with a review of
+the chapters on Narration and Description. Towards the close of the
+year, Exposition should be reviewed and the study of Argument taken
+up. The fourth year should be devoted to the study of such College
+Requirements as have not been taken in the course, and to the study of
+the History of English Literature as given in some good text book.
+
+In some instances, it will be found impossible to give so much time to
+the study of English. In such cases, the amount of literature to be
+studied should be decreased, and the work in the text book should be
+more rapidly done. The sequence of the parts should remain the same,
+but the time should be modified to suit the needs of any special
+environment.
+
+
+                              NARRATION.
+
+                             Composition.
+
+                        _To give Spontaneity._
+
+  I. External Form of Composition (p. 296).
+ II. Marks for the Correction of Compositions (p. 300).
+III. Simple Rules for Punctuation (pp. 301-309).
+ IV. Forms of Discourse. Definitions (pp. 1-7).
+  V. Choice of Subject (pp. 8-12).
+ VI. Study of Narration (pp. 13-48).
+       a. Definition and General Discussion.
+       b. Narration without Plot.
+            Interest the Essential Feature.
+       c. Narration with Plot.
+            1. Selection of Main Incident of first Importance.
+                    It gives to the story
+               Unity,
+                        ridding it of
+                 Long Introductions and Conclusions,
+                 Tedious Enumerations, and
+                 Irrelevant Details.
+            2. Arrangement of Material.
+                 Close of Story contains Main Incident.
+                 Opening of Story contains Characters, Place, and Time.
+                 Incidents generally follow in Order of Time.
+            3. Movement.
+            4. Use of Description in Narration.
+            5. Some General Considerations.
+
+                             Literature.
+
+The Great Stone Face, The Gentle Boy, The Gray Champion, Roger
+  Malvin's Burial, and other Stories. _Hawthorne._
+
+Tales of a Wayside Inn. _Longfellow._
+
+The Gold Bug. _Poe._
+
+Marmion, or The Lady of the Lake. _Scott._
+
+A Christmas Carol, or The Cricket on the Hearth. _Dickens._
+
+The Vision of Sir Launfal, and other Narrative Poems. _Lowell._
+
+An Incident of the French Camp, Hervé Riel, The Pied Piper, How they
+  brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix. _Browning._
+
+  Meaning of the Author, calling for
+    A Study of Words.
+    Outline of Story.
+    Turning Points in the Story.
+    Central Idea, or Purpose of the Story.
+
+  Method of the Author.
+    Is there a Main Incident?
+    Do all other Incidents converge to it?
+    Is the Order a Sequence of Time alone?
+    Is the Interest centred in Characters or Plot?
+
+  Style of the Author.
+    Compare the Works of the Author.
+
+
+                             DESCRIPTION.
+
+                             Composition.
+
+           _To secure Accuracy of Expression_ (pp. 49-88).
+
+  I. Definition and General Discussion.
+       Difficulties in Language as a Means of Picturing.
+       Value of Observation.
+ II. Structure of Whole.
+       a. To secure Unity.
+            Select a Point of View.
+       b. To secure Coherence.
+            Arrange Details in Natural Order.
+       c. To secure Emphasis.
+            Arrange and proportion Treatment to effect your Purpose.
+III. Paragraph Structure.
+       Definition.
+       Length of Paragraphs.
+       Development of Paragraphs.
+ IV. Words.
+       Specific rather than General.
+       Adjectives, Nouns, and Verbs.
+  V. Figures Of Speech (pp. 257-268).
+       Based on Likeness.
+       Based on Sentence Structure.
+       Miscellaneous Figures.
+
+                             Literature.
+
+The Old Manse, The Old Apple Dealer. _Hawthorne._
+
+An Indian-Summer Reverie, The Dandelion, The Birch, The Oak, and other
+  Descriptive Poems. _Lowell._
+
+The Fall of the House of Usher. _Poe._
+
+The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Selections from the Sketch Book. _Irving._
+
+Selections from Childe Harold. _Byron._
+
+The Deserted Village. _Goldsmith._
+
+Julius Cæsar. _Shakespeare._
+
+Poems selected from Palgrave's Golden Treasury.
+
+  Meaning of the Author (as under Narration).
+
+  Method of the Author.
+    Does the Author keep his Point of View?
+    Are the Details arranged in a Natural Order?
+    Has any Detail a Supreme Importance?
+    Are the Details treated in Proper Proportion?
+    Has the Whole a Unity of Effect? Do you see the Picture
+      distinctly?
+    For what Purpose has the Author used Description?
+    Does the Author employ Figures?
+
+  Style of the Author.
+
+
+                 EXPOSITION, PARAGRAPHS, VERSE FORMS.
+
+                             Composition.
+
+       _To encourage Logical Thinking and Adequate Expression_
+                            (pp. 89-127).
+
+                            _Exposition._
+
+  I. Definition and General Considerations.
+ II. Exposition of Terms. Definition.
+III. Exposition of Propositions.
+       a. Clear Statement of the Proposition in a "Key Sentence."
+               This will limit
+       b. The Discussion.
+            1. What shall be included?
+            2. What shall be excluded?
+            3. How shall Important Matters be emphasized?
+                 Mass and Proportion.
+                 Expansion and Condensation.
+                      To effect these ends use an
+            4. Outline.
+
+                     _Paragraphs_ (pp. 151-199).
+
+  I. Definition.
+ II. Length of Paragraphs.
+III. Development of Paragraphs.
+ IV. Principles of Structure.
+       Unity.
+       Mass.
+       Coherence.
+
+                     _Verse Forms_ (pp. 269-291).
+
+Poetry Defined.
+Kinds of Feet.
+Number of Feet in a Verse.
+Substitutions and Rests.
+Kinds of Poetry.
+
+                             Literature.
+
+Essay on Milton. _Macaulay._
+
+Essay on Addison. _Macaulay._
+
+Commemoration Ode. _Lowell._
+
+The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. _Coleridge._
+
+Intimations of Immortality, and other Poems. _Wordsworth._
+
+Selections from Palgrave's Golden Treasury.
+
+The Bunker Hill Oration, or Adams and Jefferson. _Webster._
+
+Sesame and Lilies. _Ruskin._
+
+  Meaning of the Author.
+    Outline showing the Main Thesis with the Dependence
+    of Subordinate Propositions.
+
+  Method of the Author.
+    Does he hold to his Point and so gain Unity
+    Does he arrange his Material so as to secure Emphasis?
+    Does one Paragraph grow out of another?
+    Does each Paragraph treat a Single Topic?
+    Are the Sentences dovetailed together?
+    Does the Author use Figures?
+    Are the Figures Effective?
+    Are his Words General or Specific?
+
+  Style of the Author.
+    Is it Clear?
+    Has it Force?
+    Is the Diction Elegant?
+    How has he gained these Ends?
+
+
+                     SENTENCES, WORDS, ARGUMENT.
+
+                             Composition.
+
+                      _Sentences_ (pp. 200-234).
+
+  I. Definition and Classification.
+ II. Principles of Structure.
+       a. Unity.
+       b. Mass.
+            1. Prominent Positions in a Sentence.
+            2. Periodic Sentences.
+            3. Loose Sentences.
+       c. Coherence.
+            1. Parallel Constructions.
+            2. Connectives.
+
+                        _Words_ (pp. 235-256).
+
+Reputable Words.
+Latin or Saxon Words.
+General or Specific.
+Figures of Speech.
+The One Rule for the Use of Words.
+
+                _Narration and Description Reviewed._
+
+                        _Exposition Reviewed._
+
+                             Literature.
+
+                      _Argument_ (pp. 128-150).
+
+  I. Kinds of Argument.
+ II. Order of Arguments.
+III. Refutation.
+
+Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. _Addison._
+
+The Vicar of Wakefield. _Goldsmith._
+
+Silas Marner. _Eliot._
+
+Ivanhoe. _Scott._
+
+Macbeth, The Merchant of Venice, A Midsummer Night's Dream.
+  _Shakespeare._
+
+Conciliation with the Colonies. _Burke._
+
+
+                             COMPOSITION.
+
+In the last year of the course, the compositions should be such as
+will test the maturer powers of the pupil. They should be written
+under the careful supervision of the teacher. They should be of all
+forms of discourse, and the subjects should be drawn from the subjects
+of study in the high school, especially from the literature.
+
+
+                             LITERATURE.
+
+                       _Difficult Selections._
+
+L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas. _Milton._
+
+Paradise Lost. Two Books. _Milton._
+
+Essay on Burns. _Carlyle._
+
+In Memoriam, The Princess, and other Poems. _Tennyson._
+
+Selections. _Browning._
+
+Selections. _Emerson._
+
+A History of English Literature
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               ENGLISH:
+
+                      COMPOSITION AND LITERATURE
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER I
+
+                          FORMS OF DISCOURSE
+
+
+  Composition.
+
+Composition, from the Latin words _con,_ meaning together, and
+_ponere,_ meaning to place, signifies a placing together, a grouping
+or arrangement of objects or of ideas. This arrangement is generally
+made so that it will produce a desired result. Speaking accurately,
+the putting together is the composition. Much of the desired result is
+gained by care in the selection of materials. Placing together a
+well-worn book, a lamp, and a pair of heavy bowed spectacles makes a
+suggestive picture. The selection and grouping of these objects is
+spoken of as the composition of the picture. So in music, an author
+composes, when he groups certain musical tones and phrases so that
+they produce a desired effect. In literature, too, composition is,
+strictly speaking, the selection and arrangement of materials, whether
+the incidents of a story or the details of a description, to fulfill a
+definite purpose.
+
+  English Composition.
+
+In practice, however, English composition has come to include more
+than the selection and arrangement of the materials,--incidents,
+objects, or ideas, as the case may be; the term has been extended to
+include the means by which the speaker or writer seeks to convey this
+impression to other persons. As a painter must understand drawing, the
+value of lights and shades, and the mixing of colors before he can
+successfully reproduce for others the idea he has to express, so the
+artist in literature needs a knowledge of elementary grammar and of
+the simpler usages of language in order clearly to represent to others
+the idea which lies in his own mind. As commonly understood, then,
+_English composition_ may be defined as _the art of selecting,
+arranging, and communicating ideas by means of the English language._
+
+  Composition, Written and Oral.
+
+The term "English composition" is now generally understood to mean
+written composition, and not oral composition. At first thought they
+seem to be the same thing. So far as the selection and arrangement of
+matter is concerned, they are the same. Moreover, both use words, and
+both employ sentences; but here the likeness ends. If sentences should
+be put upon paper exactly as they were spoken, in most instances they
+would not convey to a reader the same thought they conveyed to a
+listener. It is much more exacting to express the truth one wishes to
+convey, by silent, featureless symbols than by that wonderful organ of
+communication, the human voice. Now, if to the human voice be added
+eyes, features, gestures, and pose, we easily understand the great
+advantage a speaker has over a writer.
+
+  Conventions of Composition.
+
+Moreover, there are imposed upon a writer certain established rules
+which he must follow. He must spell words correctly, and he must use
+correctly marks of punctuation. These things need not annoy a speaker;
+yet they are conditions which must be obeyed by a writer. A man who
+eats with a knife may succeed in getting his food to his mouth, yet
+certain conventions exclude such a person from polite society. So in
+composition, it is possible for a person to make himself understood,
+though he write "alright" instead of "all right," and never use a
+semicolon; still, such a person could hardly be considered a highly
+cultured writer. To express one's thoughts correctly and with
+refinement requires absolute obedience to the common conventions of
+good literature.
+
+The study of composition includes, first, the careful selection of
+materials and their effective arrangement; and second, a knowledge of
+the established conventions of literature: of spelling; of the common
+uses of the marks of punctuation,--period, question mark, exclamation
+point, colon, semicolon, comma; of the common idioms of our language;
+and of the elements of its grammar. From the beginning of the high
+school course, the essay, the paragraph, the sentence, the word, are
+to be studied with special attention to the effective use of each in
+adequately communicating ideas.
+
+  Five Forms of Discourse.
+
+All written composition may be arranged in two classes, or groups. The
+first group will include all composition that deals with actual
+happenings and real things; the second, all that deals with abstract
+thoughts and spiritual ideas. The first will include narration and
+description; the second, exposition, argument, and persuasion. All
+literature, then, may be separated into five classes,--narration,
+description, exposition, argument, and persuasion.
+
+Narration tells what things do; description tells how things look.
+Narration deals with occurrences; description deals with appearances.
+Exposition defines a term, or explains a proposition; argument proves
+the truth or falsity of a proposition; persuasion urges to action upon
+a proposition. Exposition explains; argument convinces; persuasion
+arouses. These are the broad lines of distinction which separate the
+five forms of discourse.
+
+  Definitions.
+
+_Narration is that form of discourse which recounts events in a
+sequence._ It includes stories, novels, romances, biographies, some
+books of travel, and some histories.
+
+_Description is that form of discourse which aims to present a
+picture._ It seldom occurs alone, but it is usually found in
+combination with the other forms of discourse.
+
+_Exposition is that form of discourse which seeks to explain a term or
+a proposition._ Text-books, books of information, theses, most
+histories, many magazine articles, and newspaper leaders are of this
+class of literature.
+
+_Argument is that form of discourse which has for its object the proof
+of the truth or falsity of a proposition._
+
+_Persuasion is that form of discourse the purpose of which is to
+influence the will._
+
+  Difficulty in distinguishing.
+
+Though these definitions seem to set apart the great classes of
+literature, and to insure against any danger of confusion, it is not
+always easy to place individual pieces of literature in one of these
+divisions. Whittier's "Barbara Frietchie" and Stevenson's "Treasure
+Island" are narrative beyond any question; but what about "Snow-Bound"
+and "Travels with a Donkey" by the same authors? Are they narration or
+description? In them the narrative and descriptive portions are so
+nearly equal that one hesitates to set them down to either class; the
+reader is constantly called from beautiful pictures to delightful
+stories. The narrative can easily be separated from the descriptive
+portions; but when this has been done, has it been decided whether the
+whole piece is narration or description?
+
+When a person takes up the other forms of discourse, the difficulty
+becomes still greater. Description and narration are frequently used
+in exposition. If a boy should be asked to explain the working of a
+steam engine, he would, in all likelihood, begin with a description of
+an engine. If his purpose was to explain how an engine works, and was
+not to tell how an engine looks, the whole composition would be
+exposition. So, too, it is often the easiest way to explain what one
+means by telling a story. The expression of such thoughts would be
+exposition, although it might contain a number of stories and
+descriptions.
+
+Narration and description may be found in a piece of exposition; and
+all three may be employed in argument. If a person should wish to
+prove the dangers of intemperance, he might enforce his proof by a
+story, or by a description of the condition of the nervous system
+after a drunken revel. And one does not need to do more than explain
+the results of intemperance to a sensible man to prove to him that he
+should avoid all excesses. The explanation alone is argument enough
+for such a person. Still, is such an explanation exposition or
+argument? If the man cared nothing about convincing another that there
+are dangers in intemperance, did not wish to prove that the end of
+intemperance is death and dishonor, the composition is as much
+exposition as the explanation of a steam engine. If, on the other
+hand, he explained these results in order to convince another that he
+should avoid intemperance, then the piece is argument.
+
+Persuasion introduces a new element into composition; for, while
+exposition and argument are directed to a man's reason, persuasion is
+addressed to the emotions and the will. Its purpose is to arouse to
+action. One can readily imagine that a simple explanation of the evils
+of intemperance might be quite enough to convince a man that its
+dangers are truly great,--so great that he would determine to fight
+these evils with all his strength. In such a case explanation alone
+has convinced him; and it has aroused him to do something. Is the
+piece exposition, or argument, or persuasion? Here, as before, the
+answer is found in the purpose of the author. If he intended only to
+explain, the piece is exposition; if to convince, it is argument; if
+to arouse to action, it belongs to the literature of persuasion.
+
+It must now be plain that few pieces of literature are purely one form
+of discourse. The forms are mingled in most of our literature. Hardly
+a story can be found that does not contain some descriptions; and a
+description of any considerable length is sure to contain some
+narrative portions. So, too, narration and description are often found
+in exposition, argument, and persuasion; and these last three forms
+are frequently combined.
+
+  Purpose of the Author.
+
+It must also be evident that the whole piece of literature will best
+be classified by discovering the purpose of the author. If his purpose
+is simply to tell a good story, his work is narration; if the purpose
+is merely to place a picture before the reader's mind, it is
+description; if to explain conditions and nothing more, it is
+exposition; if to prove to the reason the truth or falsity of a
+proposition, it is argument; while, if the writer addresses himself to
+the emotions and the will, no matter whether he tells anecdotes or
+paints lurid pictures, explains conditions or convinces of the dangers
+of the present course,--if he does all these to urge the reader to do
+something, the composition belongs to the literature of persuasion.
+The five forms of discourse are most easily distinguished by
+discovering the purpose of the author.
+
+One addition should be made. Few novels are written in which there is
+nothing more than a story. Nearly all contain some teaching; and it is
+a safe conclusion that the authors have taught "on purpose." In "Baa,
+Baa, Black Sheep," Kipling has shown the imperative necessity of a
+"real, live, lovely mamma;" in "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," Irving
+has placed before us a charming picture of rural life in a dreamy
+Dutch village on the Hudson; and in his "Christmas Carol," Dickens
+shows plainly that happiness is not bought and sold even in London,
+and that the only happy man is he who shares with another's need. Yet
+all of these, and the hundreds of their kind, whatever the purpose of
+the authors when writing them, belong to the "story" or "novel" class.
+The purpose _in telling_ the story is secondary to the purpose _to
+tell_ a story. They are to be classified as narration.
+
+English composition, then, is a study of the selection and arrangement
+of ideas, and of the methods of using the English language to
+communicate them. All composition is divided into five great classes.
+These classes have broad lines of distinction, which are most easily
+applied by determining the purpose of the author.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II
+
+                          CHOICE OF SUBJECT
+
+
+  Form and Material.
+
+From the considerations in the preceding chapter may be derived
+several principles regarding the choice of subject. If the composition
+is to be narrative, it should be upon a subject that readily lends
+itself to narrative form. One can tell a story about "A Day's Hunt" or
+"What We did Hallowe'en;" but it would try one's powers of imagination
+to write a story of "A Tree" or "A Chair." The latter subjects do not
+lend themselves to narration, but they may be described. Josiah P.
+Cooke has written a brilliant exposition of "Fire" in "The New
+Chemistry;" yet a young person would be foolish to take "Fire" as a
+subject for exposition, though he might easily write a good
+description of "How the Fire looked from My Window," or narrate "How a
+Fireman rescued My Sister." So in all work in composition, _select a
+subject that readily lends itself to the form of discourse demanded;
+or, conversely, select the form of discourse suitable for presenting
+most effectively your material._
+
+  Author's Individuality.
+
+If an author is writing for other purposes than for conscious
+practice, he should choose the form of discourse in which he can best
+work, and to which he can best shape his material. Some men tell
+stories well; others are debaters; while yet others are wonderfully
+gifted with eloquence. Emerson understood life thoroughly. He knew
+man's feelings, his motives, his hopes, his strength, his weakness;
+yet one cannot imagine Emerson shaping this material into a novel. But
+just a little way down the road lived a wizard who could transmute the
+commonest events of this workaday world to the most beautiful shapes;
+no one wishes that Hawthorne had written essays. The second principle
+guiding in the choice of a subject is this: _Select a subject which is
+suited to your peculiar ability as an author._
+
+  Knowledge of Subject.
+
+The form, then, should suit the matter; and it should be the form in
+which the author can work. There is a third principle that should
+guide in the choice of a subject. _It should be a subject of which the
+author knows something._ Pupils often exclaim, "What can I write
+about!" as if they were expected to find something new to write. An
+exercise in composition has not for its object the proclaiming of any
+new and unheard-of thing; it is an exercise in the expression of
+things already known. Even when the subject is known, the treatment
+offers difficulties enough. It is not true that what is thoroughly
+understood is easily explained. Many excellent scholars have written
+very poor text-books because they had not learned the art of
+expression. A necessary antecedent of all good composition is a full
+and accurate knowledge of the subject; and even when one knows all
+about it, the clear expression of the thought will be difficult
+enough.
+
+To demand accurate knowledge of the subject before an author begins
+work upon it narrows the field from which themes may be drawn.
+Burroughs is an authority on all the tenants of our groves;
+"Wake-Robin," "Pepacton," and his other books all show a master's
+certain hand. So Stedman is an authority in matters relating to
+literature. But Burroughs and Stedman alike would find difficulty in
+writing an essay on "Electricity in the Treatment of Nervous
+Diseases." They do not know about it. A boy in school probably knows
+something of fishing; of this he can write. A girl can tell of "The
+Last Parlor Concert." Both could write very entertainingly of their
+"First Algebra Recitation;" neither could write a convincing essay on
+"The Advantages of Free Trade."
+
+  Common Subjects.
+
+This will seem to limit the list of subjects to the commonplace. The
+fact is that in a composition exercise the purpose is not to startle
+the world with some new thing; it is to learn the art of expression.
+And here in the region of common things, things thoroughly understood,
+every bit of effort can be given to the manner of expression. The
+truth is, it does not require much art to make a book containing new
+and interesting material popular; the matter in the book carries it in
+spite of poor composition. Popular it may be, but popularity is not
+immortality. Columns of poorly written articles upon "Dewey" and "The
+Philippines" have been eagerly read by thousands of Americans; it
+would require a literary artist of great power to write a one-column
+article on "Pigs" so that it would be eagerly read by thousands. Real
+art in composition is much more manifest when an author takes a common
+subject and treats it in such a way that it glows with new life.
+Richard Le Gallienne has written about a drove of pigs so beautifully
+that one forgets all the traditions about these common animals.[2]
+Choose common subjects, then,--subjects that allow every particle of
+your strength to go into the manner of saying what you already know.
+
+The requirement that the subject shall be common does not mean that
+the subject shall be trivial. "Sliding to First," "How Billy won the
+Game," with all of this class of subjects, at once put the writer into
+a trifling, careless attitude toward his work. The subjects themselves
+seem to call forth a cheap, slangy vocabulary and the vulgar phrases
+of sporting life. An equally common subject could be selected which
+would call forth serious, earnest effort. If a boy knew nothing except
+about ball games, it would be advisable for him to write upon this
+subject. Such a condition is hardly possible in a high school. _Choose
+common subjects, but subjects that call for earnest thinking and
+dignified expression._
+
+  Interest.
+
+Interest is another consideration in the choice of a subject. It
+applies equally to writer and reader. _Choose subjects that are
+interesting._ Not only must an author know about the subject; he must
+be interested in it. A pupil may have accurate knowledge of the uses
+of a semicolon; but he would not be likely to succeed in a paragraph
+about semicolons, largely because he is not much interested in
+semicolons. This matter of interest is so important that it is well to
+know what things all persons, authors and readers alike, are
+interested in. What, then, is generally interesting?
+
+  The Familiar.
+
+First, _the familiar is interesting._ When reading a newspaper each
+one instinctively turns to the local column, or glances down the
+general news columns to see if there is anything from his home town.
+To a former resident, Jim Benson's fence in Annandale is more
+interesting than the bronze doors of the Congressional Library in
+Washington. For the same reason a physician lights upon "a new cure
+for consumption," a lawyer devours Supreme Court decisions, while the
+dealer in silks is absorbed in the process of making silk without the
+aid of the silkworm. Each is interested in that which to him is most
+familiar.
+
+  Human Life.
+
+Second, _human life in all its phases is interesting._ The account of
+a fire or of a railroad accident takes on a new interest when, in
+addition to the loss of property, there has been a loss of life. War
+is horribly fascinating, not so much because there is a wanton
+destruction of property, as because it involves the slaughter of men.
+Stories about trees and animals are usually failures, unless handled
+by artists who breathe into them the life of man. Andersen's
+"Tannenbaum" and Kipling's "Jungle Books" are intensely interesting
+because in them trees and animals feel and act just as men do.
+
+  The Strange.
+
+Third, _the romantic, the unique, and the impossible are interesting._
+A new discovery, a new invention, a people of which little is
+known,--anything new is interesting. The stories of Rider Haggard and
+Jules Verne have been popular because they deal with things which eye
+hath not seen. This peculiar trait of man allows him to relish a good
+fish story, or the latest news from the sea-serpent. Just for the same
+reason, children love to hear of Little Red Riding Hood and
+Cinderella. Children and their parents are equally interested in those
+things which are entirely outside of their own experience.
+
+These, then, are the general conditions which govern the choice of a
+subject. It shall easily lend itself to the form of discourse chosen;
+it shall be suited to the peculiar ability of the author; it shall be
+thoroughly understood by the author,--common, but not trivial; it
+shall be interesting to both reader and author.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                             CHAPTER III
+
+                              NARRATION
+
+
+  Material of Narration.
+
+Narration has been defined as the form of discourse which recounts
+events in a sequence. It includes not only letters, journals, memoirs,
+biographies, and many histories, but, in addition, that great body of
+literature which people generally include in the comprehensive term of
+"stories."
+
+If this body of literature be examined, it will be found that it deals
+with things as opposed to ideas; incidents as opposed to propositions.
+Sometimes, it is true, the author of a story is in reality dealing
+with ideas. In the fable about "The Hare and the Tortoise," the
+tortoise stands for the idea of slow, steady plodding; while the hare
+is the representative of quick wits which depend on their ability to
+show a brilliant burst of speed when called upon. The fable teaches
+better than an essay can that the dullness which perseveres will
+arrive at success sooner than brilliancy of mind which wastes its time
+in doing nothing to the purpose. Andersen's "Ugly Duckling," Ruskin's
+"King of the Golden River," and Lowell's "Sir Launfal" stand for deep
+spiritual ideas, which we understand better for this method of
+presentation. In an allegory like "Pilgrim's Progress," the passions
+and emotions, the sins and weaknesses of men are treated as if they
+were real persons. Ideas are represented by living, breathing persons;
+and we may say that all such narratives deal, not with ideas, but, for
+want of a better word, with things.
+
+  In Action.
+
+Not only does narration deal with things, but with things doing
+something. Things inactive might be written of, but this would be
+description. It is necessary in narration that the things be in an
+active mood; that something be doing. "John struck James," then, is a
+narrative sentence; it tells that John has been doing something.
+Still, this one sentence would not ordinarily be accepted as
+narration. For narration there must be a series, a sequence of
+individual actions. _Recounting events in a sequence is narration._
+
+  The Commonest Form of Discourse.
+
+Narration is the most popular form of discourse. Between one fourth
+and one third of all books published are stories; and more than one
+half of the books issued by public libraries belong to the narrative
+class. Such a computation does not include the large number of stories
+read in our papers and magazines. In addition to being the most
+popular form of discourse, it is the most natural. It is the first
+form of connected discourse of the child; it is the form employed by
+the uncultured in giving his impressions; it is the form most used in
+conversation. Moreover, narration is the first form found in great
+literatures: the Iliad and the Odyssey, the songs of the troubadours
+in France, and the minnesingers in Germany, the chronicles and ballads
+of England,--all are narrative.
+
+  Language as a Means of Expression.
+
+Narration is especially suited to the conditions imposed by language.
+Men do not think in single words, but in groups of words,--phrases,
+clauses, and sentences. In hearing, too, men do not consider the
+individual words; the mind waits until a group of words, a phrase, or
+a simple sentence perhaps,--which expresses a unit of thought, has
+been uttered. In narration these groups of words follow in a sequence
+exactly as the actions which they represent do. Take this rather lurid
+bit from Stevenson:--
+
+     "He dropped his cutlass as he jumped, and when he felt the
+     pistol, whipped straight round and laid hold of me, roaring
+     out an oath; and at the same time either my courage came
+     again, or I grew so much afraid as came to the same thing;
+     for I gave a shriek and shot him in the midst of the body."
+     ("Kidnapped.")
+
+Each phrase or clause here is a unit of thought, and each follows the
+others in the same order as the events they tell of occurred. On the
+other hand, when one attempts description, and exposition too in many
+cases, he realizes the great difficulties imposed by the language
+itself; for in these forms of discourse the author not infrequently
+wishes to put the whole picture before the reader at once, or to set
+out several propositions at the same time, as belonging to one general
+truth. In order that the reader may get the complete picture or the
+complete thought, he must hold in mind often a whole paragraph before
+he unites it into the one conception the author intended. In narration
+one action is completed; it can be dropped. Then another follows,
+which can also be dropped. They need not be held in mind until the
+paragraph is finished. Narration is exactly suited to the means of its
+communication. The events which are recorded, and the sentences which
+record them, both follow in a sequence.
+
+  Without Plot.
+
+The sequence of events in narration may be a simple sequence of time,
+in which case the narrative is without plot. This is the form of
+narration employed in newspapers in giving the events of the day. It
+is used in journals, memoirs, biographies, and many elementary
+histories. It makes little demand upon an author further than that he
+shall say clearly something that is interesting. Interesting it must
+be, if the author wishes it to be read; readers will not stay over
+dull material. Newspapers and magazines look out for interesting
+material, and it is for the matter in them that they are read. So
+memoirs and biographies are read, not to find out what happens at
+last,--that is known,--but to pick up information concerning an
+interesting subject.
+
+  Plot.
+
+Or the sequence may be a more subtle and binding relation of cause and
+effect. This is the sequence employed in stories. One thing happens
+because another thing has happened. Generally the sequence of time and
+the sequence of cause and effect correspond; for effects come after
+causes. When, however, more than one cause is introduced, or when some
+cause is at work which the author hides until he can most
+advantageously produce it, or when an effect is held back for purposes
+of creating interest, the events may not be related exactly in the
+order in which they occurred. When any sequence is introduced in
+addition to the simple sequence of time, or when the time sequence is
+disturbed for the purpose of heightening interest, there is an
+arrangement of the parts which is generally termed plot.
+
+Plot is a term difficult to define. We feel, however, that Grant's
+"Memoirs" have no plot, and we feel just as sure that "King Lear" has
+a plot. So, too, we say that "Robinson Crusoe" has little, almost no
+plot; that the plot is simple in "Treasure Island," and that "Les
+Misérables" has an intricate plot. A plot seems to demand more than a
+mere succession of events. _Any arrangement of the parts of a
+narrative so that the reader's interest is aroused concerning the
+result of the series of events detailed is a plot._
+
+It often occurs that a book which, as a whole, is without a plot,
+contains incidents which have a plot. In "Travels with a Donkey," by
+Stevenson, no one cares for the plot of the whole book,--in fact there
+is none; yet the reader is interested in the purchase of the "neat and
+high bred" Modestine up to the "last interview with Father Adam in a
+billiard-room at the witching hour of dawn, when I administered the
+brandy." This incident has a plot. The following is a paragraph from
+"An Autumn Effect" by Mr. Stevenson. The simple events are perfectly
+ordered, and there is a delightful surprise at the end. This paragraph
+has a plot. Yet the thirty pages of "An Autumn Effect" could not be
+said to have a plot.
+
+     "Bidding good-morning to my fellow-traveler, I left the road
+     and struck across country. It was rather a revelation to
+     pass from between the hedgerows and find quite a bustle on
+     the other side, a great coming and going of school-children
+     upon by-paths, and, in every second field, lusty horses and
+     stout country-folk a-ploughing. The way I followed took me
+     through many fields thus occupied, and through many strips
+     of plantation, and then over a little space of smooth turf,
+     very pleasant to the feet, set with tall fir-trees and
+     clamorous with rooks, making ready for the winter, and so
+     back again into the quiet road. I was now not far from the
+     end of my day's journey. A few hundred yards farther, and,
+     passing through a gap in the hedge, I began to go down hill
+     through a pretty extensive tract of young beeches. I was
+     soon in shadow myself, but the afternoon sun still colored
+     the upmost boughs of the wood, and made a fire over my head
+     in the autumnal foliage. A little faint vapor lay among the
+     slim tree-stems in the bottom of the hollow; and from
+     farther up I heard from time to time an outburst of gross
+     laughter, as though clowns were making merry in the bush.
+     There was something about the atmosphere that brought all
+     sights and sounds home to one with a singular purity, so
+     that I felt as if my senses had been washed with water.
+     After I had crossed the little zone of mist, the path began
+     to remount the hill; and just as I, mounting along with it,
+     had got back again from the head downwards, into the thin
+     golden sunshine, I saw in front of me a donkey tied to a
+     tree. Now, I have a certain liking for donkeys, principally,
+     I believe, because of the delightful things that Sterne has
+     written of them. But this was not after the pattern of the
+     ass at Lyons. He was of a white color, that seemed to fit
+     him rather for rare festal occasions than for constant
+     drudgery. Besides, he was very small, and of the daintiest
+     proportions you can imagine in a donkey. And so, sure
+     enough, you had only to look at him to see he had never
+     worked. There was something too roguish and wanton in his
+     face, a look too like that of a schoolboy or a street Arab,
+     to have survived much cudgeling. It was plain that these
+     feet had kicked off sportive children oftener than they had
+     plodded with freight through miry lanes. He was altogether a
+     fine-weather, holiday sort of a donkey; and though he was
+     just then somewhat solemnized and rueful, he still gave
+     proof of the levity of his disposition by impudently wagging
+     his ears at me as I drew near. I say he was somewhat
+     solemnized just then; for with the admirable instinct of all
+     men and animals under restraint, he had so wound and wound
+     the halter about the tree that he could go neither back nor
+     forwards, nor so much as put his head down to browse. There
+     he stood, poor rogue, part puzzled, part angry, part, I
+     believe, amused. He had not given up hope, and dully
+     revolved the problem in his head, giving ever and again
+     another jerk at the few inches of free rope that still
+     remained unwound. A humorous sort of sympathy for the
+     creature took hold upon me. I went up, and, not without some
+     trouble on my part, and much distrust and resistance on the
+     part of Neddy, got him forced backwards until the whole
+     length of the halter was set loose, and he was once more as
+     free a donkey as I dared to make him. I was pleased (as
+     people are) with this friendly action to a fellow-creature
+     in tribulation, and glanced back over my shoulder to see how
+     he was profiting by his freedom. The brute was looking after
+     me; and no sooner did he catch my eye than he put up his
+     long white face into the air, pulled an impudent mouth at
+     me, and began to bray derisively. If ever any one person
+     made a grimace at another, that donkey made a grimace at me.
+     The hardened ingratitude of his behavior, and the
+     impertinence that inspired his whole face as he curled up
+     his lip, and showed his teeth and began to bray, so tickled
+     me and was so much in keeping with what I had imagined to
+     myself of his character, that I could not find it in my
+     heart to be angry, and burst into a peal of hearty laughter.
+     This seemed to strike the ass as a repartee, so he brayed at
+     me again by way of rejoinder; and we went on for awhile,
+     braying and laughing, until I began to grow a-weary of it,
+     and shouting a derisive farewell, turned to pursue my way.
+     In so doing--it was like going suddenly into cold water--I
+     found myself face to face with a prim, little old maid. She
+     was all in a flutter, the poor old dear! She had concluded
+     beyond question that this must be a lunatic who stood
+     laughing aloud at a white donkey in the placid beech-woods.
+     I was sure, by her face, that she had already recommended
+     her spirit most religiously to Heaven, and prepared herself
+     for the worst. And so, to reassure her, I uncovered and
+     besought her, after a very staid fashion, to put me on my
+     way to Great Missenden. Her voice trembled a little, to be
+     sure, but I think her mind was set at rest; and she told me,
+     very explicitly, to follow the path until I came to the end
+     of the wood, and then I should see the village below me in
+     the bottom of the valley. And, with mutual courtesies, the
+     little old maid and I went on our respective ways."
+
+Books of travel, memoirs, and biographies, as whole books, are
+generally without any arrangement serious enough to be termed a plot;
+yet a large part of the interest in such books would be lost were the
+incidents there collected not well told, with a conscious attempt to
+set them out in the very best fashion; indeed, if each incident did
+not have a plot. In "Vanity Fair" with its six hundred pages, in
+"Silas Marner" with its two hundred pages, in the short stories of our
+best magazines, in the spicy little anecdotes in the "Youth's
+Companion,"--in the least bit of a good story as well as the
+three-volume novel, the authors have used the means best suited to
+retain the interest to the end. They have constructed plots.
+
+  Unity, Mass, and Coherence.
+
+In the construction of any piece of composition there are three
+principles of primary importance: they are Unity, which is concerned
+with the material itself; and Mass and Coherence, which are concerned
+with the arrangement of the material. A composition has unity when all
+the material has been so sifted and selected that each part
+contributes its share to the central thought of the whole. Whether of
+a sentence, a paragraph, or a whole composition, all those parts must
+be excluded which do not bring something of value to the whole; and
+everything must be included which is necessary to give a clear
+understanding of the whole. Mass, the second principle of structure,
+demands that those parts of a composition, paragraph, or sentence
+which are of most importance shall be so placed that they will arrest
+the attention. By coherence is meant that principle of structure
+which, in sentences, paragraphs, and whole compositions, places those
+parts related in thought near together, and keeps separate those parts
+which are separated in thought.
+
+  Main Incident.
+
+For the construction of a story that will retain the reader's interest
+to the end, for the selection of such material as will contribute to a
+central thought, for the arrangement of this material so that the most
+important matter shall occupy the most important position in the
+theme, one simple rule is of value. It is this: _First choose the main
+incident_ towards which all the other incidents converge, and for the
+accomplishment of which the preceding incidents are necessary. A few
+pages will be given to the application of this rule, and to the
+results of its application.
+
+  Its Importance.
+
+There should be in each story, however slight the plot, some incident
+that is more important than the others, and toward which all the
+others converge. A reader is disappointed if, after reading a story
+through, he finds that there is no worthy ending, that all the
+preparation was made for no purpose. If, in "Wee Willie Winkie,"
+Kipling had stopped just before Miss Allardyce started across the
+river, it would have been a poor story. It would have had no ending.
+It is because a story gets somewhere that we like it. Yet not just
+somewhere; it must arrive at a place worthy of all the preparation
+that has preceded. A very common fault with the compositions of young
+persons is that they begin big and end little. It is not infrequent
+that the first paragraph promises well; the second is not quite so
+good; and the rest gradually fall off until the end is worthless. The
+order should be changed. Have the first paragraph promise well, make
+the second better, and the last best of all. The main incident should
+be more important than each incident that precedes it. Get the main
+incident in mind before beginning; be sure it is the main incident;
+then bend all your energies to make it the most important incident
+toward which all the other incidents converge.
+
+  Unity.
+
+The choice of a main incident will determine what incidents to
+exclude. The world is full of incidents--enough to make volumes more
+than we now have. A phonograph and a camera could gather enough any
+day at a busy corner in a city to fill a volume; yet these pictures
+and these bits of conversation, interesting as each in itself might
+be, would not be a unit,--not one story, but many. Few persons,
+indeed, would write anything so disjointed as the report made by this
+phonograph; yet good writers are often led astray by the brilliancy of
+their own ideas. They have so many good stories on hand which they
+would like to tell, that they force some of them into their present
+story, and so spoil two stories. In the very popular "David Harum," it
+would puzzle any one to know why the author has introduced the ladies
+from the city and the musical party at the lake. The episode is good
+enough in itself; but in this story it has not a shadow of excuse.
+There is a phrase of Kipling's that should ring in every
+story-teller's ears. Not once only, but a number of times, this prince
+of modern story-tellers catches himself--almost too late
+sometimes--and writes, "But that is another story." One incident calls
+up another; paragraph follows paragraph naturally. It is easy enough
+to look back and trace the road by which the writer arrived at his
+present position; yet it would be very hard to tell why he came
+hither, or to see how the journey up to this point will at all put him
+toward his destination. He has digressed; he has left the road. And he
+must get back to the road. By this digression he has wasted just as
+much time as it has taken to come from the direct road to this point
+added to the time it will take to go back. Do not digress; tell one
+story at a time; let no incident into your story which cannot answer
+the question, "Why are you here?" by "I help;" keep your eye on the
+main incident; things which do not unquestionably contribute something
+to the main incident should be excluded.
+
+  Introductions and Conclusions.
+
+The choice of the main incident towards which all other incidents
+converge will rid compositions of worthless introductions and trailing
+conclusions. A story should get under way at once; and any
+explanations at the beginning, the introduction of long descriptions
+or tedious paragraphs of "fine writing," will be headed off if the
+pupil keeps constantly in mind that it must all lead directly toward
+the main incident. Again, if everything converges to the main
+incident, when that has been told the story is finished. After that
+there must be no explanations, no moralizing, nothing. When the story
+has been told it is a good rule to stop.
+
+An excellent example of a short story well told is "An Incident of the
+French Camp," by Robert Browning. Only the absolutely necessary has
+been introduced. The incidents flash before the reader. Nothing can be
+said after the last line. "Hervé Riel" is a vivid piece of narrative
+too. Such an exhibition of manliness appeals to all. Was it necessary
+to attach the last stanza? If this poem needed it, why not the other?
+If the story has no moral in it, no man can tie it on; if there is
+one, the reader should be accounted intelligent enough to find it
+without any help.
+
+  Tedious Enumerations.
+
+Making all the incidents converge to one main incident will avoid
+tiresome enumerations of inconsequential events, which frequently fill
+the compositions of young pupils. Such essays generally start with "a
+bright, clear morning," and "a party of four of us." After recounting
+a dozen events of no consequence whatever, "we came home to a late
+supper, well repaid for our day's outing." These compositions may be
+quite correct in the choice of words, sentences, and paragraphs, and
+with it all be flat. There is nothing to them; they get the reader
+nowhere. Pick out one of the many incidents. Work it up. Turn back to
+the paragraph from Stevenson and notice how little there is to it when
+reduced to bare outline. He has worked it up so that it is good.
+Always remember that a short anecdote well told is worth pages of
+aimless enumeration.
+
+  What to include.
+
+The selection of the main incident will guide in determining what to
+include; for every detail must be included that is necessary to make
+the main incident possible. A young pupil wrote of a party in the
+woods. The girls had found pleasant seats in a car and were chatting
+about their friends, when they felt a sudden lurch, and soon one of
+the party was besmeared by slippery, sticky whites of eggs. Now, if
+eggs were in the habit of clinging to the roofs of cars and breaking
+at unfortunate moments, there would be no need of any explanation; but
+as the cook forgot to boil the eggs and the girl had put them up into
+the rack herself, some of this should have been told. Enough at least
+should be told to make the main incident a possibility. Stories are
+full of surprises, but they can be understood easily from the
+preceding incidents; or else the new element is one that happens
+frequently, and of itself is nothing new. In the paragraph from
+Stevenson, the entrance of the "prim, little old maid" is a surprise,
+but it is a very common thing for ladies to walk upon a public
+highway. Any surprise must be natural,--the result of causes at work
+in the story, or of circumstances which are always occurring and by
+themselves no surprises. If the story be a tangled web of incidents
+culminating in some horror, as the death of the beautiful young wife
+in Hawthorne's "Birthmark," all the events must be told that are
+necessary to carry the reader from the first time he beholds her
+beauty until he sees her again, her life ebbing away as the fairy hand
+fades from her cheek. In "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep" it would be
+impossible to pass directly from the sweet boy of the first chapter to
+the little liar of the last; something must be told of those miserable
+days that intervene, and their telling effect on the little fellow. So
+a reader could not harmonize his idea of old Scrooge gained in the
+first chapter with generous Mr. Scrooge of the last without the
+intermediate chapters. Keeping the main incident in mind, include all
+that is necessary to make it possible.
+
+  Consistency.
+
+This same rule more than any other will make a story consistent. If
+incidents are chosen with relation to the one main incident, they will
+all have a common quality; they can scarcely be inconsistent. It is
+much more essential that a story be consistent than that it be a fact.
+Indeed, facts are not necessary in stories, and they are dangerous.
+Ian Maclaren says that the only part of his stories that has been
+severely criticised is a drowning episode, which was a fact, and the
+only one he ever used. Yet to those who have read "The Bonnie Brier
+Bush," the old doctor is as well known as any person who lives across
+the street; he is real to us, though he never lived. "Old Scrooge" and
+"Brom Bones" are better known than John Adams is. A good character or
+a good story need not be drawn from facts. Indeed, in literature as in
+actual life, facts are stubborn things, and will not accommodate
+themselves to new surroundings. Make the story consistent; be not too
+careful about the facts.
+
+A story may be good and be entirely contrary to all known facts. "The
+Ugly Duckling" is as true as Fiske's "History of the United States,"
+and every whit as consistent. "Alice in Wonderland" is an excellent
+story; yet it contains no facts. The introduction of a single fact
+would ruin the story; for between the realm of fact and the region of
+fancy is a great gulf fixed, and no man has successfully crossed it.
+Whatever conditions of life and action are assumed in one part of a
+story must be continued throughout. If walruses talk and hens are
+reasonable in one part of the story, to reduce them to every-day
+animals would be ruinous. Consistency, that the parts stand together,
+that the story seem probable,--this is more essential than facts. And
+to gain this consistency the surest rule is to test the material by
+its relation to the main incident.
+
+The choice of the main incident, then, will determine to a great
+degree what to exclude and what to include; it will assist in ridding
+compositions of countless enumerations, aimless wanderings, and flat
+endings; it will help the writer to get started, and insure a stop
+when the story is told; and it will give to the story the quality most
+essential for its success, consistency.
+
+  An Actor as the Storyteller.
+
+There is yet another condition that enters into the selection of
+materials: it makes a difference who tells the story. If the story be
+told in the first person, that is, if one of the actors tell the
+story, he cannot be supposed to know all that the other persons do
+when out of sight and hearing, nor can he know what they think. To
+take an illustration from a pupil's essay. A girl took her baby sister
+out upon the lake in a rowboat. A violent storm arose, lashing the
+lake into a fury. The oars were wrenched from her hands. Helpless on
+the water, how was she to be saved? Here the essayist recited an
+infinite amount of detail about the distress at home, giving the
+conversation and the actions. These things she could not have known in
+the character she had assumed at the beginning, that of the chief
+actor. All of that should have been excluded. When Stevenson tells of
+the fight in the round house, though he knew what those old salts were
+doing outside, matters of great interest to the reader, he does not
+let David say anything except what he could see or hear, and a very
+little of what he "learned afterwards." Stevenson knew well who was
+telling the story; David is too good a story-teller to tell what he
+could not know. In the pupil's essay and in "Kidnapped," all such
+matters would have a direct bearing on the main incident; they could
+be included without destroying the unity of the story. But they cannot
+be included when the story is told by one of the actors.
+
+  The Omniscience of an Author.
+
+Many stories, probably most stories, are told in the third person. In
+this case the author assumes the position of an omniscient power who
+knows everything that is done, said, or thought by the characters in
+his story. Not only what happens in the next room, but what is thought
+at the other side of the world, is comprehended in his omniscience.
+This is the position assumed by Irving in "The Legend of Sleepy
+Hollow," by Kipling in the series of stories included with "Wee Willie
+Winkie," by Scott in "Marmion," and by most great novelists.
+Omniscience is, however, a dangerous prerogative for a young person.
+The power is so great that the person who has but recently come into
+possession of it becomes dizzy with it and uncertain in his movements.
+A young person knows what he would do under certain conditions; but to
+be able to know what some other person would do and think under a
+certain set of circumstances requires a sure knowledge of character,
+and the capability of assuming entirely different and unaccustomed
+points of view. It is much safer for the beginner to take the point of
+view of one of the actors, and tell the story in the first person.
+Then when the grasp has become sure from this standpoint, he may
+assume the more difficult role of the omniscient third person.
+
+To sum up what has been said about the selection of materials: only
+those materials should be admitted to a story which contribute to its
+main incident, which are consistent with one another, and which could
+have been known by the narrator.
+
+  The Climax.
+
+When the materials for a story have been selected, the next
+consideration is their arrangement. If the materials have been
+selected to contribute to the main incident and converge toward it, it
+will follow that _the main incident_ will come last in the story; it
+_will be the climax_ towards which the several parts of the story are
+directed. Moreover, it should be last, in order to retain the interest
+of the reader up to that time. This is in accordance with the demands
+of the second great principle of structure, Mass. An essay is well
+massed if the parts are so arranged that things of importance will
+arrest the attention. In literature to be read, to arrest the
+attention is almost equivalent to catching the eye. The positions that
+catch the eye, whether in sentence, paragraph, or essay, are the
+beginning and the end. Were it not for another element which enters
+into the calculation, these positions would be of nearly equal
+importance. Since, however, the mind retains the most vivid impression
+of the thing it received last, the impression of the end of the
+sentence, paragraph, or essay is stronger than the impression made by
+its beginning. The climax of a story should come at the end, both
+because it is the result of preceding incidents, and because by this
+position it receives the additional emphasis due to its position.
+
+  Who? Where? When? Why?
+
+The beginning is the position of second importance. What, then, shall
+stand in this place? A story resembles a puzzle. The solution of the
+puzzle is given at the end; the thing of next importance is the
+conditions of the puzzle. In "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep" the story
+culminates in the surprise of a devoted mother when she discovers that
+her boy is a secretive little liar, who now deserves to be called
+"Black Sheep." This is the end; what was the beginning,--the
+conditions necessary to bring about this deplorable result? First,
+they were _the persons;_ second, _the place;_ third, _the time._ In
+many stories there is introduced the reason for telling the story.
+These conditions, answering the questions Who? Where? When? and Why?
+are all, or some of them, introduced at the beginning of any
+narrative, and as soon as it can be done, they ought all to be given.
+In a short essay, they are in the first paragraph; in a novel, in the
+first chapters. In "Marmion" the time, the place, and the principal
+character are introduced into the first canto. So Irving begins "The
+Legend of Sleepy Hollow" with the place and time, then follow the
+characters. In all stories the beginning is occupied in giving the
+conditions of the story; that is, the principal characters, the time,
+and the place.
+
+  In what Order?
+
+Having the end and the beginning clearly in mind, the next question is
+how best to get from one to the other. Shall the incidents be arranged
+in order of time? or shall other considerations govern? If it be any
+narrative of the journal form, whether a diary or a biography, the
+chronological arrangement will direct the sequence of events. Again,
+if it be a simple story with a single series of events, the time order
+will prevail. If, however, it be a narrative which contains several
+series of events, as a history or a novel, it may be wise, even
+necessary, to deviate from the time sequence. It would have been
+unwise for Scott to hold strictly to the order of time in "Marmion;"
+after introducing the principal character, giving the time and the
+setting, it was necessary for him to bring in another element of the
+plot, Constance, and to go backward in time to pick up this thread of
+the story. The really essential order in any narrative is the order of
+cause and effect. As causes precede effects, the causal order and the
+time order generally coincide. In a single series of events, that is,
+where one cause alone produces an effect, which in turn becomes the
+cause of another effect, the time order is the causal order. In a
+novel, or a short story frequently, where there are more than one
+series of incidents contributing to and converging towards the main
+incident, these causes must all be introduced before the effect, and
+may break the chronological order of the story. In "Roger Malvin's
+Burial," it would be impossible to tell what the stricken father was
+doing and what the joyous mother was thinking at the same time.
+Hawthorne must leave one and go to the other until they meet in their
+awful desolation. The only rule that can be given is, introduce causes
+before effects. In all stories, short or long, this will result in an
+approximation to the order of time; in a simple story it will
+invariably give a time sequence.
+
+There is one exception to this rule which should be noted. It is
+necessary at the very beginning to have some incident that will arrest
+the attention. This does not mean that persons, place, and time shall
+not come first. They shall come first, but they shall be so introduced
+as to make an interesting opening to the story. The novels of some
+decades ago did not sufficiently recognize the principle. One can
+frequently hear it said of Scott's stories, "I can't get started with
+them; they are too dry." The introductory chapters are often
+uninteresting. So much history is introduced, so much scenery is
+described before the author sets out his characters; and all this is
+done before he begins the story. Novelists of to-day realize that they
+must interest the reader at the beginning; when they have caught him,
+they are quite certain that he will bear with them while they bring up
+the other divisions of the story, which now have become interesting
+because they throw light on what has already been told. Even more than
+novelists, dramatists recognize this principle. When the curtain rises
+on the first act, something interesting is going on. The action
+frequently begins far along in the time covered by the story; then by
+cleverly arranged conversation all circumstances before the time of
+the opening that are necessary to the development of the plot are
+introduced. The audience receives these minor yet essential details
+with no impatience, since they explain in part a situation already
+interesting. The time order may be broken in order to introduce at the
+beginning of the story some interesting situation which will
+immediately engage the reader's attention.
+
+In arranging the materials of a story, the main considerations are
+Mass and Coherence. Mass demands important matters at the beginning
+and at the end of a story. Coherence demands that events closely
+related shall stand close together: that an effect shall immediately
+follow its cause. Beginning with some interesting situation that will
+also introduce the principal characters, the time, and the setting,
+the story follows in the main the order of time, and concludes with
+the main incident.
+
+  An Outline.
+
+One practical suggestion will assist in arranging the parts of a
+story. Use an outline. It will guard against the omission of any
+detail that may afterward be found necessary, and against the
+necessity of offering the apology, inexcusable in prepared work, of
+"forgetting to say;" it will help the writer to see the best
+arrangement of the parts, to know that causes have preceded effects.
+The outline in narration should not be too much in detail, nor should
+it be followed if, as the story progresses, new light comes and the
+writer sees a better way to proceed. The writer should be above the
+outline, not its slave; but the outline is a most valuable servant of
+the writer.
+
+  Movement.
+
+_Movement is an essential quality of narrative;_ a story must advance.
+This does not mean that the story shall always go at the same rate,
+though it does mean that it shall always go. If a story always had the
+rapidity and intensity of a climax, it would be intolerable. Music
+that is all rushing climaxes is unbearable; a picture must not be a
+glare of high lights. The quiet passages in music, the grays and low
+tones in the background of the picture, the slow chapters in a story,
+are as necessary as their opposites; indeed, climaxes are dependent on
+contrasts in order to be climaxes.
+
+  Rapidity.
+
+The question of movement resolves itself into these two: how is
+rapidity of movement obtained, and how can the writer delay the
+movement. Rapidity is gained by the omission of all unnecessary
+details, and the use of the shortest, tersest sentences to express the
+absolutely essential. Dependent clauses disappear; either the
+sentences are simple, just one sharp statement, or they are made of
+coördinate clauses with no connectives. Every weight that could clog
+the story is thrown away, and it runs with the swiftness of the
+thought. At such a time it would be a waste of good material to
+introduce beautiful descriptions or profound philosophy. Such things
+would be skipped by the reader. Everything must clear the way for the
+story.
+
+  Slowness.
+
+What has been said of rapidity will indicate the answer to the second
+question. Slowness of movement is obtained by introducing long
+descriptions, analyses of characters, and information regarding the
+history or customs of the time. Sentences become long and involved;
+dependent clauses abound; connective words and phrases are frequent.
+Needless details may be introduced until the story becomes wearisome;
+it has almost no movement.
+
+Very closely connected with what has been said above is another fact
+concerning movement. Strip the sentences as you may, there are still
+the verbs remaining. Verbs and derivatives from verbs are the words
+which denote action. If other classes of words be taken out, the ratio
+of verbs to the other words in the sentence is larger. Shorter
+sentences and an increased ratio of verbs mark the passages in which
+the movement is more rapid. In "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep" the sentences
+average twenty-five words in the slower parts; in the intenser
+paragraphs the sentences have an average of fifteen words. Poe's
+"Gold-Bug" changes from thirty-eight to twenty-one. Again, Stevenson's
+essays have a verb to eight words, while the fight at the round house
+has a verb to about five and a half words. One of Kipling's stories
+starts in with a verb to eight and a half words, and the climax has a
+verb in every four words. These figures mean that as the sentences are
+shortened, adjectives, adverbs, phrases, connectives, disappear.
+Everything not absolutely necessary is thrown away when the passage is
+to express rapid movement.
+
+No person should think that, by eliminating all dependent clauses,
+cutting away all unnecessary matters, and putting in a verb to every
+four words, he can gain intensity of expression. These are only
+accompanying circumstances. Climaxes are in the thought. When the
+thought moves rapidly, when things are being done with a rush, when
+the climax has been reached, then the writer will find that he can
+approach the movement of the thought most nearly by using these means.
+
+  Description and Narration.
+
+_A valuable accessory to narration is description;_ in truth,
+description for its own sake is not frequently found. The story must
+be somewhere; and it is more real when we know in what kind of a place
+it occurs. Still it is not wise to do as Scott so often has
+done,--give chapters of description at the beginning of the story.
+Rather the setting should be scattered through the story so that it is
+hardly perceptible. At no time should the reader halt and realize that
+he is being treated to a description. Even in the beautiful
+descriptions by Stevenson quoted in the next chapter, the work is so
+intimately blended with the story that the reader unfortunately might
+pass over it. A large part of the pleasure derived from the best
+stories is supplied by good descriptions, giving a vivid picture of
+the setting of the story.
+
+Description has another use in narration beside giving the setting of
+the story; it is often used to accent the mood of the action. In "The
+Fall of the House of Usher" by Poe, much of the gloomy foreboding is
+caused by the weird descriptions. Hawthorne understood well the
+harmony between man's feelings and his surroundings. The Sylvan Dance
+in "The Marble Faun" is wonderfully handled. Irving, in "The Legend of
+Sleepy Hollow," throws about the story a "witching influence," and
+long before the Headless Horseman appears, the reader is quite sure
+that the region abounds in "ghosts and goblins," dwelling in its
+"haunted fields, and haunted brooks, and haunted bridges, and haunted
+houses." The danger in the use of description for this purpose is in
+overdoing it. The fact is, as Arlo Bates says, "the villains no longer
+steal through smiling gardens whose snowy lilies, all abloom, and
+sending up perfume like incense from censers of silver, seem to rebuke
+the wicked." Yet when handled as Stevenson and Irving handled it,
+description assists in accenting the mood of the action.
+
+  Characters few, Time short.
+
+_The number of characters should be few_ and the time of the action
+short. Pupils are not able to handle a large number of persons. There
+is, however, a stronger reason for it than incapacity. A young person
+would have great trouble in remembering the large number of persons
+introduced into "Little Dorrit." Many of them would always remain
+entire strangers. Such a scattering of attention is unfavorable to a
+story. To focus the interest upon a few, to have the action centred in
+these few, increases the movement and intensity of the narrative. The
+writers of short stories in France (perhaps the best story-tellers of
+the present), Kipling, Davis, Miss Wilkins, and some others of our
+best authors, find few characters all that are necessary, and they
+gain in intensity by limiting the number of characters.
+
+For the same reason _the time should be short._ If all the incidents
+chosen are crowded into a short period of time, the action must be
+more rapid. The reader does not like to know five years have elapsed
+between one event and the next, even if the story-teller does not try
+to fill up the interim with matters of no consequence to the
+narrative. One exception must be made to this rule. In stories whose
+purpose is to portray a change of character, a long time is necessary;
+for the transformation is not usually the result of a day's
+experience, but a gradual process of years. "Silas Marner" and "Baa,
+Baa, Black Sheep" demand time to make naturally the great changes
+recounted. In general, however, the time should be short.
+
+  Simple Plot.
+
+Moreover, _the plot should be simple._ This is not saying that the
+plot should be evident. No one is quite satisfied if he knows just how
+the story will turn out. There are, however, so many conditions in a
+story that the accentuation of one or the subordination of another may
+bring about something quite unexpected, yet perfectly natural.
+Complicated plots have had their day; simple plots are now in vogue.
+They are as natural as life, and quite as unfathomable. In Davis's
+"Gallegher" there is nothing complicated; one thing follows another in
+a perfectly natural way; yet there are many questions in the reader's
+mind as to how the little rascal will turn out, and whether he will
+accomplish his mission. Much more cleverness is shown by the
+sleight-of-hand trickster, who, unassisted and in the open, with no
+accessories, dupes his staring assembly, than by him who, on the
+stage, with the aid of mirrors, lights, machines, and a crowd of
+assistants, manages to deceive your eyes. A story that by its frank
+simplicity takes the reader into its confidence, and brings him to a
+conclusion that is so natural that it should have been foreseen from
+the beginning, has a good plot. The conclusion of a story must be
+natural,--the result of the causes at work in the story. It must be an
+expected surprise. If it cannot be accounted for by the causes at work
+in the story, the construction is faulty. In the world of fiction
+there is not the liberty one experiences in the world of fact. There
+things unexpected and unexplainable occur. But the story-teller has no
+such privilege. Truth is stranger than fiction dare be. A simple,
+natural story, with few characters and covering but a short period of
+time, has three elements of success.
+
+Paragraph structure, sentence structure, and choice of words are taken
+up in subsequent chapters. Of paragraphs it may be wise to say that
+there will be as many as there are divisions in the outline; and
+sometimes, by reason of the length of topic, a subdivision may be
+necessary. The paragraph most common in narration is the paragraph of
+details, the first form presented in the chapter on paragraphs. What
+needs to be said of sentences has already been said when treating of
+movement. Of words one thing may be suggested. Choose live words,
+specific words, words that have "go" in them.
+
+It should be remembered that everything cannot be learned at once. The
+study of the whole is the principal occupation just now. Select the
+main incident; choose other incidents to be consistent with it; start
+out at once giving the conditions of the story; proceed now fast, now
+slow, as the thought demands, arriving at a conclusion that is an
+expected surprise, the result of forces at work in the story.
+
+
+                  SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES
+
+The questions are only suggestive. They indicate how literature can be
+made to teach composition. Some questions may seem hard, and will
+provoke discussion. To have even a false opinion, backed by only a few
+facts, is better than an entire absence of thought. Encourage
+discussion. The answers to the questions have not been suggested in
+the questions themselves. The object has been to throw the pupil upon
+his own thinking.
+
+These questions upon the "Method of the Author" should not be
+considered until the far more important work of deriving the "Meaning
+of the Author" has been finished. Only after the whole piece has been
+carefully studied can the relation of the parts to the whole be
+understood. Reserve the questions for the review.
+
+
+                              QUESTIONS.
+
+                        THE GREAT STONE FACE.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 40.)
+
+In what paragraphs is the main incident?
+
+Can you find one sentence on the second page of the story that
+foreshadows the result?
+
+How many incidents or episodes contribute to the story?
+
+Do these help in the development of Ernest's character? If not, what
+is the use of them?
+
+Why are they arranged in this order?
+
+Introduce into its proper place an incident of a scientist. Write it
+up.
+
+Do you think one of the incidents could be omitted? Which one?
+
+Are the incidents related in the order in which they occurred? Is one
+the cause of another?
+
+Has the story a plot? Why do you think so? What is a plot?
+
+Where are introduced the time, place, and the principal character?
+
+What is the use of the description of "the great stone face"?
+
+Why does the author tell only what "was reported" of the interior of
+Mr. Gathergold's palace? Is it better so?
+
+Are the descriptions to accent the mood of the story? or are they
+primarily to make concrete and real the persons and places?
+
+Is there any place where the movement of the story is rapid?
+
+Does the author begin at once, and close when the story is told?
+
+Did you find any use of comparisons in the piece? (See top of p. 6,
+top of p. 19, middle of p. 22.)[3]
+
+Of what value are they in composition?
+
+
+                           THE GENTLE BOY.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 145.)
+
+What is the main incident?
+
+In relation to the whole story, in what place does it stand?
+
+Do the other incidents serve to develop the character of "the gentle
+boy"? or are they introduced to open up to the reader that character?
+(Compare with "Wee Willie Winkie.")
+
+Do you consider all the incidents necessary?
+
+Why has the author introduced the fact that Ilbrahim gently cared for
+the little boy who fell from the tree?
+
+What is the use of the first two pages of the story?
+
+Where does the story really begin?
+
+How could you know the time, if the first page were not there? Is it a
+delicate way of telling "when"?
+
+Notice that time, place, and principal characters all are introduced
+into the first paragraph of the real story.
+
+Why does the author note the change in Tobias's circumstances? Does it
+add to the interest of the story? Would you omit it?
+
+Do you think this plot more complicated than that of "The Great Stone
+Face"?
+
+What is the use of the description on p. 31?
+
+What do you note as the difference between
+(a) second line of p. 19, sixth line of p. 27, sixteenth line of p.
+29, and (b) fourth line of p. 25, the figure in the complete paragraph
+on p. 40?
+
+
+                          THE GRAY CHAMPION.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 145.)
+
+Note the successive stages by which the time is approached. (Compare
+with the beginning of "Silas Marner.")
+
+Can you feel any difference between the movement of this story and the
+movement in "The Gentle Boy"?
+
+Is there any difference in the length of the sentences? (Remember that
+the independent clauses of a compound sentence are very nearly the
+same as simple sentences.)
+
+Is there any difference in the proportion of verbs and verbals? What
+parts of speech have almost disappeared?
+
+
+                        ROGER MALVIN'S BURIAL.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 145.)
+
+Why is the first paragraph needed?
+
+Why could the incident in the first paragraph on p. 50 not be omitted?
+Do you find it later?
+
+How many chapters could you divide the story into? What is the basis
+of division?
+
+Why did not Hawthorne tell the result of the shot at once?
+
+A plot is usually made by introducing more than one cause, by hiding
+one of the causes, or by holding back an effect. Which in this story?
+
+Is there a change of movement between the beginning and the end of the
+story? Look at the last two pages carefully. How has the author
+expressed the intensity of the situation?
+
+Does the story end when it is finished?
+
+
+                          THE WEDDING KNELL.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 145.)
+
+Of the three common ways of giving uncertainty to a plot, which has
+been used?
+
+Do you call this plot more complicated than those of the other tales
+studied?
+
+Why does the author say, at the top of p. 72, "necessary preface"?
+Could it not be omitted? If not, what principle of narrative
+construction would be violated by its omission?
+
+Why has he introduced the last paragraph on p. 74 reaching over to p.
+75?
+
+
+                         THE AMBITIOUS GUEST.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 40.)
+
+In what order are the elements of the story introduced?
+
+Pick out phrases which prepare you for the catastrophe.
+
+Can you detect any difference in the movement of the different parts
+of the story? What aids its expression?
+
+
+                            THE GOLD-BUG.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 120.)
+
+Would you have been satisfied if the story had stopped when the
+treasure was discovered? What more do you want to know?
+
+What, then, is the main incident? Was the main incident the last to
+occur in order of time? Why did Poe delay telling it until the end?
+
+Do you see how relating the story in the first person helped him to
+throw the main incident last? Why could he not tell it before?
+
+Does Poe tell any other stories in the first person?
+
+In what person are "Treasure Island" and "Kidnapped" told? Are they
+interesting?
+
+If a friend is telling you a story, do you care more for it if it is
+about a third party or about himself? Why?
+
+What, then, is the advantage of making an actor the narrator? What are
+some of the disadvantages?
+
+Do you think this plot as good as those of Hawthorne's stories?
+
+Why was it necessary to have "a day of remarkable chilliness" (p. 3),
+and a Newfoundland dog rushing into the room (p. 6)?
+
+What principle would it violate to omit these little matters?
+(Text-book, p. 24.)
+
+What of the rapidity of movement when they are digging? How has
+rapidity been gained?
+
+What form of wit does Poe attempt? Does he succeed?
+
+Do you think the conversation is natural? If not, what is the matter
+with it?
+
+Are negroes usually profane? Does Jupiter's general character lead you
+to expect profanity from him? Is anything gained by his oaths? Is
+anything sacrificed? In this story is profanity artistic? (To know
+what is meant by "artistic," read the last line of "L'Envoi" on p. 253
+of the text-book.)
+
+
+                      THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 30.)
+
+What is the purpose of the first stanza?
+
+What connection in thought is there between the second, third, and
+fourth stanzas? What have these stanzas to do with the story? If they
+have nothing to do with it, what principle of structure do they
+violate? Would Lowell be likely to do this?
+
+What is the use of the description beginning "And what is so rare as a
+day in June"?
+
+Would the story be complete without the preludes? Would the teaching
+be understood without them?
+
+Are time and place definitely stated in the poem? Why should they be,
+or not be?
+
+Why does so much time elapse between Part I. and Part II. of the
+story?
+
+In what lines do you find the main incident?
+
+In the first prelude is Lowell describing a landscape of New England
+or Old England? Where is the story laid? What comment have you to make
+upon these facts?
+
+Pick out the figures. Are they useful?
+
+Can you find passages of exposition and description in this narrative?
+Why do you call it narration?
+
+What is Lowell's criticism upon himself? (See "Fable for Critics.")
+
+
+                          A CHRISTMAS CAROL.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 57.)
+
+Is the opening such as to catch the attention?
+
+What is the essential idea in the description of Scrooge? Do all
+details enforce this idea? Do you know Scrooge?
+
+In what paragraph does Dickens tell where the story occurs?
+
+Find places on p. 19 and p. 96 where Dickens has used "in" or "into."
+
+What advantage to the story is the appearance in Scrooge's office of
+his nephew and the two gentlemen? Do they come into the story again?
+
+Are the details in the description of the apparition on p. 41 in the
+order in which they would be noted? Which is the most important
+detail? Where is it in the description?
+
+Is the description of Mrs. Fezziwig on p. 52 successful?
+
+What helps express rapidity of movement in the paragraph at the bottom
+of p. 53? (See also paragraph on p. 85.)
+
+Examining the words used by Dickens and Hawthorne, which are longer?
+Which are most effectual? Are you sure? Rewrite one of Hawthorne's
+paragraphs with a Dickens vocabulary. What is the result?
+
+What word is the topic of the last paragraph on p. 73?
+
+Recast the first sentence of the last paragraph on p. 77.
+
+Does Dickens use slang? (Do not consider conversation in the answer to
+this question.)
+
+What is the main incident? Is there one of the minor incidents that
+could be omitted?
+
+Which one could you most easily spare?
+
+What is the need of the last chapter?
+
+
+                               MARMION.
+                 (Rolfe's Student's Series, Vol. 2.)
+
+How do you know the time of "Marmion"?
+
+Do you see any reason why stanza vi. of Canto I. would better precede
+stanza v.?
+
+Where is the first mention of De Wilton? the first intimation of Clara
+de Clare? of Constance?
+
+What form of discourse in stanza vii. of Canto II.?
+
+What part in the development of the narrative does Fitz-Eustace's song
+make?
+
+Does the tale related by the host break the unity of the whole? Is it
+"another story"? What value has it?
+
+Why does Scott not tell of Marmion's encounter with the Elfin Knight
+in Canto III.? Where is it told? Why there?
+
+Why is Canto II. put after Canto I.? Did the events related in II.
+occur after those related in I.?
+
+How many of the descriptions of persons in "Marmion" begin with the
+face? How many times are they of the face only?
+
+Try to write the incident related in stanzas xix., xx., xxi., and
+xxii. of Canto III. in fewer words than Scott has done it without
+sacrificing any detail.
+
+Are you satisfied with the description of King James in stanza viii.
+Canto V.? Do you see him?
+
+Write an outline of the plot of "Marmion" in two hundred words.
+
+Why is the story of Lady Clare reserved until Canto V.?
+
+What cantos contain the main incident?
+
+Were all that precedes omitted, would "The Battle" be as interesting?
+
+Do you think the plot good? Is it complicated?
+
+What of the number of figures used in the last canto compared with
+those used in any other canto? Do you find more in narrative or
+descriptive passages? Why?
+
+Read stanza viii. Canto III. Can you describe a voice without using
+comparison?
+
+Do the introductions to the several cantos form any part of the story?
+Would they be just as good anywhere else? Would the story be better
+with them, or without them? What principle of structure do they
+violate?
+
+
+                              EXERCISES.
+
+The subjects for composition given below are not intended as a course
+to be followed, but only to suggest a plan for the work. The
+individual topics for essays may not be the best for all cases. Long
+lists of topics can be found in rhetorics. Bare subjects, however, are
+usually unsuggestive. They should be adapted to the class. Put the
+subjects in such shape that there is something to get hold of. Give
+the pupils a fair start.
+
+1-4. In order to place before the pupils good models for constructing
+stories, read one like "A Piece of String" in "An Odd Number," by
+Maupassant. Stories for this purpose should not be long. Talk the
+story over with the pupils, bringing out clearly the main incident and
+the several episodes which contribute to it. Have them notice how
+characters, time, and place are introduced; and how each succeeding
+event is possible and natural. Then have it rewritten. This will fix
+the idea of plan. For this purpose some of Miss Wilkins's stories are
+excellent; Kenneth Grahame's "The Golden Age," and Miss Jewett's short
+stories are good material. Some of the short stories in current
+magazines serve well.
+
+5, 6. Read the first of a story and its close,--enough to indicate the
+main incident and the setting of the story. Have the pupils write it
+complete.
+
+7. Read the close of a story. The pupils will then write the whole.
+
+8. Read the opening of a story. Have the pupils complete it.
+
+9. Finish "The Circus-Man's Story" (Text-book, p. 297.)
+
+10. My First Algebra Lesson. Remember that in composition a good story
+is worth more than a true one. The basis may be a fact. Do not
+hesitate to fix it up.
+
+11. A delivery horse runs away. No persons are in the wagon. Tell
+about it.
+
+12. Write about a runaway in which you and your little sister are
+injured. (I have found it very helpful to use the same subject, but
+having the relation of the narrator to the incident very different. It
+serves to bring out a whole new vocabulary in order to express the
+difference in the feelings of the narrator.)
+
+13. Write the story suggested to your mind by these words: Digging in
+the sand I found a board much worn by the waves, on which were cut, in
+characters scarcely traceable, these words: "Dec.----18 9,    N. J."
+
+14. A humorous incident in a street car, in which the joke was on the
+other fellow.
+
+15. Another in which the joke was on me. The same incident may be used
+with good effect. The choice of new words to express the difference of
+feelings makes an excellent exercise.
+
+16. Tell the story that Doreas related to her neighbors about her
+husband's escape and her father's death.
+
+17. To bring out the fact that the language must be varied to suit the
+character of the reader or listener, tell a fairy story to a sleepy
+five-year old so that he will not go to sleep. Do not hesitate at
+exaggerations. Only remember it must be consistent.
+
+18. Have "The Gentle Boy" tell one of the incidents in which he was
+cruelly treated. This may well be an incident of your own life adapted
+to its purpose.
+
+19, 20. Jim was a mean boy. Meanness seemed to be in his blood. He was
+all mean. His hair was mean; his freckles were mean; his big, chapped
+hands were mean. And he was always mean. He was mean to his pets; he
+was meaner to small boys; and he was as mean as he dared to be to his
+equals in size.
+
+Write one incident to show Jim's meanness.
+
+Write another to show how Jim met his match, and learned a lesson.
+
+21. Work up the following into a story. It all occurs in one day at
+the present time. Place, your own city. Characters, a poor sewing
+girl, her little sick brother, and a wealthy society lady. Incidents:
+a conversation between brother and sister about some fruit; a
+conversation between the sewing girl and the lady about money due for
+sewing; stealing apples; arrest; appearance of the lady. Title: Who
+was the Criminal?
+
+22. A story of a modern Sir Launfal.
+
+23. The most thrilling moment of my life.
+
+24. Tell the whole story suggested by the stanza of "A Nightingale in
+the Study," by Lowell, which begins, "Cloaked shapes, a twanging of
+guitars."
+
+25. Write a story which teaches a lesson. Remember that the lesson is
+in the story, not at its end.
+
+In the work at this time but little attention can be given to the
+teaching of paragraphs and sentences. The pupil should learn what a
+paragraph is, and should have his composition properly divided into
+paragraphs. But the form and massing of paragraphs cannot be taken up
+at this time. The same may be said of sentences. He should have no
+sentences broken in two by periods; nor should he have two sentences
+forced into one. Grammatical errors should be severely criticised.
+However, the present work is to get the pupils started; and they
+cannot get started if there is a teacher holding them back by
+discouraging criticisms. Mark all mistakes of whatever kind; but put
+the stress upon the whole composition: its unity, its coherence, its
+mass, and its movement. Everything cannot be done at once; many
+distressing faults will have to be passed over until later.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV
+
+                             DESCRIPTION
+
+
+  Difficulties of Language for making Pictures.
+
+Description has been defined as the form of literature which presents
+a picture by means of language. In the preceding chapter, it has been
+pointed out that the sequence of language is perfectly adapted to
+detail the sequence of action in a narrative. For the purpose of
+constructing a picture, the means has serious drawbacks. The picture
+has to be presented in pieces; and the difficulties are much as would
+be experienced if "dissected maps and animals" used for children's
+amusement were to be put together in the head. It would not be easy to
+arrange the map of the United States from blocks, each containing a
+small part of it, taken one at a time from a box. Yet this closely
+resembles the method language forces us to adopt in constructing a
+picture. Each phrase is like one of the blocks, and introduces a new
+element into the picture; from these phrases the reader must
+reconstruct the whole. This means not alone that he shall remember
+them all, but there is a more serious trouble: he must often rearrange
+them. For example, a description by Ruskin begins, "Nine years old."
+Either a boy or a girl, the reader thinks, as it may be in his own
+home. In the case of this reader it is a boy, rather tall of his age,
+with brown hair and dark eyes. But the next phrase reads, "Neither
+tall nor short for her age." Now the reader knows it is a girl of
+common stature. Later on he learns that her eyes are "deep blue;" her
+lips "perfectly lovely in profile;" and so on through the details of
+the whole sketch. Many times in the course of the description the
+reader makes up a new picture; he is continually reconstructing. Any
+one who will observe his own mind while reading a new description can
+prove that the picture is arranged and rearranged many times. This is
+due to the means by which it is presented. Language presents only a
+phrase at a time,--a fragment, not a whole,--and so fails in the
+instantaneous presentation of a complete picture.
+
+  Painting and Sculpture.
+
+The painter or sculptor who upon canvas or in stone flashes the whole
+composition before us at the same instant of time, has great
+advantages over the worker in words. In these methods there is needed
+no reconstruction of previous images, no piecing together of a number
+of fragments. Without any danger of mistakes which will have to be
+corrected later, the spectator can take in the whole picture at
+once,--every relation, every color, every difference in values.
+
+It is because pictures are the surest and quickest means of
+representing objects to the mind that books, especially text-books,
+and magazines are so profusely illustrated. No magazine can claim
+popularity to-day that does not use illustrations where possible; no
+text-book in science or history sells unless it contains pictures. And
+this is because all persons accurately and quickly get the idea from a
+picture.
+
+  Advantages of Language.
+
+Whatever be the disadvantages of language, there are some advantages.
+Who could paint this from Hawthorne?
+
+     "Soon the smoke ascended among the trees, impregnated with
+     _savory incense,_ not _heavy, dull,_ and _surfeiting,_ like
+     the steam of cookery indoors, but _sprightly_ and _piquant._
+     The _smell_ of our feast was akin to the woodland odors with
+     which it mingled." ("Mosses from an Old Manse.")
+
+Or this from Lowell?--
+
+     "Under the yaller-pines I house,
+     When sunshine makes 'em all _sweet-scented,_
+     An' _hear_ among their furry boughs
+     The _baskin'_ west wind _purr contented,_
+     While 'way o'erhead, ez _sweet_ an' _low
+     Ez distant bells thet ring for meetin',_
+     The wedged wil' geese _their bugles blow,_
+     Further an' further South retreatin'."[4]
+
+Or cut this from marble?--
+
+     "O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida,
+     Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
+     For now the noonday quiet holds the hill;
+     The grasshopper is silent in the grass;
+     The lizard, with his shadow on the stone,
+     Rests like a shadow, and the winds are dead.
+     The purple flower droops; the golden bee
+     Is lily-cradled; I alone awake.
+     My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love,
+     My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim,
+     And I am all aweary of my life."[5]
+
+The painter cannot put sounds upon a canvas, nor can the sculptor
+carve from marble an odor or a taste. We use the other senses in
+determining qualities of objects; and words which describe effects
+produced by other senses beside sight are valuable in description. As
+Lowell says, "we may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing" a
+large number of beautiful things. Moreover, language suggests hidden
+ideas that the representative arts cannot so well do. The following
+from a "Song" by Lowell has in it suggestions which the picture could
+not present.
+
+       "Violet! sweet violet!
+       Thine eyes are full of tears;
+           Are they wet
+           Even yet
+     With the thought of other years?
+     Or with gladness are they full,
+     For the night so beautiful,
+     And longing for those far-off spheres?
+
+       "Thy little heart, that hath with love
+       Grown colored like the sky above,
+       On which thou lookest ever,--
+           Can it know
+           All the woe
+     Of hope for what returneth never,
+     All the sorrow and the longing
+     To these hearts of ours belonging?"
+
+  Enumeration and Suggestion
+
+Description, like narration, has two large divisions: one simply to
+give information or instruction; the other to present a vivid picture.
+One is _representative_ or _enumerative;_ the other, _suggestive._ One
+may be illustrated by guide-books; the other by the descriptions of
+Stevenson or Ruskin. And in the most artistic fashion the two have
+been made to supplement each other in the following picture of "bright
+and beautiful Athens" by Cardinal Newman. From the first, to the
+sentence beginning "But what he would not think of," there is simply
+an enumeration of features which a commercial agent might see; the
+rest is what the artistic soul of the lover of beauty saw there. One
+is enumeration; the other a gloriously suggestive picture.
+
+     "A confined triangle, perhaps fifty miles its greatest
+     length, and thirty its greatest breadth; two elevated rocky
+     barriers, meeting at an angle; three prominent mountains,
+     commanding the plain,--Parnes, Pentelicus, and Hymettus; an
+     unsatisfactory soil; some streams, not always full;--such is
+     about the report which the agent of a London company would
+     have made of Attica. He would report that the climate was
+     mild; the hills were limestone; there was plenty of good
+     marble; more pasture land than at first survey might have
+     been expected, sufficient, certainly, for sheep and goats;
+     fisheries productive; silver mines once, but long since
+     worked out; figs fair; oil first-rate; olives in profusion.
+     But what he would not think of noting down was that that
+     olive-tree was so choice in nature and so noble in shape
+     that it excited a religious veneration; and that it took so
+     kindly to the light soil as to expand into woods upon the
+     open plain, and to climb up and fringe the hills. He would
+     not think of writing word to his employers, how that clear
+     air, of which I have spoken, brought out, yet blended and
+     subdued, the colors on the marble, till they had a softness
+     and harmony, for all their richness, which in a picture
+     looks exaggerated, yet is after all within the truth. He
+     would not tell how that same delicate and brilliant
+     atmosphere freshened up the pale olive, till the olive
+     forgot its monotony, and its cheek glowed like the arbutus
+     or beech of the Umbrian hills. He would say nothing of the
+     thyme and the thousand fragrant herbs which carpeted
+     Hymettus; he would hear nothing of the hum of its bees; nor
+     take account of the rare flavor of its honey, since Gaza and
+     Minorca were sufficient for the English demand. He would
+     look over the Ægean from the height he had ascended; he
+     would follow with his eyes the chain of islands, which,
+     starting from the Sunian headland, seemed to offer the
+     fabled divinities of Attica, when they would visit their
+     Ionian cousins, a sort of viaduct thereto across the sea;
+     but that fancy would not occur to him, nor any admiration of
+     the dark violet billows with their white edges down below;
+     nor of those graceful, fan-like jets of silver upon the
+     rocks, which slowly rise aloft like water spirits from the
+     deep, then shiver, and break, and spread, and shroud
+     themselves, and disappear in a soft mist of foam; nor of the
+     gentle, incessant heaving and panting of the whole liquid
+     plain; nor of the long waves, keeping steady time, like a
+     line of soldiery as they resound upon the hollow shore,--he
+     would not deign to notice the restless living element at all
+     except to bless his stars that he was not upon it. Nor the
+     distinct details, nor the refined coloring, nor the graceful
+     outline and roseate golden hue of the jutting crags, nor the
+     bold shadows cast from Otus or Laurium by the declining
+     sun;--our agent of a mercantile firm would not value these
+     matters even at a low figure. Rather, we must turn for the
+     sympathy we seek to yon pilgrim student, come from a
+     semi-barbarous land to that small corner of the earth, as to
+     a shrine, where he might take his fill of gazing on those
+     emblems and coruscations of invisible unoriginate
+     perfection. It was the stranger from a remote province, from
+     Britain or from Mauritania, who in a scene so different from
+     that of his chilly, woody swamps, or of his fiery, choking
+     sands, learned at once what a real University must be, by
+     coming to understand the sort of country which was its
+     suitable home."[6]
+
+  Enumerative Description.
+
+Enumerative description has one point of great difference from
+suggestive description. In the former everything is told; in the
+latter the description is as fortunate in what it omits as in what it
+includes. Were an architect to give specifications for the building of
+a house, every detail would have to be included; but after all the
+pages of careful enumeration the reader would know less of how it
+looked than after these few words from Irving. "A large, rickety
+wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping windows, some of
+them broken and mended with old hats and petticoats, and over the door
+was painted 'The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle.'" So the manual
+training student uses five hundred words to describe in detail a box
+which would be thrown off with but a few words in a piece of
+literature. In enumerative description, one element is of as much
+importance as another; no special feature is made primary by the
+omission or subdual of other qualities. It has value in giving exact
+details of objects, as if for their construction, and in including an
+object in a class.
+
+  Suggestive Description.
+
+Suggestive description, description the aim of which is not
+information, but the reproduction of a picture, is the kind most
+employed in literature. To present a picture, not all the details
+should be given. The mind cannot carry them all, and, much worse, it
+cannot arrange them. Nor is there any need for a detailed enumeration.
+A room has walls, floor, and ceiling; a man naturally has ears, arms,
+and feet. These things may be taken for granted. It is not what is
+common to a class that describes; it is what is individual, what takes
+one object out of a class.
+
+  Value of Observation.
+
+This leads to the suggestion that _good description depends largely on
+accurate observation._ A selection frequently quoted, but none the
+less valuable because often seen, is in point here. It is the last
+word on the value of observation.
+
+     "Talent is long patience. It is a question of regarding
+     whatever one desires to express long enough and with
+     attention close enough to discover a side which no one has
+     seen and which has been expressed by nobody. In everything
+     there is something of the unexplored, because we are
+     accustomed to use our eyes only with the thought of what has
+     already been said concerning the thing we see. The smallest
+     thing has in it a grain of the unknown. Discover it. In
+     order to describe a fire that flames or a tree in the plain,
+     we must remain face to face with that fire or that tree
+     until for us they no longer resemble any other tree or any
+     other fire. This is the way to become original.
+
+     "Having, moreover, impressed upon me the fact that there are
+     not in the whole world two grains of sand, two insects, two
+     hands, or two noses absolutely alike, he forced me to
+     describe a being or an object in such a manner as to
+     individualize it clearly, to distinguish it from all other
+     objects of the same kind. 'When you pass,' he said to me, 'a
+     grocer seated in his doorway, a concierge smoking his pipe,
+     a row of cabs, show me this grocer and this concierge, their
+     attitude, all their physical appearance; suggest by the
+     skill of your image all their moral nature, so that I shall
+     not confound them with any other grocer or any other
+     concierge; make me see, by a single word, wherein a
+     cab-horse differs from the fifty others that follow or
+     precede him.'... Whatever may be the thing which one wishes
+     to say, there is but one word for expressing it; only one
+     verb to animate it, but one adjective to qualify it. It is
+     essential to search for this verb, for this adjective, until
+     they are discovered, and never to be satisfied with anything
+     else."[7]
+
+  The Point of View.
+
+With the closest observation, an author gets into his own mind what he
+wishes to present to another; but with this essential step taken, he
+is only ready to begin the work of communication. For the successful
+communication of a picture there are some considerations of value. And
+first is _the point of view._ It has much the same relation to
+description as the main incident has to narration. In large measure it
+determines what to exclude and what to include. When a writer has
+assumed his point of view, he must stay there, and tell not a thing
+more than he can see from there. It would hardly be possible for a
+man, telling only so much as he saw while gazing from Eiffel Tower
+into the streets below, to say that the people looked like
+Lilliputians and that their hands were dirty. To one lying on the bank
+of a stream, it does not look like "a silver thread running through
+the landscape." Things do not look the same when they are near as when
+at a distance. This fact has been acted upon more by the modern school
+of painting than ever before in art. Verboeckhoven painted sheep in a
+marvelous way. The drawing is perfect, giving the animal to the life.
+Still, no matter how far away the artist was standing, there are the
+same marvelously painted tufts of wool, showing almost the individual
+fibres. Tufts of wool were on the sheep, and made of fibres; but no
+artist at twenty rods could see them. The new school gives only what
+actually can be seen. Its first law is that each "shall draw the thing
+as he sees it for the God of Things as They Are." Make no additions to
+what you can actually see because, as a result of experience, you know
+that there are some things not yet mentioned in your description; the
+hands may be dirty, but the man on the tower cannot see the dirt.
+Neither make an addition simply because it sounds well; the "silver
+thread through the landscape" is beautiful, but, unfortunately, it is
+not always true.
+
+Not only does distance cut out details from a picture; the fact that
+man sees in a straight line and not around a corner eliminates some
+features. In describing a house, remember that as you stand across the
+street from it, the back porch cannot be seen, neither can the
+shrubbery in the back yard. A writer would not be justified in
+speaking of a man's necktie, if the man he was describing were walking
+in front of him. In enumerative description the inside of a box may be
+told of; a man may be turned around, as it were; but to present a
+picture, only one side can be described, just as it would be shown in
+a photograph. Any addition to what can actually be known from the
+point of view assumed by the author is a fault and a source of
+confusion. Choose your point of view; stay there; and tell only what
+is seen from that point.
+
+  Moving Point of View.
+
+It has been said that the point of view should not be changed. This
+requires one modification. It may be changed, if the reader is kept
+informed of the changes. If a person wished to describe an interior,
+he would be unable to see the whole from any one point of view. As he
+passed from room to room he should inform his reader of his change of
+position. Then the description, though a unit, is a combination of
+several descriptions; just as the house is one, though made of
+dining-room, sitting-rooms, bedrooms, and attic. This kind of
+description is very common in books of travel, in which the author
+tells what he sees in passing. The thing to be remembered in writing
+this kind of description is to inform the reader where the author is
+when he writes the different parts of the description,--to give the
+points of view.
+
+  The Point of View should be stated.
+
+The point of view, whether fixed or moving, should be made clear.
+Either it should be definitely stated, or it should be suggested by
+some phrase in the description. In the many examples which are quoted
+in this chapter, it would be well to see what it is that gives the
+point of view. The picture gains in distinctness when the point of
+view is known. The following sentences are from "The Old Manse;" there
+is no mistake here. The reader knows every move the author makes. It
+opens with:--
+
+     "Between two tall gateposts of rough-hewn stone (the gate
+     itself having fallen from its hinges at some unknown epoch)
+     we beheld the gray front of the old parsonage terminating
+     the vista of an avenue of black ash-trees."
+
+From the street the reader is taken to "the rear of the house," where
+there was "the most delightful little nook of a study that ever
+offered its snug seclusion to a scholar." Through its window the
+clergyman saw the opening of the "deadly struggle between two
+nations." He heard the rattle of musketry, and
+
+     "there needed but a gentle wind to sweep the battle smoke
+     around this quiet house. Perhaps the reader, whom I cannot
+     help considering as my guest in the Old Manse and entitled
+     to all courtesy in the way of sight-showing,--perhaps he
+     will choose to take a nearer view of the memorable spot. We
+     stand now on the river's brink."... "Here we are, at the
+     point where the river was crossed by the old bridge."...
+     "The Old Manse! We had almost forgotten it, but will return
+     thither through the orchard."... "What with the river, the
+     battle-field, the orchard, and the garden, the reader begins
+     to despair of finding his way back into the Old Manse. But
+     in agreeable weather it is the truest hospitality to keep
+     him out-of-doors. I never grew quite acquainted with my
+     habitation till a long spell of sulky rain had confined me
+     beneath its roof. There could not be a more sombre aspect of
+     external nature than as then seen from the windows of my
+     study."
+
+And so Hawthorne continues through this long and beautiful description
+of "The Old Manse;" every change in the point of view is noted.
+
+  Mental Point of View.
+
+Closely connected with the physical point of view is the mood or
+purpose of the writer; this might be called _the mental point of
+view._ Not everything should be told which the author could know from
+his position, but only those things which at the time serve his
+purpose. In the description already quoted from Newman, the mercantile
+gentleman notes a large number of features which are the commercial
+advantages of Attica; of these but three are worthy of mention by "yon
+pilgrim student" in giving his impression of Athens as "a shrine where
+he might take his fill of gazing on those emblems and coruscations of
+invisible unoriginate perfection." The others--the soil, the streams,
+the climate, the limestone, the fisheries, and the silver mines--do
+not serve his purpose. Hawthorne in the long description already
+mentioned has retained those features which suggest quiet and peace.
+Such a profusion of "quiet," "half asleep," "peaceful," "unruffled,"
+"unexcitable" words and phrases never "loitered" through forty pages
+of "dreamy" and "whispering" description.
+
+In the following bit from "Lear," where Edgar tells his blinded father
+how high the cliff is, only those details are included which measure
+distance.
+
+                               "How fearful
+     And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low!
+     The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
+     Show scarce so gross as beetles; half way down
+     Hangs one that gathers samphire,--dreadful trade!
+     Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:
+     The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
+     Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
+     Diminished to her cock; her cock, a buoy
+     Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,
+     That on th' unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,
+     Cannot be heard so high.--I'll look no more,
+     Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
+     Topple down headlong."
+
+The following is from Kipling's "The Light that Failed:"--
+
+     "What do you think of a big, red, dead city built of red
+     sandstone, with green aloes growing between the stones,
+     lying out neglected on honey-colored sands? There are forty
+     dead kings there, Maisie, each in a gorgeous tomb finer than
+     all the others. You look at the palaces and streets and
+     shops and tanks, and think that men must live there, till
+     you find a wee gray squirrel rubbing its nose all alone in
+     the marketplace, and a jeweled peacock struts out of a
+     carved doorway and spreads its tail against a marble screen
+     as fine pierced as point-lace. Then a monkey--a little black
+     monkey--walks through the main square to get a drink from a
+     tank forty feet deep. He slides down the creepers to the
+     water's edge, and a friend holds him by the tail, in case he
+     should fall in.
+
+     "Is all that true?
+
+     "I have been there and seen. Then evening comes and the
+     lights change till it's just as though you stood in the
+     heart of a king-opal. A little before sundown, as punctually
+     as clockwork, a big bristly wild boar, with all his family
+     following, trots through the city gate, churning the foam on
+     his tusks. You climb on the shoulder of a big black stone
+     god, and watch that pig choose himself a palace for the
+     night and stump in wagging his tail. Then the night-wind
+     gets up, and the sands move, and you hear the desert outside
+     the city singing, 'Now I lay me down to sleep,' and
+     everything is dark till the moon rises."
+
+Note how every detail introduced serves to make the city dead. Dead
+kings, a wee gray squirrel, a little black monkey, a bristly wild
+boar, the night wind, and the desert singing,--these could not be seen
+or heard in a live city with street cars; but all serve to emphasize
+the fact that here is "a big, red, dead city."
+
+At the risk of over-emphasizing this point that the purpose of the
+author, the mental point of view of the writer, the feeling which the
+object gives him and which he wishes to convey to the reader, the
+central thought in the description, is primary, and an element that
+cannot be overlooked in successful description, I give another
+example. This point really cannot be over-emphasized: a writer cannot
+be too careful in selecting materials. Careless grouping of
+incongruous matters cannot make a picture. Nor does the artistic
+author leave the reader in doubt as to the purpose of the description;
+its central thought is usually suggested in the first sentence. In the
+quotations from Shakespeare and Kipling, the opening sentences are the
+germ of what follows. Each detail seems to grow out of this sentence,
+and serves to emphasize it. In the following by Stevenson, the
+paragraphs spring from the opening sentence; they explain it, they
+elaborate it, and they accent it.
+
+     "Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof; but in the
+     open world it passes lightly, with its stars and dews and
+     perfumes, and the hours are marked by changes in the face of
+     Nature. What seems a kind of temporal death to people choked
+     between walls and curtains is only a light and living
+     slumber to the man who sleeps afield. All night long he can
+     hear Nature breathing deeply and freely; even as she takes
+     her rest she turns and smiles; and there is one stirring
+     hour unknown to those who dwell in houses, when a wakeful
+     influence goes abroad over the sleeping hemisphere, and all
+     the outdoor world are on their feet. It is then that the
+     first cock crows, not this time to announce the dawn, but
+     like a cheerful watchman speeding the course of the night.
+     Cattle awake on the meadows; sheep break their fast on the
+     dewy hillsides, and change to a new lair among the ferns;
+     and houseless men, who have lain down with the fowls, open
+     their dim eyes and behold the beauty of the night.
+
+     "At what inaudible summons, at what gentle touch of Nature,
+     are all these sleepers thus recalled in the same hour to
+     life? Do the stars rain down an influence, or do we share
+     some thrill of mother earth below our resting bodies? Even
+     shepherds and old country-folk, who are the deepest read in
+     these arcana, have not a guess as to the means or purpose of
+     this nightly resurrection. Towards two in the morning they
+     declare the thing takes place; and neither know nor inquire
+     further. And at least it is a pleasant incident. We are
+     disturbed in our slumber only, like the luxurious Montaigne,
+     'that we may the better and more sensibly enjoy it.' We have
+     a moment to look upon the stars. And there is a special
+     pleasure for some minds in the reflection that we share the
+     impulse with all outdoor creatures in our neighborhood, that
+     we have escaped out of the Bastille of civilization, and are
+     become, for the time being, a more kindly animal and a sheep
+     of Nature's flock." ("Travels with a Donkey.")
+
+  Length of Descriptions.
+
+There is one more step in the exclusion of details. This considers
+neither the point of view nor the purpose of the writer, but it is
+what is due the reader. Stevenson says in one of his essays that a
+description which lasts longer than two minutes is never attempted in
+conversation. The listener cannot hold the details enumerated. The
+clearest statement regarding this comes from Jules Lemaître in a
+criticism upon some descriptions by Emile Zola which the critic says
+are praised by persons who have never read them. He says:--
+
+     "It has been one of the greatest literary blunders of the
+     time to suppose that an enumeration of parts is a picture,
+     to think that forever placing details side by side, however
+     picturesque they may be, is able in the end to make a
+     picture, to give us any conception of the vast spectacles in
+     the physical universe. In reality, a written description
+     arranges its parts in our mind only when the impression of
+     the first features of which it is formed are remembered
+     sufficiently, so that we can easily join the first to those
+     which complete and end it. In short, a piece of description
+     is ineffective if we cannot hold in mind all its details at
+     one time. It is necessary that all the details coexist in
+     our memory just as the parts of a painting coexist under our
+     eye. This becomes next to impossible if the description of
+     one definite object last over fifteen minutes of reading.
+     The longer it is, the more obscure it becomes. The
+     individual features fade away in proportion to the number
+     which are presented; and for this reason one might say that
+     we cannot see the forest for the trees. Every description
+     which is over fifty lines ceases to be clear to a mind of
+     ordinary vigor. After that there is only a succession of
+     fragmentary pictures which fatigues and overwhelms the
+     reader."[8]
+
+These, then, are the principles that guide in the choice of materials
+for a description. First, the point of view, whether fixed or movable,
+should be made clear to the reader; it should be retained throughout
+the description, or the change should be announced. By regard for it
+the writer will be guided to the exclusion of matters that could not
+be observed, and to the inclusion of such details as can be seen and
+are essential. Second, the writer will keep out matters that do not
+contribute to his purpose, and will select only those details which
+assist in producing the desired impression. Third, the limitations of
+the reader's powers advise a writer to be brief: five hundred words
+should be the outside; two hundred are enough for most writers. These
+principles will give to the whole that unity of materials and of
+structure which is the first requisite of an effective description.
+
+The next matter for consideration is the arrangement of the materials.
+The arrangement depends on the principles that guided in narration,
+Mass and Coherence.
+
+  Arrangement of Details in Description.
+
+After we have looked at any object long enough to be able to write
+about it, one feature comes to assume an importance that sets it far
+above all others. To a writer who has looked long at a man, he may
+shrink to a cringing piece of weakness, or he may grow to a strong,
+self-centred power whose presence alone inspires serenest trust.
+Hawthorne, standing in St. Peter's, saw only the gorgeous coloring;
+proportions, immensity, and sacredness were as nothing to the
+harmonious brilliancy of this expanded "jewel casket."[9] Stevenson,
+thinking of the beast of burden best suited to carry his great
+sleeping sack, discarded the horse, for, as he says, "she is a fine
+lady among animals."[10] The description of a horse which follows this
+statement emphasizes the fact that a horse is not intended for
+carrying burdens. From the germinal impression of a description, all
+the details grow; to this primary impression they all contribute. In
+the case of buildings, or other things material, this impression is
+generally one of form, sometimes of the height of the object; if
+striking, it may be color. The strongest impression of persons is a
+quality of character which shows itself either in the face or in the
+pose of a man. An example of each may be found in the following
+paragraphs from "David Copperfield:"--
+
+     "At length we stopped before a very old house bulging out
+     over the road; a house with long, low lattice-windows
+     bulging out still farther, and beams with carved heads on
+     the ends bulging out too, so that I fancied the whole house
+     was leaning forward, trying to see who was passing on the
+     narrow pavement below. It was quite spotless in its
+     cleanliness. The old-fashioned brass knocker on the
+     low-arched door, ornamented with carved garlands of fruits
+     and flowers, twinkled like a star; the two stone steps
+     descending to the door were as white as if they had been
+     covered with fair linen; and all the angles and corners, and
+     carvings and mouldings, and quaint little panes of glass,
+     and quainter little windows, though as old as the hills,
+     were as pure as any snow that ever fell upon the hills.
+
+     "When the pony-chaise stopped at the door, and my eyes were
+     intent upon the house, I saw a cadaverous face appear at a
+     small window on the ground floor (in a little round tower
+     that formed one side of the house), and quickly disappear.
+     The low arched door then opened, and the face came out. It
+     was quite as cadaverous as it had looked in the window,
+     though in the grain of it there was that tinge of red which
+     is sometimes to be observed in the skins of red-haired
+     people. It belonged to a red-haired person--a youth of
+     fifteen, as I take it now, but looking much older whose hair
+     was cropped as close as the closest stubble; who had hardly
+     any eyebrows, and no eyelashes, and eyes of a red-brown; so
+     unsheltered and unshaded that I remember wondering how he
+     went to sleep. He was high-shouldered and bony; dressed in
+     decent black, with a white wisp of a neck cloth; buttoned up
+     to the throat; and had a long, lank, skeleton hand, which
+     particularly attracted my attention, as he stood at the
+     pony's head, rubbing his chin with it, and looking up at us
+     in the chaise."
+
+Hawthorne thus begins his description of "The House of the Seven
+Gables:"--
+
+     "Maule's Lane, or Pyncheon Street, as it were now more
+     decorous to call it, was thronged, at the appointed hour, as
+     with a congregation on its way to church. All, as they
+     approached, looked upward at the imposing edifice, which was
+     henceforth to assume its rank among the habitations of
+     mankind."
+
+And in the same volume his description of "The Pyncheon of To-day"
+begins:--
+
+     "As the child went down the steps, a gentleman ascended
+     them, and made his entrance into the shop. It was the
+     portly, and, had it possessed the advantage of a little more
+     height, would have been the stately figure of a man,
+     considerably in the decline of life, dressed in a black suit
+     of some thin stuff, resembling broadcloth as closely as
+     possible."
+
+If the description be long, and the object will lend itself to such a
+treatment, a definite, tangible, easily understood shape or form
+should be suggested at once. Notice Newman's first sentence describing
+Attica: "A confined triangle, perhaps fifty miles its greatest length,
+and thirty its greatest breadth." Like this is the beginning of the
+description of the battle of Waterloo by Victor Hugo.
+
+     "Those who would get a clear idea of the battle of Waterloo
+     have only to lay down upon the ground in their mind a
+     capital letter A. The left stroke of the A is the road to
+     Nivelles, the right stroke is the road from Genappe, the
+     cross of the A is the sunken road from Ohain to Braine
+     l'Alleud. The top of the A is Mont Saint Jean, Wellington is
+     there; the left-hand lower point is Hougomont, Reille is
+     there with Jerome Bonaparte; the right-hand lower point is
+     La Belle Alliance, Napoleon is there. A little below the
+     point where the cross of the A meets and cuts the right
+     stroke, is La Haie Sainte. At the middle of this cross is
+     the precise point where the final battle word was spoken.
+     There the lion is placed, the involuntary symbol of the
+     supreme heroism of the Imperial Guard. The triangle
+     contained at the top of the A, between the two strokes and
+     the cross, is the plateau of Mont Saint Jean. The struggle
+     for this plateau was the whole of the battle."[11]
+
+In "The Vision of Sir Launfal" Lowell opens his beautiful description
+with the words, "And what is so rare as a day in June?" From this
+general and comprehensive sentence follow all the details which make a
+June day perfect.
+
+Hawthorne, after telling how he happened to write of him, begins his
+long description of "The Old Apple Dealer" with the following
+paragraph:--
+
+     "He is a small man, with gray hair and gray stubble beard,
+     and is invariably clad in a shabby surtout of snuff color,
+     closely buttoned, and half concealing a pair of gray
+     pantaloons; the whole dress, though clean and entire, being
+     evidently flimsy with much wear. His face, thin, withered,
+     furrowed, and with features which even age has failed to
+     render impressive, has a frost-bitten aspect. It is a moral
+     frost which no physical warmth or comfortableness could
+     counteract. The summer sunshine may fling its white heat
+     upon him, or the good fire of the depot room may make him
+     the focus of its blaze on a winter's day; but all in vain;
+     for still the old man looks as if he were in a frosty
+     atmosphere, with scarcely warmth enough to keep life in the
+     region about his heart. It is a patient, long-suffering,
+     quiet, hopeless, shivering aspect. He is not
+     desperate,--that, though its etymology implies no more,
+     would be too positive an expression,--but merely devoid of
+     hope. As all his past life, probably, offers no spots of
+     brightness to his memory, so he takes his present poverty
+     and discomfort as entirely a matter of course; he thinks it
+     the definition of existence, so far as himself is concerned,
+     to be poor, cold, and uncomfortable. It may be added, that
+     time has not thrown dignity as a mantle over the old man's
+     figure: there is nothing venerable about him: you pity him
+     without a scruple."
+
+So this old apple dealer shivers all through this description of nine
+pages to the last sentences:--
+
+     "God be praised, were it only for your sake, that the
+     present shapes of human existence are not cast in iron nor
+     hewn in everlasting adamant, but moulded of the vapors that
+     vanish away while the essence flits upward to the Infinite.
+     There is a spiritual essence in this gray and lean old shape
+     that shall flit upward too. Yes; doubtless there is a region
+     where the lifelong shiver will pass away from his being, and
+     that quiet sigh, which it has taken him so many years to
+     breathe, will be brought to a close for good and all."
+
+The prominent characteristic may be the feeling aroused by the object.
+It may be horror, as in a description of a haunted house or a
+murderer; it may be love, as in the picture of an old home or a
+sainted mother. The emotion occasioned is often mentioned or suggested
+at once, and the details are afterward given which have called forth
+the feeling. Poe uses this in the first paragraph of "The House of
+Usher."
+
+     "During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the
+     autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in
+     the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through
+     a singularly dreary tract of country, and at length found
+     myself, as the shades of evening drew on, within view of the
+     melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was--but, with
+     the first glimpse of the building, _a sense of insufferable
+     gloom pervaded my spirit._ I say insufferable; for the
+     feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable,
+     because poetic, sentiment with which the mind usually
+     receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or
+     terrible. I looked upon the scene before me--upon the mere
+     house, and the simple landscape features of the domain--upon
+     the bleak walls--upon the vacant, eye-like windows--upon a
+     few rank sedges--and upon a few white trunks of decayed
+     trees--with an utter depression of soul which I can compare
+     to no earthly sensation more properly than to the
+     after-dream of a reveler upon opium--the bitter lapse into
+     every-day life--the hideous dropping off of the veil. There
+     was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart--an
+     unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the
+     imagination could torture into aught of the sublime.... It
+     was, possible, I reflected, that a mere different
+     arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details
+     of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to
+     annihilate, its capacity for sorrowful impression; and,
+     acting upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous
+     brink of a black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled lustre
+     by the dwelling, and gazed down--but with a shudder even
+     more thrilling than before--upon the remodeled and inverted
+     images of the gray sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems, and
+     the vacant and eye-like windows."
+
+And one may see from looking back at the illustrations given that the
+dominant impression which gives the character to the whole
+description, this leading quality which is the essence of the whole,
+usually stands at the very beginning, and to it all the succeeding
+details cling.
+
+  The End of a Description.
+
+The end of a description is equally as important as the opening. In
+most descriptions, whether short or long, the most important detail,
+the detail that emphasizes most the general feeling of the whole,
+stands at the end. If the description be short, the necessity of a
+comprehensive opening statement is not imperative,--indeed, it may be
+made so formal and ostentatious when compared with the rest of the
+description as to be ridiculous; yet even in the short description
+some important detail should close it. In a long description the
+repetition of the opening statement in a new form sometimes stands at
+the end. If the description be of movement or change, the end will be
+the climax of the movement, the result of the change.
+
+In the examples already given there are illustrations of the methods
+of closing. In each case, there is an important detail or an artistic
+repetition of the general impression. Many examples of short
+characterization can be found in all narratives. In Irving's
+description of Ichabod Crane, the next to the last sentence gives the
+significant detail, and the last gives another general impression. It
+reads:--
+
+     "The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his person.
+     He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders,
+     long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his
+     sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his
+     whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was small,
+     and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes,
+     and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weather-cock
+     perched upon his spindle neck to tell which way the wind
+     blew." ("The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.")
+
+So far this is but an amplification of his likeness to a crane;
+certainly "a long snipe nose" "upon his spindle neck" is the most
+important detail. Next the author gives another general impression:--
+
+     "To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy
+     day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one
+     might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending
+     upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield."
+
+The following is from "The House of Usher:"--
+
+     "Shaking off from my spirit what _must_ have been a dream, I
+     scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building. Its
+     principal feature seemed to be that of an excessive
+     antiquity. The discoloration of ages had been great. Minute
+     fungi overspread the whole exterior, hanging in a fine
+     tangled web-work from the eaves. Yet all this was apart from
+     any extraordinary dilapidation. No portion of the masonry
+     had fallen, and there appeared to be a wild inconsistency
+     between its still perfect adaptation of parts and the
+     crumbling condition of the individual stones. In this there
+     was much that reminded me of the specious totality of old
+     woodwork which has rotted for long years in some neglected
+     vault with no disturbance from the breath of the external
+     air. Beyond this indication of extensive decay, however, the
+     fabric gave little token of instability. Perhaps the eye of
+     a scrutinizing observer might have discovered a barely
+     perceptible fissure, which, extending from the roof of the
+     building in front, made its way down the wall in a zigzag
+     direction, until it became lost in the sullen waters of the
+     tarn."
+
+In this every detail emphasizes the "excessive antiquity" of the
+house; and on reading the story there is no question of the importance
+of the "barely perceptible fissure." Thereby hangs the tale.
+
+The two following are descriptions of dawn, of change; they have
+marked climaxes. The first is by Edward Everett, the second by
+Stevenson. The similarity in choice of words and in the feelings of
+the men is remarkable.
+
+     "Such was the glorious spectacle as I entered the train. As
+     we proceeded, the timid approach of twilight became more
+     perceptible; the intense blue of the sky began to soften;
+     the smaller stars, like little children, went first to rest;
+     the sister-beams of the Pleiades soon melted together; but
+     the bright constellations of the west and north remained
+     unchanged. Steadily the wondrous transfiguration went on.
+     Hands of angels, hidden from mortal eyes, shifted the
+     scenery of the heavens; the glories of night dissolved into
+     the glories of dawn. The blue sky now turned more softly
+     gray; the great watch-stars shut up their holy eyes; the
+     east began to kindle. Faint streaks of purple soon blushed
+     along the sky; the whole celestial concave was filled with
+     the inflowing tides of the morning light, which came pouring
+     down from above in one great ocean of radiance, till at
+     length, as we reached the Blue Hills, a flash of purple
+     blazed out from above the horizon, and turned the dewy
+     teardrops of flower and leaf into rubies and diamonds. In a
+     few seconds, the everlasting gates of morning were thrown
+     wide open, and the lord of day, arrayed in glories too
+     severe for the gaze of man, began his state." ("The Uses of
+     Astronomy.")
+
+
+     "At last she began to be aware of a wonderful revolution,
+     compared to which the fire of Mittwalden Palace was but a
+     crack and flash of a percussion cap. The countenance with
+     which the pines regarded her began insensibly to change; the
+     grass, too, short as it was, and the whole winding staircase
+     of the brook's course, began to wear a solemn freshness of
+     appearance. And this slow transfiguration reached her heart,
+     and played upon it, and transpierced it with a serious
+     thrill. She looked all about; the whole face of nature
+     looked back, brimful of meaning, finger on lip, leaking its
+     glad secret. She looked up. Heaven was almost emptied of
+     stars. Such as still lingered shone with a changed and
+     waning brightness, and began to faint in their stations. And
+     the color of the sky itself was most wonderful; for the rich
+     blue of the night had now melted and softened and
+     brightened; and there had succeeded a hue that has no name,
+     and that is never seen but as the herald of the morning.
+     'Oh!' she cried, joy catching at her voice, 'Oh! it is the
+     dawn!'
+
+     "In a breath she passed over the brook, and looped up her
+     skirts and fairly ran in the dim alleys. As she ran, her
+     ears were aware of many pipings, more beautiful than music;
+     in the small, dish-shaped houses in the fork of giant arms,
+     where they had lain all night, lover by lover, warmly
+     pressed, the bright-eyed, big-hearted singers began to
+     awaken for the day. Her heart melted and flowed forth to
+     them in kindness. And they, from their small and high
+     perches in the clerestories of the wood cathedral, peered
+     down sidelong at the ragged Princess as she flitted below
+     them on the carpet of the moss and tassel.
+
+     "Soon she had struggled to a certain hilltop, and saw far
+     before her the silent inflooding of the day. Out of the East
+     it welled and whitened; the darkness trembled into light;
+     and the stars were extinguished like the street-lamps of a
+     human city. The whiteness brightened into silver; the silver
+     warmed into gold, and the gold kindled into pure and living
+     fire; and the face of the East was barred with elemental
+     scarlet. The day drew its first long breath, steady and
+     chill; and for leagues around the woods sighed and shivered.
+     And then, at one bound the sun had floated up; and her
+     startled eyes received day's first arrow, and quailed under
+     the buffet. On every side, the shadows leaped from their
+     ambush and fell prone. The day was come, plain and garish;
+     and up the steep and solitary eastern heaven, the sun,
+     victorious over his competitors, continued slowly and
+     royally to mount." ("Prince Otto.")
+
+  Proportion.
+
+One thing further should be said regarding Mass. Not everything can
+stand first or last; some important details must be placed in the
+midst of a description. These particulars will not be of equal
+importance. The more important details may be given their
+proportionate emphasis by relatively increasing the length of their
+treatment. If one detail is more important than another, it requires
+more to be said about it; unimportant matters should be passed over
+with a word. Proportion in the length of treatment is a guide to the
+relative importance of the matters introduced into a description.
+
+In the description of "The House of Usher," position emphasizes the
+barely perceptible fissure. Proportion singles out the crumbling
+condition of the individual stones and makes this detail more emphatic
+than either the discoloration or the fungi. And in Newman's
+description, the olive-tree, the brilliant atmosphere, the thyme, the
+bees, all add to the charms of bright and beautiful Athens; but most
+of all the Ægean, with its chain of islands, its dark violet billows,
+its jets of silver, the heaving and panting of its long waves,--the
+restless living element fascinates and enraptures "yon pilgrim
+student." Position and proportion are the means of emphasis in a
+paragraph of description.
+
+  Arrangement must be natural.
+
+Having settled the massing of the description, the next matter for
+consideration is the arrangement. In order that the parts of a
+description may be coherent, hold together, they should be arranged in
+the order in which they would naturally be perceived. What strikes the
+eye of the beholder as most important, often the general
+characteristic of the whole, should be mentioned first; and the
+details should follow as they are seen. In a building, the usual way
+of observing and describing is from foundation to turret stone. A
+landscape may be described by beginning with what is near and
+extending the view; this is common. Sometimes the very opposite plan
+is pursued; or one may begin on either hand and advance toward the
+other. Of a person near by, the face is the first thing observed; for
+it is there that his character can be best discovered. Afterward
+details of clothing follow as they would naturally be noticed. If a
+person be at a distance his pose and carriage would be about all that
+could be seen; as he approaches, the other details would be mentioned
+as they came into view. To arrange details in the order in which they
+are naturally observed will result in an association in the
+description of the details that are contiguous in the objects. Jumping
+about in a description is a source of confusion. How entirely it may
+ruin a paragraph can be estimated by the effect upon this single
+sentence, "He was tall, with feet that might have served for shovels,
+narrow shoulders, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, long
+arms and legs, and his whole frame most loosely hung together." This
+rearrangement makes but a disjointed and feeble impression; and the
+reason is entirely that an order in which no person ever observed a
+man has been substituted for the commonest order,--from head to foot.
+Arrange details so that the parts which are contiguous shall be
+associated in the description, and proceed in the order in which the
+details are naturally observed.
+
+The following is by Irving; he is describing the stage-coachman:--
+
+     "He has commonly a broad, full face, curiously mottled with
+     red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding into
+     every vessel of the skin; he is swelled into jolly
+     dimensions by frequent potations of malt liquors, and his
+     bulk is still further increased by a multiplicity of coats,
+     in which he is buried like a cauliflower, the upper one
+     reaching to his heels. He wears a broad-brimmed, low-crowned
+     hat; a huge roll of colored handkerchief about his neck,
+     knowingly knotted and tucked in at the bosom; and has in
+     summer time a large bouquet of flowers in his buttonhole,
+     the present, most probably, of some enamored country lass.
+     His waistcoat is commonly of some bright color, striped, and
+     his small-clothes extend far below the knees, to meet a pair
+     of jockey boots which reach about half way up his legs."[12]
+
+  Use Familiar Images.
+
+When the materials have been selected and arranged, the hardest part
+of the work has been done. It now remains to express in language the
+picture. A few suggestions regarding the kind of language will be
+helpful. The writer must always bear in mind the fact that in
+constructing a mental picture each reader does it from the images he
+already possesses. "Quaint arabesques" is without meaning to many
+persons; and until the word has been looked up in the dictionary, and
+the picture seen there, the beautiful line of "Sir Launfal" suggests
+no image whatever. So when Stevenson speaks of the birds in the
+"clerestories of the wood cathedral," the image is not distinct in the
+mind of a young American. Supposing a pupil in California were asked
+to describe an orange to an Esquimau. He might say that it is a
+spheroid about the size of an apple, and the color of one of
+Lorraine's sunsets. This would be absolutely worthless to a child of
+the frigid zone. Had he been told that an orange was about the size of
+a snowball, much the color of the flame of a candle, that the peeling
+came off like the skin from a seal, and that the inside was good to
+eat, he would have known more of this fruit. The images which lie in
+our minds and from which we construct new pictures are much like the
+blocks that a child-builder rearranges in many different forms; but
+the blocks do not change. From them he may build a castle or a mill;
+yet the only difference is a difference in arrangement. So it is with
+the pictures we build up in imagination: our castle in Spain we have
+never seen, but the individual elements which we associate to lift up
+this happy dwelling-place are the things we know and have seen. A
+reader creates nothing new; all he does is to rearrange in his own
+mind the images already familiar. Only so may he pass from the known
+to the unknown.
+
+The fact that we construct pictures of what we read from those images
+already in our minds warns the writer against using materials which
+those for whom he writes could not understand. It compels him to
+select definite images, and it urges him to use the common and the
+concrete. It frequently drives him to use comparisons.
+
+  Use of Comparisons.
+
+To represent the extremely bare and unornamented appearance of a
+building, one might write, "It looked like a great barn," or "It was a
+great barn." In either case the image would be definite, common, and
+concrete. In both cases there is a comparison. In the first, where the
+comparison is expressed, there is a _simile;_ in the second, where the
+comparison is only implied, there is a _metaphor._ These two figures
+of speech are very common in description, and it is because they are
+of great value. One other is sometimes used,--_personification,_ which
+ascribes to inanimate things the attributes of life which are the
+property of animate nature. What could be happier than this by
+Stevenson: "All night long he can hear Nature breathing deeply and
+freely; even as she takes her rest she turns and smiles"? or this, "A
+faint sound, more like a moving coolness than a stream of air"? And at
+the end of the chapter which describes his "night under the pines," he
+speaks of the "tapestries" and "the inimitable ceiling" and "the view
+which I command from the windows." In this one chapter are
+personification, simile, metaphor,--all comparisons, and doing what
+could hardly be done without them. Common, distinct, concrete images
+are surest.
+
+  Choice of Words. Adjectives and Nouns.
+
+To body forth these common, distinct, concrete images calls for a
+discriminating choice of words; for in the choice of words lies a
+large part of the vividness of description. If the thing described be
+unknown to the reader, it requires the right word to place it before
+him; if it be common, still must the right word be found to set it
+apart from the thousand other objects of the same class. The words
+that may justly be called describing words are adjectives and nouns;
+and of these the adjective is the first descriptive word. The rule
+that a writer should never use two adjectives where one will do, and
+that he should not use one if a noun can be found that completely
+expresses the thought, is a good one to follow. One certain stroke of
+the crayon is worth a hundred lines, each approaching the right one.
+One word, the only one, will tell the truth more vividly than ten that
+approach its expression. For it must be remembered that a description
+must be done quickly; every word that is used and does nothing is not
+only a waste of time, but is actually in the way. In a description
+every word must count. It may be a comparison, an epithet,
+personification, or what not, but whatever method is adopted, the
+right word must do it quickly.
+
+How much depends on the nice choice of words may be seen by a study of
+the selections already quoted; and especially by a careful reading of
+those by Stevenson and Everett. To show the use of adjectives and
+nouns in description, the following from Kipling is a good
+illustration. Toomai had just reached the elephants' "ball-room" when
+he saw--
+
+     "white-tusked wild males, with fallen leaves and nuts and
+     twigs lying in the wrinkles of their necks and the folds of
+     their ears; fat, slow-footed she-elephants, with restless
+     pinky-black calves only three or four feet high, running
+     under their stomachs; young elephants with their tusks just
+     beginning to show, and very proud of them; lanky, scraggy,
+     old-maid elephants, with their hollow, anxious faces, and
+     trunks like rough bark; savage old bull-elephants, scarred
+     from shoulder to flank with great weals and cuts of by-gone
+     fights, and the caked dirt of their solitary mud bath
+     dropping from their shoulders; and there was one with a
+     broken tusk and the marks of the full-stroke, the terrible
+     drawing scrape of a tiger's claw on his side."[13]
+
+One third of the words in this paragraph are descriptive nouns and
+adjectives, none of which the reader wishes to change.
+
+  Use of Verbs.
+
+Verbs also have a great value in description. In the paragraph
+picturing the dawn, Stevenson has not neglected the verbs. "Welled,"
+"whitened," "trembled," "brightened," "warmed," "kindled," and so on
+through the paragraph. Try to change them, and it is apparent that
+something is lost by any substitution. Kaa, the python, "_pours_
+himself along the ground." If he is angry, "Baloo and Bagheera could
+see the big swallowing-muscles on either side of Kaa's throat _ripple_
+and _bulge._"
+
+Yet in the choice of words, one may search for the bizarre and unusual
+rather than for the truly picturesque. Stevenson at times seems to
+have lapsed. When he says that Modestine would feel a switch "more
+_tenderly_ than my cane;" that he "must _instantly_ maltreat this
+uncomplaining animal," meaning constantly; and at another place that
+he "had to labor so _consistently_ with" his stick that the sweat ran
+into his eyes, there is a suspicion of a desire for the sensational
+rather than the direct truth. On the other hand, the beginner finds
+himself using words that have lost, their meaning through
+indiscriminate usage. "Awful good," "awful pretty," and "awful sweet"
+mean something less than good, pretty, and sweet. "Lovely," "dear,"
+"splendid," "unique," and a large number of good words have been much
+dulled by the ignorant use of babblers. Superlatives and all words
+denoting comparison should be used with stinginess. One cannot afford
+to part with this kind of coin frequently; the cheaper coins should be
+used, else he will find an empty purse when need arises. Thackeray has
+this: "Her voice was the sweetest, low song." How much better this,
+Her voice was a sweet, low song. All the world is shut out from this,
+while in the former he challenges the world by the comparison.
+Shakespeare was wiser when he made Lear say,--
+
+                     "Her voice was ever soft,
+     Gentle, and low,--an excellent thing in woman."
+
+Avoid words which have lost their meaning by indiscriminate use; shun
+the sensational and the bizarre; use superlatives with economy; but in
+all you do, whether in unadorned or figurative language, choose the
+word that is quick and sure and vivid--the one word that exactly
+suggests the picture.
+
+
+                  SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES
+
+
+                              QUESTIONS.
+
+                            THE OLD MANSE.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 69.)
+
+Are there narrative portions in "The Old Manse"? paragraphs of
+exposition?
+
+Do you term the whole narration, description, or exposition? Why?
+
+Frame a sentence which you think would be an adequate topic sentence
+for the whole piece.
+
+What phrase in the first paragraph allows the author to begin the
+second with the words, "Nor, in truth, had the Old Manse," etc.? Where
+in the second paragraph is found the words which are the source of "my
+design," mentioned in the third? How does the author pass from the
+fourth paragraph to the fifth? In the same way note the connections
+between the succeeding paragraphs. They are most skillfully dovetailed
+together. Now make a list of the phrases in the first fifteen pages
+which introduce paragraphs, telling from what in the preceding
+paragraph each new paragraph springs. Do you think that such a
+felicitous result just happened? or did Hawthorne plan it?
+
+Does Hawthorne generally introduce his descriptions by giving the
+feeling aroused by the object described, a method very common with
+Poe?
+
+In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of p. 18, what do you think
+of the selection of material? What have guided in the inclusion and
+exclusion of details?
+
+Write a paragraph upon this topic: There could not be a more joyous
+aspect of external nature than as seen from the windows of my study
+just after the passing of a cooling shower. Be careful to select
+things that have been made happy, and to use adjectives and nouns that
+are full of joy.
+
+Make a list of the words used to describe "The Old Apple Dealer."
+
+Has this description Unity?
+
+What relation to the whole has the first sentence of paragraph three?
+the last?
+
+Do you think there is a grammatical error in the third sentence of
+this paragraph?
+
+By contrasts to what has Hawthorne brought out better the character of
+the Apple Dealer? When can contrasts help?
+
+
+              AN INDIAN-SUMMER REVERIE, AND OTHER POEMS.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 30.)
+
+In this poem what purpose is served by the first two stanzas?
+
+Where in the landscape does the author begin? Which way does he
+progress?
+
+Quote stanzas in which other senses than sight are called upon.
+
+Make a list of the figures of speech. How many similes? metaphors?
+examples of personification? Which seems most effective? Which
+instance of its use do you prefer? Has Lowell used too many figures?
+
+Read "The Oak," "The Dandelion," and "Al Fresco."
+
+Are they description or exposition? Do they bear out Lowell's estimate
+of himself?
+
+
+                           THE SKETCH-BOOK.
+             (Riverside Literature Series, Nos. 51, 52.)
+
+Why has Irving given four pages to the description of Sleepy Hollow
+before he introduces Ichabod Crane?
+
+Why, then, seven pages to Ichabod before the story begins?
+
+What gives the peculiar interest to this tale?
+
+In the "Legend of Sleepy Hollow" how many paragraphs of description
+close with an important detail?
+
+In how many with a general characterization?
+
+In all the descriptions of buildings by Irving that you have read,
+what are the first things mentioned,--size, shape, color, or what?
+Make a list, so as to be sure.
+
+Does Irving use many comparisons? Are the likenesses to common things?
+Select the ten you think best. Are there more in narrative or
+descriptive passages? What do you gather from this fact?
+
+In "Christmas Day," on p. 51 (R. L. S., No. 52), does Irving proceed
+from far to near in the landscape? Is this common? Find another
+example.
+
+How has Irving emphasized the littleness of the minister described on
+p. 56 (R. L. S., No. 52)?
+
+
+                   THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 119.)
+
+Is the arrangement of the details in the last two lines of the first
+paragraph stronger than the arrangement of the same details on p. 63?
+Why, or why not?
+
+In the description of the hall, pp. 67 and 68, do the details produce
+the effect upon you which they did upon Poe?
+
+Find a description in this piece which closes with an important
+detail.
+
+Is Usher described at all when Poe says, "I gazed upon him with a
+feeling half of pity, half of awe"? Do the details enumerated arouse
+such feelings in you? Would the feeling have been called forth if it
+had not been suggested by Poe? Is there, then, any advantage in this
+method of opening a description?
+
+What good was done by describing Usher as Poe knew him in youth?
+
+Why is the parenthetical clause on p. 72 necessary?
+
+On p. 80, should Poe write "previously to its final interment"?
+
+What do you think of the length of the sentence quoted on p. 85?
+
+Does Poe use description to accent the mood of the narrative, or to
+make concrete the places and persons?
+
+Why is "The Haunted Palace" introduced into the story?
+
+Is this story as good as "The Gold-Bug"?
+
+
+                            SILAS MARNER.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 83.)
+
+Why is not the early history of Silas Marner related first in the
+story?
+
+By what steps has the author approached the definite time?
+
+From the fragments about his appearance, do you get a clear idea of
+how Marner looks?
+
+Do you approve this method of scattering the description along through
+the story? Write a description of Marner on the night he was going to
+the tavern.
+
+Could not the quarrel between Godfrey and Dunsey been omitted?
+
+Describe the interior of Marner's cottage.
+
+Why should Sally Oates and her dropsy be admitted to the story?
+
+Do you know as well how George Eliot's characters look as how they
+think and feel?
+
+What do you think of the last sentence of Chapter IV.? Why does not
+Chapter V. go on with Dunsey's story? Why is Chapter VI. introduced at
+all? What of its close?
+
+What figure in the last sentence of Chapter X.?
+
+Would you prefer to know how tall Eppie was, what kind of clothes she
+wore, etc., to the knowledge you gain of her on p. 178?
+
+Suppose that Dunsey came home the night he staked Wildfire, recite the
+conversation between him and Godfrey.
+
+Have Dolly Winthrop, Priscilla Lammeter, and Mr. Macey talk over "The
+New Minister."
+
+Write on "What I see in George Eliot's Face."
+
+
+                        THE DESERTED VILLAGE.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 68.)
+
+Is this piece description or exposition?
+
+In the first stanza where is the topic sentence?
+
+The author has made two groups of charms. Would it be as well to
+change them about? Give your reasons.
+
+Where has he used the ear instead of the eye to suggest his picture?
+Is it clear?
+
+What method is adopted in lines 125-128? See also lines 237-250.
+
+Can you unite the paragraphs on p. 25? Why do you think so?
+
+Could you suggest a new arrangement of details in lines 341-362 that
+would be as good as the present? What are the last four lines for?
+
+
+                              EXERCISES.
+
+Enumerative Description may well employ a few lessons. In it accuracy
+of detail must be studied, and every detail must be introduced.
+
+1. The Teacher's Desk.
+
+2. Write a letter to a carpenter giving details for the construction
+of a small bookcase.
+
+3. By telling how you made it, describe a camp, a kite, a dress, or a
+cake. Narration may be employed for the purpose of description. A good
+example may be found in "Robinson Crusoe" in the chapter describing
+his home after the shipwreck.
+
+4. Describe an unfurnished room. Shape, size, position, and number of
+windows, the fireplace, etc., should be definite. Be sure to give the
+point of view. To say "On my right hand," "In front of me," or any
+similar phrases means nothing unless the reader knows where you are.
+
+In these exercises the pupil will doubtless employ the paragraph of
+particulars. This is the most common in description. Other forms are
+valuable.
+
+5. Using a paragraph telling what it was not, finish this: I followed
+the great singer to her home. Imagine my surprise in finding that the
+house in which this lady lived was not a home of luxury and
+splendor,--not even a home of comfort. Go on with the details of a
+home of luxury which were _not_ there. Finish with what you did see.
+This is really a description of two houses set in artistic contrast to
+heighten the effect. Remember you are outside.
+
+6. By the use of comparison finish this: The home of my poor little
+friend was but little better than a barn. Choose only such details as
+emphasize the barn-like appearance of the home. There is but one room.
+Remember where you are standing; and keep in mind the effect you wish
+to produce.
+
+7. Using a moving point of view, describe an interior. Do not have too
+many rooms.
+
+8. Furnish the room described in number four to suit your taste. Tell
+how it looks. Remember that a few things give character to a room.
+
+9. Describe your childhood's home as it would look to you after years
+of absence.
+
+10. Using a paragraph of the obverse, describe the appearance of the
+house from which you were driven by the cruelty of a drunken father.
+
+11. Describe a single tree standing alone in a field. It will be well
+for the teacher to read to the class some descriptions of
+trees,--Lowell's "Birch" and "Oak," "Under the Willows," and some
+stanzas from "An Indian Summer Reverie." Holmes has some good
+paragraphs on trees in "The Autocrat." Any good tree descriptions will
+help pupils to do it better than they can without suggestion. They
+should describe their own tree, however.
+
+12. Describe some single flower growing wild. Read Lowell's
+"Dandelion," "Violet, Sweet Violet," Wordsworth's "Daisy," "The
+Daffodils," "The Small Celandine," and Burns's "Daisy." These do not
+so much describe as they arouse a feeling of love for the flowers
+which will show itself in the composition.
+
+13. Describe a view of a lake. If possible, have your point of view
+above the lake and use the paragraph of comparison.
+
+14. Describe a landscape from a single point of view. Read Curtis's
+"My Castles in Spain" from "Prue and I," many descriptions in "An
+Inland Voyage" by Stevenson, and "Bay Street" by Bliss Carman in "The
+Atlantic Monthly."
+
+15. Describe your first view of a small cluster of houses or a small
+town.
+
+16. Approach the town, describing its principal features. Keep the
+reader informed as to where you are.
+
+17. Describe a dog of your own.
+
+18. Describe a dog of your neighbor's. Before the description is
+undertaken read "Our Dogs" and "Rab" by Dr. Brown; "A Dog of Flanders"
+by Ouida. Scott has some noble fellows in his novels.
+
+19. Describe a flock of chickens. There are good descriptions of
+chickens in "The House of the Seven Gables" and in "Sketches" by
+Dickens.
+
+20. Describe the burning of your own home. Be careful not to narrate.
+
+21. Describe a stranger you met on the street to-day. It is easier to
+describe a person if you and the person you describe move toward each
+other. Remember that you begin the description at a distance. Details
+should be mentioned as they actually come into view.
+
+22. Describe your father in his favorite corner at home.
+
+23. Describe a person you do not like, by telling what he is not.
+
+24. Describe a person you admire, but are not acquainted with, using
+the paragraph of comparisons.
+
+25. Describe a picture.
+
+It would be well to have at the end of this year four or five stories
+written, in which description plays a part. Its principal use is to
+give the setting to the story, to give concreteness to the characters,
+and to accent the mood of the story.
+
+Most passages of description are short. Rarely will any pupil write
+over three hundred words. One hundred are often better. The short
+composition gives an opportunity for the study of accuracy of
+expression. What details to include; in what order to arrange them
+that they produce the best effect, both of vividness and naturalness;
+and the influence of the point of view and the purpose of the author
+on the unity of description should be kept constantly present in the
+exercises. Careful attention should be paid to choice of words, for on
+right words depends in a large degree the vividness of a description.
+Right words in well-massed paragraphs of vivid description should be
+the object this term.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER V
+
+                              EXPOSITION
+
+
+So far we have studied discourse which deals with things,--things
+active, doing something, considered under the head of narration; and
+things at rest, and pictured, considered in description. Now we come
+to exposition, which deals with ideas either separately or in
+combinations. Instead of Mr. Smith's horse, exposition treats of the
+general term, horse. "The Great Stone Face" may have taught a lesson
+by its story, but the discussion of the value of lofty ideals is a
+subject for exposition.
+
+  General Terms Difficult.
+
+That general terms and propositions are harder to get hold of than
+concrete facts is readily apparent in the first reading of an author
+like Emerson. To a young person it means little. Yet when he puts in
+the place of the general terms some specific examples, and so verifies
+the statements, the general propositions have a mine of meaning, and
+"the sense of the author is as broad as the world." This stanza from
+Lowell is but little suggestive to young readers:--
+
+     "Such earnest natures are the fiery pith,
+       The compact nucleus, round which systems grow!
+     Mass after mass becomes inspired therewith,
+       And whirls impregnate with the central glow."[14]
+
+Yet when Columbus and Luther and Garrison are mentioned as
+illustrations of the meaning, it becomes world-wide in its
+application. Still in order to get at the thought, there is first the
+need of the specific and the concrete; afterward we pass to the
+general and the abstract.
+
+As abstract ideas are harder to get hold of than concrete facts, so
+exposition has difficulties greater than those found in narration and
+description. It is not so hard to tell what belongs in a story; the
+events are all distinct. Nor is it so difficult to know what to
+include in a description; one can look and see. In exposition this is
+not so. In most minds ideas do not have distinct limits; the edges
+rather are indistinct. It is hard to tell where the idea stops. In
+writing of "The Uses of Coal," it is easy to wander over an indistinct
+boundary and to take a survey of "The Origin of Coal." Not only may
+one include what unquestionably should be excluded, but there is no
+definite guide to the arrangement of the materials, such as was found
+in narration. There a sequence of time was an almost infallible rule;
+here the writer must search carefully how to arrange hazy ideas in
+some effective form. As discourse comes to deal more with general
+ideas, the difficulties of writing increase; and the difficulties are
+not due to any new principles of structure which must be introduced.
+When one says that the material should be selected according to the
+familiar law of Unity, he has given the guiding principle. Yet the
+real difficulty is still before an author: it is to decide what stamp
+to put upon such elusive matter as ideas. They cannot be kept long
+enough in the twilight of consciousness to analyze them; and often
+ideas that have been marked "accepted" have, upon reëxamination, to be
+"rejected." To examine ideas--the material used in this form of
+discourse--so thoroughly that they may be accurately, definitely known
+in their backward relation and their bearing upon what follows, this
+is the seat of the difficulty in exposition.
+
+Exposition may conveniently be classified into exposition of a term,
+or definition; and exposition of a proposition, which is generally
+suggested by the term exposition.
+
+  Definition.
+
+Definition of a word means giving its limits or boundaries. Of man it
+might be said that it is a living animal, having a strong bony
+skeleton; that this skeleton consists of a trunk from which extend
+four limbs, called arms and legs, and is surmounted by a bony cavity,
+called a skull; that the skeleton protects the vital organs, and is
+itself covered by a muscular tissue which moves the bones and gives a
+rounded beauty to their ugliness; that man has a highly developed
+nervous system, the centre of which is the brain placed in the skull.
+So a person might go on for pages, enumerating the attributes which,
+taken together, make up the general idea of man.
+
+  Exposition and Description distinguished.
+
+This sort of exposition is very near description; indeed, were the
+purpose different, it would be description. The purpose, however, is
+not to tell how an individual looks, but to place the object in a
+class. It is therefore not description, but exposition. Moreover, the
+method is different. In description those characteristics are given
+that distinguish the object from the rest of the class; while in
+exposition those qualities are selected which are common to all
+objects of its class.
+
+  Logical Definition.
+
+On account of the length of the definition by an enumeration of all
+the attributes, it is not frequently used except in long treatises.
+For it there has been substituted what is called a _logical
+definition._ Instead of naming all the characteristics of an object, a
+logical definition groups many attributes under one general term, and
+then adds a quality which distinguishes the object from the others of
+the general class. Man has been defined as the "reasoning animal." In
+this definition a large number of attributes have been gathered
+together in the general term "animal;" then man is separated from the
+whole class "animal" by the word "reasoning." A logical definition
+consists, then, of two parts: the general term naming the genus, and
+the limiting term naming the distinguishing attribute called the
+differentia.
+
+  Genus and Differentia.
+
+Genus and differentia are found in every good definition. The _genus_
+should be a term more general than the term defined. "Man is a person
+who reasons" is a poor definition; because "person" is no more general
+than "man." "A canine is a dog that is wild" is very bad, because
+"dog," the general term in the definition, is less general than the
+word defined. However, to say that "a dog is a canine that has been
+domesticated," is a definition in which the genus is more general than
+the term defined.
+
+Next, the genus should be a term well understood. "Man is a mammal who
+reasons" is all right, in having a genus more general than the term
+defined, but the definition fails with many because "mammal" is not
+well understood. "Botany is that branch of biology which treats of
+plant life" has in it the same error. "Biology" is not so well
+understood as "botany," though it is a more general term. In cases of
+this sort, the writer should go farther toward the more general until
+he finds a term perfectly clear to all. "Man is an animal that
+reasons," "botany is the branch of science that treats of plant life,"
+would both be easily understood. The genus should be a term better
+understood than the term defined; and it should be a term more general
+than the term defined.
+
+A definition may be faulty in its _differentia_ also. The differentia
+is that part of a definition which names the difference between the
+term defined and the general class to which it belongs. "Man is a
+reasoning animal." "Animal" names the general class, and "reasoning"
+is the differentia which separates "man" from other "animals." On the
+selection of this limiting word depends the accuracy of the
+definition. "Man is an animal that walks," or "that has hands," or
+"that talks," are all faulty; because bears walk, monkeys have hands,
+and parrots talk. Supposing the following definitions were given: "A
+cat is an animal that catches rats and mice;" "A rose is a flower that
+bears thorns;" "Gold is a metal that is heavy;" all would be faulty
+because the differentia in each is faulty. Notice, too, the
+definitions of "dog" and "canine" already given. Even "man is a
+reasoning animal" may fail; since many men declare that other animals
+reason. The differentia should include all the members that the term
+denotes, and it should exclude all that it does not denote.
+
+  Requisites of a good Definition.
+
+The requisites of a good definition are: first, that it shall include
+or denote all the members of the class; second, that it shall exclude
+everything which does not belong to its class; third, that the words
+used in the definition shall be better understood than the word
+defined; fourth, that it shall be brief.
+
+A definition may perfectly expound a term; and because of the very
+qualities that make it a good definition, accuracy and brevity, it may
+be almost valueless to the ordinary reader. For instance, this
+definition, "An acid is a substance, usually sour and sharp to the
+taste, that changes vegetable blue colors to red, and, combining with
+an earth, an alkali, or a metallic oxide, forms a salt," would not
+generally be understood. So it frequently becomes necessary to do more
+than give a definition in order to explain the meaning of a term. This
+brings us to the study of exposition, as it is generally understood,
+in which all the resources of language are called into service to
+explain a term or a proposition.
+
+  How do Men explain? First, by Repetition.
+
+What, then, are the methods of explaining a proposition? First, _a
+proposition may be explained by the repetition of the thought in some
+other form._ To be effective, repetition must add something to what
+has been said; the words used may be more specific or they may be more
+general. For example, "A strong partisan may not be a good citizen.
+The stanchest Republican may by reason of a blind adherence to party
+be working an injury to the country he loves. Indeed, one can easily
+conceive a body of men so devoted to a theory, beautiful though it may
+be in many respects, that they stand in the way of the world's
+progress." The second sentence repeats the thought of the first in
+more specific terms; the third repeats it in more general terms. The
+specific may be explained by the general; more often the general is
+cleared up by the specific. In either case, the proposition must be
+brought one step nearer to the reader by the restatement, or the
+repetition is not good.
+
+Speaking of written or printed words, Barrett Wendell writes:--
+
+     "In themselves, these black marks are nothing but black
+     marks more or less regular in appearance. Modern English
+     type and script are rather simple to the eye. Old English
+     and German are less so; less so still, Hebrew and Chinese.
+     But all alphabets present to the eye pretty obvious traces
+     of regularity; in a written or printed page the same mark
+     will occur over and over again. This is positively all we
+     see,--a number of marks grouped together and occasionally
+     repeated. A glance at a mummy-case, an old-fashioned
+     tea-chest, a Hebrew Bible, will show us all that any eye can
+     ever see in a written or printed document. The outward and
+     visible body of style consists of a limited number of marks
+     which, for all any reader is apt to know, are purely
+     arbitrary." ("English Composition.")
+
+In this paragraph every sentence is a repetition of some part of the
+opening or topic sentence, and serves to explain it.
+
+  Second, by telling the obverse.
+
+Second, _a proposition may be explained by telling what it is not._ At
+times this is as valuable as telling what it is. Care should be taken
+that the thing excluded or denied have some likeness to the
+proposition or term being explained; that the two be really in some
+danger of being confused. Unless to a hopelessly ignorant person, it
+would not explain anything to say "a horse is not a man;" but to
+assert that "a whale is not a fish, though they have many points in
+common," would prepare the way for an explanation of what a whale is.
+The obverse statement is nearly always followed by a repetition of
+what the thing is.
+
+The following from Newman illustrates the method:
+
+     "Now what is Theology? First, I will tell you what it is
+     not. And here, in the first place (though of course I speak
+     on the subject as a Catholic), observe that, strictly
+     speaking, I am not assuming that Catholicism is true, while
+     I make myself the champion of Theology. Catholicism has not
+     formally entered into my argument hitherto, nor shall I just
+     now assume any principle peculiar to it, for reasons which
+     will appear in the sequel, though of course I shall use
+     Catholic language. Neither, secondly, will I fall into the
+     fashion of the day, of identifying Natural Theology with
+     Physical Theology; which said Physical Theology is a most
+     jejune study, considered as a science, and really no science
+     at all, for it is ordinarily no more than a series of pious
+     or polemical remarks upon the physical world viewed
+     religiously, whereas the word 'Natural' comprehends man and
+     society, and all that is involved therein, as the great
+     Protestant writer, Dr. Butler, shows us. Nor, in the third
+     place, do I mean by Theology polemics of any kind; for
+     instance, what are called 'Evidences of Religion,' or 'the
+     Christian Evidences.'... Nor, fourthly, do I mean by
+     Theology that vague thing called 'Christianity,' or 'our
+     common Christianity,' or 'Christianity the law of the land,'
+     if there is any man alive who can tell what it is....
+     Lastly, I do not understand by Theology, acquaintance with
+     the Scriptures; for, though no person of religious feeling
+     can read Scripture but he will find those feelings roused,
+     and gain much knowledge of history into the bargain, yet
+     historical reading and religious feeling are not a science.
+     I mean none of these things by Theology. I simply mean the
+     Science of God, or the truths we know about God put into a
+     system; just as we have a science of the stars, and call it
+     astronomy, or of the crust of the earth, and call it
+     geology."[15]
+
+  Third, by Details.
+
+Third, _a common way of explaining a proposition is to go into
+particulars about it._ Enough particulars should be given to furnish a
+reasonable explanation of the proposition. Macaulay, writing of the
+"muster-rolls of names" which Milton uses, goes into details. He
+says:--
+
+     "They are charmed names. Every one of them is the first link
+     in a long chain of associated ideas. Like the dwelling place
+     of our infancy revisited in manhood, like the song of our
+     country heard in a strange land, they produce upon us an
+     effect wholly independent of their intrinsic value. One
+     transports us back to a remote period of history. Another
+     places us among the novel scenes and manners of a distant
+     region. A third evokes all the dear classical recollections
+     of childhood,--the schoolroom, the dog-eared Virgil, the
+     holiday, and the prize. A fourth brings before us the
+     splendid phantoms of chivalrous romance, the trophied lists,
+     the embroidered housings, the quaint devices, the haunted
+     forests, the enchanted gardens, the achievements of
+     enamoured knights, and the smiles of rescued
+     princesses."[16]
+
+  Fourth, by Illustrations.
+
+Fourth, _a proposition may be explained by the use of a single example
+or illustration._ The value of this method depends on the choice of
+the example. It must in no essential way differ from the general case
+it is intended to illustrate. Supposing this proposition were advanced
+by some woman-hater: "All women are, by nature, liars," and it should
+be followed by this sentence, "For example, take this lady of
+fashion." Such an illustration is worthless. The individual chosen
+does not fairly represent the class. If, on the other hand, a teacher
+in physics should announce that "all bodies fall at the same rate in a
+vacuum," and should illustrate by saying, "If I place a bullet and a
+feather in a tube from which the air has been exhausted, they will be
+found to fall equally fast," his example would be a fair one, as the
+two objects differ in no manner essential to the experiment from "all
+bodies."
+
+Here should be included anecdotes used as illustrations. They are of
+value if they are of the same type as the general class they are
+intended to explain. They may be of little value, however. It could
+safely be said that half the stories told in campaign speeches are not
+instances in point at all, but are told only to amuse and deceive.
+Specific instances must be chosen with care if they are to serve a
+useful purpose in exposition.
+
+This example is from Newman:--
+
+     "To know is one thing, to do is another; the two things are
+     altogether distinct. A man knows that he should get up in
+     the morning,--he lies abed; he knows that he should not lose
+     his temper, yet he cannot keep it. A laboring man knows that
+     he should not go to the ale-house, and his wife knows that
+     she should not filch when she goes out charing, but,
+     nevertheless, in these cases, the consciousness of a duty is
+     not all one with the performance of it. There are, then,
+     large families of instances, to say the least, in which men
+     may become wiser, without becoming better."[17]
+
+  Fifth, by Comparisons.
+
+Last, _a thing may be explained by telling what it is like, or what it
+is not like._ This method of comparison is very frequently employed.
+To liken a thing to something already known is a vivid way of
+explaining. Moreover in many cases it is easier than the method of
+repetition or that of details. By this method Macaulay explains his
+proposition that "it is the character of such revolutions that we
+always see the worst of them first." He says:--
+
+     "A newly liberated people may be compared to a northern army
+     encamped on the Rhine or the Xeres. It is said that when
+     soldiers in such a situation first find themselves able to
+     indulge without restraint in such a rare and expensive
+     luxury, nothing is to be seen but intoxication. Soon,
+     however, plenty teaches discretion, and, after wine has been
+     for a few months their daily fare, they become more
+     temperate than they had ever been in their own country. In
+     the same manner, the final and permanent fruits of liberty
+     are wisdom, moderation, and mercy. Its immediate effects are
+     often atrocious crimes, conflicting errors, skepticism on
+     points the most clear, dogmatism on points the most
+     mysterious."[18]
+
+The comparison may be a simile or a metaphor, as when Huxley writes,
+explaining "the physical basis of life:"--
+
+     "Protoplasm, simple or nucleated, is the formal basis of all
+     life. It is the clay of the potter: which, bake it and paint
+     it as he will, remains clay, separated by artifice, and not
+     by nature, from the commonest brick or sun-dried clod."[19]
+
+These, then, are the methods commonly adopted for explaining terms and
+propositions. First, by the use of definitions; second, by repeating
+the proposition either directly or obversely, adding something to the
+thought by each repetition; third, by enumerating particulars which
+form the ground for the statement; fourth, by selecting an instance
+which fairly illustrates the proposition; fifth, by the use of
+comparisons and analogies.
+
+  The Subject.
+
+Some general considerations regarding the choice of a subject have
+been given. A subject should lend itself to the form of discourse
+employed; next, it should be a subject interesting to the readers; and
+third, it should be interesting to the writer and suited to his
+ability. The last condition makes it advisable to limit the subject to
+a narrow field. Few persons have the ability to view a general subject
+in all its relations. "Books" everybody knows something of; yet very
+few are able to treat this general subject in all its ramifications. A
+person writing of the general topic "books" would not only be
+compelled to know what a book is, what may truly be called a book, and
+what is the value of books to readers, and therefore the influence of
+the different kinds of literature; he would also be driven to study
+the machinery for making books, the history of printing, illustrating,
+and binding books, and all the mechanical processes connected with the
+manufacture of books. The subject might take quite another turn, and
+be the development of fiction or drama; it might be a discussion of
+the influences, political or social, that have moulded literature; it
+might be a study of character as manifested in an author's works. No
+one is well fitted to write on the general topic "books." A subject
+should be limited.
+
+  The Subject should allow Concrete Treatment.
+
+For young persons _the subject should be so selected and stated that
+the treatment may be concrete._ As persons advance they make more
+generalizations; few, however, go so far as to think in general terms.
+Macaulay says, "Logicians may reason about abstractions, but the great
+mass of men must have images." That author depended largely for his
+glittering effects upon the use of common, concrete things which the
+masses understand. The subject should be such that it can be treated
+concretely. "Love," as a general proposition, is beautiful; but what
+more can a young writer say about it? Let him leave the whole horde of
+abstract subjects found in old rhetorics alone. They are subjects for
+experience; they cannot be handled by youth.
+
+  The Theme.
+
+After the subject has been chosen, the writer next considers how he
+shall treat it. He selects the attitude he will assume toward the
+proposition, his point of view; and this position he embodies in a
+short sentence, called his _theme._ For instance, "patriotism" is the
+subject; as it stands it is abstract and very general. However, this,
+"Can a partisan be a patriot?" would be sufficiently concrete to be
+treated. Even yet there is no indication of the author's point of
+view. Should he write, "A real partisan is no patriot," his theme is
+announced, and his point of view known.
+
+A _theme,_ either explicit or implicit, _is essential in exposition._
+It is not necessary that it shall be stated to the reader, but it must
+be clearly stated by the writer for his own guidance. It is, however,
+usually announced at the opening of the essay. Whether announced or
+not, it is most essential to the success of the essay. It is the
+touchstone by which the author tries all the material which he has
+collected. Not everything on the subject of patriotism should be
+admitted to an essay that has for its theme, "A real partisan cannot
+be a true patriot." It would save many a digression if the theme were
+always written in bold, black letters, and placed before the author as
+he writes. Every word in a theme should be there for a purpose,
+expressing some important modification of the thought. For instance,
+the statement above regarding a partisan may be too sweeping; perhaps
+the essayist would prefer to discuss the modified statement that "a
+blind partisan cannot always be a true patriot." The theme should
+state exactly what will be treated in the essay. The statement of it
+should employ the hardest kind of thinking; and when the theme is
+determined definitely and for all, the essay is safe from the
+intrusion of foreign ideas which disturb the harmony of the whole.
+
+Another advantage in the theme is that, when once chosen, it will go
+far toward writing the essay. One great trouble with the young writer
+is that he is not willing to rely on his theme to suggest his
+composition. Mr. Palmer well says:--
+
+     "He examines his pen point, the curtains, his inkstand, to
+     see if perhaps ideas may not be had from these. He wonders
+     what the teacher will wish him to say, and he tries to
+     recall how the passage sounded in the Third Reader. In every
+     direction but one he turns, and that is the direction where
+     lies the prime mover of his toil, his subject. Of that he is
+     afraid. Now, what I want to make evident is that his subject
+     is not in reality the foe, but the friend. It is his only
+     helper. His composition is not to be, as he seems to
+     suppose, a mass of laborious inventions, but it is made up
+     exclusively of what the subject dictates. He has only to
+     attend. At present he stands in his own way, making such a
+     din with his private anxieties that he cannot hear the rich
+     suggestions of his subject. He is bothered with considering
+     how he feels, or what he or somebody else will like to see
+     on his paper. This is debilitating business. He must lean on
+     his subject, if he would have his writing strong, and busy
+     himself with what it says, rather than with what he would
+     say."[20]
+
+  The Title.
+
+Having selected a subject, and with care stated the theme, it yet
+remains to give the essay a name. There is something in a name, and
+those authors who make a living by the pen are the shrewdest in
+displaying their wares under the most attractive titles. _The title
+should be attractive,_ but it should not promise what the essay does
+not give. Newspaper headlines are usually attractive enough, but
+shamefully untruthful. Next, the title should _indicate the scope of
+the essay._ When Mr. Palmer calls his little book "Self-Cultivation in
+English," it is evident that it is not a text-book, and that it will
+not treat English as literature or as a science. Then, the title
+should be _short._ The theme can rarely be used as a title; it is too
+long. But the paramount idea developed in the essay should be embodied
+in the title. "Partisanship and Patriotism" would be a good subject to
+give the essay we have spoken of. The title, then, should be
+attractive; it should be short; and it should truthfully indicate the
+contents of the essay.
+
+  Selection of Material.
+
+One of the important factors in the construction of an essay is the
+selection of material. Though theme and title have already been
+discussed, it was not because they are the things for a writer to
+consider next after he has chosen his subject, but because they are so
+intimately bound up in the subject that their consideration at that
+time was natural. Before a writer can decide upon the position he will
+assume toward a proposition, he should have looked over the field in a
+general way; for only with the facts before him is he competent to
+choose his point of view and to state his theme. The title is not in
+the least essential to the writing of the essay; it may be deferred
+until the essay is finished. It is necessary, however, that the writer
+have much knowledge of his subject, and that from this knowledge he be
+able to frame an opinion regarding the subject. When this has been
+done he is ready to begin the work of constructing his essay; and the
+first question in exposition, as in narration and description, is the
+selection of material to develop the theme he has chosen.
+
+The selection of material is a more difficult matter in exposition
+than in narration and description. It requires the shrewdest scrutiny
+to keep out matter that does not help the thought forward. In
+narration we decided by the main incident; in description by the
+purpose and the point of view; in exposition we test all material by
+its relation to the theme. Does it help to explain the theme? If not,
+however good material it may be, it has no business in the essay.
+
+Association of ideas is a law by which, when one of two related ideas
+is mentioned, the other is suggested. To illustrate, when Manila is
+mentioned, Admiral Dewey appears; when treason is spoken of, Arnold is
+in the mind. This law is of fundamental importance in arranging an
+essay; one thing should suggest the next. But valuable as it is, even
+indispensable, it may become the source of much mischief. For
+instance, a pupil has this for a topic, "Reading gives pleasure to
+many." He writes as his second sentence, "By pleasure I mean the
+opposite of pain," and goes on. "All things are understood by their
+opposites. If we did not know sickness, we could not enjoy our health.
+Joy is understood through sorrow. I remember my first sorrow. My
+father had just given me a new knife,--my first knife," and so on from
+one thing to another. And not so unnaturally either; each sentence has
+suggested the next, but not one is on the topic. The most anxious
+watch must be kept in the selection of material. Some will be admitted
+without any question; some will be excluded with a brusqueness almost
+brutal. There is a third class, however, that is allied with the
+subject, yet it is not so easy to determine whether it should be
+admitted or rejected. This class requires the closest questioning. It
+must contribute to the strength of the essay, not to its pages, or it
+has no place there.
+
+  Scale of Treatment.
+
+_There is another condition which must be considered in the selection
+of material, the scale of treatment._ If Macaulay had been asked by a
+daily paper to contribute a paragraph of five hundred words on Milton,
+he could not have introduced all the numerous topics which have their
+place in his essay of one hundred pages. He might have mentioned
+Milton's poetry and his character, the two main divisions of the
+present essay; but Dante and Æschylus, Puritan and Royalist, would
+scarcely have received notice. The second consideration in selecting
+material is the purpose and length of the essay, and the consequent
+thoroughness with which the subject is to be treated.
+
+_The exhaustiveness with which an author treats any subject depends,
+first, on his knowledge._ Any person could write a paragraph on
+Milton; Macaulay and Lowell wrote delightful essays on the topic;
+David Masson has written volumes about him. These would have been
+impossible except to a person who had been a special student of the
+subject. Second, the thoroughness of the treatment depends _on the
+knowledge of the readers._ For persons acquainted with the record of
+the momentous events of Milton's time, it would have been quite
+unnecessary, it might be considered even an insult to intelligence, to
+go into such details of history. The shortest statement suffices when
+the reader is already familiar with the subject and needs only to know
+the application in this case. Third, the scale of treatment depends
+_on the purpose for which the essay is written._ If a newspaper
+paragraph, it is one thing; if for a magazine, it is quite another; if
+it is to be the final word on the subject, it may reach to volumes.
+
+An apt illustration of proportion in the scale of treatment has been
+given by Scott and Denny in their "Composition-Rhetoric." They suggest
+that three maps of the United States, one very large, another half the
+size of the first, and a third very small, be hung side by side. If a
+comparison be made, it will be found that, whereas a great number of
+cities are represented on the largest map, only half as many appear on
+the middle-sized map. If the smallest map be examined, only the
+largest cities, the longest rivers, the greatest lakes, and the
+highest mountains can be found; all others must be omitted. On all
+three maps the same relation of parts is maintained. In proportion to
+the whole, New York State will hold the same position in all of them.
+The Mississippi River will flow from Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico,
+and the Gulf will sweep in a curve from Texas to Florida. The scale is
+different, but the proportion does not change.
+
+This principle applies in the construction of themes. In a paragraph
+only very important topics will receive any mention. In an essay these
+important topics retain their proper place and relation, while many
+other points of subordinate rank will be introduced. If the treatment
+be lengthened to a book, a host of minor sub-topics will be
+considered, each adding something to the development of the theme, and
+each giving to its principal topic the relative importance which
+belongs to the main divisions of the essay. The scale of treatment
+will have much to do with the selection of material.
+
+Using Macaulay's "Milton" as an illustration, the analyses below will
+show how by increasing the size of the essay new subjects come into
+the field for notice. The first is but a paragraph and has the two
+main divisions of the essay. The second is an outline for an essay of
+two thousand words. In the third only one of the sub-topics is
+analyzed, as Macaulay has discussed it. It would take too much space
+to analyze minutely the whole essay.
+
+                               MILTON.
+
+A. Milton's poetry has given him his position among great men.
+B. His conduct was such as was to be expected from a man of a spirit
+   so high and of an intellect so powerful.
+
+In the following outline the same main headings are retained, and the
+sub-topics which explain them are introduced. The numbers indicate the
+paragraphs in Macaulay's essay given to each topic.
+
+                         INTRODUCTION (1-8).
+
+A. Milton's poetry has given him his position among men. (9-46.)
+     I. No poet has ever triumphed over greater difficulties than
+        Milton. (10-19.)
+    II. In his lesser works he shows his great power. (20-31.)
+   III. There is but one modern poem that can be compared with
+        "Paradise Lost;" Dante's "Divine Comedy" has great power, is
+        upon a kindred subject, but in style of treatment widely
+        different. (32-46.)
+        Transition. (47-49.)
+B. His conduct was such as was to be expected from a man of a spirit
+   so high and of an intellect so powerful. (50-90.)
+     I. He lived at one of the most memorable eras in the history of
+        mankind, and his conduct must be judged as that of the people
+        is judged. (50-78.)
+    II. There were some peculiarities which distinguished him from
+        his contemporaries. (79-90.)
+        Conclusion. (91-94.)
+
+Again, taking up but one section, B, II., the analysis is as
+follows:--
+
+II. There were some peculiarities which distinguished him from his
+   contemporaries. (79-90.)
+     A. Milton adopted the noblest qualities of every party--
+          1. Puritans. (80-84.)
+               a. They excited contempt. However
+               b. They were no vulgar fanatics; but
+               c. They derived their peculiarities from their daily
+                  contemplation of superior beings and eternal
+                  interests.
+               d. Thus the Puritan was made up of two men,--the one
+                  all self-abasement, the other all pride.
+               e. Résumé of character of Puritans.
+          2. Heathens were passionate lovers of freedom. (85.)
+          3. Royalists had individual independence, learning, and
+             polite manners of the Court.
+     B. But he alone fought the battle for the freedom of the mind.
+        (88.)
+          1. This led him to discard parties; and (89)
+          2. To dare the boldest literary services. (90.)
+
+The fundamental principle guiding in the selection of material is
+unity. It decides what may with propriety be admitted to the essay,
+and it determines in part what must be left out. Another principle,
+secondary to this, is scale of treatment. If the essay is to be short,
+only essentials may be used; if long, many related sub-topics must
+take their subordinate positions in the essay.
+
+  Arrangement.
+
+Following the selection of material comes its arrangement. Here also
+there is greater difficulty than was experienced in narration or
+description. Though the same principles of Coherence and Mass guide,
+they are more difficult to apply. The seat of the difficulty is in the
+elusiveness of the material. It is hard to picture distinctly the
+value and relation of the different topics of an essay. Suppose the
+subject is "The Evils of War." The first paragraph might contain a
+general statement announcing the theme. Then these topics are to be
+discussed:--
+
+     1. The effect on the _morale_ of a nation.
+     2. The suffering of friends and relatives.
+     3. The destruction of life.
+     4. The backward step in civilization.
+     5. The destruction of property.
+
+The order could not be much worse. How shall a better be obtained?
+
+  Use Cards for Subdivisions.
+
+The most helpful suggestion regarding a method of making the material
+in some degree visible, capable of being grasped, is that each
+subdivision be placed on a separate card, and that, as the material is
+gathered, it be put upon the card containing the group to which it
+belongs. By different arrangements of these cards the writer can find
+most easily the order that is natural and effective. It is much like
+anagrams, this ordering of matter in an essay. Take these letters,
+s-l-y-w-a-r-e, and in your head try to put them together to make a
+word; you will have some trouble, probably. If, however, these same
+letters be put upon separate slips of paper, you may with some
+arrangement get out the rather common word, lawyers. It is much the
+same with topic cards in exposition; they can be moved and rearranged
+in all possible ways, and at last an order distinctly better than any
+other will be found.
+
+Speaking of cards, it might be well to say that the habit of putting
+down a fact or an idea bearing on a topic just as soon as it occurs to
+one is invaluable for a writer. All men have good memories; some
+persons have better ones than others. But there is no one who does not
+forget; and each catches himself very often saying, "I knew that, but
+I forgot it." It is a fact, not perhaps complimentary, that paper
+tablets are surer than the tablets of memory.
+
+  An Outline.
+
+In exposition, where the whole attention of the reader should be given
+to the thought, where more than ever the mind should be freed from
+every hindrance, and its whole energy directed to getting the meaning,
+the greatest care should be given to making a plan. No person who has
+attained distinction in prose has worked without a plan. Any piece of
+literature, even the most discursive, has in it something of plan; but
+in literature of the first rank the plan is easily discovered. How
+clear it is in Macaulay's essay has been seen. In Burke it is yet more
+logical and exact. However beautiful a piece may be, however naturally
+one thought grows out of another, as though it were always so and
+could be no other way, be sure it is so because of some man's thought,
+on account of careful planning. And it may be said without a chance of
+contradiction that when an essay has been well planned it is half
+done, and that half by far the harder. "We can hardly at the present
+day understand what Menander meant, when he told a man who inquired as
+to the progress of his comedy that he had finished it, not having yet
+written a single line, because he had constructed the action of it in
+his mind. A modern critic would have assured him that the merit of his
+piece depended on the brilliant things which arose under his pen as he
+went along." The brilliant things are but the gargoyles and the
+scrolls, the ornaments of the structure; and when so brilliant as to
+attract especial attention, they divert the mind from the total effect
+much as a series of beautiful marbles set between those perfect
+columns would have ruined the Parthenon. It was not in any single
+feature--not in pediment, column, or capital, not in frieze,
+architrave, or tympanum--that its glorious beauty lay, but in the
+simple strength and the harmonious symmetry of the whole, in the
+general plan. Webster planned his orations, Newman planned his essays,
+Carlyle planned his Frederick the Great. Their works are not a
+momentary inspiration; they are the result of forethought, long and
+painstaking. The absolute essential in the structure of an essay, that
+without which it will fail to arrive anywhere, that compared to which
+all ornament, all fine writing, is but sounding brass and a tinkling
+cymbal, that absolute essential is the total effect secured by making
+a plan.
+
+  Mass the End.
+
+The principles governing the arrangement of material are Mass and
+Coherence. Both are equally essential, but in practice some questions
+regarding Mass are settled first. _The important positions in an essay
+are the beginning and the end; of these the more important is the
+end._ In this place, then, there shall be those sentences or those
+paragraphs which deserve that distinction. Here frequently stands the
+theme, the conclusion of the whole matter, that for which the
+composition was constructed. So that if one wished to know the theme
+of an essay, he would be justified in looking at its conclusion to
+find it. In the essay on "Milton," it is evident from the last
+paragraph that Macaulay never intended it to be only a criticism of
+his poetry, though he has devoted many pages to this discussion. Here
+is just the last sentence: "Nor do we envy the man who can study
+either the life or the writings of the great poet and patriot without
+aspiring to emulate, not indeed the sublime works with which his
+genius has enriched our literature, but the zeal with which he labored
+for the public good, the fortitude with which he endured every private
+calamity, the lofty disdain with which he looked down on temptations
+and dangers, the deadly hatred which he bore to bigots and tyrants,
+and the faith which he so sternly kept with his country and his fame."
+Notice the last sentence of a delightful essay by George William
+Curtis; one could easily guess the contents and the title. "Fear of
+yourself, fear of your own rebuke, fear of betraying your
+consciousness of your duty and not doing it--that is the fear that
+Lovelace loved better than Lucasta; that is the fear which Francis,
+having done his duty, saved, and justly called it honor." Examples of
+the ending in which the theme of the essay stands in the place of
+greatest distinction are so plentiful that there needs no collector to
+establish the assertion.
+
+In a single paragraph of exposition not exceeding two or three hundred
+words, it is a very safe rule for a beginner always to have the theme
+in the last sentence; or if he has stated the theme in the opening, to
+have a restatement of it in different form, fuller and more explicit
+usually, sometimes a shorter and more epigrammatic form, in the
+conclusion.
+
+If the pupil should obey this little rule to have at the end something
+worthy of the position, a vast amount of time would be saved both to
+teacher and to pupil. It can be safely said that not more than one
+half the essays end when the thought ends. Instead of quitting when he
+has finished, the writer dribbles on, repeating in diluted fashion
+what he has said with some force before, and often introducing matters
+that are not within hailing distance of his theme. When one has said
+what he started out to say, it is time to stop. If he stops then, he
+will have something important in the place of distinction.
+
+  The Beginning.
+
+_The position of second importance is the beginning._ If but a
+paragraph be written, the topic is usually announced at the opening.
+In short essays this is the most frequent beginning, and it may safely
+be used at all times. Exposition is explanation; the natural thing is
+to let the reader know at once what the writer is attempting to
+explain. Then the reader knows what the author is talking about and
+can relate every statement to the general proposition. To delay the
+topic compels the reader to hold in mind all that has been said up to
+the time the real theme is uncovered; this frequently results in
+inattention. In the little book by Mr. Palmer, the first paragraph
+opens with these two sentences: "English as a study has four aims: the
+mastery of our language as a science, as a history, as a joy, and as a
+tool. I am concerned with but one, the mastery of it as a tool." So,
+too, the essay of which the last sentence has been quoted begins:
+"These are very precious words of Lovelace:--
+
+     'I could not love thee, dear, so much,
+     Loved I not honor more.'
+
+And Francis First's message to his mother after Pavia, 'All is lost
+but honor,' is in the same key."
+
+Instead of announcing the theme at the very beginning, in essays of
+some length there is sometimes an account of the occasion which led to
+the composition. Macaulay has used this opening in the essay on
+"Milton." Second, the opening may be the clearing away of matters
+unrelated in reality, but which people have commonly associated with
+the topic. And third, the essay may open with definitions of the terms
+that will be used in the discussion. Of these three, only the first
+will be much used by young persons. It makes an easy approach to the
+subject, and avoids the unpleasant jar of an abrupt start. It is
+common with Macaulay, Lowell, and many essayists that write in an
+easy, almost conversational style.
+
+There is one case in which the theme should not be announced at the
+opening. If the proposition were distasteful, if it were generally
+believed to be false, it would not be policy to announce it at the
+beginning. However reasonable men may be, it is still true that reason
+is subject to emotions and beliefs to a greater degree than is
+praiseworthy. If a man should open an address upon Abraham Lincoln by
+saying that he was a cringing coward, he would have difficulty to get
+an audience to hear anything he said after that, no matter how much
+truth he spoke. The author of such a statement would be so disliked
+that nothing would win for him favor. When an unwelcome theme is to be
+discussed, it must be approached carefully by successive steps which
+prepare the reader for the reception of a truth that before seemed
+false to him. In this case the theme will be stated at the end, but
+not at the beginning of the essay.
+
+Get started as soon as you can, and stop when you have finished; by so
+doing you will have important matters in those places which will
+emphasize them. Shun the allurements of high-sounding introductions
+and conclusions. Professor Marston used to tell his pupils to write
+the best introduction they could, to fashion their most gorgeous
+peroration, and to be sure to have the discussion clear, logical, and
+well expressed. Then he said that when he had cut off both ends, he
+generally had left a good essay. An essay should be done much as a
+business man does business. He does not want the gentleman who calls
+on him during business hours to bow and scatter compliments before he
+takes up the matter which brought him there; nor does he care to see
+him swaying on the doorknob after the business is finished. To the
+business at once, and leave off when you have done. Introductions,
+exordiums, perorations, and conclusions are worthless unless they be
+in reality a part of the discussion and necessary to the understanding
+of the whole.
+
+  Proportion in Treatment.
+
+Everything, however, cannot occupy the first and last places. How can
+other matters be emphasized? To refer to the parallel of the map, in
+order to make people see that the Mississippi River is longer than the
+Hudson, the designer made it longer on the map. That is exactly what
+is done in an essay. If one matter is of greater importance than
+another, it should take up a larger part of the essay. When Macaulay
+passes over Milton's sonnets with a paragraph, while he devotes
+sixteen paragraphs to "Paradise Lost," he indicates by the greater
+mass the greater value he ascribes to the epic. So again, a very good
+proof that he did not intend this essay to be a literary criticism
+primarily, another evidence beside the closing paragraph, is found in
+his division of the whole essay. To Milton's poetry he has given
+forty-one paragraphs, and to his character fifty-two paragraphs. The
+most common way of emphasizing important divisions of an essay is by
+increasing the length of treatment.
+
+  Emphasis of Emotion.
+
+However, there are times when this cannot be done: a point may be so
+well known that it needs no amplification. In such a case there may be
+an emphasis of emotion; that is, the statement may be made with an
+intensity that counterbalances the weight of the larger treatment. It
+might be said that the one has great velocity and little mass, while
+the other has great mass and little velocity. By hurling forth the
+smaller mass at a higher velocity, the momentum may be as great as
+when the larger mass moves with little velocity. The dynamic force of
+burning words may give an emphasis to a paragraph out of all
+proportion to the length of treatment. In one paragraph Macaulay
+dashes aside all the defenses of Charles. He writes:--
+
+     "The advocates of Charles, like the advocates of other
+     malefactors against whom overwhelming evidence is produced,
+     generally decline all controversy about the facts, and
+     content themselves with calling testimony to character. He
+     had so many private virtues! And had James II. no private
+     virtues? Was Oliver Cromwell, his bitterest enemies
+     themselves being the judges, destitute of private virtues?
+     And what, after all, are the virtues ascribed to Charles? A
+     religious zeal, not more sincere than that of his son, and
+     fully as weak and narrow-minded, and a few of the ordinary
+     household decencies which half the tombstones in England
+     claim for those who lie beneath them. A good father! A good
+     husband! Ample apologies indeed for fifteen years of
+     persecution, tyranny, and falsehood." ("Essay on Milton.")
+
+  Phrases indicating Emphasis.
+
+Moreover, phrases and sentences may be introduced to show that a
+writer considers some topics of equal importance to others, or even of
+greater importance, though they do not demand the same length of
+treatment. _Of equal importance, not less weighty, beyond question the
+most pertinent,_ illustrate what is meant by phrases which indicate
+values. These and many of their class which the occasion will call
+forth are necessary to give certain topics the rank they hold in the
+writer's conception of the whole subject. In discussing the temper and
+character of the American people, Burke ascribes it to six powerful
+causes. The relative value of these is indicated in the last three by
+phrases. I quote only the opening sentences.
+
+     "First, the people of the colonies are descendants of
+     Englishmen."... "They were further confirmed in this
+     pleasing error by the form of their provincial legislative
+     assemblies."... "If anything were wanting to this necessary
+     operation of the form of government, religion would have
+     given it a complete effect."... "There is a circumstance
+     attending these [southern] colonies which makes the spirit
+     of liberty _still more_ high and haughty than in those to
+     the northward."... "Permit me, Sir, to add another
+     circumstance which contributes _no mean part_ towards the
+     growth and effect of this untractable spirit."... "The last
+     cause of this disobedient spirit in the colonies is _hardly
+     less powerful_ than the rest."[21]
+
+Emphasis is indicated, then, by position; by the length of treatment;
+by dynamic statement; and by phrases denoting values.
+
+  Coherence.
+
+Coherence is the second principle which modifies the internal
+structure of a composition. That arrangement should be sought for that
+places in proximity one to another those ideas which are most closely
+related. More than in composition dealing with things, in those forms
+of discourse dealing with intangible, invisible ideas,--with thoughts,
+with speculations,--the greatest care is necessary to make one topic
+spring of necessity from a preceding topic. And this is not impossible
+when the material has been carefully selected. The principal divisions
+of the subject bear a necessary and logical relation to the whole
+theme, and the subordinate divisions have a similar relation to their
+main topic. In the essay on "Milton," Macaulay is seeking to commend
+his hero to the reader for two reasons: first, because his writings
+"are powerful, not only to delight, but to elevate and purify;"
+second, because "the zeal with which he labored for the public good,
+the fortitude with which he endured every private calamity, the lofty
+disdain with which he looked down on temptations and dangers, the
+deadly hatred which he bore to bigots and tyrants, and the faith which
+he so sternly kept with his country and with his fame" made him a
+patriot worthy of emulation. We feel instinctively that this
+arrangement, poetry first and character next, and not the reverse, is
+the right order. To discuss character first and poetry last would have
+been ruinous to Macaulay's purpose. Notice next the development of a
+sub-topic in the same essay. Only one sentence from a paragraph is
+given. The defenders of Charles do not choose to discuss "the great
+points of the question," but "content themselves with exposing some of
+the crimes and follies to which public commotions necessarily give
+birth." "Be it so." "Many evils were produced by the Civil War." "It
+is the character of such revolutions that we always see the worst of
+them first." Yet "there is only one cure for the evils which newly
+acquired freedom produces, and that cure is freedom." "Therefore it is
+that we decidedly approve of the conduct of Milton and the other wise
+and good men who, in spite of much that was ridiculous and hateful in
+the conduct of their associates, stood firmly by the cause of public
+liberty." No other arrangement of these paragraphs seems possible. To
+shift the sequence would break the chain. Each paragraph grows
+naturally from the paragraph preceding. Closely related topics stand
+together. There is Coherence.
+
+  Transition Phrases.
+
+The logical connection between topics which have been well arranged
+may be made more evident by the skillful use of words and phrases that
+indicate the relation of what has been said to what is to be said.
+These phrases are guideposts pointing the direction the next topic
+will take. They advise the reader where he is and whither he is going.
+Cardinal Newman, who had the ability to write not only so that he
+could be understood, but so that he could not be misunderstood, made
+frequent use of these guides. The question in one of his essays is
+"whether knowledge, that is, acquirement, is the real principle of
+enlargement, or whether that is not rather something beyond it." These
+fragments of sentences open a series of paragraphs. 1. "For instance,
+let a person ... go for the first time where physical nature puts on
+her wilder and more awful forms," etc. 2. "Again, the view of the
+heavens which the telescope opens," etc. 3. "And so again, the sight
+of beasts of prey and other foreign animals," etc. 4. "Hence Physical
+Science generally," etc. 5. "Again, the study of history," etc. 6.
+"And in like manner, what is called seeing the world," etc. 7. "And
+then again, the first time the mind comes across the arguments and
+speculations of unbelievers," etc. 8. "On the other hand, Religion has
+its own enlargement," etc. 9. "Now from these instances, ... it is
+plain, first, that the communication of knowledge certainly is either
+a condition or a means of that sense of enlargement, or enlightenment
+of which at this day we hear so much in certain quarters: this cannot
+be denied; but next, it is equally plain, that such communication is
+not the whole of the process." How extremely valuable such phrases are
+may be realized from the fact that, though the matter is entirely
+unknown, any one can know the relation of the parts of this essay,
+whither it tends, and can almost supply Newman's thoughts.
+
+  Summary and Transition.
+
+To secure coherence between the main divisions of an essay, instead of
+words and phrases, there are employed sentences and paragraphs of
+summary and transition. Summaries gather up what has been said on the
+topic, much like a conclusion to a theme; transitions show the
+relation between the topic already discussed and the one next to be
+treated. Summaries at the conclusion of any division of the whole
+subject are like the seats on a mountain path which are conveniently
+arranged to give the climber a needed rest, and to spread out at his
+feet the features of the landscape through which he has made his way.
+Summaries put the reader in possession of the situation up to that
+point, and make him ready for the next stage of the advance. At the
+end of the summary there is frequently a transition, either a few
+sentences or sometimes a short paragraph. The sentence or paragraph of
+transition is much more frequent than the paragraph which summarizes.
+
+The examples of these summaries and transitions are so frequent in
+Macaulay and Burke that one transition is sufficient to indicate their
+use. Macaulay writes:--
+
+     "There are several minor poems of Milton on which we would
+     willingly make a few remarks.... Our limits, however,
+     prevent us from discussing the point at length. We hasten on
+     to that extraordinary production which the general suffrage
+     of critics has placed in the highest class of human
+     compositions." ("Essay on Milton.")
+
+To conclude, exposition embraces definition and explanation.
+Definition is usually too concise to be clear, and needs an added
+explanation. In any piece of exposition there must be unity, and this
+principle will dispense with everything that is not essential to the
+theme; there must be judicious massing, that those parts of the essay
+deserving emphasis may receive it; and there must be a coherence
+between the parts, large and small, so close and intimate that the
+progress from one topic to another shall be steady and without
+hindrance. Unity, Mass, and Coherence should be the main
+considerations in composition the aim of which is to explain a term or
+a proposition.
+
+
+                 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES.
+
+
+                              QUESTIONS.
+
+                     MACAULAY'S ESSAY ON MILTON.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 103.)
+
+What makes up the introduction of this essay? Does he use the same
+method in the Essay on Addison? Take a volume of his essays and see
+how many begin in similar fashion. At what paragraph of this Essay on
+Milton does the introduction end? Would it be as well to omit it? Give
+reasons for your opinion.
+
+Make an analysis of his argument of the proposition, "No poet has ever
+triumphed over greater difficulties than Milton."
+
+Does Macaulay give a definition of poetry on page 13, or is it an
+exposition of the term?
+
+What figure of speech do you find in the last sentence of the
+paragraph on page 43?
+
+When Macaulay begins to discuss "the public conduct of Milton," what
+method of introduction does he adopt? What value is there in it?
+
+Do the trifles mentioned at the end of the paragraph on page 55 make
+an anticlimax?
+
+What arrangement of sentences in the paragraph does he use most,
+individual or serial?
+
+Does he close his paragraphs with a repetition of the topic more
+frequently than with a single detail emphasizing the topic?
+
+Is his last sentence, in case it is a repetition of the topic, longer
+or shorter than the topic sentence?
+
+Does Macaulay frequently use epigrams? antitheses?
+
+Find all transition paragraphs.
+
+Find ten full sentence transitions outside of the transition
+paragraphs.
+
+Where, in such paragraphs, is the topic sentence?
+
+In this essay find examples of the five methods of expounding a
+proposition.
+
+Which method does Macaulay use oftenest?
+
+Is his treatment of the subject concrete?
+
+What advantage is there in such treatment?
+
+
+                        OF KINGS' TREASURIES.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 142.)
+
+Do you think the title good?
+
+Is Ruskin wise in disclosing his subject at once?
+
+In section 3 what purpose does the first paragraph fulfill? What
+method of exposition is adopted in the last paragraph? What method in
+section 4?
+
+For what purpose is the first paragraph of section 5 introduced? Is
+the last paragraph of this section a digression?
+
+Do you think the last sentence of section 9 upon the topic announced
+in the first sentence? Where does Ruskin begin to treat the second
+topic? Should there be two paragraphs?
+
+Find the genus and differentia in the definition of "a good book of
+the hour."
+
+What is the use of the analogy in section 13?
+
+What figure do you find in section 14?
+
+Do you think a large part of section 30 a digression?
+
+What do you think of the structure of sentences 4 and 8 in section 32?
+Could you improve it by a change of punctuation?
+
+What is the effect of the supposed case at the end of section 33? Is
+it a fair deduction? Is it at the right place in the paragraph, and
+why?
+
+Where would you divide the paragraph in section 37?
+
+Is the example in section 36 a fair one, and does it prove the case?
+
+What is a very common method with Ruskin of connecting paragraphs?
+
+Could you break up the sixth sentence of section 31 so that it would
+be better?
+
+If his audience had been hostile to him would he have been fortunate
+in some of his assertions? Make an analysis of the whole essay. Does
+he seem to you to have digressed from his topic? At what point? Should
+it be two essays?
+
+What led Ruskin into this long criticism of English character?
+
+Could you include all the main topics that Ruskin has included, and by
+a change in proportion keep the essay on the subject?
+
+
+                    WEBSTER'S BUNKER HILL ORATION.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 56.)
+
+Number the paragraphs in this oration.
+
+Why is paragraph 3 introduced?
+
+What method of development is used in paragraph 7? In paragraph 8?
+
+In how many paragraphs is the last sentence short?
+
+In how many is the last sentence a repetition of the topic?
+
+What purpose is served in paragraphs 8, 9, and 10?
+
+In paragraph 12 note the use of contrast.
+
+What kind of development in paragraph 27?
+
+Analyze the oration from paragraph 28.
+
+Does he place the topic sentence near the beginning of the paragraphs?
+
+Does he frequently use transition sentences?
+
+Do you think the outline of this as distinct as that of Macaulay's
+Essay on Milton? Should it be?
+
+What figure of speech in the word "axe" in paragraph 32, and "bayonet"
+in paragraph 36?
+
+What figure at the end of paragraph 40?
+
+Does he use figures as frequently as Macaulay?
+
+
+                              EXERCISES.
+
+This year, taking up the study of exposition, offers especially good
+opportunities for exercises in paragraph and sentence construction.
+During the first eight or ten weeks the pupils will write isolated
+paragraphs. The unity and arrangement of these should be carefully
+criticised. Also the exercises should be arranged so that the pupils
+will employ all forms of paragraphs. Before he begins to write a
+paragraph, the pupil should know what he is to include in it, and in
+what order; otherwise the paragraph will fail in unity and effective
+massing. Paragraphs are made by forethought, not by inspiration.
+
+Following the writing of isolated paragraphs is the composition of the
+long essay. The first thing is a study of outlines. This will take up
+six or eight weeks. To secure the view of the whole in different
+arrangements, use the cards.
+
+When the class has gained some grasp of outlines, the writing of
+essays should be begun. At the option of the pupils, they may write
+some of the essays already outlined, or study new themes. Two or three
+paragraphs are all that can be well done for a lesson. Good, not much,
+should be the ideal. In this way a single essay may occupy a class
+from three to six weeks.
+
+It should be remembered that these exercises are written consciously
+for practice. They are exercises--no more. Their purpose is to give
+skill and judgment in composition. It is because they are exercises
+that they may be somewhat stereotyped and artificial in form, just as
+exercises in music may be artificially constructed to meet the
+difficulties the young musician will have to confront.
+
+During the writing of these essays special attention should be given
+to sentence construction. The inclusion of just the ideas needed in
+the sentence and no more; the massing that makes prominent the thought
+that deserves prominence; and the nice adjustment of one sentence to
+the next: these objects should be striven for during this semester.
+
+1, 2. Write definitions of such common terms as jingoism, civil
+service, gold standard, the submerged tenth, sweat shop, internal
+revenue, cyclonic area, foreign policy, imperialism, free silver,
+mugwump, political pull, Monroe doctrine, etc. Five or six terms which
+are not found in a dictionary will make a hard exercise; and two or
+three lessons in definitions will set the pupils in the direction of
+accurate and adequate statements.
+
+For isolated paragraphs write upon the following subjects:--
+
+3. Novel reading gives one a knowledge of the world not to be gained
+in any other way. Particulars.
+
+4. Novel reading unfits people for the actualities of life. Specific
+instances.
+
+5. Among the numerous uses of biography three stand forth
+preëminent,--it furnishes the material of history, it lets us into the
+secrets of the good and great, and it sets before us attainable ideals
+of noble humanity. Repetition.
+
+6. It is beyond any possibility of successful contradiction that the
+examination system encourages cheating. Proofs.
+
+7. Electric cars and automobiles are driving horses out of the cities.
+Instances.
+
+8. Every great development in the culture of a nation has followed a
+great war. Proofs.
+
+9. From the following general subjects have the pupils state definite
+themes. Write isolated paragraphs on a few of them.
+
+     Political Parties.
+     War.
+     Books.
+     Machines.
+     Inventions.
+     Great Men.
+     Planets.
+     Civil Service.
+     Coeducation.
+     Roads.
+     Tramps.
+     Boycotts.
+
+10. Place another similar list on the board and have the pupils vote
+on what three they prefer. Use these in making outlines. Then select
+more.
+
+Supposing they had settled upon this theme: The tramp is the logical
+result of our economic system; have it outlined. The result might be
+as follows:--
+
+A. What is a tramp?
+     1. Who become tramps?
+     2. Their number.
+     3. Where are they?
+B. Why is he a tramp?
+     1. Inventions have increased the power of production more rapidly
+        than the demand for products has grown.
+          a. On the farm.
+          b. Transportation.
+          c. Factories.
+          d. Piecework.
+     2. Women now do much work formerly done by men.
+          a. As clerks.
+          b. As typewriters, stenographers, and bookkeepers.
+          c. In the professions.
+     3. The result of these causes is that many men willing to work
+        are out of employment.
+C. What must be done?
+
+11. Fill out the following outline.
+
+Subject: The Thermometer.
+  A. Its Invention.
+  B. Its Construction.
+  C. Its Value and Uses.
+
+12. Outline six more themes.
+
+13. Beginning the writing of long essays, write essays in sections.
+Using "Tramps" for an illustration, as it is outlined it contains
+about twelve paragraphs. All of section "A" may be included in one
+paragraph. "B, 1" may be a paragraph of repetition; "a," "b," "c,"
+"d," may each make a paragraph of particulars. By stating "B, 2" in
+the following way, it may be a paragraph of "what not:" It was once
+considered unladylike for women to engage in any occupation outside of
+the home. Men said that they could not retain, etc.--Go on with the
+things woman could not do, closing with a statement of what she does
+do.
+
+"B, 2, a." On account of their fidelity, honesty, and courtesy, women
+succeed as clerks. Repetition.
+
+    b. The quickness of their intelligence and the accuracy of their
+       work have made women more desirable for routine work in an
+       office than men. Comparison and Contrast.
+
+    c. There are certain feminine qualities which especially fit women
+       for the practice of teaching and medicine. Details.
+
+"B, 3." By Combination of Forms.
+
+"C." By Details.
+
+It would be a pleasure to go on with this list of exercises, but it is
+unnecessary and it is unwise. These indicate the objects to be sought
+for in the exercises. They are not a specific course, though they
+might suit a certain environment. Each teacher knows her own
+pupils,--their attainments and their interests. The subjects should be
+chosen to suit their special cases. Only make them interesting; put
+them into such form that there is something to get hold of; and adapt
+them so that all the topics to be studied will be illustrated in the
+work. The pupils should be able to write any form of paragraph, to
+arrange it so that any idea is made prominent, and to make easy
+transitions. Arrange the exercises to accomplish definite results.
+
+During the third year, attention should be given to words and to the
+refinements of elegant composition. These the pupils will best learn
+by careful watch of the literature. The teacher should be quick to
+feel the strength and beauty of any passage and able to point out the
+means adopted to obtain the delightful effect. Clearness first is the
+thing to be desired; if to this can be added force and a degree of
+elegance during the last two years, the work of the instructor has
+been well done.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI
+
+                               ARGUMENT
+
+
+Argument has been defined as that form of discourse the purpose of
+which is to convince the reader of the truth or falsity of a
+proposition. It is closely allied with exposition. To convince a
+person, it is first necessary that the proposition be explained to
+him. This is all that is necessary in many cases. Did men decide all
+matters without prejudice, and were they willing to accept the truth
+at any cost, even to discard the beliefs that have been to them the
+source of greatest happiness, the simple explanation would be
+sufficient. However, as men are not all-wise, and as they are not
+always "reasonable," they are found to hold different opinions
+regarding the same subject; and one person often wishes to convince
+another of the error of his beliefs. Men continually use the words
+_because_ and _therefore;_ indeed, a great deal of writing has in it
+an element of argument.
+
+From the fact that argument and exposition are so nearly alike, it
+follows that they will be governed by much the same principles. As
+argument, in addition to explaining, seeks to convince, it is
+necessary, in addition to knowing how to explain, to know what is
+considered convincing,--what are proofs; and secondly, what is the
+best order in which to arrange proofs.
+
+  Induction and Deduction.
+
+Arguments have been classified as inductive and deductive.[22]
+Induction includes arguments that proceed from individual cases to
+establish a general truth. Deduction comprises arguments that proceed
+from a general truth to establish the proposition in specific
+instances, or groups of instances.
+
+  Syllogism. Premises.
+
+If one should say "Socrates is mortal because he is a man," or
+"Socrates will die because all men are mortal," or "Socrates is a man,
+therefore he will die," by any of these he has expressed a truth which
+all men accept. In any of these expressions are bound up two
+propositions, called premises, from which a third proposition, called
+a conclusion, is derived. If expanded, the three propositions assume
+this form: All men are mortal. Socrates is a man. Therefore Socrates
+is mortal. This is termed a syllogism. A syllogism consists of a major
+premise, a predication about all the members of a general class of
+objects; a minor premise, a predication that includes an individual or
+a group of individuals in the general class named by the major
+premise; and a conclusion, the proposition which is derived from the
+relation existing between the other two propositions. The propositions
+above would be classified as follows:--
+
+     Major premise: All men are mortal, a predication about _all_
+     men.
+
+     Minor premise: Socrates is a man, including an individual in
+     the general class.
+
+     Conclusion: Socrates is mortal.
+
+  Terms.
+
+In every syllogism there are three terms,--major, minor, and middle.
+The middle term is found in both the premises, but not in the
+conclusion. It is the link connecting the major and minor terms. The
+major term is usually the predicate of the major premise and the
+predicate of the conclusion. The minor term is the subject of the
+minor premise and the subject of the conclusion. "Men" is the middle
+term, "are mortal" the major term, and "Socrates," the minor term.
+
+  Enthymeme.
+
+It is rarely the case in literature that the syllogism is fully
+stated: generally one of the premises is omitted. Such a form of
+statement is termed an enthymeme. "Socrates will die because all men
+are mortal" is an enthymeme. The minor premise has been omitted.
+"Socrates is mortal because he is a man" is also an enthymeme, because
+the major premise which states that "all men are mortal" has been
+omitted.
+
+The conclusions arrived at by means of syllogisms are irresistible,
+provided the form be correct and the premises be true. It is
+impossible here to discuss the forms of syllogisms; they are too many.
+It will be of value, however, to call attention to a few of the
+commonest errors in syllogisms.
+
+  Definition of Terms.
+
+The first error arises from a misunderstanding of terms. It is often
+said that George Eliot is a poet; there are some who disagree. Certain
+it is that she wrote in verse form; and it is true that she has
+embodied noble thoughts in verse; but it is quite as true that she
+lacks "the bird-note." If this were reduced to a syllogism, it would
+not be a discussion of whether George Eliot be a poet, but rather a
+discussion of what is a poet. Stated, it reads: All persons who embody
+noble thoughts in verse form are poets. George Eliot is a person who
+has embodied noble thoughts in verse form. Therefore George Eliot is a
+poet. If the major premise of this syllogism be granted, the
+conclusion is unquestionable. The terms should be defined at the
+beginning; then this error, springing from a misunderstanding of
+terms, perhaps the most common, would be avoided.
+
+  Undistributed Middle.
+
+The second error arises from the fact that the middle term is not
+"distributed;" that is, the major premise makes no statement about all
+the members of a class. The premises in the following are true, but
+the conclusion is nonsense.
+
+     A horse is an animal.
+     Man is an animal.
+     Therefore, man is a horse.
+
+The middle term, in this case "animal," must be "distributed;" some
+statement must be made of _all_ animals. The following would be true:
+All animals have life; therefore man has life. The major premise
+predicates life of all animals.
+
+  False Premises.
+
+A third error in a syllogism is in the premises themselves. If either
+premise be false, the conclusion is not necessarily true. A parent
+might say to his son, "You are doing wrong, and you will pay the
+penalty for it soon." Generally he would be right. However, if this
+were put into a syllogism, it would read as follows: All persons who
+do wrong pay the penalty soon. You are such a person. Therefore, etc.
+Admitting the son is breaking the law, the fact is that the major
+premise is not always true, and the conclusion holds the weakness of
+the weak premise. Again, supposing everybody accepted the general
+truth, "All unrepentant sinners will be punished." The minister might
+then say to a young man, "You will certainly be punished, because all
+unrepentant sinners will be punished." The young man might deny the
+suppressed minor premise, which is, "You are an unrepentant sinner."
+Both premises must be true if they prove anything. The conclusion
+contains the weakness of either premise. In both of these examples
+note that the mistake is in the premise which does not appear. In an
+enthymeme, great care should be taken with the suppressed premise. Be
+sure it is true when you use this form of argument, and be sure to
+look for it and state it in full when examining another's argument. It
+is a common way of hiding a weak point to cover it in the suppressed
+premise of an enthymeme.
+
+  Method of Induction.
+
+Induction, which proceeds directly opposite to the method of
+deduction, is the method by which all our ultimate knowledge has been
+obtained. By observing individual instances man has gathered a great
+store of general truths. There was a time when the first man would not
+have been justified in saying, "The sun will rise in the east
+to-morrow." The general law had not been established. To-day it is
+practically certain that the sun will rise in the east to-morrow
+morning, because it has done so for thousands of years; the large
+number of instances establishes the general truth. Yet there may come
+a day when it will rise in the south, or not rise at all. Until every
+case has been tried and found to conform to the law, theoretically man
+cannot be absolutely certain of any general truth. There may come an
+exception to the general rule that all men must die. So far, however,
+there is no experience to justify any man in hoping to escape death.
+"As sure as death" means in practice absolutely sure, though this is
+not what is called a perfect induction; that is, an induction in which
+every possible case has been included. "All the other States are
+smaller than Texas" is a perfect induction, but it forms no basis for
+argument. All the cases must be known for a perfect induction; there
+is no unknown to argue to. This, then, is only a short statement of
+many individual truths, and has but little of value. Induction that is
+imperfect is more valuable; for with many cases the probability
+becomes so strong that it is a practical certainty. It is the method
+of science.
+
+More valuable for literature is another division of arguments into
+arguments from cause, arguments from sign, and arguments from example.
+
+  Arguments from Cause.
+
+Arguments from cause include those propositions which, if they were
+granted, would account for the fact or proposition maintained. The
+decisive test is to suppose the proposition to be true; then, if it
+will account for the condition, it is an argument from cause. A child
+holds its finger in a flame; therefore its finger is burned. If the
+first proposition be supposed to be true, it will account for a burned
+finger. It is an argument from cause, and it is conclusive. Again, if
+a man severs his carotid artery, he will die. If the first proposition
+be supposed to be true, it will account for the man's subsequent
+death. Now, supposing a man takes strychnine, he will die. This is not
+quite so sure. If a stomach-pump were used or an antidote given, he
+might not die. The cause has been hindered in its action, or another
+cause has intervened to counterbalance the first. If, then, a cause be
+adequate to produce the effect, and if it act unhindered or
+unmodified, the effect will certainly follow the active cause. An
+argument that uses as a premise such a cause may predicate its effect
+as a conclusion with absolute certainty. Such an argument is
+conclusive.
+
+The argument from cause is used more frequently to establish a
+probability than to prove a fact or proposition. However strong the
+proofs of a statement may be, men hesitate to accept either the
+statement or the proofs if the proposition is not plausible, or, as
+people say, if "they do not understand it," or if "it is not
+reasonable." If a murder be done and circumstances all point to your
+friend, you do not believe your friend to be the criminal until some
+fact is produced sufficient to cause your friend to commit the
+crime,--until some motive is established. If it be shown that the
+friend hated the murdered man and would be benefited by his death, a
+motive is established,--the proposition is made plausible. A man could
+"understand how he came to do it." The hatred and the benefit being
+granted, they would account for his deed. It is an argument from
+cause, used not as a proof, but to establish a probability. It makes
+the proposition ready for proof.
+
+  Arguments from Sign.
+
+The second class of arguments, arguments from sign, is most often used
+for proof. If two facts or conditions always occur together, the
+presence of one is a sign of the presence of the other. Cause and
+effect are so related that if either be observed, it is an indication
+of the other. No cause acts without a consequent effect; an effect is
+a sure sign of a preceding cause. Supposing one should say, "Because
+the flowers are dead, there was a frost," or "If ice has formed on the
+river, it must have been cold," in both instances the argument would
+be an argument from sign. Both also proceed from the effect to the
+cause. Only a low temperature forms ice on the river; the argument
+from effect to cause is conclusive. In the first case, the argument is
+not conclusive, because flowers may die from other causes. In a case
+like this, it is necessary to find all possible causes, and then by
+testing each in succession to determine which could not have acted and
+leave the one that is the only actual cause. A man is found dead;
+death has resulted from natural causes, from murder, or from suicide.
+Each possible cause would be tested; and by elimination of the other
+possible causes the one right cause would be left. This method of
+elimination is frequently employed in arguments from effect to cause.
+When this method is used the alternatives should be few, else it gives
+rise to confusion and to lack of attention caused by the tediousness
+of the discussion. And an enumeration of all possible causes must be
+made; for if one be omitted it may be the one that is in fact the
+right one.
+
+The relation between cause and effect is so intimate that the
+occurrence of one may be regarded as a sure sign of the presence of
+the other. If an effect is produced by only one cause, the presence of
+the effect is a certain indication of the cause. If several causes
+produce the same effect, some other methods must be used to determine
+the cause operating in this special case.
+
+  Sequence and Cause.
+
+In reasoning from effect to cause, one must be sure that he is dealing
+with a cause. As effect follows cause, there is danger that anything
+that follows another may be considered as caused by it. Because a man
+died just after eating, it would not be quite reasonable to connect
+eating and death as cause and effect. The fact is that death is surer
+to follow starvation. The glow at evening is generally followed by
+fair weather the next day; but the fair weather is not an effect of a
+clear sunset. Common sense must be used to determine whether the
+relation is one of cause and effect; something more than a simple
+sequence is necessary.
+
+Another argument from sign associates conditions that frequently occur
+together, though one is not the cause of the other. "James is near,
+because there is his blind father," means that James always
+accompanies his father; where the father is, the son is too. If one
+had noticed that potatoes planted at the full of the moon grew well,
+and potatoes planted at other times did not thrive, he might say as a
+result of years of observation that a certain crop would be a failure
+because it was not planted at the right time. This argument might have
+weight with ignorant people, but intelligent persons do not consider
+it a sure sign. All signs belong to this class of arguments; they are
+of value or worthless as they come true more or less frequently. Every
+time there is an exception the argument is weakened; another case of
+its working strengthens it. Where there is no sure relation like cause
+and effect, the strength of the argument depends on the frequency of
+the recurrence of the associated conditions.
+
+A third argument from sign associates two effects of the same cause. A
+lad on waking exclaims, "The window is covered with frost; I can go
+skating to-day." The frost on the window is not the cause of the ice
+on the river. Rather, both phenomena are results of the same cause.
+This kind of argument is not necessarily conclusive; yet with others
+it always strengthens a case.
+
+Testimony is usually called an argument from sign. The assertion by
+some one that a thing occurred is not sure proof; it is only a sign
+that it occurred. People have said that they have seen witches,
+ghosts, and sea serpents, and unquestionably believed it; men
+generally do not accept their testimony. In a criminal case, it would
+be difficult to accept the testimony of both sides. Though testimony
+seems a strong argument, it is or it is not, according to the
+conditions under which it is given. One would care little for the
+testimony of an ignorant man in a matter that called for wisdom; he
+would hesitate to accept the testimony of a man who claimed he saw,
+but upon cross-examination could not report what he saw; and he would
+not think it fair to be condemned upon the testimony of his enemies.
+Books have been written upon evidence, but three principles are all
+that are needed in ordinary arguments. First, the person giving
+testimony must be capable of observation; second, he must be able to
+report accurately what he has observed; third, he must have a desire
+to tell the exact truth.
+
+  Arguments from Example.
+
+The third large division comprises arguments from example. That is, if
+a truth be asserted of an individual, it can therefore be predicated
+of the class to which the individual belongs. For instance, if the
+first time a person saw a giraffe, he observed that it was eating
+grass, he would be justified in saying that giraffes are herbivorous.
+All gold is yellow, heavy, and not corroded by acid, though no one has
+tested it all. However, every giraffe does not have one ear brown and
+the other gray because the first one seen happened to be so marked;
+neither is all gold in the shape of ten-dollar gold pieces. Only
+common sense will serve to pick out essential qualities; but if
+essential and invariable qualities be selected, the argument from the
+example of an individual to all members of its class is very powerful.
+
+Analogies resemble examples. In exposition they are used for
+illustration; in argument they are employed as proofs. Though two
+things belong to different classes of objects, they may have some
+qualities that are similar, and so an argument may be made from one to
+another. "Natural Law in the Spiritual World" is a book written to
+show how the physical laws hold true in the region of spirit. It is
+not because an enemy sowed tares in a neighbor's field that there are
+wicked men in the world; nor is it because a lover of jewels will sell
+everything that he has to buy the pearl of greatest price that men
+devote everything they have to the kingdom of heaven. Analogies prove
+nothing. They clear up relations and often help the reader to
+appreciate other arguments. They are valuable when the likeness is
+broad and easily traced. They should never be used alone.
+
+These, then, are the principal forms of argument: deduction and
+induction; arguments from cause, from sign, and from example. Upon
+these men depend when they wish to convince of truth or error.
+
+  Selection of Material.
+
+In argument the material is selected with reference to its value as
+proof. Every particle of matter must be carefully tested. While a
+piece of material that could be omitted without loss to the
+explanation may sometimes find a place in exposition, such a thing
+must not occur in argument. As soon as a reader discovers that the
+writer is off the track, either he loses respect for the author's
+words, or he suspects him of trying to hide the weakness of his
+position in a cloud of worthless and irrelevant matters. Every bit of
+material should advance the argument one step; it should fill its
+niche in the well-planned structure; it should contribute its part to
+the strength of the whole.
+
+  Plan called The Brief.
+
+When the material has been selected, it must be arranged. An argument
+is a demonstration. Each of its parts is the natural result of what
+has preceded, and, up to the last step, each part is the basis for the
+next step. As in geometry a demonstration that omits one step in its
+development, or, which comes to the same thing, puts the point out of
+its logical order, is worthless as a demonstration, so in argument not
+one essential step can be omitted, nor can it be misplaced. The plan
+in an argument may be more evident than in exposition. We are a little
+offended if the framework shows too plainly in exposition; but there
+is no offense in a well-articulated skeleton in an argument. It is
+quite the rule that the general plan and the main divisions of the
+argument are announced at the very beginning. Any device that will
+make the relation of the parts clearer should be used. Over and over
+again the writer should arrange the cards with the topics until he is
+certain that no other order is so good. The writing is a mere trifle
+compared with the outline, called in argument the brief.
+
+Though the brief is so essential, it is unfortunately a thing about
+which but few suggestions can be given. The circumstances under which
+arguments are written--especially whether written to defend a position
+or to attack it--are so various that rules cannot be given. Still a
+few general principles may be of value.
+
+  Climax.
+
+Proofs should be arranged in a climax. This does not mean that the
+weakest argument should come first, and the next stronger should
+follow, and so on until the last and strongest is reached. It is
+necessary to begin with something that will catch the attention; and
+in argument it is frequently a proof strong enough to convince the
+reader that the writer knows what he is contending for, and that he
+can strike a hard blow. Then again, it is evident that in all
+arguments there are main points in the discussion that must be
+established by points of minor importance. The main points should be
+arranged in a logical climax, and the sub-topics which go to support
+one of the main divisions should have their climax. At the end of the
+whole should be the strongest and the most comprehensive argument. It
+should be a general advance of the whole line of argument, including
+all the propositions that have previously been called into action,
+sweeping everything before it.
+
+  Inductive precedes Deductive.
+
+To gain this climax what kind of arguments should precede? Of
+inductive and deductive, the inductive proofs generally go first. The
+advance from particular instances to general truths is the best suited
+to catch the attention, for men think with individual examples, and
+general truths make little appeal to them. Moreover, if one is
+addressing people of opposing views,--and in most cases he is, else
+why is he arguing?--it is unwise to begin with bald statements of
+unwelcome truths. They will be rejected without consideration. They
+can with advantage be delayed until they are reached in the regular
+development, and the reader has been prepared for their reception.
+General truths and their application by deductive arguments usually
+stand late in the brief.
+
+  Cause precedes Sign.
+
+Of arguments from cause, sign, or example, it is ordinarily wise to
+place arguments from cause first. A person does not listen to any
+explanation of an unknown truth until he knows that the explanation is
+plausible; that the cause assigned is adequate to produce the result.
+After one knows that the cause is sufficient and may have brought
+about the result, he is in a position to learn that it is the very
+cause that produced the effect. Arguments from cause are very rarely
+conclusive proofs of fact. They only establish a probability. And it
+would be unwise to prove that a thing might be a possibility after one
+had attempted to prove that it is a fact. It would be a long step
+backward, a retreat. Therefore arguments from cause, unless absolutely
+conclusive proof of fact, should not come last; but by other
+arguments,--by testimony, by example, by analogy,--the possibility,
+which has been reached by the argument from cause, may be established
+as a fact.
+
+  Example follows Sign.
+
+Of the two, sign and example, example generally follows sign. In
+arguments about human affairs, examples seldom prove anything; for
+under similar conditions one person may not act like another. Though
+this be true, the argument from example is one of the most
+effective--it is not at all conclusive--in that class of cases where
+oratory is combined with argument to convince and persuade. This is
+because men learn most readily from examples. To reason about matters
+of conduct on abstract principles of morality convinces but few; to
+point to a Lincoln or a Franklin has persuaded thousands. Examples are
+of most use in enforcing and illustrating and strengthening a point
+already established, and they generally follow arguments from sign.
+
+  Refutation.
+
+One other class of arguments finds a place in debate: namely, indirect
+arguments. It is often as much an advantage to a debater to dispose of
+objections as it is to establish his own case. This is because a
+question usually has two alternatives. If one can refute the arguments
+in favor of the opponent's position, he has by that very process
+established his own. If the points of the refutation are of minor
+importance and are related to any division of his own direct argument,
+the refutation of such points should be taken up in connection with
+the related parts of the direct argument. If, however, it is an
+argument of some weight and should be considered separate and apart
+from the direct argument, it is generally wisest to proceed to its
+demolition at the end of the direct argument and before the conclusion
+of the whole. For then the whole weight of the direct argument will be
+thrown into the refutation and will render every word so much the more
+destructive. Again, if the opposing argument be very strong and have
+taken complete possession of the audience, it must be attacked and
+disposed of at the very beginning. Otherwise it is impossible for the
+direct argument to make any advance.
+
+From these suggestions one derives the general principle that each
+case must be considered by itself. There will be cases of conflict
+among the rules, and there must be a careful weighing of methods.
+Common sense and patient labor are the most valuable assistants in
+arranging a powerful argument.
+
+It hardly needs to be said that the suggestions made in the chapter on
+Exposition regarding Mass and Coherence should be observed here. In
+argument as in exposition, topics are emphasized by position, and by
+proportion in the scale of treatment. Here as there, matters that are
+closely related in thought should be connected in the discourse, and
+matters that are not related in thought should not be associated in
+the essay.
+
+It will be an advantage now to look through "Conciliation with the
+Colonies" and note its general plan of structure. Only the main
+divisions of this powerful oration can be given, as to make a full
+brief would deprive this piece of literature of half its value for
+study.
+
+  Analysis of Burke's Oration.
+
+Mr. Burke begins by saying that it is "an awful subject or there is
+none this side of the grave." He states that he has studied the
+question for years, and while Parliament has pursued a vacillating
+policy and one aggravating to the colonies, he has a fixed policy and
+one sure to restore "the former unsuspecting confidence in the Mother
+Country." His policy is simple peace. This by way of introduction. He
+then divides the argument into two large divisions and proceeds.
+
+I. OUGHT YOU TO CONCEDE?
+     A. What are "the true nature and the peculiar circumstances of
+        the object which we have before us?"
+          I. America has a rapidly growing population.
+         II. It has a rapidly increasing commercial value, shown by
+               1. Its demand for our goods.
+               2. The value of its agricultural products.
+               3. The value of the products of its fisheries.
+        III. There is in the people a "fierce spirit of liberty."
+             This is the result of
+               1. Their descent from Englishmen.
+               2. Their popular form of government.
+               3. Religion in the North.
+               4. The haughty spirit of the South.
+               5. Their education.
+               6. Their remoteness from the governing body.
+     B. "You have before you the object." "What ... shall we do with
+        it?" "There are but three ways of proceeding relative to this
+        stubborn spirit in the colonies."
+          I. To change it by removing the causes. This is
+             impracticable.
+         II. To prosecute it as criminal. This is inexpedient.
+        III. _To comply with it as necessary._ This is the answer to
+             the first question.
+
+II. OF WHAT NATURE OUGHT THE CONCESSION TO BE?
+     A. A concession that grants to any colony the satisfaction of the
+        grievances it complains of brings about conciliation and
+        peace. This general proposition is established by the
+        following examples. It has done so in
+          1. Ireland,
+          2. Wales,
+          3. Durham, and
+          4. Chester.
+     B. The grievances complained of in America are unjust taxation
+        and no representation.
+     C. Therefore these resolutions rehearsing facts and calculated to
+        satisfy their grievances will bring about conciliation and
+        peace.
+          I. They are unrepresented.
+         II. They are taxed.
+        III. No method has been devised for procuring a representation
+             in Parliament for the said Colonies.
+         IV. Each colony has within itself a body with powers to
+             raise, levy, and assess taxes.
+          V. These assemblies have at sundry times granted large
+             subsidies and aids to his Majesty's service.
+         VI. Experience teaches that it is expedient to follow their
+             method rather than force payment.
+     D. As a result of the adoption of these resolutions, "everything
+        which has been made to enforce a contrary system must, I take
+        it for granted, fall along with it. On that ground, I have
+        drawn the following resolutions."
+          I. It is proper to repeal certain legislation regarding
+             taxes, imports, and administration of justice.
+         II. To secure a fair and unbiased judiciary.
+        III. To provide better for the Courts of Admiralty.
+     E. He next considers objections.
+     Conclusion.
+
+Notice first the introduction. It goes straight to the question. To
+tell a large opposition that it has vacillated on a great question is
+not calculated to win a kind hearing; yet this point, necessary to
+Burke's argument, is so delicately handled that no one could be
+seriously offended, nor could any one charge him with weakness. The
+introduction serves its purpose; it gains the attention of the
+audience and it exactly states the proposition.
+
+He then divides the whole argument into two parts. The framework is
+visible, and with intent. These great divisions he takes up
+separately. First, that there may be a perfect understanding of the
+question, he explains "the true nature and the peculiar circumstances
+of the object which we have before us." This illustrates the use of
+exposition in argument. The descent and education did not prove that
+the Americans had a fiery spirit; that was acknowledged and needed no
+proof. It simply sets forth the facts,--facts which he afterward uses
+as powerful instruments of conviction. As long as a man can use
+exposition, he can carry his readers with him; it is when he begins to
+argue, to force matters, that he raises opposition. So this use of
+exposition was fortunate. America was an English colony. Her strength
+and riches were England's strength and wealth. It would be pleasing to
+all Englishmen to hear the recital of America's prosperity. Up to the
+time he asks, "What, in the name of God, shall we do with it," the
+oration is not essentially argument; it does nothing more than place
+"before you the object."
+
+In the section marked "I. B," Burke begins the real argument by the
+method of elimination. He asserts that there are only three ways of
+dealing with this fierce spirit of liberty. Then he conclusively
+proves the first impracticable and the second inexpedient. There is
+left but the one course, concession. This method of proof is
+absolutely conclusive if every possible contingency is stated and
+provided for. Notice that in this section "B" everything that was
+mentioned in the first section "A" is used, and the whole is one solid
+mass moving forward irresistibly to the conclusion of the first and
+the most important part of this argument.
+
+The second main division is devoted to the conclusion of the first. If
+you must concede,--the conclusion of the first half,--what will be the
+nature of your concession? A concession, to be a concession, must
+grant what the colonists wish, not what the ministry thinks would be
+good for them. Then by the history of England's dealings with Ireland,
+Wales, Chester, and Durham, he proves that such a concession has been
+followed by peace. This makes the major premise of his syllogism,
+stated in "II. A." The minor premise is a statement of the grievances
+of the colonies. The conclusion is in the resolutions for the redress
+of the grievances of the colonies. The second part is then one great
+syllogism, the premises of which are established by ample proof, the
+conclusion of which cannot well be disputed.
+
+"And here I should close," says the orator; the direct argument is
+finished. There are some objections which demand dignified
+consideration. At this point, however, it is easy to refute any
+objections, for behind each word there is now the crushing weight of
+the whole argument.
+
+The conclusion recites the advantages of Burke's plan over all others,
+and reasserts its value, now proven at every point. It is a powerful
+summary, and a skillful plea for the adoption of a policy of
+conciliation with the colonies of America.
+
+Every kind of argument is used in this oration. One would look long
+for a treasury better supplied with illustrations. The great
+conclusions are reached by the certain methods of elimination and
+deduction. In establishing the minor points Burke has used arguments
+from sign, cause, example, and induction. He calls in testimony; he
+quotes authority; he illustrates. Not any device of sound argument
+that a man honest in his search for truth may use has been omitted. It
+is worthy of patient study.
+
+In conclusion, the student of argument should learn well the value of
+different kinds of argument; he should exercise the most careful
+scrutiny in selecting his material, without any hesitation rejecting
+irrelevant matter; he should state the proposition so that it cannot
+be misunderstood; he must consider his readers, guiding his course
+wisely with regard for all the conditions under which he produces his
+argument; he should remember that the law in argument is climax, and
+that coherence should be sought with infinite pains. Above all, the
+man who takes up a debate must be fair and honest; only so will he win
+favor from his readers, and gain what is worth more than victory,--the
+distinction of being a servant of truth.
+
+
+                         SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS
+
+
+                              QUESTIONS.
+
+                     MACAULAY'S ESSAY ON MILTON.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 103.)
+
+Put into a syllogism, Macaulay's opponents said, "An educated man
+living in an enlightened age has better facilities for writing poetry
+than an uneducated man at the dawn of civilization. Milton was an
+educated man, living in an enlightened age; therefore Macaulay had
+better facilities," etc.
+
+Which premise does Macaulay attack? Does he demolish it?
+
+What value is there in an analogy between experimental sciences and
+imitative arts? Between poetry and a magic-lantern? Is either an
+argument that is convincing? Are both effective in the essay?
+
+What do you think of Macaulay's estimate of Wordsworth? Granting that
+this estimate is true, what kind of a proof is it of the proposition
+that "his very talents will be a hindrance to him"?
+
+Is it a uniform phenomenon that as civilization advances, poetry
+declines? Name some instances that prove it.
+
+Name some instances that disprove it. What method of proof have you
+used in both?
+
+Is an uncivilized state of society the cause of good poetry, or only
+an attendant circumstance?
+
+What method of proof is adopted on pages 34 and 35?
+
+Granting that you cannot conceive "a good man and an unnatural
+father," does that prove anything about the first sentence at the
+bottom of page 55?
+
+Does the example of the prisoner on page 60 prove anything?
+
+
+          BURKE'S SPEECH ON CONCILIATION WITH THE COLONIES.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 100.)
+
+What argument does Burke use to prove that hedging in the population
+is not practicable?
+
+When he says that they will occupy territory because they have done
+so, is that an inductive or deductive argument, or is it an argument
+from sign?
+
+If it is deductive, what is the suppressed premise?
+
+Are the arguments from 48 to 64 more in the nature of direct or
+indirect proofs?
+
+What value is there in an indirect argument?
+
+"Americans speak the English language, therefore they are English." Is
+the argument good? Where is the fault? Look for the suppressed
+premise.
+
+Is paragraph 55 direct or indirect argument?
+
+Does he prove that criminal procedure against the colonies would fail,
+by sign or by deduction?
+
+Do the four precedents which he cites of Ireland, Wales, Durham, and
+Chester prove that his plan will work in America?
+
+Upon what general principle do all arguments from example depend?
+
+Is paragraph 79 in itself exposition or argument?
+
+What method is adopted in paragraph 88 to prove that the principle of
+concession is applicable to America?
+
+How does he prove that Americans were grieved by taxes?
+
+How does he establish the competence of the colony assemblies?
+
+How could the arguments have made "the conclusion irresistible"?
+(Paragraph 112.)
+
+What principle of argument is stated in paragraph 114?
+
+In paragraph 127 is the one example cited enough to prove the rule?
+
+Find an example of argument from sign. Is it a relation of cause and
+effect? Is it conclusive?
+
+In paragraph 129 what does Burke mention as arguments of value?
+
+What kind of arguments in paragraphs 128 to 136? What is the
+conclusion?
+
+Whenever Burke states a general truth it forms a part of what? Supply
+the other premise in five cases, and derive a conclusion.
+
+Does he ever use an argument from cause to establish a probability? To
+establish a fact?
+
+Does he use deduction more frequently than sign?
+
+Does he seek for a climax in the arrangement of the parts of his
+brief?
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VII
+
+                              PARAGRAPHS
+
+
+  Definition.
+
+So far we have been dealing with whole compositions; we now take up
+the study of paragraphs, sentences, and words. A paragraph in many
+respects resembles a whole composition. It may be narrative,
+descriptive, expositive, or argumentative. It must have a beginning, a
+middle, and an end. It is constructed with regard to Unity, Mass, and
+Coherence. And as a whole composition treats a single theme, so a
+paragraph treats one division of a theme. It has been defined as a
+composition in miniature. A paragraph is a sentence or a group of
+sentences serving a single purpose in the development of a theme. The
+purpose may be simply to announce the theme-subject, to make a
+conclusion, to indicate a transition; but in the great majority of
+cases its purpose is to treat a single topic. So true is this that
+many authors, with good reason, define a paragraph as a group of
+sentences treating a single topic.
+
+  Long and Short Paragraphs.
+
+Nobody would have trouble in telling where on a page a paragraph began
+and where it ended. The indention at the beginning, and usually the
+incomplete line at the end, mark its visible limits. Unfortunately
+there is no specified length after which the writer is to make a break
+in the lines and begin a new paragraph. The length of a paragraph
+depends on something deeper than appearances; as the topic requires a
+lengthy or but a short treatment, as the paragraph may be a long
+summary or a short transition, the length of a paragraph varies. Yet
+there is one circumstance which should counsel an author to keep his
+paragraphs within certain bounds: he should always have regard for his
+readers. Readers shirk heavy labor. If a book or an article looks
+hard, it is passed by; if it looks easy, it is read. If the paragraphs
+be long and the page solid, the composition looks difficult; if the
+paragraphs be short and the page broken, the piece looks easy. This
+fact should advise a writer to make the page attractive by using short
+paragraphs; provided, and the provision is important, he can so make
+real paragraphs, divisions of composition that fully treat one topic.
+These divisions may in reality be but one sentence, and they may just
+as unquestionably be two pages of hard reading.
+
+Successive paragraphs, each more than a page of ordinary print in
+length, repel as too hard; and a series of paragraphs of less than a
+quarter of a page impresses a reader as scrappy, and the work seems to
+lack the authority of complete treatment. An author will serve his
+readers and himself best by so subdividing his subject that the
+paragraphs are within these limits.
+
+The following paragraph is much too long and can with no difficulty be
+subdivided. The paragraphs in the next group are too short, and they
+are incomplete.
+
+     "Keating rode up now, and the transaction became more
+     complicated. It ended in the purchase of the horse by Bryce
+     for a hundred and twenty, to be paid on the delivery of
+     Wildfire, safe and sound, at the Batherley stables. It did
+     occur to Dunsey that it might be wise for him to give up the
+     day's hunting, proceed at once to Batherley, and, having
+     waited for Bryce's return, hire a horse to carry him home
+     with the money in his pocket. But the inclination for a run,
+     encouraged by confidence in his luck, and by a draught of
+     brandy from his pocket-pistol at the conclusion of the
+     bargain, was not easy to overcome, especially with a horse
+     under him that would take the fences to the admiration of
+     the field. Dunstan, however, took one fence too many, and
+     got his horse pierced with a hedge-stake. His own
+     ill-favored person, which was quite unmarketable, escaped
+     without injury; but poor Wildfire, unconscious of his price,
+     turned on his flank, and painfully panted his last. It
+     happened that Dunstan, a short time before, having had to
+     get down to arrange his stirrup, had muttered a good many
+     curses at this interruption, which had thrown him in the
+     rear of the hunt near the moment of glory, and under this
+     exasperation had taken the fences more blindly. He would
+     soon have been up with the hounds again, when the fatal
+     accident happened; and hence he was between eager riders in
+     advance, not troubling themselves about what happened behind
+     them, and far-off stragglers, who were as likely as not to
+     pass quite aloof from the line of road in which Wildfire had
+     fallen. Dunstan, whose nature it was to care more for
+     immediate annoyances than for remote consequences, no sooner
+     recovered his legs, and saw that it was all over with
+     Wildfire, than he felt a satisfaction at the absence of
+     witnesses to a position which no swaggering could make
+     enviable. Reinforcing himself, after his shake, with a
+     little brandy and much swearing, he walked as fast as he
+     could to a coppice on his right hand, through which it
+     occurred to him that he could make his way to Batherley
+     without danger of encountering any member of the hunt. His
+     first intention was to hire a horse there and ride home
+     forthwith, for to walk many miles without a gun in his hand,
+     and along an ordinary road, was as much out of the question
+     to him as to other spirited young men of his kind. He did
+     not much mind about taking the bad news to Godfrey, for he
+     had to offer him at the same time the resource of Marner's
+     money; and if Godfrey kicked, as he always did, at the
+     notion of making a fresh debt, from which he himself got the
+     smallest share of advantage, why, he wouldn't kick long:
+     Dunstan felt sure he could worry Godfrey into anything. The
+     idea of Marner's money kept growing in vividness, now the
+     want of it had become immediate; the prospect of having to
+     make his appearance with the muddy boots of a pedestrian at
+     Batherley, and to encounter the grinning queries of
+     stablemen, stood unpleasantly in the way of his impatience
+     to be back at Raveloe and carry out his felicitous plan; and
+     a casual visitation of his waistcoat-pocket, as he was
+     ruminating, awakened his memory to the fact that the two or
+     three small coins his fore-finger encountered there were of
+     too pale a color to cover that small debt, without payment
+     of which the stable-keeper had declared he would never do
+     any more business with Dunsey Cass. After all, according to
+     the direction in which the run had brought him, he was not
+     so very much farther from home than he was from Batherley;
+     but Dunsey, not being remarkable for clearness of head, was
+     only led to this conclusion by the gradual perception that
+     there were other reasons for choosing the unprecedented
+     course of walking home. It was now nearly four o'clock, and
+     a mist was gathering: the sooner he got into the road the
+     better. He remembered having crossed the road and seen the
+     finger-post only a little while before Wildfire broke down;
+     so, buttoning his coat, twisting the lash of his
+     hunting-whip compactly round the handle, and rapping the
+     tops of his boots with a self-possessed air, as if to assure
+     himself that he was not at all taken by surprise, he set off
+     with the sense that he was undertaking a remarkable feat of
+     bodily exertion, which somehow, and at some time, he should
+     be able to dress up and magnify to the admiration of a
+     select circle at the Rainbow. When a young gentleman like
+     Dunsey is reduced to so exceptional a mode of locomotion as
+     walking, a whip in his hand is a desirable corrective to a
+     too bewildering dreamy sense of unwontedness in his
+     position; and Dunstan, as he went along through the
+     gathering mist, was always rapping his whip somewhere. It
+     was Godfrey's whip, which he had chosen to take without
+     leave because it had a gold handle; of course no one could
+     see, when Dunstan held it, that the name _Godfrey Cass_ was
+     cut in deep letters on that gold handle--they could only see
+     that it was a very handsome whip. Dunsey was not without
+     fear that he might meet some acquaintance in whose eyes he
+     would cut a pitiable figure, for mist is no screen when
+     people get close to each other; but when he at last found
+     himself in the well-known Raveloe lanes without having met a
+     soul, he silently remarked that that was part of his usual
+     good luck. But now the mist, helped by the evening darkness,
+     was more of a screen than he desired, for it hid the ruts
+     into which his feet were liable to slip--hid everything, so
+     that he had to guide his steps by dragging his whip along
+     the low bushes in advance of the hedgerow. He must soon, he
+     thought, be getting near the opening at the Stone-pits: he
+     should find it out by the break in the hedgerow. He found it
+     out, however, by another circumstance which he had not
+     expected--namely, by certain gleams of light, which he
+     presently guessed to proceed from Silas Marner's cottage.
+     That cottage and the money hidden within it had been in his
+     mind continually during his walk, and he had been imagining
+     ways of cajoling and tempting the weaver to part with the
+     immediate possession of his money for the sake of receiving
+     interest. Dunstan felt as if there must be a little
+     frightening added to the cajolery, for his own arithmetical
+     convictions were not clear enough to afford him any forcible
+     demonstration as to the advantages of interest; and as for
+     security, he regarded it vaguely as a means of cheating a
+     man by making him believe that he would be paid. Altogether,
+     the operation on the miser's mind was a task that Godfrey
+     would be sure to hand over to his more daring and cunning
+     brother: Dunstan had made up his mind to that; and by the
+     time he saw the light gleaming through the chinks of
+     Marner's shutters, the idea of a dialogue with the weaver
+     had become so familiar to him, that it occurred to him as
+     quite a natural thing to make the acquaintance forthwith.
+     There might be several conveniences attending this course:
+     the weaver had possibly got a lantern, and Dunstan was tired
+     of feeling his way. He was still nearly three quarters of a
+     mile from home, and the lane was becoming unpleasantly
+     slippery, for the mist was passing into rain. He turned up
+     the bank, not without some fear lest he might miss the right
+     way, since he was not certain whether the light were in
+     front or on the side of the cottage. But he felt the ground
+     before him cautiously with his whip-handle, and at last
+     arrived safely at the door. He knocked loudly, rather
+     enjoying the idea that the old fellow would be frightened at
+     the sudden noise. He heard no movement in reply: all was
+     silence in the cottage. Was the weaver gone to bed, then? If
+     so, why had he left a light? That was a strange
+     forgetfulness in a miser. Dunstan knocked still more loudly,
+     and, without pausing for a reply, pushed his fingers through
+     the latch-hole, intending to shake the door and pull the
+     latch-string up and down, not doubting that the door was
+     fastened. But, to his surprise, at this double motion the
+     door opened, and he found himself in front of a bright fire,
+     which lit up every corner of the cottage--the bed, the loom,
+     the three chairs, and the table--and showed him that Marner
+     was not there."[23]
+
+
+     "The country, all white, lit up by the fire, shone like a
+     cloth of silver tinted with red.
+
+     "A bell, far off, began to toll.
+
+     "The old 'Sauvage' remained standing before her ruined
+     dwelling, armed with her gun, her son's gun, for fear lest
+     one of those men might escape.
+
+     "When she saw that it was ended, she threw her weapon into
+     the brasier. A loud report rang back.
+
+     "People were coming, the peasants, the Prussians.
+
+     "They found the woman seated on the trunk of a tree, calm
+     and satisfied.
+
+     "A German officer, who spoke French like a son of France,
+     demanded of her:--
+
+     "'Where are your soldiers?'
+
+     "She extended her thin arm towards the red heap of fire
+     which was gradually going out, and she answered with a
+     strong voice:--
+
+     "'There!'
+
+     "They crowded round her. The Prussian asked:--
+
+     "'How did it take fire?'
+
+     "She said:--
+
+     "'It was I who set it on fire.'"[24]
+
+  Topic Sentence.
+
+Paragraphs are developments of a definite topic; and this topic is
+generally announced at the beginning of the paragraph. In isolated
+paragraphs, paragraphs that are indeed compositions in miniature, the
+topic-sentence is the first sentence. The reader is then advised of
+the subject of the discussion; and as sentence after sentence passes
+him, he can relate it to the topic, and the thought is a cumulative
+whole. If the subject be not announced, the individual sentences must
+be held in mind until the reader catches the drift of the discussion,
+or the author at last presents the topic.
+
+Below are four paragraphs, from different forms of discourse, all
+having the topic-sentence at the beginning.
+
+     "_But success or defeat was a minor matter to them, who had
+     only thought for the safety of those they loved._ Amelia, at
+     the news of the victory, became still more agitated even
+     than before. She was for going that moment to the army. She
+     besought her brother with tears to conduct her thither. Her
+     doubts and terrors reached their paroxysm; and the poor
+     girl, who for many hours had been plunged into stupor, raved
+     and ran hither and thither in hysteric insanity,--a piteous
+     sight. No man writhing in pain in the hard-fought field
+     fifteen miles off, where lay, after their struggles, so many
+     of the brave--no man suffered more keenly than this poor
+     harmless victim of the war. Jos could not bear the sight of
+     her pain. He left his sister in the charge of her stouter
+     female companion and descended once more to the threshold of
+     the hotel, where everybody still lingered, and talked, and
+     waited for more news."[25]
+
+
+     "_Yet the fact remains that the honey-bee is essentially a
+     wild creature, and never has been and cannot be thoroughly
+     domesticated._ Its proper home is the woods, and thither
+     every new swarm counts on going; and thither many do go in
+     spite of the care and watchfulness of the bee-keeper. If the
+     woods in any given locality are deficient in trees with
+     suitable cavities, the bees resort to all kinds of
+     makeshifts; they go into chimneys, into barns and outhouses,
+     under stones, into rocks, and so forth. Several chimneys in
+     my locality with disused flues are taken possession of by
+     colonies of bees nearly every season. One day, while
+     bee-hunting, I developed a line that went toward a farmhouse
+     where I had reason to believe no bees were kept. I followed
+     it up and questioned the farmer about his bees. He said he
+     kept no bees, but that a swarm had taken possession of his
+     chimney, and another had gone under the clapboards in the
+     gable end of his house. He had taken a large lot of honey
+     out of both places the year before. Another farmer told me
+     that one day his family had seen a number of bees examining
+     a knot-hole in the side of his house; the next day as they
+     were sitting down to dinner their attention was attracted by
+     a loud humming noise, when they discovered a swarm of bees
+     settling upon the side of the house and pouring into the
+     knot-hole. In subsequent years other swarms came to the same
+     place."[26]
+
+
+     "_It is important, therefore, to hold fast to this: that
+     poetry is at bottom a criticism of life;_ that the greatness
+     of a poet lies in his powerful and beautiful application of
+     ideas to life,--to the question: How to live. Morals are
+     often treated in a narrow and false fashion; they are bound
+     up with systems of thought and belief which have had their
+     day; they have fallen into the hands of pedants and
+     professional dealers; they grow tiresome to some of us. We
+     find attraction, at times, even in a poetry of revolt
+     against them; in a poetry which might take for its motto
+     Omar Khayyam's words: 'Let us make up in the tavern for the
+     time which we have wasted in the mosque.' Or we find
+     attractions in a poetry indifferent to them; in a poetry
+     where the contents may be what they will, but where the form
+     is studied and exquisite. We delude ourselves in either
+     case; and the best cure for our delusion is to let our minds
+     rest upon that great and inexhaustible word _life,_ until we
+     learn to enter into its meaning. A poetry of revolt against
+     moral ideas is a poetry of revolt against _life;_ a poetry
+     of indifference toward moral ideas is a poetry of
+     indifference toward _life._"[27]
+
+
+     "_The advantages arising from a system of copyright are
+     obvious._ It is desirable that we should have a supply of
+     good books: we cannot have such a supply unless men of
+     letters are liberally remunerated; and the least
+     objectionable way of remunerating them is by means of
+     copyright. You cannot depend for literary instruction and
+     amusement on the leisure of men occupied in the pursuits of
+     active life. Such men may occasionally produce compositions
+     of great merit. But you must not look to such men for works
+     which require deep meditation and long research. Works of
+     that kind you can expect only from persons who make
+     literature the business of their lives. Of these persons few
+     will be found among the rich and the noble. The rich and the
+     noble are not impelled to intellectual exertion by
+     necessity. They may be impelled to intellectual exertion by
+     the desire of distinguishing themselves, or by the desire of
+     benefiting the community. But it is generally within these
+     walls that they seek to signalize themselves and to serve
+     their fellow-creatures. Both their ambition and their public
+     spirit, in a country like this, naturally take a political
+     turn. It is then on men whose profession is literature, and
+     whose private means are not ample, that you must rely for a
+     supply of valuable books. Such men must be remunerated for
+     their literary labor. And there are only two ways in which
+     they can be remunerated. One of those ways is patronage; the
+     other is copyright."[28]
+
+Frequently the topic-sentence is delayed until after the connection
+between what was said in the preceding paragraph and what will be said
+has been made. To establish this relation requires sometimes but a
+word or a short phrase, and sometimes sentences. In these cases the
+topic-sentence follows the transition, and it may come as late as the
+middle of the paragraph.
+
+     "The crows we have always with us, but it is not every day
+     or every season that one sees an eagle. _Hence I must
+     preserve the memory of one I saw the last day I went
+     bee-hunting._ As I was laboring up the side of a mountain at
+     the head of a valley, the noble bird sprang from the top of
+     a dry tree above me and came sailing directly over my head.
+     I saw him bend his eye down upon me, and I could hear the
+     low hum of his plumage, as if the web of every quill in his
+     great wings vibrated in his strong, level flight. I watched
+     him as long as my eye could hold him. When he was fairly
+     clear of the mountain he began that sweeping spiral movement
+     in which he climbs the sky. Up and up he went without once
+     breaking his majestic poise till he appeared to sight some
+     far-off alien geography, when he bent his course
+     thitherward, and gradually vanished in the blue depths. The
+     eagle is a bird of large ideas, he embraces long distances;
+     the continent is his home. I never look upon one without
+     emotion; I follow him with my eye as long as I can. I think
+     of Canada, of the Great Lakes, of the Rocky Mountains, of
+     the wild and sounding sea-coast. The waters are his, and the
+     woods and the inaccessible cliffs. He pierces behind the
+     veil of the storm, and his joy is height and depth and vast
+     spaces."[29]
+
+
+     "Now these insinuations and questions shall be answered in
+     their proper places; here I will but say that I scorn and
+     detest lying, and quibbling, and double-tongued practice,
+     and slyness, and cunning, and smoothness, and cant, and
+     pretence, quite as much as any Protestants hate them; and I
+     pray to be kept from the snare of them. But all this is just
+     now by the bye; _my present subject is my Accuser;_ what I
+     insist upon here is this unmanly attempt of his, in his
+     concluding pages, to cut the ground from under my feet;--to
+     poison by anticipation the public mind against me, John
+     Henry Newman, and to infuse into the imaginations of my
+     readers suspicion and mistrust of everything that I may say
+     in reply to him. This I call poisoning the wells."
+     ("Apologia.")
+
+In exposition and argument, and sometimes in the other forms of
+discourse, the topic-sentence may be at the end of the paragraph. This
+is for emphasis in narration and description. In exposition and
+argument it is better to lead up to an unwelcome truth than to
+announce it at once.
+
+     "Thus the matter of life, so far as we know it (and we have
+     no right to speculate on any other), breaks up, in
+     consequence of that continual death which is the condition
+     of its manifesting vitality, into carbonic acid, water, and
+     nitrogenous compounds which certainly possess no properties
+     but those of ordinary matter. And out of these same forms of
+     ordinary matter, and from none which are simpler, the
+     vegetable world builds up all the protoplasm which keeps the
+     animal world a-going. _Plants are the accumulators of the
+     power which animals distribute and disperse._"[30]
+
+  No Topic-Sentence.
+
+Sometimes no topic-sentence appears in the paragraph. In such a case
+it is easily discovered; or at times it is too fragile to be
+compressed into any definite shape--a feeling, or a sentiment too
+delicate, too volatile for expression. A paragraph with no
+topic-sentence is most common in narration and description.
+
+     "The tide of color has ebbed from the upper sky. In the west
+     the sea of sunken fire draws back; and the stars leap forth,
+     and tremble, and retire before the advancing moon, who slips
+     the silver train of cloud from her shoulders, and, with her
+     foot upon the pine-tops, surveys heaven." ("Richard
+     Feverel," by George Meredith.)
+
+  The Plan.
+
+Whether the topic form a part of the paragraph or not, it should be
+distinctly before the writer, and he should write upon the topic.
+Nothing contributes so much to the success of paragraphs as a definite
+treatment of one single topic. The paragraph is the development, the
+growth of this topic, as the plant is the development of its seed.
+Moreover, the development is according to a definite plan. The
+different steps are not usually laid out, as was done in the outline
+of a theme. Genung, in the "Practical Elements of Rhetoric," presents
+what he calls a typical form for a paragraph. It shows that a
+paragraph which is fully developed is in reality a miniature theme. It
+is as follows:--
+
+     The Subject proposed.
+
+  I. Whatever is needed to explain the subject.
+       Repetition.
+       Obverse.
+       Definition.
+ II. Whatever is needed to establish the subject.
+       Exemplification or detail.
+       Illustration.
+       Proof.
+III. Whatever is needed to apply the subject.
+       Result or consequence.
+       Enforcement.
+       Summary or recapitulation.
+
+  Kinds of Paragraphs.
+
+This typical form of a paragraph embodies all that paragraphs may do,
+and it is the logical arrangement. However, it is rare, perhaps it
+never occurs, that a paragraph is found having all these elements
+developed. The purpose determines which part of a paragraph should
+receive the amplification. If it be narrative or descriptive, there is
+no definition or proof; but the development by details will
+predominate. In an argument, definition and proof will form the large
+part of the paragraphs. Again, the position in the theme determines
+what kind of a paragraph should be used. In exposition the first
+paragraphs would be devoted to stating the proposition, and would
+therefore be largely given up to definition and repetition; the body
+would be especially paragraphs of detail and illustration; while the
+closing paragraph would be taken up with results and a summary. As one
+of the elements of a paragraph has been especially developed,
+paragraphs have been named paragraphs of repetition,[31] of the
+obverse, of details, of instances or examples, and of comparisons.
+Such a division is somewhat mechanical; but for purposes of study and
+for conscious practice in construction it has value.
+
+  Details.
+
+The paragraph of details is by far the most common. It is found in all
+kinds of discourse. It originates from the fact that persons generally
+give the general truth first and follow this statement with the
+details or particulars. Whether the storyteller begins by saying, "Now
+I'll tell you just how they happened to be there;" or the traveler
+writes, "From the Place de la Concorde one has about him magnificent
+views," or "There were many unfortunate circumstances about the
+Dreyfus affair;" in each case he will follow the general statement of
+the opening sentence with sentences going into particulars or details.
+
+     _"All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet
+     schoolroom._ The scholars were hurried through their lessons
+     without stopping at trifles; those who were nimble skipped
+     over half with impunity, and those who were tardy had a
+     smart application now and then in the rear, to quicken their
+     speed or help them over a tall word. Books were flung aside
+     without being put away on the shelves, inkstands were
+     overturned, benches thrown down, and the whole school was
+     turned loose an hour before the usual time, bursting forth
+     like a legion of young imps, yelping and racketing about the
+     green in joy at their early emancipation."[32]
+
+
+     "It was toward evening that Ichabod arrived at the castle of
+     the Heer Van Tassel, _which he found thronged with the pride
+     and flower of the adjacent country._ Old farmers, a spare
+     leathern-faced race, in homespun coats and breeches, blue
+     stocking, huge shoes, and magnificent pewter buckles. Their
+     brisk, withered little dames, in close crimped caps,
+     long-waisted short-gowns, homespun petticoats, with scissors
+     and pincushions, and gay calico pockets hanging on the
+     outside. Buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their
+     mothers, excepting where a straw hat, a fine ribbon, or
+     perhaps a white frock gave symptoms of city innovation. The
+     sons, in short square-skirted coats, with rows of stupendous
+     brass buttons, and their hair generally queued in the
+     fashion of the times, especially if they could procure an
+     eelskin for the purpose, it being esteemed throughout the
+     country as a potent nourisher and strengthener of the
+     hair."[32]
+
+
+     "The enemies of the Parliament, indeed, rarely choose to
+     take issue in the great points of the question. They content
+     themselves with exposing some of _the crimes and follies_ to
+     which public commotions necessarily give birth. They bewail
+     the unmerited fate of Strafford. They execrate the lawless
+     violence of the army. They laugh at the scriptural names of
+     the preachers. Major-generals fleecing their districts;
+     soldiers reveling on the spoils of a ruined peasantry;
+     upstarts, enriched by the public plunder, taking possession
+     of the hospitable firesides and hereditary trees of the old
+     gentry; boys smashing the beautiful windows of cathedrals;
+     Quakers riding naked through the market-place;
+     Fifth-monarchy men shouting for King Jesus; agitators
+     lecturing from the tops of tubs on the fate of Agag,--all
+     these, they tell us, were the offspring of the great
+     Rebellion."[33]
+
+In narration and in a short paragraph of description this paragraph of
+details is frequently without a topic-sentence. The circumstances that
+make up a transaction are grouped, but there is no need of writing, "I
+will now detail this." In the following, since the paragraph is
+plainly about the preparation for the fight, it is unnecessary to say
+so. Such a patent statement would hinder the movement of the story.
+
+     "Alan drew a dirk, which he held in his left hand in case
+     they should run in under his sword. I, on my part, clambered
+     up into the berth with an armful of pistols and something of
+     a heavy heart, and set open the window where I was to watch.
+     It was a small part of the deck that I could overlook, but
+     enough for our purpose. The sea had gone down, and the wind
+     was steady and kept the sails quiet; so that there was a
+     great stillness on the ship, in which I made sure I heard
+     the sound of muttering voices. A little after, and there
+     came a clash of steel upon the deck, by which I knew they
+     were dealing out the cutlasses, and one had been let fall;
+     and after that silence again."[34]
+
+  Comparisons.
+
+The paragraph of comparisons tells what a thing is like and what a
+thing is not like. It is much used in description and exposition. It
+is often the clearest way to describe an object or to explain a
+proposition. One thing may be likened to a number of things, drawing
+from each a quality that more definitely pictures it; or it may be
+compared with but one, and the likeness may be followed out to the
+limit of its value. In the same manner it is often of value to tell
+what a thing or a proposition does not resemble, to contrast it with
+one or more ideas, and by this means exclude what might otherwise be
+confusing. Note that after the negative comparison the paragraph
+closes with what it is like, or what it is.
+
+From Macaulay's long comparison of the writings of Milton and Dante,
+one paragraph is enough to illustrate the use of contrast.
+
+     "Now let us _compare_ with the exact details of Dante the
+     dim intimations of Milton. We will cite a few examples. The
+     English poet has never thought of taking the measure of
+     Satan. He gives us merely a vague idea of vast bulk. In one
+     passage the fiend lies stretched out, huge in length,
+     floating many a rood, equal in size to the earth-born
+     enemies of Jove, or to the sea monster which the mariner
+     mistakes for an island. When he addresses himself to battle
+     against the guardian angels, he stands like Teneriffe or
+     Atlas; his stature reaches the sky. Contrast with these
+     descriptions the lines in which Dante has described the
+     gigantic spectre of Nimrod: 'His face seemed to me as long
+     and as broad as the ball of St. Peter's at Rome, and his
+     other limbs were in proportion; so that the bank, which
+     concealed him from the waist downwards, nevertheless showed
+     so much of him that three tall Germans would in vain have
+     attempted to reach to his hair.'" ("Essay on Milton.")
+
+The following indicates the use of similarity.
+
+     "It is the character of such revolutions that we always see
+     the worst of them at first. Till men have been some time
+     free, they know not how to use their freedom. The natives of
+     wine countries are generally sober. In climates where wine
+     is a rarity intemperance abounds. A newly liberated people
+     may be _compared to_ a northern army encamped on the Rhine
+     or the Xeres. It is said that, when soldiers in such a
+     situation first find themselves able to indulge without
+     restraint in such a rare and expensive luxury, nothing is to
+     be seen but intoxication. Soon, however, plenty teaches
+     discretion, and, after wine has been for a few months their
+     daily fare, they become more temperate than they had ever
+     been in their own country. In the same manner, the final and
+     permanent fruits of liberty are wisdom, moderation, and
+     mercy. Its immediate effects are often atrocious crimes,
+     conflicting errors, skepticism on points the most clear,
+     dogmatism on points the most mysterious. It is just at this
+     crisis that its enemies love to exhibit it. They pull down
+     the scaffolding from the half-finished edifice; they point
+     to the flying dust, the falling bricks, the comfortless
+     rooms, the frightful irregularity of the whole appearance,
+     and then ask in scorn where the promised splendor and
+     comfort is to be found. If such miserable sophisms were to
+     prevail, there would never be a good house or a good
+     government in the world." ("Essay on Milton," by Lord
+     Macaulay.)
+
+  Repetition.
+
+A third method of developing a paragraph from a topic-sentence is by
+repetition. Simply to repeat in other words would be useless
+redundancy; but so to repeat that with each repetition the thought
+broadens or deepens is valuable in proposing a subject or explaining
+it. No person has attained greater skill in repetition than Matthew
+Arnold, and much of his clearness comes from his repetition, often of
+the very same phrases.
+
+     "Wordsworth has been in his grave for some thirty years, and
+     certainly his lovers and admirers cannot flatter themselves
+     that this great and steady light of glory as yet shines over
+     him. He is not fully recognized at home; he is not
+     recognized at all abroad. Yet I firmly believe that the
+     poetical performance of Wordsworth is, after that of
+     Shakespeare and Milton, of which all the world now
+     recognizes the worth, undoubtedly the most considerable in
+     our language from the Elizabethan age to the present time.
+     Chaucer is anterior; and on other grounds, too, he cannot
+     well be brought into the comparison. But taking the roll of
+     our chief poetical names, besides Shakespeare and Milton,
+     from the age of Elizabeth downwards, and going through
+     it,--Spenser, Dryden, Pope, Gray, Goldsmith, Cowper, Burns,
+     Coleridge, Scott, Campbell, Moore, Byron, Shelley, Keats (I
+     mention those only who are dead),--I think it certain that
+     Wordsworth's name deserves to stand, and will finally stand,
+     above them all. Several of the poets named have gifts and
+     excellencies which Wordsworth has not. But taking the
+     performance of each as a whole, I say that Wordsworth seems
+     to me to have left a body of poetical work superior in
+     power, in interest, in the qualities which give enduring
+     freshness, to that which any one of the others has left."
+     ("Essay on Wordsworth," by Matthew Arnold.)
+
+
+     "Perhaps no person can be a poet, or can even enjoy poetry,
+     without a certain unsoundness of mind, if anything which
+     gives so much pleasure ought to be called unsoundness. By
+     poetry we mean not all writing in verse, nor even all good
+     writing in verse. Our definition excludes many metrical
+     compositions which, on other grounds, deserve the highest
+     praise. By poetry, we mean the art of employing words in
+     such a manner as to produce an illusion on the imagination,
+     the art of doing by means of words what the painter does by
+     means of colors. Thus the greatest of the poets has
+     described it, in lines universally admired for the vigor and
+     felicity of their diction, and still more valuable on
+     account of the just notion which they convey of the art in
+     which he excelled:--
+
+                  'As imagination bodies forth
+          The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
+          Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
+          A local habitation and a name.'
+
+     These are the fruits of the 'fine frenzy' which he ascribes
+     to the poet,--a fine frenzy, doubtless, but still a frenzy.
+     Truth, indeed, is essential to poetry, but it is the truth
+     of madness. The reasonings are just, but the premises are
+     false. After the first suppositions have been made,
+     everything ought to be consistent; but those first
+     suppositions require a degree of credulity which almost
+     amounts to a partial and temporary derangement of the
+     intellect. Hence, of all people, children are the most
+     imaginative. They abandon themselves without reserve to
+     every illusion. Every image which is strongly presented to
+     their mental eye produces in them the effect of reality. No
+     man, whatever his sensibility may be, is ever affected by
+     Hamlet or Lear as a little girl is affected by the story of
+     poor Red Riding Hood. She knows it is all false, that wolves
+     cannot speak, that there are no wolves in England. Yet in
+     spite of her knowledge she believes; she weeps; she
+     trembles; she dares not go into a dark room lest she should
+     feel the teeth of the monster at her throat. Such is the
+     despotism of the imagination over uncultivated minds."
+     ("Essay on Milton," by Macaulay.)
+
+  Obverse.
+
+A fourth method of building up a paragraph from a topic-sentence
+consists in telling what it is not; that is, giving the obverse. This
+is very effective in argument, and is employed in exposition and
+description. The obverse usually follows a positive statement, and
+again is followed by the affirmative; that is, first what it is, then
+what it is not, and last, what it is again. In the following
+description by Ruskin, the method appears and reappears. Notice the
+"nots" and "buts," indicating the change from the negative to the
+positive statement. It would be a sacrilege to omit the last
+paragraph, though it does not illustrate this manner of development.
+
+     "For all other rivers there is a surface, and an underneath,
+     and a vaguely displeasing idea of the bottom. But the Rhone
+     flows like one lambent jewel; its surface is nowhere, its
+     ethereal self is everywhere, the iridescent rush and
+     translucent strength of it blue to the shore, and radiant to
+     the depth.
+
+     "Fifteen feet thick, not of flowing, but flying water; not
+     water, neither--melted glacier, rather, one should call it;
+     the force of the ice is with it, and the wreathing of the
+     clouds, the gladness of the sky, and the continuance of
+     Time.
+
+     "Waves of clear sea are, indeed, lovely to watch, but they
+     are always coming or gone, never in any taken shape to be
+     seen for a second. But here was one mighty wave that was
+     always itself, and every fluted swirl of it, constant as the
+     wreathing of a shell. No wasting away of the fallen foam, no
+     pause for gathering of power, no helpless ebb of discouraged
+     recoil; but alike through bright day and lulling night, the
+     never-pausing plunge, and never-fading flash, and
+     never-hushing whisper, and, while the sun was up, the
+     ever-answering glow of unearthly aquamarine, ultramarine,
+     violet-blue, gentian-blue, peacock-blue, river-of-paradise
+     blue, glass of a painted window melted in the sun, and the
+     witch of the Alps flinging the spun tresses of it forever
+     from her snow.
+
+     "The innocent way, too, in which the river used to stop to
+     look into every little corner. Great torrents always seem
+     angry, and great rivers are often too sullen; but there is
+     no anger, no disdain in the Rhone. It seemed as if the
+     mountain stream was in mere bliss at recovering itself again
+     out of the lake-sleep, and raced because it rejoiced in
+     racing, fain yet to return and stay. There were pieces of
+     wave that danced all day, as if Perdita were looking on to
+     learn; there were little streams that skipped like lambs and
+     leaped like chamois; there were pools that shook the
+     sunshine all through them, and were rippled in layers of
+     overlaid ripples, like crystal sand; there were currents
+     that twisted the light into golden braids, and inlaid the
+     threads with turquoise enamel; there were strips of stream
+     that had certainly above the lake been mill-stream, and were
+     looking busily for mills to turn again; and there were
+     shoots of stream that had once shot fearfully into the air,
+     and now sprang up again, laughing, that they had only fallen
+     a foot or two;--and in the midst of all the gay glittering
+     and eddied lingering, the noble bearing by of the midmost
+     depth, so mighty, yet so terrorless and harmless, with its
+     swallows skimming in spite of petrels, and the dear old
+     decrepit town as safe in the embracing sweep of it as if it
+     were set in a brooch of sapphires."[35]
+
+This extract from Burke's speech is a good example of the same method.
+
+     "I put this consideration of the present and the growing
+     numbers in the front of our deliberation, because, Sir, this
+     consideration will make it evident to a blunter discernment
+     than yours, that _no_ partial, narrow, contracted, pinched,
+     occasional system will be at all suitable to such an object.
+     It will show you that it is _not_ to be considered as one of
+     those _minima_ which are out of the eye and consideration of
+     the law; _not_ a paltry excrescence of the state; _not_ a
+     mean dependent, who may be neglected with little damage and
+     provoked with little danger. It will prove that some degree
+     of care and caution is required in the handling such an
+     object; it will show that you ought not, in reason, to
+     trifle with so large a mass of the interests and feelings of
+     the human race. You could at no time do so without guilt;
+     and be assured you will not be able to do it long with
+     impunity."[36]
+
+  Examples.
+
+A fifth method of expanding a topic is by means of illustrations and
+examples. It is used largely in establishing or enforcing a
+proposition. The author selects one example, or perhaps more than one,
+to illustrate his proposition. Note the words that may introduce
+specific instances: _for example, for instance, to illustrate, a case
+in point,_ and so forth.
+
+In the first of the following quotations, Cardinal Newman is showing
+that simply to acquire is not true mental enlargement. The paragraph
+is made up of a series of instances. The second paragraph is by
+Macaulay.
+
+     "The _case is the same still more strikingly when_ the
+     persons in question are beyond dispute men of inferior
+     powers and deficient education. Perhaps they have been much
+     in foreign countries, and they receive, in a passive,
+     otiose, unfruitful way, the various facts which are forced
+     upon them there. Seafaring men, _for example,_ range from
+     one end of the earth to the other; but the multiplicity of
+     external objects which they have encountered forms no
+     symmetrical and consistent picture upon their imagination;
+     they see the tapestry of human life, as it were, on the
+     wrong side, and it tells no story. They sleep, and they rise
+     up, and they find themselves, now in Europe, now in Asia;
+     they see visions of great cities and wild regions; they are
+     in the marts of commerce, or amid the islands of the South;
+     they gaze on Pompey's Pillar, or on the Andes; and nothing
+     which meets them carries them forward or backward, to any
+     idea beyond itself. Nothing has a drift or relation; nothing
+     has a history or a promise. Everything stands by itself and
+     comes and goes in its turn, like the shifting scenes of a
+     show, which leave the spectator where he was. Perhaps you
+     are near such a man on a particular occasion, and expect him
+     to be shocked or perplexed at something which occurs; but
+     one thing is much the same to him as another; or, if he is
+     perplexed, it is as not knowing what to say, whether it is
+     right to admire, or to ridicule, or to disapprove, while
+     conscious that some expression of opinion is expected from
+     him; for in fact he has no standard of judgment at all, and
+     no landmarks to guide him to a conclusion. Such is mere
+     acquisition, and, I repeat, no one would dream of calling it
+     philosophy." ("Idea of a University," by Cardinal Newman.)
+
+
+     "I will give _another instance._ One of the most
+     instructive, interesting, and delightful books in our
+     language is Boswell's 'Life of Johnson.' Now it is well
+     known that Boswell's eldest son considered this book,
+     considered the whole relation of Boswell to Johnson, as a
+     blot in the escutcheon of the family. He thought, not
+     perhaps altogether without reason, that his father had
+     exhibited himself in a ludicrous and degrading light. And
+     thus he became so sore and irritable that at last he could
+     not bear to hear the 'Life of Johnson' mentioned. Suppose
+     that the law had been what my honorable and learned friend
+     wishes to make it. Suppose that the copyright of Boswell's
+     'Life of Johnson' had belonged, as it well might, during
+     sixty years, to Boswell's eldest son. What would have been
+     the consequence? An unadulterated copy of the finest
+     biographical work in the world would have been as scarce as
+     the first edition of Camden's 'Britannia.'" (Speech,
+     "Copyright," by Macaulay.)
+
+  Combines Two or More Forms.
+
+As was said at the beginning, a paragraph is seldom made exclusively
+of one form. One part of the typical paragraph is usually developed
+more than any other and gives to the paragraph its character and its
+name. By far the most common variety of paragraph is that which
+combines two or more of the other forms. It is not necessary to cite
+examples; they are everywhere. Though combination is the commonest
+method of development, it should be guarded. It is a poor paragraph
+that combines the forms indiscriminately. It should follow some plan;
+and the best plan is the one already given in the typical paragraph.
+
+All paragraphs, whatever be the special method of development, are
+governed by the three principles which have guided in the structure of
+whole compositions. Whether the purpose be to prove or to narrate, to
+enforce a conclusion or to illustrate, if a paragraph is to produce
+its greatest effect, it should have unity, it should be well massed,
+and it should be coherent.
+
+It is not necessary now to define unity in a paragraph; the need is
+rather to notice the offenses against it that frequently occur. They
+are manifestly two: too much may be included, and not all may be
+included. The accompanying circumstance of the one, not necessarily
+the cause, however, is often a very long paragraph, and of the other a
+short paragraph.
+
+  Unity.
+
+Violations of the unity of a paragraph most frequently result from
+including more than belongs there. The theme has been selected; it is
+narrow and concise. When one begins to write, many things crowd in
+pell-mell. Impressions, which come and go, we hardly know how or why,
+are the only products of most minds. Impressions, not shaped and
+logical thoughts, make up the mixed confusion frequently called a
+theme. The writer puts down enough of these impressions to make a
+paragraph, and then goes on to do it again, fancying that so he is
+really paragraphing. Even should he keep within the limits of his
+theme, he cannot in this way paragraph. As everything upon a subject
+does not belong in a theme, so everything in a theme may not be
+introduced indiscriminately into any paragraph.
+
+The other danger lies in the short paragraph. It does not allow a
+writer room to say all he has to say upon the topic, so it runs over
+into the next paragraph. All of the thought-paragraph should appear in
+one division on the page. This error is not so common as the former.
+Examples of each are to be found on pages 152-157.
+
+  Need of Outline.
+
+The remedy for this confusion clearly is hard thinking; and a great
+assistance is the outline. Before a word is written, think through the
+theme; get clearly the purpose of each paragraph in the development of
+the whole. Then write just what the paragraph was intended to include,
+and no more. More will be suggested because the parts of a whole theme
+are all closely related, but that more belongs somewhere else. Make a
+sharp outline, and follow it.
+
+  Mass.
+
+A paragraph should be so arranged that the parts which arrest the eye
+will be important.[37] When a person glances down a page, his eye
+rests upon the beginning and the end of each paragraph. A reader going
+rapidly through an article to get what he wants of it does not read
+religiously every word; he knows that he will be directed to the
+contents of each paragraph by the first and last sentences. If a
+writer considers his readers, if he desires to arrange his paragraph
+so that it will be most effective, he will have at these points such
+sentences as will accurately indicate its contents and the trend of
+the discussion; and he will form these sentences so well that they
+will deserve the attention which is given them by reason of their
+position in the paragraph.
+
+  What begins and what ends a Paragraph?
+
+What are the words that deserve the distinction of opening and closing
+a paragraph? As in the theme, so in a paragraph, the first thing is to
+announce the subject of discussion. When the subject is simply
+announced without giving any indication as to the drift of the
+discussion, the conclusion of the discussion is generally stated in
+the last sentence. Burke says, "The first thing we have to consider
+with regard to the nature of the object is the number of people in the
+colonies." He concludes the paragraph with, "Whilst we are discussing
+any given magnitude, they are grown to it. Whilst we spend our time in
+deliberating on the mode of governing two millions, we shall find we
+have millions more to manage. Your children do not grow faster from
+infancy to manhood than they spread from families to communities, and
+from villages to nations." In other cases the opening sentence states
+the conclusion at which the paragraph will arrive. Then the closing
+sentence may be a repetition of the opening or topic sentence; or it
+may be one of the points used to exemplify or establish the
+proposition which opens the paragraph. Again, in a short paragraph the
+topic need not be announced at the beginning; in this case it should
+be given in the concluding sentence. Or, should the topic be given in
+the opening sentence of a short paragraph, it is unnecessary to repeat
+it at the end. In any case, whether the paragraph opens with a simple
+announcement of the topic to be discussed, or with the conclusion
+which the paragraph aims to explain, establish, or illustrate, or
+whether it closes with the conclusion of the whole matter, or with one
+of the main points in the development, the sentences at the beginning
+and the end of a paragraph should be strong sentences worthy of their
+distinguished position.
+
+In the first paragraph below, there is a proposition in the first
+sentence and its repetition in the last. In the two following, though
+they close with no general statement, the specific assertions used to
+substantiate and illustrate the first sentences are strong and carry
+in themselves the truth of the topic-sentence.
+
+     "The eloquence of Mr. Adams resembled his general character,
+     and formed, indeed, a part of it. It was bold, manly, and
+     energetic; and such the crisis required. When public bodies
+     are to be addressed on momentous occasions, when great
+     interests are at stake, and strong passions excited, nothing
+     is valuable in speech farther than as it is connected with
+     high intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force,
+     and earnestness are the qualities which produce conviction.
+     True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It
+     cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for
+     it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be
+     marshaled in every way, but they cannot compass it. It must
+     exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion.
+     Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of
+     declamation, all may aspire to it; they cannot reach it. It
+     comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain
+     from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires,
+     with spontaneous, original, native force. The graces taught
+     in the schools, the costly ornaments and studied
+     contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men when their own
+     lives and the fate of their wives, their children, and their
+     country hang on the decision of the hour. Then words have
+     lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate
+     oratory contemptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked
+     and subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then
+     patriotism is eloquent; then self-devotion is eloquent. The
+     clear conception, outrunning the deductions of logic, the
+     high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit,
+     speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing
+     every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward
+     to his object--this, this is eloquence: or rather it is
+     something greater and higher than all eloquence; it is
+     action, noble, sublime, godlike action."[38]
+
+
+     "The prejudiced man travels, and then everything he sees in
+     Catholic countries only serves to make him more thankful
+     that his notions are so true; and the more he sees of
+     Popery, the more abominable he feels it to be. If there is
+     any sin, any evil in a foreign population, though it be
+     found among Protestants also, still Popery is clearly the
+     cause of it. If great cities are the schools of vice, it is
+     owing to Popery. If Sunday is profaned, if there is a
+     carnival, it is the fault of the Catholic Church. Then,
+     there are no private houses, as in England; families live in
+     staircases; see what it is to belong to a Popish country.
+     Why do the Roman laborers wheel their barrows so slow in the
+     Forum? why do the Lazzaroni of Naples lie so listlessly on
+     the beach? why, but because they are under the _malaria_ of
+     a false religion. Rage, as is well known, is in the Roman
+     like a falling sickness, almost as if his will had no part
+     in it and he had no responsibility; see what it is to be a
+     Papist. Bloodletting is as frequent and as much a matter of
+     course in the South as hair-cutting in England; it is a
+     trick borrowed from the convents, when they wish to tame
+     down refractory spirits."[39]
+
+
+     "Excuse me, Sir, if turning from such thoughts I resume this
+     comparative view once more. You have seen it on a large
+     scale; look at it on a small one. I will point out to your
+     attention a particular instance of it in the single province
+     of Pennsylvania. In the year 1704 that province called for
+     £11,459 in value of your commodities, native and foreign.
+     This was the whole. What did it demand in 1772? Why, nearly
+     fifty times as much; for in that year the export to
+     Pennsylvania was £507,909, nearly equal to the export to all
+     the colonies together in the first period."[40]
+
+The following illustrates the weakness of closing with a specific
+instance when it does not rise to the level of the remainder of a
+paragraph. The last sentence would better be omitted.
+
+     "We often hear of the magical influence of poetry. The
+     expression in general means nothing; but, applied to the
+     writings of Milton, it is most appropriate. His poetry acts
+     like an incantation. Its merit lies less in its obvious
+     meaning than in its occult power. There would seem, at first
+     sight, to be no more in his words than in other words. But
+     they are words of enchantment. No sooner are they pronounced
+     than the past is present and the distant near. New forms of
+     beauty start at once into existence, and all the
+     burial-places of memory give up their dead. Change the
+     structure of the sentence, substitute one synonym for
+     another, and the whole effect is destroyed. The spell loses
+     its power; and he who should then hope to conjure with it
+     would find himself as much mistaken as Cassim in the Arabian
+     tale, when he stood crying, 'Open Wheat,' 'Open Barley,' to
+     the door which obeyed no sound but 'Open Sesame.' In the
+     miserable failure of Dryden in his attempt to translate into
+     his own diction some parts of the 'Paradise Lost' is a
+     remarkable instance of this." ("Essay on Milton," by
+     Macaulay.)
+
+  Length of opening and closing Sentences.
+
+By examination, one finds that the first sentence of a paragraph of
+exposition and of argument is usually a terse statement of the
+proposition; and that after the proposition has been established there
+follows a longer sentence gathering up all the points of the
+discussion into a full, rounded period which forms a suitable climax
+and conclusion of the paragraph. Of Macaulay's "Milton" one is quite
+inside the truth when he says that of those paragraphs containing an
+opening topic-sentence and its restatement as a conclusion, the
+closing sentence is the longer in the ratio of two to one. In Burke's
+"Conciliation," the ratio rises as high as four to one. There are,
+however, exceptions to the rule. Paragraphs sometimes close with a
+shorter statement of the proposition, a sort of aphorism or epigram.
+As this kind of sentence is fascinating, some books have said that
+paragraphs should close so; that it is like cracking a whip, and gives
+a snap to the paragraph not gained in any other way. Even if readers
+enjoyed having paragraphs close in this cracking manner, it must be
+borne in mind that not all conclusions are capable of such a
+statement, and, what is worse, that the tendency to seek for epigrams
+leads to untruth and a degenerated form of witticism. Such forced
+sentences are only half truths, or they are a bit of cheap repartee.
+Such a close is effective, if the whole truth can be so expressed; but
+to seek for such sentences is dangerous. The best rule is the one
+already stated; it applies to the long sentence and the short sentence
+alike. It is that a paragraph should close with words that deserve
+distinction.
+
+  Proportion.
+
+The body of a paragraph should have the matter so proportioned that
+the more important points shall receive the longer treatment. In a
+paragraph of proof, details, or comparison, that point in the proof,
+that particular, that part of the comparison, which for the specific
+purpose has most significance, should have proportionately fuller
+treatment. It is the same principle already noticed in exposition.
+Indicate the relative importance of topics in a paragraph by the
+relative number of words used in their treatment.
+
+For mass in a paragraph, then, keep in mind that the last sentence
+should contain matter and form worthy of the position it occupies;
+that the position of next importance is at the beginning; and that the
+relative importance of the matters in the body of a paragraph is
+pretty correctly indicated by the relative length of treatment.
+
+  Coherence and Clearness.
+
+Coherence, the third principle of structure, is the most important;
+and it is the most difficult to apply. For one can make a beginning
+and an end, he can select his materials so that there is unity, but to
+make all the parts stick together, to arrange the sentences so that
+one grows naturally from the preceding and leads into the next,
+requires nice adjustment of parts, and rewriting many times. How
+essential coherence in a paragraph is, simply to make the thought easy
+to grasp, may be seen by taking a paragraph to pieces and mixing up
+its sentences, and at the same time removing all words that bind its
+parts together. The following can hardly be understood at all, but in
+its original condition it is so clear that it cannot be misunderstood.
+If the sentences be arranged in the following order, the original
+paragraph will appear: 1, 5, 3, 9, 8, 6, 2, 4, 7, 10.
+
+     1. "The first question which obviously suggests itself is
+     how these wonderful moral effects are to be wrought under
+     the instrumentality of the physical sciences. 2. To know is
+     one thing, to do is another; the two things are altogether
+     distinct. 3. Does Sir Robert Peel mean to say, that whatever
+     be the occult reasons for the result, so it is; you have but
+     to drench the popular mind with physics, and moral and
+     religious advancement follows on the whole, in spite of
+     individual failures? 4. A man knows he should get up in the
+     morning,--he lies abed; he knows he should not lose his
+     temper, yet he cannot keep it. 5. Can the process be
+     analyzed and drawn out, or does it act like a dose or a
+     charm which comes into general use empirically? 6. It is
+     natural and becoming to seek for some clear idea of the
+     meaning of so dark an oracle. 7. A laboring man knows he
+     should not go to the ale-house, and his wife knows she
+     should not filch when she goes out charing, but,
+     nevertheless, in these cases, the consciousness of a duty is
+     not all one with the performance of it. 8. Or rather, does
+     he mean, that, from the nature of the case, he who is imbued
+     with science and literature, unless adverse influences
+     interfere, cannot but be a better man? 9. Yet when has the
+     experiment been tried on so large a scale as to justify such
+     anticipations? 10. There are, then, large families of
+     instances, to say the least, in which men may become wiser,
+     without becoming better; what, then, is the meaning of this
+     great maxim in the mouth of its promulgators?"
+
+Coherence, so necessary to the easy understanding of a paragraph, is
+gained in three ways: by the order in which the sentences are
+arranged; by the use of parallel constructions for parallel ideas; and
+by the use of connectives.
+
+  Two Arrangements of Sentences in a Paragraph.
+
+Material which has been selected with regard to the principle of unity
+is all informed with one idea. Yet though one thought runs through it
+all and unites it, the parts do not stand in an equally close relation
+to the conclusion, nor is each part equally related to every other
+part. Had they been, the last paragraph quoted would have been as well
+in one order as another. Rather the sentences seem to fall into groups
+of more closely related matters; or at times one sentence seems to
+follow as the direct consequence of the preceding sentence. With
+respect to the way in which the sentences contribute to the topic of
+the paragraph, whether the topic be announced first or last, sentences
+may be said to contribute directly to the proposition or indirectly.
+If directly, the paragraph is a collection of sentences, each having a
+common purpose, each having a similar relation to the topic, arranged,
+as it were, side by side, and advancing as one body to the conclusion.
+This may be termed an individual arrangement of sentences, since as
+individuals they each contribute to the topic. The conclusion derives
+its force from the combined mass of all. If indirectly, the paragraph
+is a series of sentences, each growing out of the one preceding it,
+each receiving a push from the sentence before, and the last having
+the combined force of all. This may be styled a serial arrangement of
+sentences, since in such a case each contributes to the topic only as
+one in a chain. The former overcomes by its mass; the latter strikes
+by reason of its velocity. The one advances in rank; the other
+advances in single file.
+
+An illustration of each will help to an understanding of this. In the
+following paragraph from Macaulay's essay on Milton, each of the
+details mentioned points directly to "those days" when the race became
+a "byword and a shaking of the head to the nations." Their aggregate
+mass enforces the topic of the paragraph. They are all one body
+equally informed with the common principle which is the topic. Notice
+that one sentence is not the source of the next, but that all the
+sentences stand in a similar relation to the conclusion. This
+arrangement is common in description. In the second paragraph, from
+Irving's "Legend of Sleepy Hollow," each detail contributes to the
+appearance of Ichabod, not through some other sentence, but directly.
+
+     "Then came those days, never to be recalled without a blush,
+     the days of servitude without loyalty and sensuality without
+     love; of dwarfish talents and gigantic vices; the paradise
+     of cold hearts and narrow minds; the golden age of the
+     coward, the bigot, and the slave. The king cringed to his
+     rival that he might trample on his people; sank into a
+     viceroy of France, and pocketed with complacent infamy her
+     degrading insults and her more degrading gold. The caresses
+     of harlots and the jests of buffoons regulated the policy of
+     the state. The government had just ability enough to
+     deceive, and just religion enough to persecute. The
+     principles of liberty were the scoff of every grinning
+     courtier, and the Anathema Maranatha of every fawning dean.
+     In every high place, worship was paid to Charles and James,
+     Belial and Moloch; and England propitiated those obscene and
+     cruel idols with the blood of her best and bravest children.
+     Crime succeeded to crime, and disgrace to disgrace, till the
+     race, accursed of God and man, was a second time driven
+     forth to wander on the face of the earth, and to be a byword
+     and a shaking of the head to the nations."
+
+
+     "Ichabod was a suitable figure for such a steed. He rode
+     with short stirrups, which brought his knees nearly up to
+     the pommel of the saddle; his sharp elbows stuck out like
+     grasshoppers'; he carried his whip perpendicularly in his
+     hand, like a sceptre, and as his horse jogged on, the motion
+     of his arms was not unlike the flapping of a pair of wings.
+     A small wool hat rested on the top of his nose, for so his
+     scanty strip of forehead might be called, and the skirts of
+     his black coat fluttered out almost to the horse's tail.
+     Such was the appearance of Ichabod and his steed as they
+     shambled out of the gate of Hans Van Ripper, and it was
+     altogether such an apparition as is seldom to be met with in
+     broad daylight."
+
+The following paragraph in the essay on Milton contains an example of
+the second method of arrangement. Each sentence is the result of the
+one before it. The sentences advance in single file. Notice that each
+sentence does not contribute directly to the conclusion, but that it
+acts through the succeeding sentence. The phrases from which a
+succeeding sentence springs are in small capitals; and the phrases
+which refer back are in italics.
+
+     "Most of the remarks which we have hitherto made on the
+     public character of Milton apply to him only as one of A
+     LARGE BODY. WE SHALL PROCEED to notice some of the
+     peculiarities which distinguished him _from his
+     contemporaries._ _And for that purpose_ it is necessary to
+     take a short survey of THE PARTIES into which the political
+     world was at that time divided. We must premise that our
+     observations are intended to apply only to THOSE WHO
+     ADHERED, from a sincere preference, to one or to the other
+     side. In days of public commotion, _every faction,_ like an
+     Oriental army, is attended by a crowd of camp-followers, a
+     useless and heartless RABBLE, who prowl round its line of
+     march in the hope of picking up something under its
+     protection, but desert it in the day of battle, and often
+     join to exterminate it after defeat. England, at the time of
+     which we are treating, abounded with fickle and _selfish
+     politicians,_ who transferred their support to every
+     government as it rose; who kissed the hand of the king in
+     1640, and spat in his face in 1649; who shouted with equal
+     glee when Cromwell was inaugurated in Westminster Hall, and
+     when he was dug up to be hanged at Tyburn; who dined on
+     calves' heads or broiled rumps, and cut down oak branches or
+     stuck them up, as circumstances altered, without the
+     slightest shame or repugnance. _These_ we leave out of
+     account. We take our estimate of parties from _those who_
+     really deserve to be called partisans."
+
+(For other examples of the same arrangement see the next quotation,
+and also a paragraph quoted on page 222.)
+
+Paragraphs are most frequently found to combine the two methods. In
+the following, notice that the second sentence grows out of the first,
+the third from the second, and so the serial arrangement is maintained
+until the eighth is reached. Sentences nine, ten, eleven, and twelve
+give body to sentence eight. Then begins again the regular succession.
+Sentences sixteen to twenty are the outgrowth of the phrase "on his
+account."
+
+     "1. The Puritans were men whose minds had derived a peculiar
+     character from the daily contemplation of superior beings
+     and eternal interests. 2. Not content with acknowledging in
+     general terms an overruling Providence, they habitually
+     ascribed every event to the will of the Great Being, for
+     whose power nothing was too vast, for whose inspection
+     nothing was too minute. 3. To know Him, to serve Him, to
+     enjoy Him, was with them the great end of existence. 4. They
+     rejected with contempt the ceremonious homage which other
+     sects substituted for the pure worship of the soul. 5.
+     Instead of catching occasional glimpses of the Deity through
+     an obscuring veil, they aspired to gaze full on the
+     intolerable brightness, and to commune with Him face to
+     face. 6. Hence originated their contempt for terrestrial
+     distinctions. 7. The difference between the greatest and the
+     meanest of mankind seemed to vanish when compared with the
+     boundless interval which separated the whole race from Him
+     on whom their own eyes were constantly fixed. 8. They
+     recognized no title to superiority but His favor; and,
+     confident of that favor, they despised all the
+     accomplishments and all the dignities of the world. 9. If
+     they were unacquainted with the works of philosophers and
+     poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of God. 10. If
+     their names were not found in the registers of heralds, they
+     were recorded in the Book of Life. 11. If their steps were
+     not accompanied by a splendid train of menials, legions of
+     ministering angels had charge over them. 12. Their palaces
+     were houses not made with hands; their diadems, crowns of
+     glory which should never fade away. 13. On the rich and the
+     eloquent, on nobles and priests, they looked down with
+     contempt; for they esteemed themselves rich in a more
+     precious treasure, and eloquent in a more sublime language,
+     nobles by the right of an earlier creation, and priests by
+     the imposition of a mightier hand. 14. The very meanest of
+     them was a being to whose fate a mysterious and terrible
+     importance belonged, on whose slightest action the spirits
+     of light and darkness looked with anxious interest; who had
+     been destined, before heaven and earth were created, to
+     enjoy a felicity which should continue when heaven and earth
+     should have passed away. 15. Events which short-sighted
+     politicians ascribed to earthly causes had been ordained on
+     his account. 16. For his sake empires had risen, and
+     flourished, and decayed. 17. For his sake the Almighty had
+     proclaimed His will by the pen of the Evangelist and the
+     harp of the prophet. 18. He had been wrested by no common
+     deliverer from the grasp of no common foe. 19. He had been
+     ransomed by the sweat of no vulgar agony, by the blood of no
+     earthly sacrifice. 20. It was for him that the sun had been
+     darkened, that the rocks had been rent, that the dead had
+     risen, that all nature had shuddered at the sufferings of
+     her expiring God."
+
+This division has been made because by its aid an approach can be made
+toward rules for arrangement. In the paragraph quoted on page 183, the
+different sentences are equally related to the topic. Is there, then,
+no reason why one should be first rather than another? Notice the
+topics of the sentences and the order becomes a necessity. King, state
+policy, government, liberty, religion,--it is an ascending scale. On
+page 96 is a paragraph on the charmed names used by Milton. "One,"
+"another," "a third," "a fourth,"--for all one can see as to the
+relation of each to the topic, "a fourth" might as well have been
+"one" as fourth. But upon reading the paragraph it is evident that
+Macaulay thought the last more important than the first. So in the
+paragraph just quoted about the Puritans, when the arrangement of the
+first eight sentences changes in sentences nine through eleven, and
+again in sentences sixteen to twenty, the order is a climax. Moreover,
+those topics are associated which are more closely related in thought.
+King is more closely related to government than to religion, and
+religion is more intimately associated with the idea of liberty than
+with king. The order, then, is the natural order of association. From
+these examples we derive the first principle of arrangement. In a
+paragraph where several sentences contribute individually to the
+topic, they must be arranged in the order in which the thoughts are
+associated and follow each other; and, when possible, they should take
+the order of a climax.
+
+  Definite References.
+
+In the paragraph made up of sentences in a series, each linked to the
+sentence before and after, the difficulty is in transmitting the force
+of one sentence to the next one undiminished. This is done by binding
+the sentences so closely together that one cannot slip on the other.
+In the paragraph about the Puritans, of the second sentence the "Great
+Being" goes back to "superior beings" of the first; and "Him" in the
+next springs from "Great Being." "To know Him, to serve Him, to enjoy
+Him,"--what is it but the "pure worship" of the fourth? while
+"ceremonious homage" of the fourth is the "occasional glimpses of the
+Deity through an obscuring veil" of the fifth. One sentence grows out
+of some phrase of the preceding sentence; the sentences are firmly
+locked together by the repetition, a little modified, of the thought
+of a preceding phrase. There is no slipping. To get this result there
+must be no question of the thought-sequence in the sentences. Each
+sentence must be a consequence of a preceding sentence. And there must
+be attention to the choice and position of the words from which the
+following sentence is to spring. Such words cannot be indefinite,
+mushy words; they must be definite, firm words. Moreover, they must
+not be buried out of sight by a mass of unimportant matters; they must
+be so placed that they are unhindered, free to push forward the
+thought toward its ultimate conclusion. This often requires inversion
+in the sentence. That phrase which is the source of the next sentence
+must be thrown up into a prominent position; and it is usually pressed
+toward the end of the sentence, nearer to the sentence which is its
+consequence. In a paragraph quoted on page 222, where this same
+subject is taken up in connection with sentences, there is an
+excellent illustration of this. "Slow and obscure," "inadequate
+ideas," "small circle," and the numerous phrases which repeat the
+thought, though not the words, are firm words binding the sentences
+together indissolubly.
+
+  Use of Pronouns.
+
+Not all sentences permit such clear reference as this. Still it must
+be said that where the thought is logical and clear, the reference is
+never missed: the binding words are important words and they occupy
+prominent positions. There is, however, a whole group of words whose
+function is to make the references sure. They are pronouns. Pronouns
+refer back, and they point forward. Their careful use is the commonest
+method of making sure of references, and so of binding sentences
+together. The ones in common use are _this, that, the former, the
+latter;_ the relatives _who, which,_ and _that;_ and the personal
+pronouns _he, she, it._ To these may be added some adverbs: _here,
+there, hence, whence, now, then, when,_ and _while._ The binding force
+of these words is manifest in every paragraph of composition.
+
+The following paragraph, from Burke's speech on "Conciliation with the
+Colonies," illustrates the use of pronouns as words referring back,
+and binding the whole into one inseparable unit.
+
+     "As to the wealth which the colonies have drawn from the sea
+     by their fisheries, you had all that matter fully opened at
+     your bar. You surely thought _those_ acquisitions of value,
+     for _they_ seemed even to excite your envy; and yet the
+     spirit by which _that_ enterprising employment has been
+     exercised ought rather, in my opinion, to have raised your
+     esteem and admiration. And pray, Sir, what in the world is
+     equal to _it?_ Pass by the other parts, and look at the
+     manner in which the people of New England have of late
+     carried on the whale fishery. Whilst we follow _them_ among
+     the tumbling mountains of ice, and behold _them_ penetrating
+     into the deepest frozen recesses of Hudson's Bay and Davis's
+     Straits, whilst we are looking for _them_ beneath the arctic
+     circle, we hear that _they_ have pierced into the opposite
+     region of polar cold, that _they_ are at the antipodes, and
+     engaged under the frozen Serpent of the south. Falkland
+     Island, which seemed too remote and romantic an object for
+     the grasp of national ambition, is but a stage and
+     resting-place in the progress of _their_ victorious
+     industry. Nor is the equinoctial heat more discouraging to
+     _them_ than the accumulated winter of both the poles. We
+     know that whilst _some_ of _them_ draw the line and strike
+     the harpoon on the coast of Africa, _others_ run the
+     longitude and pursue _their_ gigantic game along the coast
+     of Brazil. No sea but what is vexed by _their_ fisheries; no
+     climate that is not witness to _their_ toils. Neither the
+     perseverance of Holland, nor the activity of France, nor the
+     dexterous and firm sagacity of English enterprise ever
+     carried _this_ most perilous mode of hardy industry to the
+     extent to which _it_ has been pushed by _this_ recent
+     people; a people who are still, as it were, but in the
+     gristle, and not yet hardened into the bone of manhood. When
+     I contemplate _these_ things; when I know that the colonies
+     in general owe little or nothing to any care of ours, and
+     that they are not squeezed into this happy form by the
+     constraints of watchful and suspicious government, but that,
+     through a wise and salutary neglect, a generous nature has
+     been suffered to take her own way to perfection; when I
+     reflect upon _these_ effects, when I see how profitable
+     _they_ have been to us, I feel all the pride of power sink,
+     and all presumption in the wisdom of human contrivances melt
+     and die away within me. My rigor relents. I pardon something
+     to the spirit of liberty."
+
+  Of Conjunctions.
+
+Another group of words which give coherence to a paragraph is
+conjunctions. They indicate the relations between sentences, and they
+point the direction of the new sentence. The common relations between
+sentences indicated by conjunctions are coördinative, subordinative,
+adversative, concessive, and illative. Each young writer has usually
+but one word, at the most two words, in his vocabulary to express each
+of these relations. He knows _and, but, if, although,_ and
+_therefore._ Each person should learn from a grammar the whole list,
+for no class of words indicates clear thinking so unmistakably as
+conjunctions.
+
+Two words of advice should be given regarding the use of conjunctions.
+If the thought all bends one way, if this direction is perfectly
+clear, there is no need of conjunctions. It is when the course of the
+discussion is tortuous, when the road is not direct, when the reader
+may lose the way without these guides, that conjunctions should be
+used. On the other hand, conjunctions are an annoyance when not
+needed. Just as guideposts along a road where there is no chance to
+leave the direct path are useless, and their recurrence is a cause of
+aggravation, so it is with unnecessary conjunctions. They attract
+attention to themselves, and so draw it from the thought. The first
+caution is, Do not use conjunctions unless needed.
+
+In the following, the repetition of _and_ is unnecessary and annoying.
+
+     "Six shillings a week does not keep body and soul together
+     very unitedly. They want to get away from each other when
+     there is only such a very slight bond as that between them;
+     and one day, I suppose, the pain and the dull monotony of it
+     all had stood before her eyes plainer than usual, and the
+     mocking spectre had frightened her. She had made one last
+     appeal to friends, but, against the chill wall of their
+     respectability, the voice of the erring outcast fell
+     unheeded; _and_ then she had gone to see her child--had held
+     it in her arms and kissed it, in a weary, dull sort of way,
+     _and_ without betraying any particular emotion of any kind,
+     _and_ had left it, after putting into its hand a penny box
+     of chocolate she had bought it, _and_ afterwards, with her
+     last few shillings, had taken a ticket _and_ come down to
+     Goring.
+
+     "It seemed that the bitterest thoughts of her life must have
+     centred about the wooded reaches and the bright green
+     meadows around Goring; but women strangely hug the knife
+     that stabs them, and, perhaps, amidst the gall, there may
+     have mingled also sunny memories of sweetest hours, spent
+     upon those shadowed deeps over which the great trees bend
+     their branches down so low.
+
+     "She had wandered about the woods by the river's brink all
+     day, _and_ then, when evening fell _and_ the gray twilight
+     spread its dusky robe upon the waters, she stretched out her
+     arms to the silent river that had known her sorrow and her
+     joy. _And_ the old river had taken her into its gentle arms,
+     _and_ had laid her weary head upon its bosom, _and_ had
+     hushed away the pain."
+
+The other word is: When possible put the conjunction that connects two
+sentences into the body of the sentence, rather than at its beginning.
+In this way its binding power is increased. This principle should
+limit the use of _and_ and _but_ at the beginning of a sentence.
+Rarely is _and_ needed in such a place. If the thought goes straight
+forward--and it must do so if _and_ correctly expresses the
+relation--there is usually no gain in its use. At times when the
+reader might be led to expect some change of direction from some
+phrase in the preceding sentence, then it would be wise to set him
+right by the use of _and._ Moreover, there are times when coördinate
+thoughts are so important, and the expression of the coördination is
+so important, that a sentence beginning with _and_ is the only
+adequate means of expressing it. However, be very sure that there is
+need for every _and_ that you use. The same caution may be given about
+_but._ _But_ indicates an abrupt turn in the thought. Is such a
+contrast in the thought? If so, is there no other word to express the
+thought? Some persons go so far as to say that these words should
+never begin a sentence. This is too pedantic and not true. When
+coördinative and adversative relations are to be expressed, however,
+it is certainly more elegant if some variety can be obtained, and the
+union is closer if the conjunction be placed in the body of the
+sentence. This requires the use of other words besides _and_ and
+_but._ _Also, in like manner, besides, too, nevertheless, however,
+after all, for all that,_ should be as familiar as the two overworked
+words _and_ and _but._ Look for ways to bind sentences in the middle
+rather than at the end. It is more elegant and it is much safer.
+
+  Parallel Constructions.
+
+A third principle of arrangement is the use of parallel constructions
+for parallel thoughts. By parallel structure is meant that the
+principal elements of the sentences shall be arranged in the same
+order. If subordinate clauses precede principal clauses in one
+sentence, they shall in the other; if they follow in one, they shall
+follow in the other. If an active voice be used in one, it shall be
+used in the other; if the predicate go before the subject in one, it
+shall in the other. The use of parallel structure frequently demands
+repetition of forms and even of identical words and phrases. It is
+very effective in giving clearness to a paragraph and in securing
+coherence of its parts.
+
+In the first of the two illustrations below, read one sentence this
+way and observe the ruin that is wrought. "The North American colonies
+made such a struggle against the mother country." In the second
+paragraph, change two of the sentences to the passive voice. The
+effect is evident loss in clearness and strength.
+
+     "All history is full of revolutions, produced by causes
+     similar to those which are now operating in England. A
+     portion of the community which had been of no account,
+     expands and becomes strong. It demands a place in the
+     system, suited, not to its former weakness, but to its
+     present power. If this is granted, all is well. If this is
+     refused, then comes the struggle between the young energy of
+     one class and the ancient privileges of another. Such was
+     the struggle between the Plebeians and Patricians of Rome.
+     Such was the struggle of the Italian allies for admission to
+     the full rights of Roman citizens. Such was the struggle of
+     our North American colonies against the mother country. Such
+     was the struggle which the Third Estate of France maintained
+     against the aristocracy of birth. Such was the struggle
+     which the Roman Catholics of Ireland maintained against the
+     aristocracy of creed. Such is the struggle which the free
+     people of color in Jamaica are now maintaining against the
+     aristocracy of skin. Such, finally, is the struggle which
+     the middle classes in England are maintaining against an
+     aristocracy of mere locality, against an aristocracy, the
+     principle of which is to invest a hundred drunken
+     pot-wallopers in one place, or the owner of a ruined hovel
+     in another, with powers which are withheld from cities
+     renowned to the furthest ends of the earth for the marvels
+     of their wealth and of their industry."[41]
+
+
+     "Man is a being of genius, passion, intellect, conscience,
+     power. He exercises these various gifts in various ways, in
+     great deeds, in great thoughts, in heroic acts, in hateful
+     crimes. He founds states, he fights battles, he builds
+     cities, he ploughs the forest, he subdues the elements, he
+     rules his kind. He creates vast ideas, and influences many
+     generations. He takes a thousand shapes, and undergoes a
+     thousand fortunes. Literature records them all to the
+     life.... He pours out his fervid soul in poetry; he sways to
+     and fro, he soars, he dives, in his restless speculations;
+     his lips drop eloquence; he touches the canvas, and it glows
+     with beauty; he sweeps the strings, and they thrill with an
+     ecstatic meaning. He looks back into himself, and he reads
+     his own thoughts, and notes them down; he looks out into the
+     universe, and tells over and celebrates the elements and
+     principles of which it is the product."[42]
+
+(The principles of Mass and Coherence in paragraphs are closely allied
+with these same principles regarding sentences. Some further
+discussion of these important matters, as well as more illustrations,
+will be found in the next chapter.)
+
+Good sense must be exercised in the use of parallel constructions.
+Although a short series of sentences containing parallel thoughts is
+common and demands this treatment, it is not at all frequent that one
+has such a long series as these paragraphs contain. In these
+paragraphs the parallel is in the thought; it has not been searched
+out. Because one is pleased with these effects of parallel
+construction, he should not be led to seek for opportunities where he
+can force sentences into similar shapes. The thoughts must be
+parallel. If the thought is actually parallel, a parallel treatment
+may be adopted with great advantage to clearness and force; if it is
+not parallel, any attempt to treat it as such is detected as a shallow
+trick. To search for thoughts to trail along in a series results in
+thinnest bombast. As everywhere else in composition, so here a writer
+must rely on his good taste and good sense.
+
+  Summary.
+
+Whatever may be the special mode of development, of whatever form of
+discourse it is to be a part, the three fundamental principles which
+guide in making a paragraph are Unity, Mass, and Coherence. The unity
+of the paragraph is secured by referring all of the material to the
+topic, including what contributes to the main thought and excluding
+what has no value. Paragraphs excessively long or very short may lead
+to offenses against unity. Mass in a paragraph is gained by placing
+worthy words in the positions of distinction; by treating the more
+important matters at greater length; and, when possible without
+disturbing coherence, by arranging the material in a climax. Coherence
+is secured by keeping together matters related in thought; by a wise
+choice and placing of all words which bind sentences together; and by
+the use of parallel constructions for parallel ideas. Carefully chosen
+material, arranged so that worthy words occupy the positions of
+distinction, and all so skillfully knit together that every sentence,
+every phrase, every word, takes the reader one step toward the
+conclusion,--this constitutes a good paragraph.
+
+
+                         SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS
+
+
+                            THE OLD MANSE.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 69.)
+
+In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 19, what do you think
+of the selection of material? Does the last detail give the finishing
+touch to the paragraph? Is it a real climax?
+
+On page 25 a paragraph begins, "Lightly as," etc. In the second
+sentence "bound volume" goes back to what words in the first sentence?
+"he," of the third, to what of the second? "thus it was" to what
+before?
+
+Now take the paragraph on pages 34 and 35 and trace the connection of
+the sentences, drawing two lines under the phrase from which a
+succeeding sentence springs, and one line under words that refer back
+to a preceding phrase; also trace out the dovetailing in the sentences
+on pages 6 and 7. In the paragraph on pages 18 and 19 the development
+is not so. Each sentence emphasizes "the sombre aspect of external
+nature." What is the law of their arrangement? (See text-book, pages
+181-187.)
+
+Find other paragraphs arranged in this way. (See pages 35, 36.)
+
+What is the topic of the second paragraph?
+
+Can you divide the paragraph filling the middle of page 8? Where?
+
+What is the relation between the first sentence and the last in the
+paragraph at the bottom of page 11? Give the words that join the
+sentences of the paragraph together.
+
+In the paragraph beginning on page 13, what is the purpose of the
+first two sentences?
+
+On page 14, does it seem to you that Hawthorne had forgotten the Old
+Manse enough so that it could be called a digression? or do you think
+that the delightful, rambling character of the essay permits it? Can
+you divide this paragraph on pages 14 and 15? Where?
+
+What figure at the bottom of page 15? Is it the custom to use a
+capital letter in such a case? Has the paragraph in which the figure
+occurs unity? Where could you divide it? Give the topic of both new
+paragraphs.
+
+Of the paragraph on pages 16 and 17, what is the relation of the last
+three sentences to the topic?
+
+What comment would you make upon the last sentence of the paragraph
+ending at the top of page 25?
+
+At the opening of the paragraph beginning on page 29, do you like the
+figure? Trace the relation between the first and second sentences;
+between the second and the third. Could this paragraph be divided?
+
+
+           RIP VAN WINKLE AND THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 51.)
+
+In the paragraph on page 11, what is the relation between the first
+and last sentences? Why is the middle of the paragraph introduced? Is
+it effective?
+
+What method of development is adopted in the next paragraph?
+
+Trace out the connection of the paragraphs in the first five pages of
+this essay. What words at the beginning of each paragraph are
+especially helpful in joining the parts?
+
+On page 13 Irving writes, "Times grew worse and worse for Rip Van
+Winkle," etc. How many paragraphs are given to this topic? Could all
+of them be put into one? Should they? What is the last part of the
+first sentence of this paragraph?
+
+Why are there so few topic sentences in this essay? How did Irving
+know where to paragraph? Give topics of the paragraphs on pages 16,
+17, 18. In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of p. 17, why are the
+clothes of the man mentioned first?
+
+What method of paragraph development is adopted in the paragraph
+beginning in the middle of page 23? Is the last detail important?
+
+From the use on pages 24 and 25, what do you gather as to the rule for
+paragraphing where dialogue is reported?
+
+In the paragraph on page 40, what reason has Irving for saying
+"therefore"? From what sentence does the last of this paragraph arise?
+Do you think the specific closing of the paragraph worthy of the
+position?
+
+When Irving says on page 41 that he was "an odd mixture of small
+shrewdness and simple credulity," did he mean that he was shrewd, or
+that he was not shrewd? Can you find anything in the paragraphs to
+develop the thought that he was shrewd? How many paragraphs are given
+to his simple credulity? Why so many?
+
+In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 42, what advantage is
+there in the exclamatory sentences?
+
+Would it be as well to divide the next paragraph into three sentences?
+Give your reasons. As the paragraph stands, is the sentence loose or
+periodic?
+
+In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 45, what is the
+method of development? Why is the chanticleer mentioned last?
+
+Are Irving's sentences long? Do they seem long? Why, or why not?
+
+What is the relation of the first sentence of the first paragraph on
+page 55 to the last?
+
+What is the topic of the next paragraph? Do you think it would be just
+as well to put the second sentence of this paragraph last?
+
+In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 55, what method of
+development has been used? Why is the "blue jay" mentioned last?
+
+
+                   THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 119.)
+
+Do you think the first paragraph too long? Where can you divide it?
+What is the test of the length of a paragraph?
+
+At the bottom of page 67, do you think the first sentence of the
+paragraph the topic? or is it the last sentence? Give reasons.
+
+Is the detail at the end of the paragraph beginning on the middle of
+page 71 upon the topic of the paragraph? Is it good there? How do you
+know that Usher did not say "him"?
+
+Of the paragraph on page 73, what sentence is the topic?
+
+What proportion of the paragraphs have topic sentences? Have the
+others topics? Give them for the paragraphs on the first five pages.
+
+What method of paragraph development has Poe adopted in the paragraph
+beginning in the middle of page 81? What is the relation between the
+opening and the close of the paragraph? Why is the middle needed?
+
+Do you like the second sentence of the next paragraph? What is there
+disagreeable in it?
+
+As you read along do the paragraphs run into one another? Is such a
+condition good?
+
+
+                            SILAS MARNER.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 83.)
+
+Divide paragraphs on pages 10 and 11. What is the topic of each of the
+new paragraphs?
+
+In the first paragraph of chapter two each sentence grows out of the
+one preceding. Put two lines under the words in each sentence which
+are the source of the next sentence. Draw one line under the words in
+each sentence which refer back to the preceding sentence.
+
+In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 94, what is the topic
+sentence? What relation has the last sentence to the first? What
+method of development in the paragraph?
+
+Can the paragraphs of exposition usually be divided? Do they violate
+unity? If not, upon what principle can you divide them?
+
+What is the tendency in regard to the length of paragraphs in recent
+literature?
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII
+
+                              SENTENCES
+
+
+  Definition and Classification. Simple Sentences.
+
+A sentence is a group of words expressing a complete thought.
+Sentences have been classified as simple, complex, and compound. In
+reality there are but two classes of sentences,--simple and compound.
+It is not material to the construction of a sentence whether a
+modifier be a word, a phrase, or a clause; it still remains an
+adjective, adverb, or noun modifier, and the method in which the
+subject and predicate are developed is the same. By means of
+modifiers, a subject and predicate of but two words may grow to the
+size of a paragraph, and yet be a group of words expressing one
+complete thought.
+
+In the sentence below, the subject and predicate are "we are free."
+This does not, however, express Burke's complete thought. It is not
+what he meant. Free to do what? How free? When may it be done? Why
+now? What bill? All these introduce modifications to the simple
+assertion, "we are free," modifications which are essential to the
+completeness of the thought.
+
+     "By the return of this bill, which seemed to have taken its
+     flight forever, we are at this very instant nearly as free
+     to choose a plan for our American government as we were on
+     the first day of the session."
+
+  Compound Sentences.
+
+On the other hand, the compound sentence is usually said to consist of
+at least two independent clauses; and the very fact of their
+independence, which is only a grammatical independence, to be sure,
+makes the clauses very nearly independent sentences. So near to
+sentences may the clauses be in their independence that some writers
+would make them so. The following group of sentences Kipling certainly
+could have handled in another way. "The reason for her wandering was
+simple enough. Coppy, in a tone of too hastily assumed authority, had
+told her over night that she must not ride out by the river. And she
+had gone to prove her own spirit and teach Coppy a lesson." Certainly
+the last two sentences could be united into a compound sentence, nor
+would it be straining the structure to put all three sentences into
+one. This example is not exceptional. Many similar cases may be found
+in all prose writers; and in Macaulay's writings there are certainly
+occasions when it would be better to unite independent sentences. If
+the fundamental ideas of the two clauses bear certain definite and
+evident relations to each other, they should stand in one compound
+sentence. These evident relations are: first, an assertion and its
+repetition in some other form; second, an assertion and its contrast;
+third, an assertion and its consequence; and fourth, an assertion and
+an example. If the clauses do not bear one of these evident relations
+to each other, they should receive special attention; for they may be
+two separate, independent thoughts requiring for their expression two
+sentences. The following sentences illustrate the common relations
+that may exist between the clauses of a compound sentence.
+
+_Repetition._ "Nothing has a drift or relation; nothing has a
+     promise or history."
+
+     "But the religion most prevalent in our northern colonies is
+     a refinement on the principle of resistance; it is the
+     dissidence of dissent, and the protestantism of the
+     Protestant religion."
+
+_Contrast._ "If the people approve the way in which these
+     authorities are interpreting and using the Constitution,
+     they go on; if the people disapprove, they pause, or at
+     least slacken their pace."
+
+     "Every court is equally bound to pronounce, and competent to
+     pronounce, on such questions, a State court no less than a
+     Federal court; but as all the more important questions are
+     carried by appeal to the supreme Federal court, it is
+     practically that court whose opinion determines them."
+
+_Consequence._ "The British and American line had run near it
+     during the war; it had, _therefore,_ been the scene of
+     marauding, and infested with refugees, cow-boys, and all
+     kinds of border chivalry."
+
+_Example._ "He found favor in the eyes of the mothers by petting
+     the children, particularly the youngest; and like the lion
+     bold, which whilom so magnanimously the lamb did hold, he
+     would sit with a child on one knee, and rock a cradle with
+     his foot for whole hours together."
+
+There is another condition which masses many details into one compound
+sentence. If in narration a writer wishes to give the impression that
+many things are done in a moment of time, and together form one
+incident, he may group many circumstances, nearly independent except
+for the matter of time, into one compound sentence. In description he
+may present groups of details hastily in one sentence, and so give the
+impression of unity. The same thing may be done in exposition. Many
+independent ideas may bear a common relation to another idea, either
+expressed or understood; and in order to get them before the reader as
+one whole, the author may group them in a single sentence. The
+examples below illustrate this method of sentence development.
+
+_Narration._ "For a moment the terror of Hans Van Ripper's wrath
+     passed across his mind, for it was his Sunday saddle; but
+     this was no time for petty fears; the goblin was hard on his
+     haunches; and (unskillful rider that he was!) he had much
+     ado to maintain his seat; sometimes slipping on one side,
+     sometimes on another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge
+     of his horse's backbone, with a violence that he verily
+     feared would cleave him asunder."[43]
+
+_Description._ "In one corner stood a huge bag of wool, ready to
+     be spun; in another, a quantity of linsey-woolsey just from
+     the loom; ears of Indian corn, and strings of dried apples
+     and peaches, hung in gay festoons along the walls, mingled
+     with the gaud of red peppers; and a door left ajar gave him
+     a peep into the best parlor, where the claw-footed chairs
+     and dark mahogany tables shone like mirrors; andirons, with
+     their accompanying shovel and tongs, glistened from their
+     covert of asparagus tops; mock oranges and conch shells
+     decorated the mantelpiece; strings of various-colored birds'
+     eggs were suspended above it; a great ostrich egg was hung
+     from the centre of the room, and a corner cupboard,
+     knowingly left open, displayed immense treasures of old
+     silver and well-mended china."[43]
+
+_Exposition._ "That perfection of the Intellect, which is the
+     result of Education, and its _beau idéal,_ to be imparted to
+     individuals in their respective measures, is the clear,
+     calm, accurate vision and comprehension of all things, as
+     far as the finite mind can embrace them, each in its place,
+     and with its own characteristics upon it. It is almost
+     prophetic from its knowledge of history; it is almost
+     heart-searching from its knowledge of human nature; it has
+     almost supernatural charity from its freedom from littleness
+     and prejudice; it has almost the repose of faith, because
+     nothing can startle it; it has almost the beauty and harmony
+     of heavenly contemplation, so intimate is it with the
+     eternal order of things and the music of the spheres."[44]
+
+(Notice the use of the semicolon in the last two groups of sentences.
+The parts of compound sentences such as these should be separated by
+semicolons.)
+
+  Short Sentences.
+
+Having determined approximately what relations may be grouped in a
+single sentence, the first question for consideration is whether
+sentences should be long or short. This cannot be definitely answered.
+Since they should be concise, the short sentence is well suited for
+definitions. Since a proposition should be announced in as few words
+as can be used, without sacrificing brevity to clearness, short
+sentences serve best for this purpose. As changes in the direction of
+the development of a thought should be quickly indicated, a short
+sentence is generally used for transition. And as at times when the
+mind is under a stress of strong feeling, or the action of a story is
+rapid, all explanatory matters are cut away, the barest statements in
+shortest sentences serve best to express strong emotion and rapid
+action.
+
+  Long Sentences.
+
+Long sentences have the very opposite uses. To amplify a topic, to
+develop a proposition by repetition, by details, by proofs, or by
+example, long sentences are serviceable; by them the finer
+modifications of a thought can be expressed. So, too, a summary of a
+paragraph or a chapter frequently employs long sentences to express
+the whole thought with precision and with proper subordination of
+parts. Again, as short sentences best express haste and intensity, so
+long sentences give the feeling of quiet deliberation and dignified
+calm.
+
+Illustrations of definitions, propositions, transitions, and
+exemplifications are to be found everywhere. Slow movement expressed
+by long sentences is well illustrated in Irving and Hawthorne. One
+selection from George Meredith, to show the peculiar adaptation of the
+short sentence to express intensity of feeling, is given. Richard
+Feverel has just learned that the wife whom he had deserted has borne
+him a son. Description and narration are mingled. The short, nervous
+sentences express both the vividness of his impressions and the
+intensity of his emotions.
+
+     "A pale gray light on the skirts of the flying tempest
+     displayed the dawn. Richard was walking hurriedly. The green
+     drenched woods lay all about his path, bent thick, and the
+     forest drooped glimmeringly. Impelled as a man who feels a
+     revelation mounting obscurely to his brain, Richard was
+     passing one of those little forest-chapels, hung with votive
+     wreaths, where the peasants halt to kneel and pray. Cold,
+     still, in the twilight it stood, rain-drops pattering round
+     it. He looked within, and saw the Virgin holding her Child.
+     He moved not by. But not many steps had he gone before the
+     strength went out of him, and he shuddered. What was it? He
+     asked not. He was in other hands. Vivid as lightning the
+     Spirit of Life illumined him. He felt in his heart the cry
+     of his child, his darling's touch. With shut eyes he saw
+     them both. They drew him from the depths; they led him a
+     blind and tottering man. And as they led him he had a sense
+     of purification so sweet he shuddered again and again."
+
+  Unity.
+
+In a sentence, as in a theme or a paragraph, the first question
+regarding its structure is what to put into it. The germ of a
+paragraph is usually a sentence; of the sentence it is one word or but
+very few words. This kernel of a sentence may be developed through the
+many modifications of the thought; but always the additions must be
+distinctly related to the germ words. If this relation of parts to the
+kernel of the sentence be unmistakable, the sentence has unity; if
+there are parts whose connection with the germ of the sentence cannot
+be easily traced, they should be rejected as belonging to another
+sentence. The pith of the whole sentence can be stated in a few words,
+if the sentence has unity.
+
+Long sentences should be watched. One thing easily suggests another,
+interesting too, it may be; and when an essay is to be written,
+anything,--especially if it have so worthy a quality as interest to
+recommend it,--anything is allowed to go in. Such a sentence as the
+following can be explained on no other principle: "Just then James
+came rushing downstairs like mad to find the fellow who had punched a
+hole in the tire of his bicycle, which was a Columbia which he got two
+years before at a second-hand store, paying for it in work at fifteen
+cents an hour." Plainly everything after "bicycle" is nothing to the
+present purpose and should be excluded. The following from a
+description of Cologne Cathedral is as bad, in some respects, worse;
+for there is one point where the break is so abrupt that a child would
+detect it. "The superintendence was intrusted to Mr. Ahlert, whose
+ideas were not well adapted to inspire him for his grand task, under
+his direction much of the former beauty and artistical skill was lost
+sight of, but at all events it was a great satisfaction to see the
+work go on and to have the expenses defrayed by the State." In this
+case the writer, beyond doubt, thinks long sentences the correct
+thing. Long sentences are necessary at times; but the desire simply to
+write long sentences or to fill up space should never lead one to
+forget that a sentence is the expression of one--not more--of one
+complete thought.
+
+On the other hand, sentences should contain the whole of one thought;
+none of it should run over into another sentence. Strange as it may
+seem, sentences are sometimes found like the following: "James was on
+the whole a bad boy. But he had some redeeming qualities." "The first
+day at school was all new to me. While it was interesting as well."
+"He said that he was going. And that I might go with him." There is no
+ground for an explanation of such errors as these except laziness and
+grossest illiteracy. It is by no device so simple as the insertion of
+a period that man can separate what has been joined in thought. _And_
+and _but_ rarely begin sentences; in nearly all cases it will be found
+that the sentences they purport to connect are but the independent
+clauses of one compound sentence. _While_ or any other subordinating
+conjunction introduces a dependent clause; a dependent clause is not a
+sentence; it can never stand alone.
+
+The offenses against the unity of a sentence are including too much
+and including too little. Both are the result of carelessness or
+inability to think. The purpose, the kernel, the germ of the sentence,
+should be so clearly in mind that every necessary modification of the
+thought shall be included and every unnecessary phrase be excluded.
+Some further suggestions concerning unity are found in the paragraphs
+treating primarily of mass and coherence.
+
+  Mass.
+
+As advance is made in the ability to grasp quickly the thought of a
+book, it becomes more and more evident that the eye must be taken into
+account when arranging the parts of a composition. The eye sees the
+headings of the chapters; it catches the last words of one paragraph
+and the first words of the next; it lights upon the words near the
+periods; so the parts of a composition should be arranged so that
+these points shall contain worthy words. Moreover, within the sentence
+the colon marks the greatest independence of the parts; the semicolon
+comes next; and the comma marks the smallest division of thought.
+Following the guidance of the eye, then, the words before a period
+should be the most important; those near a colon, a semicolon, and a
+comma will have a descending scale of value. A speaker has no
+difficulty with punctuation; unconsciously he pauses with the thought.
+So true is this, that one is inclined to say that if the writer will
+read aloud his own composition, and punctuate where he pauses in the
+reading, always remembering the rank of the marks of punctuation, he
+will not be far from right. It will be noticed that he has paused in
+the reading after important words, as if the thought stayed a moment
+there for the help of the reader. Naturally we pause after important
+words; and conversely, the places of importance in a sentence are near
+the marks of punctuation, increasing from the comma to the period.
+
+  End of a Sentence.
+
+The end of a sentence is more important than the beginning; and the
+difference in value is greater than in a paragraph. In a paragraph the
+opening is very important, generally containing the topic. In a
+sentence, however, the beginning more often has some phrase of
+transition, or some modifier; while it is the end that contains the
+gist of the sentence. This fact makes it imperative that no unworthy
+matter stand at the end. How important a position it is, and how much
+is expected of the final words of a sentence, is evident from the
+effect of failure produced by a sentence that closes with weak words.
+In the following sentences, phrases have been moved from their places;
+the weakness is apparent.
+
+     Abstract liberty is not to be found; and this is true of
+     other mere abstractions.
+
+     This is a persuasion built upon liberty, and not only
+     favorable to it.
+
+     I pass, therefore, to their agriculture, another point of
+     view.
+
+Of course Burke never wrote such sentences as these. However,
+sentences like them can be found in school compositions.
+
+     "Lincoln's character is worthy to be any young man's ideal;
+     having in it much to admire."
+
+     "Euclid Avenue, with its broad lawns, and with Wade Park as
+     the fitting climax of its spacious beauty, is the most
+     attractive driveway in the United States, which is saying a
+     good deal."
+
+     "Minnesota has many beautiful lakes; Mille Lacs, fringed
+     with dark pines; Osakis, with its beach of glistening sand;
+     Minnetonka, skirted by a lovely boulevard bordered by cool
+     lawns and cosy cottages; and many others not so big."
+
+Such sentences as these are not uncommon. Their ruin is wrought by the
+closing words. Watch for trailing relatives, dangling participles, and
+straggling generalities at the end of sentences. The end of a sentence
+is a position of distinction; it should be held by words of
+distinction.
+
+So influential is position in a sentence that by virtue of it a word
+or a clause of equal rank with others can be made to take on a certain
+added authority. By observing the end of a sentence, a reader can
+determine what was uppermost in the mind of an author careful of these
+things. In the following sentence as it was written by Burke the
+emphasis is on the duration of the time; but by a change of position
+it is put upon the fact. "Refined policy ever has been the parent of
+confusion; and ever will be so, as long as the world endures."
+Changing the last clause it reads, "and, as long as the world endures,
+ever will be so." This is not weak; but the stress is not where Burke
+placed it. The position of the words gives them an importance that
+does not inhere in the words themselves.
+
+  Effect of Anti-climax.
+
+Still, as the tenure of a place of distinction cannot save a fool from
+the reputation of folly, position in a sentence cannot redeem empty
+words from their truly insipid character. Indeed, as the imbecility of
+a shallow pate is made all the more apparent by a position of
+distinction, so is the utter unfitness of certain words for their
+position painfully manifest. This is the secret of anti-climax. By
+reason of its very position in a sentence, the last phrase should be
+distinguished; instead the position is held by a silly nothing.
+Disappointing anti-climaxes, like those already cited, are frequently
+made by young writers; and they are sometimes met with in the works of
+the best authors. The following sentence is from Newman: from the
+point of view of an ardent churchman, it may be a climax; but from the
+point of view of the general reader who considers the whole greater
+than any of its parts, in spite of all the sense preceding the final
+phrase, that is absurd and disappointing nonsense.
+
+     "I protest to you, gentlemen, that if I had to choose
+     between a so-called university, which dispensed with
+     residence and tutorial superintendence, and gave its degrees
+     to any person who passed an examination in a wide range of
+     subjects, and a university which had no professors and
+     examinations at all, but merely brought a number of young
+     men together for three or four years, and then sent them
+     away as the University of Oxford is said to have done some
+     sixty years since, if I were asked which of these methods
+     was the better discipline of the intellect,--mind, I do not
+     say which is _morally_ the better, for it is plain that
+     compulsory study must be a good and idleness an intolerable
+     mischief,--but if I must determine which of the two courses
+     was the more successful in training, moulding, and enlarging
+     the mind, which sent out men the more fitted for their
+     secular duties, which produced better public men, men of the
+     world, men whose names would descend to posterity, I have no
+     hesitation in giving the preference to that university which
+     did nothing, over that which exacted an acquaintance with
+     every science under the sun. And, paradox as this may seem,
+     still if results be the test of systems, the influence of
+     the public schools and colleges of England, in the course of
+     the last century, at least will bear out one side of the
+     contrast as I have drawn it. What could come, on the other
+     hand, of the ideal systems of education which have
+     fascinated the imagination of this age, could they ever take
+     effect, and whether they would not produce a generation
+     frivolous, narrow-minded, and resourceless, intellectually
+     considered, is a fair subject for debate; but so far is
+     certain, that the universities and scholastic
+     establishments, to which I refer, and which did little more
+     than bring together first boys and then youths in large
+     numbers, these institutions, with miserable deformities on
+     the side of morals, with a hollow profession of
+     Christianity, and a heathen code of ethics,--I say, at
+     least, they can boast of a succession of heroes and
+     statesmen, of literary men and philosophers, of men
+     conspicuous for great natural virtues, for habits of
+     business, for knowledge of life, for practical judgment, for
+     cultivated tastes, for accomplishments, who have made
+     England what it is,--able to subdue the earth, _able to
+     domineer over Catholics._"[45]
+
+  Use of Climax.
+
+From what has been said, it is evident that the parts of a sentence,
+as far as may be, should be arranged in a climax. The climax should be
+in the thought, with a corresponding increase in the weight of the
+phrases. If the thoughts increase in importance, the words that
+express them should increase in number. The number of words in the
+treatment bears a pretty constant ratio to the importance of the
+subject treated. The paragraph quoted from Newman is an excellent
+illustration of the use of climax,--until it comes to that last
+phrase. Note in the first sentence the repetition of the condition,
+three times repeated. Change the second to the third and see how
+different it is. Then he has "public men, men of the world, men whose
+names would descend to posterity,"--a steady increase in the thought,
+and a corresponding increase in the length of phrases. The last
+sentence contains a fine example of climax. "Of heroes and statesmen,
+of literary men and philosophers, of men conspicuous for great natural
+virtues, for habits of business, for knowledge of life, for practical
+judgment, for cultivated tastes, for accomplishments, who have made
+England what it is,--able to subdue the earth." Climax is the
+arrangement that produces the effect of vigorous strength. In
+arranging a succession of modifiers, so far as possible without
+breaking some other more important principle, a writer will gain in
+force if he seeks for climax.
+
+  Loose and Periodic.
+
+Sentences are divided into two classes: loose and periodic. A loose
+sentence may be broken at some point before the end, and up to that
+point be grammatically a complete sentence. An arrangement of the
+parts of a sentence that suspends the meaning until the close is
+called periodic. The periodic sentence is generally so massed that the
+end contains words of distinction, and the sentence forms a climax.
+Not all climaxes are periods; but nearly all periods are climaxes.
+
+  The Period.
+
+The philosophy of the periodic sentence has been best stated by
+Herbert Spencer. He starts with the axiom that the whole amount of
+attention a reader can give at any moment is limited and fixed. A
+reader must give a part of it to merely acquiring the meaning; the
+remainder of his attention he can give to the thought itself. In
+reading Cicero the pupil has to put a large part of his attention upon
+the vocabulary, upon the order and construction of the words; the
+barest fragment of attention he can bestow upon the thought of the
+great orator. So when the reader attacks one of Browning's most
+involved and obscure passages, he is kept from the thought by the
+difficulties in the language. As it is the purpose of language to
+convey thought, and as it is usually the wish of an author to be
+understood, he should use up as little as possible of the reader's
+limited attention for the mere acquisition of the thought, and leave
+the reader as much as he can to put upon the meaning. In applying this
+to sentences, the question is, which form of sentence demands least
+effort to get at its meaning: the periodic sentence, which suspends
+the meaning to the end; or the loose sentence, which may be broken at
+several points and gives its meaning in installments? The old example
+is as good as any: shall we say as the French do, a horse black; or
+shall we say as the English do, a black horse? for in the arrangement
+of these three words there lies the difference between a loose and a
+periodic sentence. Consider the French order first. When a person
+hears the words "a horse," he at once thinks of the horse he knows
+best; that is, generally, a bay horse. When the word "black" follows,
+the whole image has to be changed from the bay horse he knows to the
+black horse he has occasionally seen. There has been a waste of
+attention. On the other hand, when the words "a black" are heard, the
+mind constructs no image; it waits until the noun modified is spoken.
+Then the whole image springs up at once; it is correct and it needs no
+remodeling. The following sentence illustrates the point. "I am
+wasting time" is the beginning. It would be difficult to enumerate the
+many thoughts suggested by these words; each person has his own idea
+of wasting time. When the rest of the sentence is added, "trying to
+learn my geometry lesson," the whole has to be reconstructed. On the
+other hand the periodic statement suspends the meaning to the end.
+There is no place where, without additions to the words used, the mind
+can rest. "Trying to learn a geometry lesson is for me a waste of
+time." Theoretically the periodic sentence is better than the loose
+sentence; for it economizes attention.
+
+There is another side to the question, however. If the details be
+many, and if each be long, they would be more than the mind could
+carry without great effort; and instead of economy of attention, there
+is improvident waste. The mind will carry a long, carefully arranged
+period at intervals; but a succession of periods is sure to result in
+its absolute refusal to do so any longer. There is a limit to the
+length of a period that economizes attention; and there is a limit to
+the number of successive periods which a reader can endure.
+
+  Periodic and Loose combined.
+
+There is another form of sentence, which combines the loose and the
+periodic. It generally begins with the periodic form and sustains this
+until it is better to relieve the mind of the stress, when the period
+ends or the loose structure begins; and the sentence may as a whole be
+periodic while containing parts that are loose. This kind of sentence
+is a common form for long sentences. It gives to prose much of the
+dignity of the period, together with the familiarity of the loose
+sentence.
+
+The sentence below may be changed, by putting the last clause first,
+to a loose sentence; and by placing it after the word "subject" it
+becomes mixed.
+
+     "By all persons who have written of the subject, for the
+     grandeur of its mountains and the deep quiet of its green
+     valleys for the leaping torrents of its foaming rivers and
+     blue calm of its crag-walled lakes, Switzerland has been
+     named 'the Paradise of Europe.'"
+
+The following paragraph from Burke contains examples of loose,
+periodic, and mixed sentences:--
+
+     "To restore order and repose to an empire so great and so
+     distracted as, ours, is, merely in the attempt, an
+     undertaking that would ennoble the flights of the highest
+     genius, and obtain pardon for the efforts of the meanest
+     understanding. Struggling a good while with these thoughts,
+     by degrees I felt myself more firm. I derived, at length,
+     some confidence from what in other circumstances usually
+     produces timidity. I grew less anxious, even from the idea
+     of my own insignificance. For, judging of what you are by
+     what you ought to be, I persuaded myself that you would not
+     reject a reasonable proposition because it had nothing but
+     its reason to recommend it. On the other hand, being totally
+     destitute of all shadow of influence, natural or
+     adventitious, I was very sure that, if my proposition were
+     futile or dangerous--if it were weakly conceived, or
+     improperly timed,--there was nothing exterior to it of power
+     to awe, dazzle, or delude you. You will see it just as it
+     is; and you will treat it just as it deserves."[46]
+
+  Which shall be used?
+
+Which shall be used, loose sentences or periodic? In literature the
+loose more frequently occur. They are informal and conversational, and
+are especially suited to letter-writing, story-telling, and the light
+essay. The period is formal; it has the air of preparation. The
+oration, the formal essay, well-wrought argument,--forms of literature
+where preparation is expected,--may use the period with good effect.
+It has a finish, a scholarly refinement, not found in the loose
+sentence; and yet a series of periods would be as much out of place in
+a letter as a court regalia at a downtown restaurant. The loose
+sentence is easy, informal, and familiar; the periodic is stiff,
+artificial, and aristocratic. To use none but loose sentences gives a
+composition an air of familiarity even to the verge of vulgarity; to
+employ only periodic sentences induces a feeling of stiff
+artificiality bordering on bombast. The fitness of each for its
+purpose is the guide for its use.
+
+There is, however, a reason why young persons should be encouraged to
+use periodic sentences. Usually they compose short sentences, so there
+is little danger of overburdening the reader's attention. With this
+danger removed, the result of the generous use of periodic sentences
+will be nothing worse than a too obvious preparation. The sentences
+will all be finished to a degree, and unquestionably will give a
+feeling of artificiality. However, the attention to sentence-structure
+necessary in order to make it periodic is a thing devoutly to be
+wished at this stage of growth. No other fault is so common in
+sentence-construction as carelessness. A theme will be logically
+outlined, a paragraph carefully planned, but a sentence,--anybody
+standing on one foot can make a sentence. A well-turned sentence is a
+work of art, and it is never made in moments when the writer "didn't
+think." The end must be seen at the beginning: else it does not end;
+it plays out. There is no other remedy for careless, slipshod
+sentence-making so effective as the construction of many periodic
+sentences.
+
+Not only will there be care in the arrangement of the material, but
+when all details must be introduced before the principal thought,
+there will be little chance of any phrase slipping into the sentence
+that does not in truth belong there. Dangling participles, trailing
+relatives, and straggling generalities can find no chance to hang on
+to a periodic sentence. Every detail must be a real and necessary
+modification of the germ thought of the sentence, else it can hardly
+be forced in. Periodic sentences, then, besides insuring a careful
+finish to the work, are also a safeguard against the introduction of
+irrelevant material,--the commonest offense against sentence-unity.
+
+  Emphasis by Change of Order.
+
+Closely connected with the emphasis gained by the periodic arrangement
+of the parts of a sentence is the emphasis gained by forcing words out
+of their natural order. In a sentence the points which arrest the eye
+and the attention are the beginning and the end. However, if the
+subject stands first and the words of the predicate in their natural
+order, there is no more emphasis upon them than these important
+elements of a sentence ordinarily deserve. To emphasize either it is
+necessary to force it out of its natural position. "George next went
+to Boston," is the natural order of this sentence. Supposing, however,
+that a writer wished to emphasize the fact that it was George who went
+next, not James or Fred, he could do it by forcing the word "George"
+from its present natural position to a position unnatural. He could
+write, "It was George who next went to Boston," or, "The next to go to
+Boston was George." Forcing the subject toward the position usually
+occupied by the predicate emphasizes the subject. This is similar to
+the emphasis given by the period. "It was George" is so far periodic,
+followed by the loose structure; and the last arrangement is quite
+periodic. Every device for throwing the subject back into the sentence
+makes the sentence up to the point where the subject is introduced
+periodic; this arrangement throws the emphasis forward to the word
+that closes the period.
+
+Other parts of a sentence may be emphasized by being placed out of
+their natural order. In the natural order, adjectives and adverbs
+precede the words they modify; conditional and concessive clauses
+precede the clauses they modify; an object follows a verb; and
+prepositional phrases and adjective clauses follow the words they
+modify. These rules are general. Moving a part of a sentence from this
+general order usually emphasizes it. "George went to Boston next"
+emphasizes a little the time; but "Next George went to Boston" places
+great emphasis on the time. So "It was to Boston that George went
+next" emphasizes the place. "Went" cannot be so dealt with. It seems
+irrevocably fixed that in a prose declarative sentence the verb shall
+never stand first. It is not allowed by good use.
+
+The rearrangement of the following sentence illustrates the emphasis
+given by putting words out of their natural order:--
+
+     The strong and swarthy sailors of the Patria slowly rowed
+     the party to the shore.
+
+     The sailors of the Patria, strong and swarthy, slowly rowed
+     the party to the shore.
+
+     Slowly the strong and swarthy sailors of the Patria rowed
+     the party to the shore.
+
+     Of the steamer Patria, the sailors, strong and swarthy,
+     rowed the party to the shore.
+
+To show the arrangement of clauses the following will be sufficient:--
+
+     He cannot make advancement, even if he studies hard.
+
+     Even if he studies hard, he cannot make advancement.
+
+
+     "Your Irish pensioners would starve, if they had no other
+     fund to live on than the taxes granted by English
+     authority."
+
+     If they had no other fund to live on than the taxes granted
+     by English authority, your Irish pensioners would starve.
+
+The latter arrangement emphasizes the conclusion much more than the
+former; at the same time it subordinates the condition. Burke wished
+the emphasis to be upon the condition; he placed it after the
+conclusion.
+
+  Subdue Unimportant Elements.
+
+Emphasis is gained by placing words in important positions in a
+sentence by arranging the parts to form a climax; by the use of the
+period; by forcing words out of their natural order. It is also gained
+by the subdual of parts not important. This emphasis is a matter of
+relative intensity. The beauty and strength of any artistic product
+depend as much upon the subdual of the accessories as upon the
+intensifying of the necessaries. In order to get the emphasis upon
+certain phrases, it is necessary to subordinate other phrases. In the
+talk of a child every thought phrases itself as a simple sentence. Not
+until it grows to youth does the child recognize that there is a
+difference in values, and adopt means for expressing it. To grasp
+firmly the principal idea and then subdue all other ideas is an
+elegant way of emphasizing.
+
+The subdual of parts is accomplished by reducing to subordinate
+clauses, to phrases, to words, some of the ideas which in a child's
+talk would be expressed in sentences. A thought of barely enough
+importance to be mentioned should be squeezed into a word. If it
+deserves more notice, perhaps a prepositional phrase will express it.
+A participial phrase will often serve for a clause or a sentence. A
+subordinate clause may be needed if the thought is of great
+importance. And last, if it deserves such a distinction, the thought
+may demand an independent clause or a sentence for itself. If the
+following sentence be broken into bits as a child would tell it, the
+nice effects of emphasis which Irving has given it are ruined:--
+
+     "When the dance was at an end, Ichabod was attracted to a
+     knot of the sager folks, who, with old Van Tassel, sat
+     smoking at one end of the piazza, gossiping over former
+     times, and drawing out long stories about the war."[47]
+
+Put into simple sentences, it would be like this: The dance was at an
+end. Ichabod was attracted to a knot of folks. The folks were older.
+They sat at the end of the piazza. Old Van Tassel was with them. They
+were smoking, etc.
+
+In such sentences, nothing is emphatic; it is all alike. In Irving's
+sentences, where ideas are reduced to clause, phrase, even a word,
+there is no question about what is important and what is unimportant.
+He has secured an exquisite emphasis by a discriminating subdual of
+subordinate ideas.
+
+This brings up the sentences by Kipling already quoted on page 201.
+The author has used three independent sentences. They can be written
+as one, thus: The reason of her wandering was simple enough; for
+Coppy, in a tone of too-hastily-assumed authority, had told her over
+night that she must not ride out by the river, and she had gone to
+prove her own spirit and teach Coppy a lesson.
+
+There is a reason, however, why Kipling wished that last sentence to
+stand alone. Subordinated as it is here rewritten, it does not half
+express the spiteful independence she assumed to teach Coppy a lesson.
+It needs the independent construction. Just as surely as Kipling is
+right in putting the reasons into two sharp, independent sentences, is
+Irving right when he puts the reason in the following sentence into a
+subordinate clause. It is not important enough to deserve a sentence
+all by itself.
+
+     "He was, moreover, esteemed by the women as a man of great
+     erudition, for he had read several books quite through, and
+     was a perfect master of Cotton Mather's 'History of New
+     England Witchcraft,' in which, by the way, he most firmly
+     and potently believed."
+
+In the following sentence the effect of subordination is
+unmistakable:--
+
+     "He had a name in the village for brutally misusing the ass;
+     yet it is certain that he shed a tear _which_ made a clean
+     mark down one cheek."
+
+Now read it again:--
+
+     "He had a name in the village for brutally misusing the ass;
+     yet it is certain that he shed a tear, _and the tear_ made a
+     clean mark down one cheek."
+
+The last clause has burst away from its former submission, and in its
+independence has made the most important announcement of the
+sentence,--the witty climax. Emphasis is, to a large degree, a matter
+of position, but position cannot emancipate any clause from the
+thralldom of subordination. To emphasize one idea, subordinate
+ancillary ideas; make them take their proper rank in the sentence.
+Reduce them to a clause or to a phrase; and if a word justly expresses
+the relative importance of the thought, reduce its expression to a
+single word.
+
+  The Dynamic Point of a Sentence.
+
+In the chapter on paragraphs it was said that one sentence is often
+the source of the succeeding sentence; that such a sentence seemed to
+be charged like a Leyden jar, and to discharge its whole power through
+a single word or phrase; and further, that this word or phrase should
+be left free to act,--it should be uncovered. How a sentence can be
+arranged so that this word or phrase shall have the prominence it
+deserves, and can unhindered transmit the undiminished force of one
+sentence to the next, has now been explained. First, such words can be
+made dynamic by placing them at the beginning or the end of a
+sentence; second, by placing them near the major marks of punctuation;
+third, by forcing them from their natural order; and fourth, by the
+subdual of the other parts of the sentence. The greatest care in
+massing sentences so that none of their power be lost in transmission
+is one of the secrets of the literature that carries the reader
+irresistibly forward. Sometimes he may be annoyed by the repetition of
+phrases; but he cannot get away; he must go forward. In the paragraph
+below, quoted from Matthew Arnold, every phrase that is the point from
+which the next sentence springs is in a position where it can act
+untrammeled. Through it the whole force of the sentence passes:--
+
+     "It will be said that it is a very subtle and indirect
+     action which I am thus prescribing for criticism, and that,
+     by embracing in this manner the Indian virtue of detachment
+     and abandoning the sphere of practical life, it condemns
+     itself as a slow and obscure work. Slow and obscure it may
+     be, but it is the only proper work of criticism. The mass of
+     mankind will never have any ardent zeal for seeing things as
+     they are; very inadequate ideas will satisfy them. On these
+     inadequate ideas reposes, and must repose, the general
+     practice of the world. That is as much as saying that
+     whoever sets himself to see things as they are will find
+     himself one of a very small circle; but it is only by this
+     small circle resolutely doing its own work that adequate
+     ideas will ever get current at all. The rush and uproar of
+     practical life will always have a dizzying and attracting
+     effect upon the most collected spectator, and tend to draw
+     him into its vortex; most of all will this be the case where
+     that life is so powerful as it is in England. But it is only
+     by remaining collected, and refusing to lend himself to the
+     point of view of the practical man, that the critic can do
+     the practical man any service; and it is only by the
+     greatest sincerity in pursuing his own course, and by at
+     last convincing even the practical man of his sincerity,
+     that he can escape misunderstandings which perpetually
+     threaten him."[48]
+
+  Good Use.
+
+Good use has been mentioned. In massing the parts of a sentence for
+the purpose of emphasizing some idea, a writer has not entire freedom.
+Good use, which is the use of acknowledged masters, decides what may
+be done. There are certain arrangements of words to which we are
+accustomed; and the disregard of them leads to obscurity or downright
+contrariety in the thought. "Brutus stabbed Cæsar" is the common
+order; "Brutus Cæsar stabbed," or "Stabbed Brutus Cæsar," is obscure;
+while "Cæsar stabbed Brutus" is the very opposite of the truth. Those
+who have studied Latin know that as far as understanding the sentence
+is concerned, it would make no difference in which order the three
+Latin words should be arranged; though it would make a mighty
+difference in the emphasis. In Latin the case endings determine the
+construction of the words. In an inflected language the words may be
+massed almost to suit the writer; in an uninflected language, within
+certain limits the order determines the relation between groups of
+words. Though for emphasis it might be advisable to have the object
+first, for the sake of clearness in a short sentence the object cannot
+stand first. The primary consideration in making any piece of
+literature is that it may be understood. To be understood, the
+sentence must be arranged in the order to which we are accustomed. The
+order to which we are accustomed has been determined by good use.
+
+The variety in the arrangement of the parts of a sentence that has
+been sanctioned by good usage is great, yet there are limits. Grammar
+is based upon the usage of the best writers. Any offense against the
+grammar of our language is a sin against good use. Browning may use
+constructions so erratic that the ordinary reader does not know what
+he is reading about; Carlyle may forge a new word rather than take the
+trouble to find one that other people have used. But the young writer,
+at least, is far safer while keeping within the limits of good use.
+
+  Clearness gained by Coherence.
+
+Coherence in a sentence is that principle of structure by which its
+parts are best arranged to stick together. The parts of a sentence
+containing related ideas should be so associated that there can be no
+mistake regarding the reference or the modification. Such a sentence
+as the following cannot be understood; the reference is obscure.
+"James told him that he did not see what he was to do in the matter."
+If the reader were sure of the first "he," he could not come nearer
+than a guess at the reference of the second "he." The third personal
+pronoun--he, she, it--in all its cases is especially uncertain in its
+references.
+
+The first sentence below is from an English grammar. The second is
+from a recently published biography. Both are obscure in the reference
+of the pronouns.
+
+     "When 'self' is added to a pronoun of the First and Second
+     person, it is preceded by the Possessive case. But when it
+     is added to a pronoun of the Third person, it is preceded by
+     a pronoun in the Objective case."
+
+     "I am reminded of Swinburne's view of Providence when he
+     said that he never saw an old gentleman give a sixpence to a
+     beggar, but he was straightway run over by a 'bus."
+
+The relative pronoun is also uncertain in its references.
+
+     Some Southerners were among the ship's passengers, of whom a
+     few had served in the Rebellion. (Obscure reference.)
+
+     Red lights were displayed in a peculiar succession, which
+     warned of impending storm. (No antecedent.)
+
+To make the reference of pronouns, personal and relative, distinct,
+the antecedent must be made prominent; sometimes the only way out of
+the difficulty is a repetition of the antecedent. And the pronoun
+should stand near the word to which it refers. Keep associated ideas
+together.
+
+Like pronouns in the uncertainty of their reference are participles.
+Either the subject is not expressed, or it is uncertain.
+
+     Hastening up the steps, the door opened. (None.)
+
+     Coming from the spring, with a pail of water in either hand,
+     he saw her for the first time. (Uncertain.)
+
+Adverbs are sometimes placed so that they make a sentence ridiculous;
+and frequently their meaning is lost by being separated from the words
+they modify. "Only" is a word to be watched. Like adverbs are
+correlative conjunctions. They are frequently so placed that they do
+not join the elements they were intended to unite.
+
+     He seized the young girl as she rose from the water almost
+     roughly.
+
+     I think I hardly shall.
+
+     I only went as far as the gate.
+
+    "Who shall say, of us who know only of rest and peace by
+     toil and strife?"
+
+     He not only learned algebra readily but also Latin.
+
+Phrases and clauses may lose their reference by being removed from the
+words they modify.
+
+     Toiling up the hill, he arrived at Hotel Bellevue through a
+     drizzling rain.
+
+     Addison rose to a post which dukes, the heads of the great
+     houses of Talbot, Russell, and Bentinck, have thought it an
+     honor to fill without high birth, and with little property.
+
+     "Fred was liked well; but he had the habit of that class
+     that cannot get the English Language in the right order when
+     a little excited."
+
+All the classes of errors which have been exemplified here are due to
+the infringement of one rule: things that belong together in thought
+should stand together in composition. Nothing should be allowed to
+come between a pronoun, an adjective, an adverb, a correlative, a
+phrase, or a clause, and the word it modifies. Sometimes other
+modifiers have to be taken into account: where more than one word or
+phrase modifies the same word, a trial will have to be made to arrange
+them so that there shall be no obscurity or absurdity. Keep related
+ideas together; keep unrelated ideas apart.
+
+  Parallel Construction.
+
+The second principle which helps to make the relation of parts clear
+is parallel construction. It has already been explained in paragraphs.
+In sentences the commonest errors are in linking an infinitive with a
+gerund, a participle with a verb, an active with a passive voice, a
+phrase with a clause. The result is sentences like the following:--
+
+     You cannot persuade him to go and into buying what he does
+     not want.
+
+     Thus he spoke, and turning to the door.
+
+     The king began to force the collection of duties, and an
+     army was sent by him to execute his wishes.
+
+     He was resolved to use patience and that he would often
+     exercise charity.
+
+Such sentences are offensive to the ear; and were they as long as the
+ones below, they would not be clear.
+
+     "You cannot persuade them _to burn_ their books of curious
+     science; _to banish_ their lawyers from their courts of
+     laws; or _to quench_ the lights of their assemblies by
+     refusing to choose those persons who are best read in their
+     privileges."
+
+     "For though rebellion is declared, it _is_ not _proceeded
+     against_ as such, nor _have_ any steps _been taken_ towards
+     the apprehension or conviction of any individual offender,
+     either on our late or our former Address; but modes of
+     public coercion _have been adopted,_ and such as have much
+     more resemblance to a sort of qualified hostility towards an
+     independent power than the punishment of rebellious
+     subjects."
+
+     "My Resolutions therefore mean TO ESTABLISH the equity and
+     justice of a taxation of America by grant and not by
+     imposition; TO MARK the legal competency of the colony
+     Assemblies for the support of their government in peace, and
+     for public aids in time of war; TO ACKNOWLEDGE _that this
+     legal competency has had_ a dutiful and beneficial exercise;
+     and _that experience has shown_ the benefit of their grants,
+     and the futility of Parliamentary taxation as a method of
+     supply."[49]
+
+In the second sentence Burke has used a passive voice when it would
+certainly be more elegant to change to the active. "Is proceeded
+against" is surely awkward, but for uniformity and resulting clearness
+he has retained the passive. In the last sentence the infinitives "to
+establish," "to mark," and "to acknowledge" are in the same
+construction; they are objects of "mean." Then comes a change of form
+to show that the clauses "that this legal competency has had," etc.,
+and "that experience has shown," etc., are in a like relation to the
+infinitive "to acknowledge." Though the last clause by reason of the
+punctuation looks correlative with the others, it is not related as
+object to the verb "mean," as the others are, but it is the object of
+"to acknowledge." There could hardly be a better example of the value
+of parallel constructions for the purpose of avoiding confusion, and
+linking together parts that are related.
+
+  Balanced Sentences.
+
+Parallel constructions are used in balanced sentences. In balanced
+sentences one part is balanced against another,--a noun and a noun, an
+adjective and an adjective, phrase and phrase. Balanced sentences are
+especially suited to express antithesis, the figure of speech where
+two ideas are sharply opposed to each other. In the following from
+Newman, the balancing is admirable: "Inebriated with the cup of
+insanity, and flung upon the stream of recklessness, she dashes down
+the cataract of nonsense and whirls amid the pools of confusion." This
+is not antithesis, however; but the following from Macaulay is: "She
+seems to have written about the Elizabethan age, because she had read
+much about it; she seems, on the other hand, to have read a little
+about the age of Addison, because she had determined to write about
+it."
+
+The danger in the use of balanced sentences is excess. Macaulay is
+very fond of brilliant contrasts. _But_ is a very common word with
+him. In some cases the reader feels that for the sake of the figure he
+has forced the truth. Balanced sentences are palpably artificial, and
+should be used but sparingly.
+
+There is, however, but little danger of overdoing the parallel
+construction where there is no antithesis. The parts of succeeding
+sentences do not resemble each other so much in thought that there is
+great danger of resulting monotony in its expression. However, should
+the difficulty arise, the monotony may be broken up by a trifling
+variation. Macaulay has done this well in the sentences quoted on page
+186, beginning with the words, "For his sake empires had risen, and
+flourished, and decayed," and continuing to the end of the paragraph.
+
+  Use of Connectives.
+
+The third method of securing coherence in a sentence is by the use of
+connectives. The skillful use of prepositions and conjunctions
+indicates a master of words. The use of connectives has been discussed
+when treating of emphasis secured by subdual of unimportant details.
+Such parts are connected, and in a very definite way. The relations
+are evident. Two examples will illustrate. The first group of
+sentences are the fragments of but one of Irving's.
+
+     He did not look to the right or left. He did not notice the
+     scene. The scene was of rural wealth. He had often gloated
+     on this scene. He went straight to the stable. He kicked and
+     cuffed his steed several times, and so forth.
+
+Now note the value of prepositions in giving these separate sentences
+coherence.
+
+     "Without looking to the right or left to notice the scene of
+     rural wealth, on which he had so often gloated, he went
+     straight to the stable, and with several hearty cuffs and
+     kicks roused his steed most unceremoniously from the
+     comfortable quarters in which he was soundly sleeping,
+     dreaming of mountains of corn and oats, and whole valleys of
+     timothy and clover."
+
+The next also is from Irving, and shows the skillful use of
+conjunctions to point out unerringly the relation of the clauses in a
+sentence.
+
+     "What seemed particularly odd to Rip was that, though these
+     folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained
+     the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were,
+     withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever
+     witnessed."
+
+Coherence, the principle of structure that surely holds the parts of a
+sentence together, is of greater importance than Mass. Upon Coherence
+depends the meaning of a sentence; upon Mass the force with which the
+meaning is expressed. That the meaning may be clear, it is necessary
+that the relation of the parts shall be perfectly evident. This
+lucidity is gained by placing related parts near together, and
+conversely, by separating unrelated ideas; by using parallel
+constructions for parallel thoughts; and by indicating relations by
+the correct use of prepositions and conjunctions.
+
+To summarize, sentences are the elements of discourse. The ability of
+a sentence to effect with certainty its purpose depends upon Unity,
+Mass, and Coherence. A sentence must contain all that is needed to
+express the whole thought, but it must contain no more. A sentence
+must be arranged so that its important parts shall be prominent.
+Position and proportion are the means of emphasis in a sentence. By
+placing the important words near the major marks of punctuation, by
+arranging the parts in a climax or a period, by forcing words out of
+the natural order, and by subduing unimportant details, a sentence is
+massed to give the important elements their relative emphasis. Last,
+the parts of a sentence should be arranged so that their relations
+shall be clear and unmistakable. Proximity of related parts, parallel
+construction for parallel ideas, and connectives are the surest means
+of securing Coherence in a sentence.
+
+
+                         SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS
+
+
+                            SILAS MARNER.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 83.)
+
+On page 18 put together the sentence beginning "Every man's work,"
+etc., with the next. What connective and what punctuation will you
+use? What is the difference in effect? What one of the relations of a
+compound sentence does the second part bear to the first?
+
+On page 26 could you make two sentences of the sentence beginning,
+"Raveloe lay low among the bushy trees"? Would it be as well? Would it
+be better?
+
+On page 35 do the three parts of the compound sentence beginning, "He
+would have liked," etc., belong to one sentence? Which one?
+
+Is it right to say, "He would have liked to spring," or would it be
+better to say, "He would have liked to have sprung"?
+
+Do you think colons are used too frequently in Silas Marner? Compare
+their use with their use in Hawthorne's Stories and Irving's Sketches.
+
+In the sentence beginning, "Let him live," etc., at the bottom of page
+94, is "a possible state of mind in some possible person not yet
+forthcoming," a climax or an anti-climax? Why?
+
+At the bottom of page 183 why was it necessary to crowd so much into
+one sentence?
+
+
+                     MACAULAY'S ESSAY ON MILTON.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 103.)
+
+Re-write the sentence on page 33 beginning, "Of all poets," etc.,
+making it loose. Is it better or worse?
+
+Why does "here" stand first in the next sentence?
+
+What poets with whom you are familiar have philosophized too much?
+
+Is the first sentence of the paragraph beginning in the middle of page
+36 periodic or loose?
+
+How many periodic sentences in this paragraph?
+
+In the paragraph on pages 37 and 38 trace the relation of the
+succeeding sentences.
+
+At the bottom of page 45 what is the reason for putting first in the
+sentence, "of those principles"? What do you think of the massing of
+the whole sentence? What has been made emphatic?
+
+Note the last two sentences at the end of the paragraph on page 58. Is
+their arrangement effective? Change one. What is the effect? (See also
+the middle of page 64.)
+
+On page 60 why did he not say, "She grovels like a beast, she hisses
+like a serpent, she stings like a scorpion"?
+
+What arrangement of clauses in the first sentence in the paragraph
+beginning at the bottom of page 66? Does it add clearness?
+
+In the same paragraph find a balanced sentence.
+
+What advantage is there in the short sentences on page 68?
+
+In the first sentence of the paragraph, beginning on page 71, read one
+of the clauses, "by whom king, church, and aristocracy were trampled
+down." What is the effect of the change?
+
+Is the parallel construction in the last sentence beginning on page 77
+good? Is it good in the last sentence of this paragraph?
+
+In the next paragraph, why is Macaulay's way better than this: "He was
+neither Puritan, free thinker, nor royalist"?
+
+When a sentence is introduced by a participial phrase or a dependent
+clause it is in part or wholly periodic. Does Macaulay frequently use
+this introduction? What is the effect upon his style?
+
+Can you find examples of sentences beginning with a loose structure,
+and having within them examples of the periodic structure?
+
+In the paragraph filling pages 79 and 80 there are many examples of
+periodic and parallel structure. Contrast this paragraph with some of
+Lamb's paragraphs.
+
+What is the effect of position upon the phrase, "Even in his hands,"
+on page 67?
+
+When Macaulay inverts the order of a sentence does he usually do it
+for emphasis or to secure coherence?
+
+Does he use many pronouns and conjunctions?
+
+Does he repeat words?
+
+
+          BURKE'S SPEECH ON CONCILIATION WITH THE COLONIES.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 100.)
+
+How many sentences in the first paragraph are periodic?
+
+What kind of sentences in paragraph 10?
+
+What is the effect of this paragraph?
+
+Notice the arrangement of loose and periodic clauses in the last
+sentence in paragraph 12. Make this sentence entirely loose.
+
+In the long sentence in paragraph 25 do the he's and him's all refer
+to the same person?
+
+What would you say of Burke's use of pronouns?
+
+Find examples of balanced sentences in this oration.
+
+Are you ever astray regarding Burke's meaning?
+
+What has he done to gain clearness?
+
+For what purpose does he frequently use questions?
+
+
+                    WEBSTER'S BUNKER HILL ORATION.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 56.)
+
+What relation has the second sentence of paragraph 1 to the first?
+
+Is the last sentence in paragraph 3 clear? How has he made it so?
+
+Compare this sentence with the one beginning at the bottom of page 12.
+
+In the last sentence of paragraph 6 where does loose structure change
+to the periodic?
+
+In paragraph 7 why would it be a blemish to write, "That we may keep
+alive similar sentiments"?
+
+Why does he repeat "We wish" so many times? Why did he not substitute
+synonyms?
+
+In paragraph 18 why has he used the word "interest" more than once? If
+the thought is to be repeated, why not some other word?
+
+In the eighth sentence of paragraph 21 is the structure periodic or
+loose?
+
+Reverse the order of clauses in the last sentence of paragraph 28.
+What is the effect?
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX
+
+                                WORDS
+
+
+A word is the sign of an idea. Whether the idea be an object, a
+quality, an action, simple existence, or a relation, if it be
+communicated to another, it must have some sign; in language these
+signs are words. Infinitely varied are the ideas man has to express.
+Each day, each moment, has its new combination of circumstances; yet
+by the common person the effect of the novel situation is described as
+"horrid" or "awful" or "perfectly lovely." Three adjectives to
+describe all creation! No wonder that people are constantly
+misunderstood; that others do not get their ideas. How can they? Do
+the best the master can, the thought will not pass from him to his
+reader without considerable deflection. He cannot say exactly what he
+would. His words do not hold the same meaning for him as for others.
+"Mother" to him is a dear woman with a gentle voice, always dressed in
+black, sitting by the window of home; to another she is a shrieking
+termagant, whose phrases are punctuated by blows. There is not a word
+that means exactly the same to two persons; yet with words men must
+express their thoughts, their feelings, their hopes, their
+purposes,--always changing, ever new,--and for all this shall they use
+but a few score of words? Words are the last, least elements of
+language; without these least elements, these atoms of language, no
+sentence, however simple, can be made; by means of them, the master
+drives mobs to frenzy or soothes the pain of eternal loss. The calm
+and peace which Emerson knew, we know; the perpetual benediction of
+past years which Wordsworth felt, all may feel. These thoughts masters
+have expressed in words, but not in three words. Thousands are not
+enough accurately to transfer their visions of this changing universe
+from them to us. Ideas infinite in their variety demand for their
+expression all the means which our language has placed at the disposal
+of the master. For this true expression the whole dictionary with its
+thousands of words is all too small.
+
+  Need of a Large Vocabulary.
+
+Whoever hopes to be understood must acquire a full, rich vocabulary.
+However clearly he may think, however much he may feel, until he has
+words, the thought, the emotion, must remain his alone. To get a
+vocabulary, then, is a person's business. He who has it can command
+him who has it not. Not in literature alone, but in business,--in
+medicine, in law, behind the accountant's desk or the salesman's
+counter,--he is master who can say what he means so that the person to
+whom he speaks must know just what he means. Now it is a singular
+truth that when we read any great author, the words which we do not
+understand are remarkably few. Even in Shakespeare there are not many;
+and the few are unknown by reason of a constantly changing vocabulary.
+It was probably true then, as it would certainly be to-day, that the
+large majority of audiences lost not a word of his fifteen thousand,
+while they themselves used less than eight hundred. We know what
+others say; yet we say nothing ourselves. What a vocabulary one could
+accumulate, if from six to eighteen he added only two words a day!
+Twelve years, and each year more than seven hundred words! It does not
+look a difficult task. Children do more, and never realize the
+superiority of their achievement. Nine thousand words at eighteen!
+Shakespeare alone used more. Macaulay needed scarcely six thousand.
+
+  Dictionary.
+
+How shall a vocabulary be accumulated? One method is by the use of a
+dictionary; and many persons find it a source of great pleasure. The
+genealogy and biography of words are as fascinating to a devoted
+philologist as stamps to a philatelist or cathedrals to an architect.
+"Canteen" is quite an unassuming little word. Yet imperious Cæsar knew
+it in its childhood. The Roman camp was laid out like a small city,
+with regular streets and avenues. On one of these streets called the
+"Via Quintana" all the supplies were kept. When the word passed into
+the Italian, it became "cantina;" and cantinas may be found among all
+nations who have drawn their language from the Latin. There is this
+difference, however: that whereas eatables were to be had in the Roman
+quintana, only drinkables can be found in the Italian cantina. When
+the English adopted the word, the middle meaning, a place where wines
+are stored, a wine-cellar, came to be a small flask especially fitted
+for the rough usage of a soldier's life, in which a necessary supply
+of some sort of liquid may be carried. So the name of a street has
+become the much-berated canteen of the sutler and the much needed
+canteen of the soldier. The dictionary is full of such fascinating
+biographies. Still its fascination is not the reason why most people
+study the dictionary: it is because such a study is necessary for the
+person who hopes for an accurate knowledge of the words he reads. It
+is not impossible to know "pretty nearly what it means" from the
+context; but no master uses words without knowing exactly what they
+mean. Certainty of meaning precedes frequency of use; and this
+necessary confidence is gained from a study of the dictionary. In a
+general way we know all the words of Macaulay's vocabulary; but the
+average man uses only eight hundred of them. His knowledge of words is
+no more than an indistinct, mumbling knowledge. To lift each word out
+of its context, to make it a distinct, living entity, capable of
+serving, the definition must be studied. Then the student knows just
+what service the word is fitted for, and finds a pleasure in being
+competent to command that service. The dictionary is a necessity to
+the person who hopes to use words.
+
+  Study of Literature.
+
+Yet the knowledge of words that the student derives from the
+dictionary is not sufficient. When one hears an educated foreigner
+speak, he detects little errors in his use of words,--errors which are
+not the fault of definition, but errors in the idiomatic use of words.
+This use cannot be learned from a dictionary, where words are studied
+individually, but only by studying them in combination with other
+words where the influence of one word upon another may be noted. There
+is little difference in the size of a pile of stones, whether we say a
+great pile of stones or a large pile of stones; but a great man is of
+much more consequence than a large man. A dictionary could hardly have
+told a foreigner this. A man may pursue or chase a robber, as the
+author wishes; but he may not chase a course. Prepositions are
+especially liable to be misused, and their correct use comes from a
+study of literature, not of the dictionary. The nice and
+discriminating refinements in the use of words are learned by careful
+reading. When a phrase is met, such as "the steep and solitary eastern
+heaven," where each word has been born to a new beauty; or this, "And
+the sweet city with her dreaming spires," where the adjectives "sweet"
+and "dreaming" have a richer content, they should be regarded with
+great care and greeted with even more delight than words entirely new.
+How to read that we may gain this complete mastery of words, Mr.
+Ruskin has best told us in "Sesame and Lilies." Every person should
+know "Of Kings' Treasuries" by reading and re-reading. Literature, the
+way masters have used words, will furnish a knowledge of the nicer
+discriminations in their use.
+
+The dictionary and literature are the sources of a full and refined
+vocabulary. But the vocabulary which may be perfectly understood is
+not entirely in one's possession until it is used. Seek the first
+opportunity to use the newly acquired word. It will be hard to utter
+it; you will feel an effort in getting it out. Only once, however;
+after that it rises as easily as any old familiar word. Because the
+companion with whom you speak is always "just as mad as" she can be,
+is no reason why you may not at times be vexed, annoyed, aggravated,
+exasperated, or angry. Men are not always either "perfectly lovely" or
+"awful;" neither are all ladies "jewels." There are degrees of
+villainy and nobility; and all jewels have not the same lustre. Know
+what you want to say, and find the one word that will exactly say it.
+This costs work, it is true; but what is there worth having which has
+not cost some one work? Do the work; search for the word; then use it.
+In this way a vocabulary becomes a real possession.
+
+The words which a person may use are generally described as reputable,
+national, and present. Words must be reputable; that is, sanctioned by
+the authority of the creators of English literature. They must be
+national; words that are the property of the mass of the people, not
+of a clique or a district. And they must be of the present; Chaucer's
+vocabulary, though it be the source of English, will not satisfy the
+conditions of to-day.
+
+  Vulgarisms are not reputable.
+
+First, words must be of reputable use. No person would consider
+vulgarisms reputable. When a person says "I hain't got none," he has
+reached about the acme of vulgarisms, the language of the illiterate.
+Grammar has been disregarded; a word has been used which is not a
+word; and another word has no reason for its appearance in the
+sentence. Yet sometimes this expression is heard; seldom seen written.
+It is always set down to the account of an illiterate home; for no one
+can reach a high school without knowing its grammatical errors. The
+unerring use of _don't, me, I, lie, lay, set,_ and _sit,_ is not so
+assured that the list can be omitted. Adjectives are used for adverbs;
+"real good" is not yet forgotten. Nouns are called upon to do the work
+of verbs. This is the language of the illiterate, and it should be
+avoided; for vulgarisms are not reputable.
+
+  Slang is not reputable.
+
+Neither is slang reputable. He would be a prude who would not
+recognize that slang is sometimes right to the point; and that many of
+our strongest idioms were originally slang. Still, although many
+phrases which to-day are called slang were at one time reputable, the
+fact of their respectable birth cannot save them from the slight
+imputation that now they are slang. Notwithstanding the fact that we
+owe some of our strongest idioms to slang, the free use of slang
+always vulgarizes. It generally is called upon to supply a deficiency
+either in thought or in the power of expression. People too lazy to
+think, too indolent to read, with little to say, and but a few slang
+phrases to say it with, may be allowed to practice this vulgarity; but
+cultured persons in cultured conversation will eschew all acquaintance
+with it. To find it in the serious composition of educated persons
+always raises a question of their refinement. It is the stock in trade
+of the lazy and the uncultured. It is used to divert attention from
+poverty of thought and a threadbare vocabulary. It is unnecessary for
+the complete expression of thought by the scholar and man of
+refinement.
+
+It is a real misfortune that many good words have been tarnished by
+the handling of the illiterate. "Awful," "horrid," and "lovely" are
+good words; but they have been sullied by common use. So common have
+they become that they approach slang. They may be rescued from that
+charge in each person's writing, if he shows by accurate use of them
+that he is master of their secret strength.
+
+Milton wrote in "Paradise Lost:"--
+
+     "No! let us rather choose,
+     Armed with Hell-flames and fury, all at once
+     O'er Heav'n's high towers to force resistless way,
+     Turning our tortures into _horrid_ arms
+     Against the Torturer."
+
+Lord Lytton makes Richelieu exclaim:--
+
+     "Look where she stands! Around her form I draw
+     The _awful_ circle of our solemn church."
+
+And in the New Testament we read:--
+
+     "Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever
+     things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever
+     things are pure, whatsoever things are _lovely,_ whatsoever
+     things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if
+     there be any praise, think on these things."
+
+There is no question here of the words; they have all the freshness
+and vigor of their youth. Do not hesitate to use such words exactly.
+When the thought calls for them, they say with certainty what can be
+expressed only doubtfully by other words.
+
+  Words must be national. Provincialisms.
+
+Second, words must be of national use. They cannot be words confined
+to a locality. When Morris talks of a house that has been "gammoned,"
+he deprives a large number of readers of his meaning. "Gums" and
+"brasses" may be good in certain districts of England, but in
+literature they should not be used, for they would not generally be
+understood. For the same reason much of the common conversation of the
+South is foreign to a native of New York. Whoever employs the language
+of a locality limits his circle of readers to that locality. To write
+for all he must use the language of all; he must avoid provincialisms.
+
+  Technical and Bookish Words.
+
+Like words that are used by a small region are words which are
+understood by a clique of persons. Scholars are inclined to use a
+scholarly vocabulary. The biologist has one; the chemist another; the
+philosopher a third. This technical vocabulary may be a necessity at
+times; but when a specialist addresses the public, his words must be
+the words which an average cultured man can understand. Such words can
+be found if the writer will look for them; if he does not, his work
+can scarcely be called literature. Technical words and bookish terms
+are not words of national use.
+
+The following by Josiah Royce illustrates how clearly a most abstruse
+topic can be handled by a man willing to take the trouble:[50]--
+
+     "If you ask what sort of thing this substance is, the first
+     answer is, that it is something eternal; and that means, not
+     that it lasts a good while, but that no possible temporal
+     view of it could exhaust its nature. All things that happen
+     result from the one substance. This surely means that what
+     happens now and what happened millions of years ago are, for
+     the substance, equally present and necessary results. To
+     illustrate once more in my own way: A spider creeping back
+     and forth across a circle could, if she were geometrically
+     disposed, measure out in temporal succession first this
+     diameter, and then that. Crawling first over one diameter,
+     she would say, 'I now find this so long.' Afterwards
+     examining another diameter, she would say, 'It has now
+     happened that what I have just measured proves to be
+     precisely as long as what I measured some time since, and no
+     longer.' The toil of such a spider might last many hours,
+     and be full of such successive measurements, each marked by
+     a spun thread of web. But the true circle itself within
+     which the web was spun, the circle in actual space as the
+     geometer knows it, would its nature be thus a series of
+     events, a mere succession of spun threads? No, the true
+     circle would be timeless, a truth founded in the nature of
+     space, outlasting, preceding, determining all the weary
+     web-spinning of this time-worn spider. Even so we, spinning
+     our web of experience in all its dreary complications in the
+     midst of the eternal nature of the world-embracing
+     substance, imagine that our lives somehow contain true
+     novelty, discover for the substance what it never knew
+     before, invent new forms of being. We fancy our past wholly
+     past, and our future wholly unmade. We think that where we
+     have yet spun no web, there is nothing, and that what we
+     long ago spun has vanished, broken by the winds of time into
+     nothingness. It is not so. For the eternal substance there
+     is no before and after; all truth is truth. 'Far and forgot
+     to me is near,' it says. In the unvarying precision of its
+     mathematical universe, all is eternally written.
+
+                  'Not all your piety nor wit
+          Can lure it back to cancel half a line,
+          Nor all your tears wash out one word of it.'"
+
+  Foreign Words.
+
+Words and phrases from a foreign language should be used only as a
+last resort. _Bon mot, sine qua non,_ and _dolce far niente_ are all
+very apt, and to a person like Mr. Lowell, who was intimately
+acquainted with many languages, they may come as soon as their English
+equivalents. In the case of such a person, the reason why they should
+not be used is that the reader cannot understand them. But when a
+young smatterer uses them to advertise his calling acquaintance with a
+language, he is but proclaiming his own lack of good taste. In his
+composition they are as ineffective to make it respectable as a large
+diamond on a gamester's finger to make him an honored gentleman. Use
+the English language when writing for English-speaking people. It has
+the fullest, richest vocabulary in the world. It will not be found
+unequal to the task of expressing your thoughts.
+
+  Words in Present Use.
+
+Third, words should be in present use. Words may be so new that people
+do not know them; they may have passed out of use after years of good
+service. Of new words, but little can be said. The language constantly
+changes. New discoveries and inventions demand new words. What ones
+will be more than temporary cannot be prophesied. "Blizzard" and
+"mugwump" were new but a short time ago: the latter is dying from
+disuse, the former has come to stay. In this uncertainty one thing can
+be said, however. No word which has not secured recognition should be
+used by a young person, if by reputable words already in the language
+he can express his meaning. And just as he should not be the first to
+take up an untried word, so the young writer should not be the last to
+drop a dead one. There is at present a sort of fad for old English. A
+large number of words that have been resting quietly in their graves
+for centuries have been called forth. Some may enjoy a second life;
+most of them will feel only the weakness of a second obsolescence.
+"Foreword" and "inwit" were good once; but "preface" and "conscience"
+mean as much and have the advantage of being alive. To be understood
+use the words of the present.
+
+  Words in their Present Meaning.
+
+Use words in their present signification. Not only has language cast
+out many words; it has changed many others so that they are hardly
+recognized. When Chaucer wrote,
+
+     "Ther may no man Mercury mortify
+     But hit be with his brother knowleching,"
+
+"mortify" meant to make dead, to kill. To-day a lady may say she was
+mortified to death; but that is hyperbole. In "Paradise Lost" Satan
+may
+
+     "Through the palpable obscure find out
+     His uncouth way."
+
+But a person to-day is not justified in using "uncouth" for "unknown."
+The works of Shakespeare and Milton abound in words whose life has
+been prolonged to the present, but whose signification has been
+changed. The writer who seeks to use words with these old meanings is
+standing in his own light. Such use always attracts attention to the
+words themselves, and by so much subtracts attention from the thought.
+
+  Words of Latin and Saxon Origin.
+
+Words that are in good use have been divided into two classes, as they
+have been drawn from two sources. Some differences between Anglo-Saxon
+and Latin words are marked. Saxon words are generally short; Latin
+words long. The first are the words of home and are concerned with the
+necessities of life; the second are the words of the court and the
+adornments of polite society. The former made the foundation of our
+language and gave to it its idiomatic strength; the latter came later,
+and added to the strength of the language its grace and refinement.
+
+In our speech there can be no doubt that short words are used when the
+purpose is to be understood quickly, even harshly, while the longer
+words are frequently employed for saying unpleasant things pleasantly.
+Euphemism, the choice of words not harsh for harsh ideas, has its
+uses. It is not always wrong to say, "He was taken away" for "He was
+killed." But when the plain truth is to be spoken, when, as in most
+composition, the object is to be understood, the words should be
+chosen which exactly express the thought, be those words Latin or
+Saxon. For any one to say, "Was launched into eternity" for "Was
+hanged," or "When the fatal noose was adjusted about the neck of the
+unfortunate victim of his own unbridled passions" for "When the halter
+was put around his neck," is a useless parade of vocabulary.[51] One
+knows that such phrases are made by a writer who is ignorant of the
+value of words, or by a penny-a-liner, willing to sacrifice every
+effect of language to the immediate needs of his purse. Such writing
+has no power. The words are dictated by too low a motive to have any
+force in them. Let a writer go straight to the point as directly as
+the hindrances of language will allow. Even then his expression will
+lag behind his thought.
+
+This does not mean that one is to use Saxon words always. It means
+that one shall use the words that say exactly what is to be said, so
+that the reader can get the exact thought with the least outlay of
+attention to the words. Latin words are as common as Saxon words. To
+search out a Saxon word because it is Saxon and short is as
+reprehensible as to use the indirection of Latin words where
+directness is wanted. Latin words have a place; they express the finer
+distinctions and gradations of thought. In the discussion of any
+question requiring nice precision of statement Latin words are
+necessary. In the following from Newman, it would be difficult,
+perhaps impossible, to substitute words of Anglo-Saxon origin for the
+words of Latin origin, and could it be done, the passage would not
+then have the clearness it now has from his use of common words,
+though they be Latin:--
+
+     "I mean then by the Supreme Being, one who is simply
+     self-dependent, and the only Being who is such; moreover,
+     that He is without beginning or Eternal, and the only
+     Eternal; that in consequence He has lived a whole eternity
+     by Himself; and hence that He is all-sufficient, sufficient
+     for his own blessedness, and all-blessed, and ever-blessed.
+     Further, I mean a Being who, having these prerogatives, has
+     the Supreme Good, or rather is the Supreme Good, or has all
+     the attributes of good in infinite intenseness; all wisdom,
+     all truth, all justice, all love, all holiness, all
+     beautifulness; who is omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent;
+     ineffably one, absolutely perfect; and such that what we do
+     not know of Him is far more wonderful than what we do and
+     can."[52]
+
+Latin words, moreover, have a fullness of sound which gives them an
+added weight and dignity. One would hesitate long before changing one
+of Milton's big-sounding phrases, even if he were not compelled to
+sacrifice the metre. In Webster's orations there is a dignity, a
+sublimity, gained by the use of full-mouthed polysyllables. Supposing
+he had said at the beginning of his eulogy of Adams and Jefferson,
+"This is a new sight" instead of "This is an unaccustomed spectacle,"
+the whole effect of dignified utterance commensurate with the occasion
+would have been lost. The oration abounds in examples of reverberating
+cadences. Milton's sentences are a stately procession of gorgeous
+words: the dignified pomp of the advance is occasioned by the wealth
+of essential beauty and historical association in the individual
+words:--
+
+           "That proud honor claimed
+     Azazel as his right, a Cherube tall:
+     Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurl'd
+     Th' imperial ensign, which, full high advanc't
+     Shon like a meteor streaming to the wind,
+     With gemms and golden lustre rich emblaz'd
+     Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while
+     Sonorous metall blowing martial sounds:
+     At which the universal host up-sent
+     A shout that tore Hell's concave, and beyond
+     Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.
+     All in a moment through the gloom were seen
+     Ten thousand banners rise into the air,
+     With orient colours waving; with them rose
+     A forrest huge of spears; and thronging helms
+     Appear'd, and serried shields in thick array
+     Of depth immeasurable." ("Paradise Lost.")
+
+The choice of words does not depend on whether they are of Latin or of
+Saxon origin. In use it will be found that short words, like short
+sentences, give more directness and force to the composition; while
+long words have a dignified elegance and refinement of discrimination
+not the property of monosyllables. No one should think, however, that
+short words cause the force or long words cause the dignity. These
+qualities belong to the thought; the completeness of its expression is
+approached by a choice in words. Choose words for their fitness to say
+what you think, or feel, or purpose, having no regard for their
+origin.
+
+  General and specific.
+
+Words are also classified as general and specific. By a general word
+is meant a word common to or denoting a large number of ideas. By
+specific is meant a word that denotes or specifies a single idea.
+"Man," "move," "bad," are general and denote a large number of ideas;
+while "Whittier," "glide," "thieving," are specific, denoting but one
+man, one movement, one kind of badness. "Man" denotes the whole human
+race, while it implies a feeling, thinking, speaking, willing animal.
+"Whittier" denotes but a single person, but beside all the common
+qualities implied by the, word "man," "Whittier" suggests, among other
+things, a homely face, serious and kind, a poet, and an anti-slavery
+worker.
+
+  Use Words that suggest most.
+
+As a principle in composition, it may be said that the more a word or
+phrase can be made to imply or suggest, while at the same time
+expressing all that the writer wishes to say, the more valuable does
+that word or phrase become. Yet it should be remembered that words may
+be so specific that they do not include all that the author wishes to
+include. For instance, if instead of "Blessed are the peacemakers,"
+the beatitude should be made to read "Blessed are the Quakers," though
+this organized body of persons labor for the blessings of peace, yet
+the meaning would be restricted by the limited denotation of the term.
+It does not include enough. So in almost all of Emerson's writing, it
+would not be possible to express his entire thought with more specific
+words. Therefore regard must always be had for the thought,--that it
+may be expressed in its perfect fullness and entirety. Keeping this
+full expression in view, those words are strongest, truest, richest,
+which suggest most. To say of a person that he is a bad man is one
+thing; that he is a traitor is quite another; but when one writes that
+he is a veritable Judas, words fail to keep pace with suggestions, and
+reason yields to emotion. Specific words, if they denote the whole
+idea, are as much better than general terms as their suggestion
+exceeds the suggestion of general terms.
+
+  Synecdoche, Metonymy.
+
+Much of the force of figures of speech is derived from the suggestive
+quality of the specific words employed. When a man calls another a
+dog, he has used a metaphor. He has availed himself of a term that
+gathers up all the snarling qualities of the worst of the dog species.
+The figure has high suggestive power. Synecdoche, too, that figure of
+speech in which a part is used for the whole or the whole for a part,
+employs a term of higher suggestive power for one of lower connoting
+force. "All hands took hold" is better than "All persons went to
+work." Metonymy is the substitution of the name of one thing for that
+of another to which the former bears a known and close relation. The
+most common of these known and close relations are those of cause and
+its effects, of container and the thing contained, and of sign and the
+thing signified. "He has read Shakespeare," "He was addicted to the
+use of the bottle," "All patriots fight for the flag," are examples of
+metonymy. All these figures depend in large degree for their power
+upon the greater suggestiveness of specific words; and their use gives
+to composition an efficiency and directness commensurate with the
+greater connoting value of the specific words.
+
+  Care in Choice of Specific Words.
+
+A writer should keep in mind the fact that the same word may mean
+widely different things to two persons. For this reason the specific
+word that appeals to him most may be of no value in addressing others.
+"Free silver" means to one set of men the withdrawal of money from
+investment, consequent stagnation in business, followed by the closing
+of factories and penury among laborers. To others it means three
+dollars a day for unskilled labor, fire, clothes, and something to
+eat. Again, if one wished to present the horrors of devastating
+disease, in the South he would mention yellow fever, in the North
+smallpox; but to a lady who saw six little brothers and sisters dead
+from it in one week, three carried to the graveyard on the hillside
+one chill November morning, all the terrors of contagious disease are
+suggested by the word "diphtheria." Words are weighted with our
+experiences. They are laden with what we have lived into them. As
+persons have different experiences, each word carries to each person a
+different meaning. The wise writer chooses those specific words which
+suggest most to the men he addresses,--in general, to the average man.
+
+There are many words that carry some of the same suggestions to all.
+These words are connected with the common things of life: such words
+as "home," "death," "mother," and the many more that have been with
+all people from childhood. They are simple little words crowded with
+experiences. Such words carry a weight of suggestion not found in
+strange new words. It is for this reason that simple language goes
+straight to the heart; it is so loaded with life. Of two expressions
+that convey the thought with equal accuracy, always choose the
+simpler.
+
+The following poems--one by Tennyson,[53] steeped in pain, perfect in
+its phrasing; the other by Kipling, rising to a conception of a true
+artist's work, never before so simply expressed--are both written in
+home words, little words, but words all know, words that carry to all
+a common meaning:--
+
+     "Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean:
+     Tears from the depth of some divine despair
+     Rise in the heart and gather to the eyes,
+     In looking on the happy autumn fields,
+     And thinking of the days that are no more.
+
+     "Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail
+     That brings our friends up from the underworld;
+     Sad as the last which reddens over one
+     That sinks with all we love below the verge;
+     So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
+
+     "Ah! sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
+     The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
+     To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
+     The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
+     So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
+
+     "Dear as remembered kisses after death,
+     And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
+     On lips that are for others; deep as love,
+     Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
+     O Death in Life, the days that are no more!"
+
+
+                             L'ENVOI.[54]
+
+     "When Earth's last picture is painted
+          and the tubes are twisted and dried,
+     When the oldest colors have faded,
+          and the youngest critic has died,
+     We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it--
+          lie down for an æon or two,
+     Till the Master of All Good Workmen
+          shall put us to work anew!
+
+     "And those that were good shall be happy:
+          they shall sit in a golden chair;
+     They shall splash at a ten-league canvas
+          with brushes of comets' hair;
+     They shall find real saints to draw from--
+          Magdalene, Peter, and Paul;
+     They shall work for an age at a sitting
+          and never be tired at all!
+
+     "And only the Master shall praise us,
+          and only the Master shall blame;
+     And no one shall work for money,
+          and no one shall work for fame;
+     But each for the joy of the working,
+          and each, in his separate star,
+     Shall draw the Thing as he sees It
+          for the God of Things as They Are!"
+
+  Avoid Hackneyed Phrases.
+
+Much like general terms, which mean something or nothing, are
+expressions that have become trite and hackneyed. At some time they
+were accurate phrases, saying just what was needed. By being used for
+all sorts of purposes, they have lost the original thought of which
+they were the accurate expression. They have no freshness. The
+sounding phrases repeated in the pulpit, or the equally empty phrases
+of the scientist, however good they were at their inception, are, in
+the writing of many persons, but theological and scientific cant
+relied upon by ignorant people to cover up the vacuity of their
+thought. One's own expression, even though it be not so elegant and
+graceful, is better than any worn-out, hackneyed phrase. Think for
+yourself; then say what you have thought in the best language you can
+find yourself.
+
+  "Fine Writing."
+
+"Fine writing," the subjection of noble words to ignoble service, is
+to be avoided. Mr. Micawber was addicted to this pomposity of
+language; and Dickens, by the creation of this character, has done
+literature a real service, by showing how absurd it is, how valueless
+for anything more than humor. "'Under the impression,' said Mr.
+Micawber, 'that your peregrinations in this metropolis have not as yet
+been extensive, and that you might have some difficulty in penetrating
+the arcana of the Modern Babylon in the direction of the City Road--in
+short,' said Mr. Micawber, in another burst of confidence, 'that you
+might lose yourself--I shall be happy to call this evening, and
+install you in the knowledge of the nearest way.'" Here are great
+words in profusion to dress out a little thought. "Fine writing" is as
+much out of taste as over-dressing. When the thought calls for noble
+expression, then all one's energies should be bent to finding noble
+phrases; but for common things common expressions are the only ones in
+good taste.
+
+  In Prose avoid Poetical Words.
+
+Much like "fine writing" is the use of poetical words in prose. _Enow,
+erstwhile, besprent, methinks, agone,_ and _thine_ are examples of a
+large class of words which, though in perfectly good taste in poetry,
+are in extremely poor taste in prose. They are out of place; and so
+attract attention to themselves, not to the thought they express. When
+writing prose, avoid poetical words.
+
+All of this comes at last to one rule: be exact, be accurate in the
+choice of words. Not a word that half expresses the thought, not even
+one that is pretty near, but the only word that exactly expresses the
+meaning, that word must be used. It is not a question of long or
+short, of Latin or Saxon, of general or specific; it is a question of
+accuracy or inaccuracy, the whole or a part, the whole or too much, of
+just right or about right. No one would entirely misunderstand the
+following sentence; and just as certainly no one would derive from
+these words the impression the author had when he wrote it. He has
+phrased it as follows: "Another direction in which free education is
+most valuable to society, is the way in which it removes the gulf
+affixed between the rich and poor." The boy wanted the opening
+sentence to sound big, and forgot that the first use of words is
+accurately to express the thought. In this sentence are the commonest
+errors in the choice of words. "Most valuable" says more than truth;
+"direction" says less than truth; and "affixed" does not say anything.
+Had the boy studied the dictionary, had he been familiar with the
+Bible, had he carefully considered the figure he introduced with the
+word "gulf," he would not have written this incongruous sentence; he
+would not have been inaccurate. Spare no pains in your effort to be
+exact. Search through the words of your own vocabulary; if these fall
+short, find others in the dictionary. Get the word that exactly
+expresses the thought. Let no fine-sounding or high-born word trick
+you into saying what you do not mean. Be master of your words; never
+let fine expressions enslave you. In a word, be accurate.
+
+Such painstaking labor has its reward not alone in the increased power
+of expression; there is also a corresponding growth in the ability to
+observe accurately and to think clearly. No man can write such
+descriptions as Ruskin and Stevenson have written without seeing
+accurately; nor can a man speak with the definite certainty of Burke
+without thinking clearly. The desire to be accurate in expression
+drives a writer to be accurate in thinking. To think is the highest
+that man can hope from education. Anything that contributes to this
+highest attainment should be undertaken with joy. Whether planning a
+story or constructing an argument; whether excluding irrelevant matter
+or including what contributes to the perfection of the whole; whether
+massing the material so that all the parts shall receive their due
+emphasis; whether relating the parts so that the thought advances
+steadily and there can be no misunderstanding,--in all this the
+student will find arduous labor. Yet after all this is done,--when the
+theme, the paragraphs, and the sentences contain exactly what is
+needed, are properly massed, and are set in perfect order,--then comes
+the long labor of revision, which does not stop until the exact word
+is hunted out. For upon words, at last, we are dependent for the
+expression of our observation and thought. He is most entirely master
+of his thoughts who can accurately express them: clearly, that he
+cannot be misunderstood; forcefully, that he will not be unread; and
+elegantly, that he give the reader joy. And this mastery he evinces in
+a finely discriminating choice of words.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER X
+
+                          FIGURES OF SPEECH
+
+
+  Figurative Language.
+
+There is a generally accepted division of language into literal and
+figurative. Language that is literal uses words in their accepted and
+accurate meaning. Figurative language employs words with meanings not
+strictly literal, but varying from their ordinary definitions.
+
+Much of our language is figurative. When a person says, "He is a
+bright boy," he has used the word "bright" in a sense that is not
+literal; the use is figurative. In the following there is hardly a
+sentence that has not some variation from literal language.
+
+     "Down by the river there is, as yet, little sign of spring.
+     Its bed is all choked with last year's reeds, trampled about
+     like a manger. Yet its running seems to have caught a
+     happier note, and here and there along its banks flash
+     silvery wands of palm. Right down among the shabby burnt-out
+     underwood moves the sordid figure of a man. His hat is
+     battered, and he wears no collar. I don't like staring at
+     his face, for he has been unfortunate. Yet a glimpse tells
+     me that he is far down the hill of life, old and
+     drink-corroded at fifty." (Le Gallienne.)
+
+In the second sentence there are at least three figurative
+expressions. "Bed," "choked," and "trampled like a manger" are not
+literal. So, too, in the next sentence there are two beautiful
+variations from literal expression. Going on through the
+selection the reader will find frequently some happy change from
+literalness,--sometimes just a word, sometimes a phrase.
+
+Figurative language is of great value. It adds clearness to our
+speech; it gives it more force; or it imparts to literature beauty.
+The last use is the most common; indeed, it is so common that
+sometimes the other uses are overlooked. However, when such a sentence
+as the following is read, the comparison is of value in giving
+_clearness_ to the thought, although it does not state the literal
+truth.
+
+     "In the early history of our planet, the moon was flung off
+     into space, as mud is thrown from a turning wagon wheel."
+
+_Force_ is often gained by the use of figurative language. The
+following is a good illustration:--
+
+     "Neither the perseverance of Holland, nor the activity of
+     France, nor the dextrous and firm sagacity of English
+     enterprise, ever carried this most perilous mode of hardy
+     industry to the extent to which it has been pushed by these
+     people [Americans]; a people who are still, as it were, but
+     in the gristle, and not yet hardened into the bone of
+     manhood."
+
+The next is an illustration of a figure used for _beauty:--_
+
+     "Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
+     Having some business, do entreat her eyes
+     To twinkle in their spheres till they return."
+
+_A figure of speech is any use of words with a sense varying from
+their literal definition, to secure clearness, force, or beauty of
+expression._
+
+Figures add so much to the attractiveness of literature, that every
+one would like to use them. Yet figures should never be sought for.
+When they come of themselves, when they insist on being used, and are
+a part of the thought itself, and seem to be its only adequate
+expression, then they should be used. In most cases figures are
+ornaments of literature; it must be remembered that ornament is always
+secondary, and that no ornament is good unless it is in entire harmony
+with the thing it is to beautify. (See Preface, p. viii.)
+
+When a figure suggests itself, it must be so clearly seen that there
+can be no mixing of images. Some people are determined to use figures,
+and they force them into every possible place. The result is that
+there is often a confusion of comparisons. The following is bad: "His
+name went resounding in golden letters through the corridors of time."
+Just how a name could resound "in golden letters" is a difficult
+question. Longfellow used the last phrase beautifully:--
+
+     "Not from the grand old masters,
+     Not from the bards sublime,
+     Whose distant footsteps echo
+     Through the corridors of time."
+
+Of the two hundred or more figures of speech which have been named and
+defined, only a few need be mentioned here. And the purpose is not
+that you shall use them more, but that you may recognize them when you
+meet them in literature.
+
+  Figures based upon Likeness.
+
+There is a large group of figures of speech based upon likeness. One
+thing is so much like another that it is spoken of as like it, or,
+more frequently, one is said to be the other. Yet if the things
+compared are very much alike, there is no figure. To say that a cat is
+like a panther is not considered figurative. It is when in objects
+essentially different we detect and name some likeness that we say
+there is a figure of speech. There is at first thought no likeness
+between hope and a nurse; yet were it not for hope most persons would
+die. Thackeray was right when he said that "Hope is the nurse of
+life."
+
+The principal figures based upon likeness are metaphor, epithet,
+personification, apostrophe, allegory, and simile.
+
+_A metaphor is an implied comparison between things essentially
+different, but having some common quality._ Metaphor is by far the
+most common figure of speech; indeed, so common is it that figurative
+language is often called metaphorical.
+
+     "Tombs are the clothes of the dead; a grave is but a plain
+     suit, and a rich monument is one embroidered."
+
+               "Let me choose;
+     For as I am, I live upon the rack."
+
+     "The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep."
+
+Only a little removed from metaphor is epithet. _An epithet is a word,
+generally a descriptive adjective or a noun, used, not to give
+information, but to impart strength or ornament to diction._ It is
+like a shortened metaphor. It is very often found in impassioned prose
+or verse. Notice that in each epithet there is a comparison; that the
+figure is based on likeness.
+
+               "Here are sever'd lips
+     Parted with _sugar_ breath."
+
+     "Base _dog!_ why shouldst thou stand here?"
+
+_Personification is a figure that ascribes to inanimate things,
+abstract ideas, and the lower animals the attributes of human beings._
+It is plain that there must be some resemblance of the lower to the
+higher, else this figure could not be used. Personification, like the
+epithet, is a modification of the metaphor. Indeed, in every
+personification there is also a metaphor.
+
+     "When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees
+     And they did make no noise."
+
+     "But ever heaves and moans the restless Deep."
+
+_Apostrophe is an address to the dead as if living; to abstract ideas
+or inanimate objects as if they were persons._ It is a variety of
+personification.
+
+     "O Caledonia! stern and wild,
+     Meet nurse for a poetic child!"
+
+     "Wee, modest, crimson-tippèd flower,
+     Thou's met me in an evil hour;
+     For I maun crush amang the stoure
+                 Thy slender stem."
+
+     "Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour."
+
+_Allegory is a narrative in which material things and circumstances
+are used to illustrate and enforce high spiritual truths._ It is a
+continued personification. Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress" and Spenser's
+"Faerie Queene" are good examples of allegory.
+
+All these figures are varieties of metaphor. In them there is always
+an implied, not an expressed, comparison.
+
+_A simile is an expressed comparison between unlike things that have
+some common quality._ This comparison is usually indicated by _like_
+or _as._
+
+     "Ilbrahim was like a domesticated sunbeam, brightening moody
+     countenances, and chasing away the gloom from the dark
+     corners of the cottage."
+
+(Does this figure change to another in its course?)
+
+     "How far that little candle throws its beams!
+     So shines a good deed in a naughty world."
+
+Of retired Dutch valleys, Irving wrote:--
+
+     "They are like those little nooks of still water which
+     border a rapid stream; where we may see the straw and bubble
+     riding quietly at anchor, or slowly revolving in their mimic
+     harbor, undisturbed by the rush of the passing current."
+
+  Figures based upon Sentence Structure.
+
+There are a number of figures that express emotion by simply changing
+the normal order of the sentence. Among these are inversion,
+exclamation, interrogation, climax, and irony.
+
+_Inversion is a figure intended to give emphasis to the thought by a
+change from the natural order of the words in a sentence._
+
+     "_Thine_ be the glory!"
+
+     "_Few_ were the words they said."
+
+     "He saved others; _himself_ he cannot save."
+
+_Exclamation is an expression of strong emotion in abrupt, inverted,
+or elliptical phrases._ It is among sentences what the interjection is
+among words.
+
+     "How far that little candle throws its beams!"
+
+     "Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!"
+
+_Interrogation is a figure in which a question is asked, not to get an
+answer, but for the sake of emphasis._
+
+     "Do men gather grapes from thorns, or figs from thistles?"
+
+     "Fear ye foes who kill for hire?
+     Will ye to your homes retire?"
+
+     "Am I a coward?"
+
+_Climax is a figure in which the intensity of the thought and emotion
+gradually increases with the successive groups of words or phrases._
+(See p. 211.)
+
+     "Your children do not grow faster from infancy to manhood
+     than they [the American colonists] spread from families to
+     communities, from villages to nations."
+
+_Irony is a figure in which one thing is said and the opposite is
+meant._
+
+     "And Job answered and said, No doubt but ye are the people,
+     and wisdom shall die with you."
+
+     "O Jew, an upright judge, a learned judge!"
+
+Four other figures should be mentioned: metonymy, synecdoche,
+allusion, and hyperbole.
+
+_Metonymy calls one thing by the name of another which is closely
+related to the first._ The most common relations are cause and effect,
+container and thing contained, and sign and the thing signified.
+
+     "From the cradle to the grave is but a day."
+
+     "I did dream of money-bags to-night."
+
+_Synecdoche is that figure of speech in which a part is put for the
+whole, or the whole for a part._
+
+     "Fifty sail came into harbor."
+
+     "The redcoats are marching."
+
+_Allusion is a reference to something in history or literature with
+which every one is supposed to be acquainted._
+
+     "A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!"
+
+     Men still sigh for the flesh pots of Egypt; still worship
+     the golden calf.
+
+     There is no "Open Sesame" to the treasures of learning; they
+     must be acquired by hard study.
+
+Milton and Shakespeare are full of allusions to the classic literature
+of Greece and Rome.
+
+_Hyperbole is an exaggerated statement made for effect._
+
+     "He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders,
+     long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his
+     sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his
+     whole frame most loosely hung together."
+
+     "And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
+     Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
+     Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
+     Make Ossa like a wart!"
+
+  Exercises in Figures.
+
+Name the following figures. Of those that are based upon likeness,
+tell in what the similarity consists. In many of the selections more
+than one figure will be found.[55]
+
+     1. "The long, hard winter of his youth had ended; the
+     spring-time of his manhood was turning green like the
+     woods."
+
+     2. A pig came up to a horse and said, "Your feet are
+     crooked, and your hair is worth nothing."
+
+     3. "The words of his mouth were smoother than butter, but
+     war was in his heart; his words were softer than oil, but
+     they were drawn swords."
+
+     4. "The lily maid of Astolat."
+
+     5. "O Truth! O Freedom! how are ye still born
+        In the rude stable, in the manger nursed!"
+
+     6. "The birch, most shy and ladylike of trees,
+        Her poverty, as best she may, retrieves,
+        And hints at her foregone gentilities
+        With some saved relics of her wealth of leaves."
+
+     7. "O friend, never strike sail to a fear! Come into port
+     grandly, or sail with God the seas!"
+
+     8. "Primroses smile and daisies cannot frown."
+
+     9. "How deeply and warmly and spotlessly Earth's nakedness
+     is clothed!--the 'wool' of the Psalmist nearly two feet
+     deep. And as far as warmth and protection are concerned,
+     there is a good deal of the virtue of wool in such a
+     snow-fall. It is a veritable fleece, beneath which the
+     shivering earth ('the frozen hills ached with pain,' says
+     one of our young poets) is restored to warmth."
+
+     10. "We can win no laurels in a war for independence.
+     Earlier and worthier hands have gathered them all. Nor are
+     there places for us by the side of Solon and Alfred and
+     other founders of States. Our fathers have filled them."
+
+     11. "I put on righteousness, and it clothed me; my
+     judgment was as a robe and diadem.
+
+     "I was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame.
+
+     "I was father to the poor; and the cause which I knew not I
+     searched out.
+
+     "And I brake the jaws of the wicked, and plucked the spoil
+     out of his teeth."
+
+     12. "His head and his heart were so well combined that he
+     could not avoid becoming a power in his community."
+
+Spenser, writing of honor, says:--
+
+     13. "In woods, in waves, in wars, she wonts to dwell,
+         And will be found with peril and with pain;
+         Nor can the man that moulds an idle cell
+         Unto her happy mansion attain:
+         Before her gate high God did Sweat ordain,
+         And wakeful watches ever to abide;
+         But easy is the way and passage plain
+         To pleasure's palace: it may soon be spied,
+         And day and night her doors to all stand open wide."
+
+     14. "Over the vast green sea of the wilderness, the moon
+     swung her silvery lamp."
+
+     15. "The peace of the golden sunshine was supreme. Even a
+     tiny cloudlet anchored in the limitless sky would not sail
+     to-day."
+
+     16. "A short way further along, I come across a boy
+     gathering palm. He is a town boy, and has come all the way
+     from Whitechapel thus early. He has already gathered a great
+     bundle--worth five shillings to him, he says. This same palm
+     will to-morrow be distributed over London, and those who buy
+     sprigs of it by the Bank will know nothing of the blue-eyed
+     boy who gathered it, and the murmuring river by which it
+     grew. And the lad, once more lost in some squalid court,
+     will be a sort of Sir John Mandeville to his companions--a
+     Sir John Mandeville of the fields, with their water-rats,
+     their birds' eggs, and many other wonders. And one can
+     imagine him saying, 'And the sparrows there fly right up
+     into the sun, and sing like angels.' But he won't get his
+     comrades to believe _that._"
+
+     17. "We wandered to the Pine Forest
+           That skirts the Ocean's foam;
+         The lightest wind was in its nest,
+           The tempest in its home.
+         The whispering waves were half asleep,
+           The clouds were gone to play,
+         And on the bosom of the deep
+           The smile of heaven lay;
+         It seemed as if the hour were one
+           Sent from beyond the skies
+         Which scattered from above the sun
+           The light of Paradise.
+
+         "We paused amid the pines that stood
+           The giants of the waste,
+         Tortured by storms to shapes as rude
+           As serpents interlaced,--
+         And soothed by every azure breath
+           That under heaven is blown,
+         To harmonies and hues beneath,
+           As tender as its own:
+         Now all the tree-tops lay asleep
+           Like green waves on the sea,
+         As still as in the silent deep
+           The ocean woods may be."
+
+     18. "When a bee brings pollen into the hive, he advances to
+     the cell in which it is to be deposited and kicks it off as
+     one might his overalls or rubber boots, making one foot help
+     the other; then he walks off without ever looking behind
+     him; another bee, one of the indoor hands, comes along and
+     rams it down with his head and packs it in the cell as the
+     dairy-maid packs butter into a firkin."
+
+     19. "For thy desires
+         Are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous."
+
+     20. "What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how
+     infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and
+     admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how
+     like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of
+     animals!"
+
+     21. "And in her cheeks the vermeil red did shew
+         Like roses in a bed of lilies shed."
+
+     22. He betrayed his friend with a Judas kiss.
+
+     23. "A true poet is not one whom they can hire by money and
+     flattery to be a minister of their pleasures, their writer
+     of occasional verses, their purveyor of table wit; he cannot
+     be their menial, he cannot even be their partisan. At the
+     peril of both parties let no such union be attempted. Will a
+     Courser of the Sun work softly in the harness of a
+     Dray-horse? His hoofs are of fire, and his path is through
+     the heavens, bringing light to all lands; will he lumber on
+     mud highways, dragging ale for earthly appetites from door
+     to door?"
+
+     24. "Hath a dog money? is it possible
+         A cur can lend three thousand ducats?"
+
+     25. "Kind hearts are more than coronets,
+         And simple faith than Norman blood."
+
+     26. They sleep together,--the gray and the blue.
+
+     27. "Have not the Indians been kindly and justly treated?
+     Have not the temporal things--the vain baubles and filthy
+     lucre of this world--which were apt to engage their worldly
+     and selfish thoughts, been benevolently taken from them? And
+     have they not, instead thereof, been taught to set their
+     affections on things above?" (Quoted from Meiklejohn's "The
+     Art of Writing English.")
+
+     28. "Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes."
+
+     29. "His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine,
+         And they fell on Sir Launfal as snows on the brine,
+         That mingle their softness and quiet in one
+         With the shaggy unrest they float down upon."
+
+     30. Too much red tape caused a great amount of suffering in
+     the beginning of the war.
+
+     31. "Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll!
+         Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain."
+
+     32. "The old Mountain has thrown a stone at us for fear we
+     should forget him. He sometimes nods his head, and threatens
+     to come down."
+
+     33. "But pleasures are like poppies spread:
+         You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;
+         Or like the snow falls in the river,
+         A moment white--then melts for ever;
+         Or like the borealis race,
+         That flit ere you can point their place;
+         Or like the rainbow's lovely form
+         Evanishing amid the storm."
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI
+
+                           VERSE FORMS[56]
+
+
+     Preparer's note: In this chapter, the rhythms of the sample
+     poetry lines were indicated with musical notes and rests.
+     In this text version, an eighth note is indicated by e, a
+     quarter note by q, and an eighth rest by r.
+
+No pupil has passed through the graded schools without being told that
+he should not sing verses, though no one is inclined to sing prose.
+One can scarcely help singing verse, and one cannot well sing prose.
+
+What is there about the form that leads a person to sing verses of
+poetry? For example, when a person reads the first lines of "The Lady
+of the Lake," he falls naturally into a sing-song which can be
+represented by musical notation as follows:--
+
+     |      ^  |    ^ |      ^  |     ^   |
+     |  e   q  | e  q | e    q  | e   q   |
+      "The stag at eve had drunk his fill,
+     |        ^   |     ^  |    ^ |      ^   |
+     |  e     q   | e   q  | e  q | e    q   |
+      Where danced the moon on Mon an's rill,
+     |     ^  |     ^ |       ^  |     ^  |
+     | e   q  | e   q |  e    q  | e   q  |
+      And deep his mid night lair had made
+     |    ^  |     ^ |      ^ |     ^     |
+     | e  q  | e   q | e    q | e   q     |
+      In lone Glenart ney's ha zel shade."
+
+The second, fourth, sixth, and eighth syllables in each of these lines
+are naturally accented in reading, while the other syllables are read
+without stress. The eight syllables of each line fall naturally into
+groups of two, an unaccented syllable followed by an accented
+syllable, just as in the musical notation given, an unaccented eighth
+note is followed by an accented quarter.
+
+In "Hiawatha" the accented syllable comes first, and the unaccented
+follows it.
+
+     | ^     |  ^      | ^     | ^    |
+     | q   e |  q    e | q  e  | q e  |
+      "By the shores of Gitchee Gumee,
+     | ^    | ^     | ^     | ^    |
+     | q  e | q   e | q   e | q e  |
+      By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
+     |  ^      | ^    | ^   | ^    |
+     |  q    e | q  e | q e | q e  |
+      Stood the wigwam of No komis,
+     |  ^     | ^    | ^      | ^     |
+     |  q   e | q  e | q    e | q e   |
+      Daughter of the Moon, No komis."
+
+So, too, there are groups in which there are three syllables. The
+accent may fall on any one of the three. In the following stanza from
+"The Bridge of Sighs," the accent falls on the first syllable of each
+group.
+
+     |   ^          | ^         |
+     |   e    e   e | e    e  e |
+      "Touch her not scornfully;
+     |  ^         |  ^        |
+     |  e   e   e |  e   e  e |
+      Think of her mournfully,
+     | ^        | ^      |
+     | e   e  e | e e  e |
+      Gently and humanly,
+     | ^        |  ^           |
+     | e  e   e |  e    e   e  |
+      Not of the stains of her;
+     | ^         | ^          |
+     | e   e   e | e    e   e |
+      All that re mains of her
+     | ^         | ^       |
+     | e  e   e  | e e e   |
+      Now is pure womanly."
+
+The accent may be upon the second syllable of the group. This is not
+common. The following is from "The Three Fishers."
+
+     |        ^     |      ^     |    ^   |     ^  |
+     |   e    e   e | e    e   e | e  e e | e   q  |
+      "Three fishers went sailing out into the West,
+     |    ^   |     ^     |     ^ |      ^   |
+     | e  e e | e   e   e | e   q | e    q   |
+      Out into the West as the sun went down;
+     |        ^      |     ^   |       ^      |     ^  |
+     | e      e    e | e   e e | e     e    e | e   q  |
+      Each thought on the woman that loved him the best;
+     |          ^       |        ^     |      ^    |     ^    |
+     | [e]   e  e    e  |  e     e   e | e    e  e | e   q    |
+      [And] the children stood watching them out of the town."
+
+Or the accent may be upon the last syllable of the group. This form is
+very common. It is found in the poem entitled "Annabel Lee."
+
+     |     ^     |   ^     | ^     ^|    |
+     | e   e   e |e  e   e |e e  e  |e q |
+      "It was man y and man y a year ago,
+           |      ^  |    ^ |     ^  |
+           | e e  e  | e  q | e   q  |
+            In a king dom by the sea,
+     |        ^  |           ^  |      ^ |     ^  |
+     | e   e  e  |e    e     e  | e    q | e   q  |
+      That a maid en there lived whom you may know
+           |        ^  |    ^|       ^  |
+           | e  e   e  | e  q| e e   e  |
+            By the name of An nabel Lee;
+     |          ^  |        ^   |     ^ |         ^   |
+     | e   e    e  |e   e   e   | e   q | e e     e   |
+      And this maid en she lived with no other thought
+           |         ^  |         ^  |   ^   |
+           |  e  e   e  | e  e    e  |e  q   |
+            Than to love and be loved by me."
+
+  Poetic Feet.
+
+If all these verses be observed carefully, it will be seen that in
+each group of syllables there is one accented syllable combined with
+one or two unaccented. Such a group of syllables is called a foot. The
+foot is the basis of the verse; and from the prevailing kind of foot
+that is found in any verse, the verse derives its name.
+
+_A foot is a group of syllables composed of one accented syllable
+combined with one or more unaccented._ It will be noticed further that
+if musical notation be used, all of these forms are but variations of
+the one form, represented by the standard measure 3/8. They are:--
+
+     |   ^ |  | ^   |  | ^     |  |   ^   |      |     ^ |
+     | e q |; | q e |; | e e e |; | e e e |; and | e e e |.
+
+Accordingly there are five forms of poetic feet made of this musical
+rhythm. Of these, four are in common use.
+
+_An Iambus is a two-syllable foot accented on the last syllable. Verse
+made of this kind of feet is called iambic._ It is the most common
+form found in English poetry. Example:--
+
+     "The stag at eve had drunk his fill."
+
+_A Trochee is a two-syllable foot accented on the first syllable.
+Verse made of this kind of feet is called trochaic._ Example:--
+
+     "Stood the wigwam of Nokomis."
+
+_A Dactyl is a three-syllable foot accented on the first syllable.
+Such verse is called dactylic._ Example:--
+
+     "Touch her not scornfully."
+
+_An Amphibrach is a three-syllable foot accented on the middle
+syllable._ It is uncommon. Example:--
+
+     "Three fishers went sailing out into the West."
+
+_An Anapest is a three-syllable foot accented on the last syllable._
+Example:--
+
+     "It was many and many a year ago."
+
+A Spondee is a very uncommon foot in English. It consists of two long
+syllables accented about equally. It occurs as an occasional foot in a
+four-syllable rhythm. No English poem is entirely spondaic. The
+four-syllable foot and the spondee are so uncommon that there is
+little use in the pupil's knowing more than that there are such
+things. The example below is quoted from Lanier's "The Science of
+English Verse."
+
+             | ^              | ^          |  ^     ^  |
+             | e  e   e    e  | q    e   e |  q     q  |
+     "Ah, the autumn days fade out, and the nights grow chill
+           | ^             | ^          | ^   ^ |
+           | e   e   e   e | e e   e  e | q   q |
+     And we walk no more to gether as we used of yore
+     When the rose was new in blossom and the sun was on the hill,
+     And the eves were sweetly vocal with the happy whippoorwill,
+     And the land-breeze piped its sweetest by the ocean shore."
+
+  Kinds of Metre.
+
+_A verse is a single line of poetry._ It may contain from one foot to
+eight feet.
+
+_A line made of one foot is called monometer._ It is never used
+throughout a poem, except as a joke, but it sometimes occurs as an
+occasional verse in a poem that is made of longer lines. The two lines
+which follow are from the song of "Winter" in Shakespeare's "Love's
+Labour's Lost." The last is monometer.
+
+     "Then nightly sings the staring owl
+               Tu-whit."
+
+_A line containing two feet is called dimeter._ It also is uncommon;
+but it does sometimes make up a whole poem; as, "The Bridge of Sighs,"
+already mentioned. Another example is:--
+
+           ^        ^
+     "I'm wearing awa', Jean,
+           ^              ^
+     Like snaw when it's thaw, Jean,
+            ^        ^
+       I'm wearing awa'
+               ^           ^
+       To the land o' the leal."
+
+It is frequently met as an occasional line in a poem. Wordsworth's
+"Daisy" shows it.
+
+     "Bright _Flower!_ for by that name at last,
+     When all my reveries are past,
+     I call thee, and to that cleave fast,
+               Sweet, silent creature!
+     That breath'st with me in sun and air,
+     Do thou, as thou art wont, repair
+     My heart with gladness, and a share
+               Of thy meek nature!"
+
+_A line containing three feet is called trimeter._ Example:--
+
+           ^          ^           ^
+     "The snow had begun in the gloaming,
+              ^      ^        ^
+         And busily all the night
+               ^        ^        ^
+     Had been heaping field and highway
+                 ^       ^         ^
+         With a silence deep and white."
+
+_A line containing four feet is called tetrameter._ "Marmion" is
+written in tetrameters. See the extract on p. 276.
+
+_A line containing five feet is called pentameter._ This line is very
+common in English poetry. It gives room enough for the poet to say
+something, and is not so long that it breaks down with its own weight.
+Shakespeare's Plays, Milton's "Paradise Lost," Tennyson's "Idylls of
+the King,"--indeed, most of the great, serious work of the
+master-poets has been done in this verse.
+
+_A line containing six feet is called hexameter._ This is the form
+adopted in the Iliad and the Odyssey of the Greeks, and the Æneid of
+the Romans; it has been used sometimes by English writers in treating
+dignified subjects. "The Courtship of Miles Standish" and "Evangeline"
+are written in hexameter.
+
+Verses of seven and eight feet are rare; they are called heptameter
+and octameter, respectively. The heptameter is usually divided into a
+tetrameter and a trimeter; the octameter, into two tetrameters. Poe's
+"Raven" and Tennyson's "Locksley Hall" are in octameters, and Bryant's
+"The Death of the Flowers" is in heptameters.
+
+A verse is named from its prevailing kind of foot and the number of
+feet. For example, "The Merchant of Venice" is in iambic pentameter,
+and "The Courtship of Miles Standish" is in dactylic hexameter.
+
+  Stanzas.
+
+A stanza is a group of verses, but these verses are not necessarily of
+the same length. Monometer, dimeter, and trimeter are not often used
+for a whole stanza; but they are frequently found in a stanza,
+introducing variety into it. A stanza made up of tetrameter
+alternating with trimeter is very common. The stanzas from "Annabel
+Lee" and "The Village Blacksmith," found on pages 278 and 279, are
+excellent examples.
+
+  Scansion.
+
+_Scansion is the separation of a verse of poetry into its component
+feet._ Poetry was originally sung or chanted by bards and troubadours.
+The accompaniment was a simple strumming on a harp of very few
+strings, and was hardly more than the beating of time. The chanting
+must have been much like the sing-song that some people fall into when
+reading verses now. The first thing in scanning a line of poetry is to
+drop into its rhythm,--to let it sing itself. When the regular accent
+is felt, the lines can easily be separated into their metrical feet.
+Read these lines from "Marmion," and mark only the accented syllables.
+
+            ^         ^       ^        ^
+     "And there she stood so calm and pale,
+           ^        ^        ^       ^
+     That but her breathing did not fail,
+     And motion slight of eyes and head,
+     And of her bosom, warranted
+     That neither sense nor pulse she lacks,
+     You might have thought a form of wax
+     Wrought to the very life was there;
+     So still she was, so pale, so fair."
+
+The marked verses have an accented syllable preceded by an unaccented
+syllable. Such a foot is iambic. There are four feet in each verse; so
+the poem is written in iambic tetrameter. In the same way, one decides
+that "The Song of Hiawatha" is written in trochaic tetrameter.
+
+  Variations in Metres.
+
+In music the bar or measure is not always filled with exactly the same
+kind of notes arranged in the same order. If the signature reads 3/8,
+the measure may be filled by any notes that added together equal three
+eighth notes. It may be a quarter and an eighth, an eighth and a
+quarter, a dotted quarter, or three eighth notes. So, in poetry the
+verses are not always as regular as in "Marmion" and "Hiawatha,"
+although poetry is more regular than music and there are usually few
+variations of metre in any one poem. A knowledge of the most common
+forms of variation is necessary to correct scansion.
+
+The commonest variation in verse is the substitution of three eighths
+for the quarter and the eighth, or the eighth and the quarter. And the
+very opposite of this often occurs; that is, the substitution of the
+two-syllable foot for the three-syllable foot. The following, from
+"The Burial of Sir John Moore," illustrates what is done. Notice,
+however, that the beat is quite regular, and the lines lilt along as
+if there were no change.
+
+     |        ^  |      ^   |       ^ |      ^
+     |  e  e  e  | e    q   | e  e  e |e e   e  |
+      "Not a drum was heard, not a fun eral note,
+       |         ^  |        ^ |         ^       |
+       | e  e    e  | e  e   e | e   e   e  [e]  |
+        As his corse to the ram part we hur[ried];
+     |       ^ |           ^   |     ^  |      ^  |
+     | e  e  e | e    e    e   | e   q  | e    q  |
+      Not a sol dier discharged his fare well shot
+       |           ^  |           ^|       ^        |
+       | e    e    e  |  e    e   e| e e   e  [e]   |
+        O'er the grave where our he ro we bur[ied]."
+
+In reading this the first time, a person is not likely to notice that
+there are three feet in it containing but two syllables. The rhythm is
+perfectly smooth, and cannot be called irregular. The accent remains
+on the last syllable of the foot.
+
+In the following selection from "Evangeline," trochees are substituted
+for dactyls, yet there is no break in the rhythm. It does not seem in
+the least irregular.
+
+                | ^       | ^          |  ^       |
+                | q    e  | e   e    e |  q    e  |
+             "Be hind them followed the watch-dog,
+    | ^      | ^        | ^           |  ^         |  ^         | ^
+    | q  e   | e   e   e| e   e     e |  e   e   e |  e   e   e | q  e    |
+     Patient, full of im portance, and grand in the pride of his instinct,
+     Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and superbly
+     Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the stragglers."
+
+These examples are enough to illustrate the fact that one kind of foot
+may be substituted for another and not make the rhythm feel irregular.
+So long as the accent is not changed from the first syllable to the
+last, or from the last to the first, there is no jar in the flow of
+the lines. _The trochee and the dactyl are interchangeable; and the
+iambus and the anapest are interchangeable._
+
+We may take a step further. There are many times when some sudden
+change of thought, some strong emotion forces a poet to break the
+smooth rhythm, that the verses may harmonize with his feeling. Such a
+variation is like an exclamation or a dash thrown into prose. The
+following is taken from "Annabel Lee." The regular foot has the accent
+on the last syllable. It is anapestic, in tetrameters and trimeters.
+But note the shudder in the third line when the accent is changed on
+the word "chilling." The music and the thought are in perfect harmony.
+
+      "And this was the reason that, long ago,
+        In this kingdom by the sea,
+     |   ^  |      ^ |       ^   | ^      |
+     |e  q  | e    q |e  e   e   | q   e  |
+      A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
+        My beautiful Annabel Lee;
+      So that her highborn kinsman came
+        And bore her away from me
+      To shut her up in a sepulchre
+        In this kingdom by the sea."
+
+Another beautiful example is found in the last stanza of the same
+poem. It is in the first two feet of the fifth line. Here the regular
+accent has yielded to an accent on the middle syllable and there are
+two amphibrachs. Notice, too, how it is almost impossible to tell in
+the next foot whether the accent goes upon the second or upon the
+third syllable. It is hovering between the form of the first two feet
+and the anapest of the last foot.
+
+      "For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
+          Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
+      And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
+          Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
+     | ^         |      ^        |   ^   ^  |        ^  |
+     | e  e    e | e    e    e   |e  e   e  | e  e   e  |
+      And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
+      Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride,
+          In her sepulchre there by the sea
+          In her tomb by the sounding sea."
+
+As has already been said, the iambus is the common foot of English
+verse. It is made of a short and a long syllable. At the beginning of
+a poem an unaccented syllable seems weak; and so very frequently the
+first foot of a poem is trochaic; often the first two or three feet
+are of this kind. At such a place the irregularity does not strike
+one. The following is an illustration:--
+
+     |  ^   |    ^   |      ^  |     ^  |
+     |  q e |e   q   | e    q  | e   q  |
+      "Under a spread ing chest nut tree
+       |     ^ |       ^  |    ^    |
+       | e   q | e     q  |e   q    |
+        The vil lage smith y 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."
+
+In this stanza the prevailing foot is iambic, but the first foot is
+trochaic. In the following beautiful lines by Ben Jonson, there is the
+same thing:--
+
+     |   ^     |    ^|    ^  |       ^  |
+     |   q   e |e   q|e   q  |  e    q  |
+      "Drink to me on ly with thine eyes
+        And I will pledge with mine;
+      Or leave a kiss but in the cup
+        And I'll not look for wine.
+      The thirst that from the soul doth rise
+        Doth ask a drink divine;
+      But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
+        I would not change for thine."
+
+A similar substitution may occur in any other verse of the stanza; but
+we feel the change more than when it is found in the first verse. The
+second stanza of Jonson's song furnishes an example of the
+substitution of a trochee for an iambus:--
+
+     "I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
+      | ^    |      ^ |       ^  |
+      | q  e | e    q |e  e   e  |
+       Not so much hon oring thee
+     As giving it a hope that there
+       It could not withered be,
+     But thou thereon didst only breathe
+       And sent'st it back to me;
+     Since when it grows and smells, I swear,
+       Not of itself, but thee."
+
+Of all the great poets, but few have been such masters of the art of
+making musical verse as Spenser. The following stanza is from "The
+Faerie Queene;" and the delicate changes from one foot to another are
+so skillfully made that one has to look twice before he finds them.
+
+         ^      ^     ^    ^       ^
+     "A little lowly hermitage it was,
+      ^         ^         ^     ^        ^
+     Down in a dale, hard by a forest's side,
+      ^          ^       ^      ^        ^
+     Far from resort of people that did pass
+         ^     ^       ^      ^      ^
+     In travel to and fro; a little wide
+            ^     ^    ^     ^   ^
+     There was a holy chapel edified,
+          ^     ^      ^    ^       ^
+     Wherein a hermit duly wont to say
+          ^     ^          ^       ^    ^
+     His holy things each morn and eventide;
+          ^     ^        ^         ^      ^
+     Thereby a crystal stream did gently play,
+       ^           ^      ^        ^      ^       ^
+     Which from a sacred fountain welléd forth alway."
+
+  First and Last Foot.
+
+From the lines on "The Burial of Sir John Moore," another fact about
+metres may be derived. The second and fourth lines apparently have one
+too many syllables. _This may occur when the accent is upon the last
+syllable of the foot;_ that is, when the foot is an iambus or an
+anapest.
+
+Again, the last foot of each line may be one syllable short. _This may
+occur when the accent is on the first syllable of a foot;_ that is,
+when the foot is trochaic or dactylic. The scheme is like this:
+
+     |  ^     | ^    |  ^     | ^     |
+     |  q   e | q  e |  q   e | q  e  |
+      "Tell me not in mournful numbers
+       | ^     | ^    | ^   |  ^      |
+       | q   e | q  e | q e |  q    r |
+        Life is but an empty dream."
+
+The last foot of a verse of poetry, then, may have more or fewer
+syllables than the regular number; still the foot takes up the regular
+time and cannot be deemed unrhythmical.
+
+The first foot of a line, too, may contain an extra syllable; a good
+example has been given in the lines on page 273, beginning,--
+
+     "Ah, the autumn days fade out, and the nights grow chill."
+
+And the first foot of a line may lack a syllable, as in the first line
+of "Break, Break, Break," by Tennyson.
+
+In a line like the following, it is sometimes difficult to tell
+whether the syllable is omitted from the first or the last foot. If
+from the first, the verse is iambic, and is scanned like this:--
+
+     |      ^  |     ^ |     ^ |         ^    |
+     | r    q  | e   q |e    q | e   e   e    |
+         "Proud and low ly, beg gar and lord."
+
+If the last foot is not full, the line is trochaic.
+
+        |   ^      | ^     | ^         | ^      |
+        |   q    e | q  e  | e   e   e | q    r |
+         "Proud and low ly, beg gar and lord."
+
+Now if the whole of "London Bridge," from which this line is quoted,
+be read, there will be found several lines that are trochaic beyond
+question; and the last line of the chorus is iambic. The majority of
+trochaic lines leads us to decide that the verse is trochaic. From
+this example one learns to appreciate how nearly alike are trochaic
+and iambic verses. Both are composed of alternating accented and
+unaccented syllables; and the kind of metre depends upon which comes
+first in the foot. In Blake's "Tiger, Tiger," there is not a line that
+clearly shows what kind of verse the poet used. If the unaccented
+syllable is supplied at the beginning the poem is iambic; if at the
+end, it is trochaic.
+
+     "Tiger, Tiger, burning bright
+     In the forests of the night,
+     What immortal hand or eye
+     Framed thy fearful symmetry?"
+
+Silences may occur in the middle of a verse of poetry as well as at
+the beginning or the end. In the following nursery rhyme it is clear
+that the prevailing foot is anapestic, though several feet are iambic,
+and in the first two lines and the last line a single syllable makes a
+foot. Silences are introduced here as rests are in music.
+
+     | r   q  | r   q  | r  q   |
+        "Three    blind    mice!
+     | r  q | r  q | e    q  |
+         See    how they run!
+     |    ^  |    ^ |         ^  |      ^   |
+      Hurrah, hurrah for the farm er's wife!
+     |     ^ |            ^  |        ^  |      ^   |
+      She cut off their tails with a carv ing knife!
+     |        ^ |    ^ |         ^  |         ^  |
+      Did you ev er see such a sight in your life
+     |e    q  | r   q  | r  q    |
+      As three    blind    mice!"
+
+Like this is the scansion of Tennyson's "Break, Break, Break."
+
+        | r   q   | r   q   | r   q   |
+           "Break,    break,    break!
+     On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
+     And I would that my tongue could utter
+     The thoughts that arise in me."
+
+In scanning, then, it is necessary--
+
+_First._ To determine by reading a number of verses the kind of foot
+that predominates, and to make this the basis of the metrical scheme.
+
+_Second._ To remember that one kind of foot may be substituted for
+another, at the will of the poet, introducing into the poem a delicate
+variety of rhythm.
+
+_Third._ To keep in mind that the first foot of a verse and the last
+foot may have more or fewer syllables than the regular foot of the
+poem.
+
+_Fourth._ That silences, like rests in music, may be introduced into a
+verse and give to it a perfect smoothness of rhythm.
+
+  Kinds of Poetry.
+
+It is a difficult thing to give a definition of poetry. Many have done
+so, yet no one has been fortunate enough to have his definition go
+without criticism. In general, it may be said that poetry deals with
+serious subjects, that it appeals to the feelings rather than to the
+reason, that it employs beautiful language, and that it is written in
+some metrical form.
+
+Poetry has been divided into three great classes: narrative, lyric,
+and dramatic.
+
+Narrative poetry deals with events, real or imaginary. It includes,
+among other varieties, the epic, the metrical romance, the tale, and
+the ballad.
+
+_The epic is a narrative poem of elevated character telling generally
+of the exploits of heroes._ The "Iliad" of the Greeks, the "Æneid" of
+the Romans, the "Nibelungen Lied" of the Germans, "Beowulf" of the
+Anglo-Saxons, and "Paradise Lost" are good examples of the epic.
+
+_The metrical romance is any fictitious narrative of heroic,
+marvelous, or supernatural incidents derived from history or legend,
+and told at considerable length._ "The Idylls of the King" are
+romances.
+
+The tale is but little different from the romance. It leaves the field
+of legend and occupies the place in poetry that a story or a novel
+does in prose. "Marmion" and "Enoch Arden" are tales.
+
+_A ballad is a short narrative poem, generally rehearsing but one
+incident._ It is usually vigorous in style, and gives but little
+thought to elegance. "Sir Patrick Spens," "The Battle of Otterburne,"
+and "Chevy Chase" are examples.
+
+Lyric poetry finds its source in the author's feelings and emotions.
+In this it differs from narrative poems, which find their material in
+external events and circumstances. Epic poetry is written in a grand
+style, generally in pentameter, or hexameter; while the lyric adopts
+any verse that suits the emotion. The principal classes of lyric
+poetry are the song, the ode, the elegy, and the sonnet.
+
+_The song is a short poem intended to be sung._ It has great variety
+of metres and is generally divided into stanzas. "Sweet and Low," "Ye
+Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon," "John Anderson, My Jo, John," are
+songs.
+
+_An ode is a lyric expressing exalted emotion; it usually has a
+complex and irregular metrical form._ Collins's "The Passions,"
+Wordsworth's "Intimations of Immortality," and Lowell's "Commemoration
+Ode," are well known.
+
+_An elegy is a serious poem pervaded by a feeling of melancholy._ It
+is generally written to commemorate the death of some friend. Milton's
+"Lycidas" and Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard" are examples of
+this form of lyric.
+
+_A sonnet is a lyric that deals with a single thought, idea, or
+sentiment in a fixed metrical form. The sonnet always contains
+fourteen lines._ It has, too, a very definite rhyme scheme. Some of
+the best English sonnets have been written by Shakespeare, Wordsworth,
+and Mrs. Browning.
+
+Dramatic poetry presents a course of human events, and is generally
+designed to be spoken on the stage. Because such poetry presents human
+character in action, the term "dramatic" has come to be applied to any
+poetry having this quality. Many of Browning's poems are dramatic in
+this sense. In the first sense of the word, dramatic poetry includes
+tragedy and comedy.
+
+_Tragedy is a drama in which the diction is dignified, the movement
+impressive, and the ending unhappy._
+
+_Comedy is a drama of a light and amusing character, with a happy
+conclusion to its plot._
+
+  Exercises in Metres.
+
+Enough of each poem is given below so that the kind of metre can be
+determined. Always name the verse form and write the verse scheme.
+Some hard work will be necessary to work out the irregular lines, but
+it is only by work on these that any ability in scanning can be
+gained. Always read a stanza two or three times to get the swing of
+the rhythm. Remember the silences, and the substitutions that may be
+made.
+
+     1. "I stood on the bridge at midnight
+        As the clocks were striking the hour,
+        And the moon rose over the city,
+        Behind the dark church tower.
+
+        "Among the long black rafters
+        The wavering shadows lay,
+        And the current that came from the ocean
+        Seemed to lift and bear them away."
+
+     2. "All things are new;--the buds, the leaves,
+        That gild the elm-tree's nodding crest,
+        And even the nest beneath the eaves;--
+        There are no birds in last year's nest!"
+
+     3. "Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,--
+        Brought in the wood from out of doors,
+        Littered the stalls, and from the mows
+        Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows;
+        Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
+        And, sharply clashing horn on horn,
+        Impatient down the stanchion rows
+        The cattle shake their walnut bows;
+        While, peering from his early perch
+        Upon the scaffold's pole of birch,
+        The cock his crested helmet bent
+        And down his querulous challenge sent."
+
+     4. "You know, we French stormed Ratisbon:
+        A mile or so away,
+        On a little mound, Napoleon
+        Stood on our storming day;
+        With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,
+        Legs wide, arms locked behind,
+        As if to balance the prone brow
+        Oppressive with its mind."
+
+     5. "Come, read to me some poem,
+        Some simple and heartfelt lay,
+        That shall soothe this restless feeling,
+        And banish the thoughts of day.
+
+        "Not from the grand old masters,
+        Not from the bards sublime,
+        Whose distant footsteps echo
+        Through the corridors of Time.
+
+        "For, like strains of martial music,
+        Their mighty thoughts suggest
+        Life's endless toil and endeavor;
+        And to-night I long for rest.
+
+        "Read from some humbler poet
+        Whose songs gushed from his heart,
+        As showers from the clouds of summer,
+        Or tears from the eyelids start;
+
+        "Who through long days of labor,
+        And nights devoid of ease,
+        Still heard in his soul the music
+        Of the wonderful melodies."
+
+     6. "Hickory, dickery, dock,
+        The mouse ran up the clock;
+        The clock struck one,
+        And the mouse ran down;
+        Hickory, dickery, dock."
+
+     7. "Two brothers had the maiden, and she thought,
+        Within herself: 'I would I were like them;
+        For then I might go forth alone, to trace
+        The mighty rivers downward to the sea,
+        And upward to the brooks that, through the year,
+        Prattle to the cool valleys. I would know
+        What races drink their waters; how their chiefs
+        Bear rule, and how men worship there, and how
+        They build, and to what quaint device they frame,
+        Where sea and river meet, their stately ships;
+        What flowers are in their gardens, and what trees
+        Bear fruit within their orchards; in what garb
+        Their bowmen meet on holidays, and how
+        Their maidens bind the waist and braid the hair.'"
+
+(In this quotation we have blank verse; that is, verse that does not
+rhyme. It is iambic pentameter,--the most common verse in great
+English poetry. What poems are you familiar with that use this
+verse-form?)
+
+     8. "A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
+        A wind that follows fast
+        And fills the rustling sails
+        And bends the gallant mast;
+        And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
+        While like the eagle free
+        Away the good ship flies, and leaves
+        Old England on the lee.
+
+        "O for a soft and gentle wind;
+        I heard a fair one cry;
+        But give to me the snoring breeze
+        And white waves heaving high;
+        And white waves heaving high, my lads,
+        The good ship tight and free--
+        The world of waters is our home,
+        And merry men are we.
+
+        "There's tempest in yon horned moon,
+        And lightning in yon cloud;
+        But hark the music, mariners!
+        The wind is piping loud;
+        The wind is piping loud, my boys,
+        The lightning flashes free--
+        While the hollow oak our palace is,
+        Our heritage the sea."
+
+     9. "Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
+        Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
+        While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
+        As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door--
+        ''T is some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door--
+                  Only this, and nothing more.'"
+
+     10. "Somewhat back from the village street
+         Stands the old-fashioned country-seat,
+         Across its antique portico
+         Tall poplar trees their shadows throw;
+         And from its station in the hall
+         An ancient timepiece says to all,--
+               'Forever--never!
+               Never--forever!'"
+
+     11. "Listen, my children, and you shall hear
+         Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
+         On the eighteenth of April, in seventy-five;
+         Hardly a man is now alive
+         Who remembers that famous day and year."
+
+     12. "Sweet and low, sweet and low,
+         Wind of the western sea,
+         Low, low, breathe and blow,
+         Wind of the western sea!
+         Over the rolling waters go,
+         Come from the dying moon, and blow,
+         Blow him again to me;
+         While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
+
+         "Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
+         Father will come to thee soon;
+         Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
+         Father will come to thee soon;
+         Father will come to his babe in the nest--
+         Silver sails all out of the west
+         Under the silver moon:
+         Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep."
+
+     13. "See what a lovely shell,
+         Small and pure as a pearl,
+         Lying close to my foot,
+         Frail, but a work divine,
+         Made so fairily well
+         With delicate spire and whorl,
+         How exquisitely minute,
+         A miracle of design!"
+
+(If the pupils have Palgrave's "Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics,"
+they have a great fund of excellent material illustrating all
+varieties of metrical variation. There are very few pieces of
+literature that illustrate so many varieties of metre as Wordsworth's
+"Ode on the Intimations of Immortality.")
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               APPENDIX
+
+
+                     A. SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS.
+
+The Course of Study on pages xx-xxvi contemplates five days a week for
+the study of English. The text which is to be the subject of the
+term's work should first be studied for a few weeks. After it has been
+mastered, three days of each week should be given to literature and
+two to composition. In practice I have found it best to have the study
+of literature occupy three consecutive days,--for example, Tuesday,
+Wednesday, and Thursday. This arrangement leaves Monday and Friday for
+composition. Friday is used for the study of the text-book and for
+general criticism and suggestion. On Monday the compositions should be
+written in the classroom. To have them so written is, at least during
+the first year, distinctly better. The first draft of the composition
+should be brought to class ready for amendment and copying. During the
+writing the teacher should be among the pupils offering assistance,
+and insisting upon good penmanship. Care at the beginning will form a
+habit of neatness, and keep the penmanship up to a high standard.
+
+The arrangement suggested is only one plan. This works well. Many
+others may be adopted. But no plan should be accepted which makes the
+number of essays fewer than one a week; nor should the number of days
+given to literature be smaller than three a week.
+
+During the second year, if the instructor thinks it can be done
+without loss, the compositions may be written outside of school hours
+and brought to class on a definite day. A pupil should not be allowed
+to put off the writing of a composition any more than a lesson in
+geometry. On Monday of each week a composition should be handed in;
+irregularity only makes the work displeasing and leads to shirking.
+Writing out of school gives more time for criticism and study of
+composition, and during the second year this extra time is much
+needed.
+
+By the third year the pupils certainly can do the work out of school.
+As the compositions increase in length, more time will be necessary
+for their preparation. The teacher should, however, know exactly what
+progress has been made each week; and by individual criticisms and by
+wise suggestions she should help the pupil to meet the difficulties of
+his special case.
+
+In order that the instructor may have time for individual criticism,
+she should have two periods each day vacant in which to meet pupils
+for consultation. To make this clear, suppose that a teacher of
+English has one hundred pupils in her classes. She should have no
+more, for one hundred essays a week are enough for any person to
+correct. If there be six recitation periods daily, place twenty-five
+pupils in each of four sections for the study of literature,
+composition, and general criticism. This leaves two periods each day
+to meet individuals, giving ten pupils for each period. These should
+come on scheduled days, with the same regularity as for class
+recitation. The pupil's work should have been handed in on the second
+day before he comes up for consultation, in order that the teacher may
+be competent to give criticisms of any value. The inspiration of the
+first reading cannot be depended upon to suggest any help, nor is
+there time for such a reading during the recitation.
+
+There will be need of class recitation in argument. Ten days or two
+weeks are all that is necessary for text-book work. This should be
+done before pupils read the "Conciliation." In the reading constantly
+keep before the pupils the methods of the author.
+
+Every teacher should be able to do what she asks of the pupils. No
+person would dare to offer herself as a teacher of Latin or algebra
+until she could write all the translations of the one and solve all
+the problems of the other. Yet there are persons who have the audacity
+to offer their services as teachers of English, when they cannot write
+a letter correctly, to say nothing of a more formal piece of
+composition. If an instructor in physics, who had asked his pupils to
+solve a problem in electricity, should say to each unfortunate person
+as he handed in his solution, "No, that isn't right; you'll have to
+try again," without offering any help or suggestion, and should
+continue this discouraging process until some bright pupil worked it
+out, or perhaps some one guessed it, we should say that such a person
+was no instructor at all. We might go so far as to question his
+intellectual competency. We certainly should think him quite deserving
+of dismissal. Still many teachers of English do nothing more than say,
+"It isn't right. Make it so." If the teacher does not know how to do
+the thing she asks the pupils to do, she should not be teaching. And
+even when she can do it, she will often benefit herself and the pupils
+by actually writing the composition. In this way not only does she
+gain command of her own powers of expression, but she finds out the
+difficulties with which the pupils have to contend. Every teacher of
+English composition should be able to do some creditable work in
+English; and every teacher of English should put this talent into
+actual use.
+
+Numerous examples of correct paragraphs, well-made sentences, and apt
+words have not been included in the text. They have been omitted
+because they can be found in the literature study. It is better for
+pupils to find these for themselves. It will put them in the way of
+reading with the senses always alert for something good; and all good
+paragraphs and sentences lose something of their beautiful adaptation
+when torn from the place of their birth and growth.
+
+So, too, there are no long lists of errors. One hundred pupils in a
+term make enough to fill a volume. When a teacher knows that Sentences
+is to be her next subject she should begin three months in advance to
+get a good collection of specimens. These should be classified so that
+they may be most usable. By the time the class comes to the study of
+Sentences some new, live material will be on hand for illustration.
+
+In the pupils' exercises each week those errors should be singled out
+and dwelt upon which are the special subject of text-book work. If the
+pupils are studying Coherence in sentence structure, select all
+violations of this principle in the week's exercises, and by means of
+them nail that one principle down instead of trying to lay down the
+whole set of principles given in the chapter on Sentences. Alongside
+of this collection of mistakes in Coherence of sentences show the
+pupils the best examples of tight-jointed sentences to be found in the
+literature they are studying. Point out how these sentences have been
+made to hold together, and how their own shambling creations can be
+corrected.
+
+Some teachers will fear the amount of literature required. It may seem
+large, especially in the first two years. It certainly would be quite
+impossible to read aloud in class all of this. However, that is not
+intended. There would be but sorry progress either in the course of
+study or in the power to analyze literature if the class time were
+taken up with oral reading of narration and description. The whole of
+a short story or one or two chapters of a novel are not too much for a
+lesson. The discussion of the meaning and the method of the author
+should take up the largest part of the time. Then such portions should
+be read aloud as are especially suited to an exercise in oral reading.
+In this way the apparently large list will be easily covered within
+the time.
+
+Moreover, there is distinct gain in reading much. If only three or
+four pages be given for a lesson, the study of literature degenerates
+into a study of words. A study of words is necessary, but it is only a
+part of the study of literature. Such a method of study gives the
+pupil no sense of values. He does not get out into the wide spaces of
+the author's thought, but is eternally hedged about by the dwarfing
+barriers of etymology and grammar.
+
+
+                    B. THE FORM OF A COMPOSITION.
+
+THE MARGIN. It is the custom to leave a margin of about an inch at the
+left side of the page. In this margin the corrections should be
+written, not in the composition. There should be no margin at the
+right. The device of writing incomplete lines, or of making each
+sentence a paragraph, is sometimes adopted by young persons in the
+hope of deceiving the teacher as to the length of the composition.
+Remember that pages do not count for literature any more than yards of
+hideous advertising boards count as art. Write a full page with a
+straight-lined margin at the left.
+
+INDENTION. To designate the beginning of a new paragraph, it is
+customary to have the first line begin an inch farther in than the
+other lines. This indention of the margin and the incomplete line at
+the end mark the visible limits of the paragraph.
+
+THE HEADING. The heading or title of the composition should be written
+about an inch and a half from the top of the page, and well placed in
+the middle from left to right. There should be a blank line between
+the title and the beginning of the composition. Some persons prefer,
+in addition to the title, the name of the writer and the date of
+writing,--an unnecessary addition, it seems to me. If they are to
+appear, the name should be at the left and the date at the right, both
+on one line. The title will be on the next line below.
+
+          Jay Phillips.                       Jan. 27, 1900.
+
+                        The Circus-Man's Story.
+
+     "There was once an old man whom they called a wizard, and
+     who lived in a great cave by the sea and raised dragons. Now
+     when I was a very little boy, I had read a great deal about
+     this old man and felt as if he were quite a friend of mine.
+     I had planned for a long time to pay him a visit, although I
+     had not decided just when I should start. But the day Jim
+     White's father brought him that camel, I was crazy to be
+     after my dragon at once.
+
+     "When bedtime came, I had made all my plans; and scarcely
+     had Nurse turned her back when I was on my way. It was
+     really very far, but I traveled so swiftly that I arrived in
+     a remarkably short time at the wizard's house. When I
+     rapped, he opened the door and asked me in.
+
+     "'I came to see if you had any dragons left,' I told him. 'I
+     should like a very good, gentle dragon,' I added, 'that
+     would not scare Nurse; and if it is isn't too much trouble,
+     I should want one that I could ride.'"
+
+THE INDORSEMENT. When the composition is finished, it should be folded
+but once up and down the middle of the page. The indorsement upon the
+back is generally written toward the edges of the leaves, not toward
+the folded edge. I prefer the other way, however; and for this reason.
+If in a bunch of essays a teacher is searching for a particular one,
+she generally holds them in the left hand and with the fingers of the
+right lifts one essay after another. Indorsing toward the folded edge
+insures lifting a whole essay every time; while if the edges of the
+leaves be toward the right hand, too many or too few may be lifted.
+
+The indorsement should contain: first, the name of the writer; second,
+the term and period of his recitation; third, the title of the essay;
+and fourth, the date. In describing the class and period, it is well
+to use a Roman numeral for the term, counting two terms in each year,
+and an Arabic numeral to denote the period of his recitation.
+
+                  ||=============================
+                  ||                             |
+                  ||        Jay Phillips.        |
+                  ||                             |
+                  ||            II, 3.           |
+                  ||                             |
+                  ||   The Circus-Man's Story.   |
+                  ||                             |
+                  ||        Jan. 27, 1900.       |
+                   |                             |
+                    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
+
+PENMANSHIP. The penmanship should be neat and legible. Not all persons
+can write elegantly; but all can write so that their work can be
+easily read, and all can make a clean page. Scribbling is due to
+carelessness. A scribbled page points to a scribbling mind; clean-cut
+handwriting, perhaps not Spencerian, but a clear, legible handwriting
+is not only an indication of clear-cut thinking but a means and
+promoter of accurate thought. Moreover, as a business proposition, one
+cannot afford to become a slovenly penman. Every composition should be
+a lesson in penmanship, and by so much improve one's chances in the
+business world. And last, the teacher who has to read and correct the
+compositions of from one hundred to two hundred persons each week
+demands some consideration. No one but a teacher knows the drudgery of
+this work; it can be much lightened if each pupil writes so that the
+composition can be read without difficulty. By doing this, the pupil
+is sure of better criticism; for the teacher can give all her
+attention to the composition, none being demanded for the penmanship.
+
+
+               C. MARKS FOR CORRECTION OF COMPOSITIONS.
+
+In correcting compositions certain abbreviations will save a teacher
+much time. Some of the common ones are given below. Underscore the
+element that needs correcting, and put the abbreviation in the margin.
+In case the whole paragraph needs remodeling, draw a line at its side
+and note the correction in the margin.
+
+     Cap.    Use a capital letter.
+     l. c.   Use a small letter.
+     D.      See the dictionary for the correct use of the word.
+     Sp.     Spelling.
+     Gr.     A mistake in grammatical use of language.
+     Cnst.   The construction of the sentence is awkward or
+             unidiomatic.
+     Cl.     Not clear. The remedy may be suggested by reference to
+             certain pages of the text.
+     W.      Weak. As above, point out the trouble by a page
+             reference.
+     Rep.    Repetition is monotonous; or it may be necessary for
+             clearness.
+     p.      Punctuation.
+     Cond.   Condense.
+     Exp.    Expand.
+     Tr.     Transpose.
+     ?       Some fault not designated. It is well to use page
+             reference.
+     ¶       Make a new paragraph.
+     No ¶    Unite into one paragraph.
+     [Greek lower-case delta]   Cut out.
+     ^       There is something omitted.
+
+In addition to the above very common corrections, many others should
+be made. Instead of abbreviations, it will be better to refer the
+pupil to the page of the book which treats of the special fault. For
+instance, if there be an unexpected change of construction, underscore
+it, and write in the margin "226;" on this page is found "parallel
+construction" of sentences. It may be well to use the letters U., C.,
+and M., in connection with the page numbers to indicate that the fault
+is in the unity, coherence, or mass of the element to be corrected.
+The constant reference to the fuller statement of the principles
+violated will serve to fix them in the mind.
+
+
+                           D. PUNCTUATION.
+
+Punctuation seeks to do for written composition what inflections and
+pauses accomplish in vocal expression. It makes clear what kind of an
+expression the whole sentence is: whether declarative, exclamatory, or
+interrogative. And it assists in indicating the relations of the
+different parts within a sentence. While there is practically
+uniformity in the method of punctuation at the end of a sentence,
+within a sentence punctuation shows much variety of method. Where one
+person uses a comma, another inserts a semicolon; and where one finds
+a semicolon sufficient, another requires a colon. It should be
+remembered that the parts of a sentence have not equal rank; and that
+the difference in rank should, as far as possible, be indicated by the
+marks of punctuation. Keeping in mind, also, the fact that the
+internal marks of punctuation,--the colon, the semicolon, and the
+comma,--have a rank in the order mentioned, from the greatest to the
+least, a writer will use the stronger marks when the rank of the parts
+of a sentence demands them, and the weaker marks to separate the
+lesser elements of the sentence. The sentences below illustrate the
+variety which may be practiced, and the use of punctuation to show the
+relation and rank of the elements of a sentence.
+
+1. Internal punctuation is largely a matter of taste but there are
+definite rules for final punctuation.
+
+2. Internal punctuation is largely a matter of taste; there are,
+however, definite rules for final punctuation.
+
+3. Internal punctuation, the purpose of which is to group phrases and
+clauses which belong together and to separate those which do not
+belong together, and to indicate the relative rank of the parts
+separated, is, to a great extent, a matter of taste: on the other
+hand, there are definite rules for final punctuation, the object of
+which is to separate sentences, and also to assist in telling what
+kind of a sentence precedes it; that is, whether it be declarative,
+interrogative, or exclamatory.
+
+Looking at the first sentence, we find two elements of equal rank
+separated by a comma. Some authors would prefer no punctuation at all
+in a sentence as short as this. Again, if one wished to make the two
+elements very independent, he would use a semicolon. There would be
+but little difference in meaning between no punctuation and a comma;
+but there is a wide difference in meaning between no punctuation and a
+semicolon. The independence caused by the use of the semicolon is felt
+in the second sentence, where the words are the same except one. In
+this sentence a colon might be used; and one might go so far as to
+make two sentences of it. Notice that in these two sentences the
+question is how independent you wish the elements to be, and it is
+also a question of taste. In the third sentence, there are elements of
+different rank. To indicate the rank, punctuation of different value
+must be introduced. The two independent elements are separated by a
+colon. A semicolon might be used, if a semicolon were not used within
+the second independent element. This renders the greater mark
+necessary. Look at the commas in the first independent element. The
+assertion is that "internal punctuation is a matter of taste." This is
+too sweeping. It is modified by an explanatory phrase, "to a large
+extent;" and this phrase is inclosed by commas. Moreover, the long
+clause indicating the purpose of internal punctuation is inclosed by
+commas. The use of a semicolon in the second part falls under the
+third rule for the semicolon. If one should substitute for this
+semicolon a comma and a dash, he could use a semicolon instead of a
+colon for separating the two main divisions of the sentence. However,
+the method in which they are first punctuated is in accord with the
+rules generally accepted. The simplest of these rules are given below
+but one must never be surprised to find a piece of literature in which
+the internal punctuation is at variance with these rules.
+
+                           CAPITAL LETTERS.
+
+1. A capital letter begins every new sentence.
+
+2. A capital letter begins every line of poetry.
+
+3. All names of Deity begin with a capital letter.
+
+4. All proper names begin with capital letters.
+
+5. All adjectives derived from proper nouns begin with capital
+letters.
+
+6. The first word of every direct quotation begins with a capital
+letter.
+
+7. Most abbreviations use capital letters.
+
+                               COMMAS.
+
+8. A series of words or a series of phrases, performing similar
+functions in a sentence, are separated from each other by commas,
+unless all the connectives are expressed.
+
+           "Her voice was ever soft,
+     Gentle, and low,--an excellent thing in woman."
+
+                             "Good my lord,
+     You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I
+     Return those duties back as are right fit,
+     Obey you, love you, and most honor you."
+
+But, "shining and tall and fair and straight," because all the
+connectives are expressed.
+
+9. Words out of their natural order are separated from the rest of the
+sentence by commas.
+
+     "To the unlearned, punctuation is a matter of chance."
+
+10. Words and phrases, either explanatory or slightly parenthetical,
+are separated from the rest of the sentence by commas.
+
+                 "Then poor Cordelia!
+     And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love 's
+     More richer than my tongue."
+
+However when phrases and clauses are quite parenthetic, they are
+separated from the remainder of the sentence by parentheses, or by
+commas and dashes. The comma and dash is more common, and generally
+indicates a lesser independence of the inclosed element.
+
+     "Then Miss Gunns smiled stiffly, and thought what a pity it
+     was that these rich country people, who could afford to buy
+     such good clothes (really Miss Nancy's lace and silk were
+     very costly), should be brought up in utter ignorance and
+     vulgarity."
+
+11. The nominative of direct address, and phrases in the nominative
+absolute construction are cut off by commas.
+
+                              "Goneril,
+     Our eldest born, speak first."
+
+     "The ridges being taken, the troops advanced a thousand
+     yards."
+
+12. Appositive words and phrases are separated from the remainder of
+the sentence by commas.
+
+     "In the early years of this century, such a linen weaver,
+     named Silas Marner, worked at his vocation, in a stone
+     cottage that stood among the nutty hedgerows near the
+     village of Raveloe, and not far from the edge of a deserted
+     stone-pit."
+
+13. When words are omitted, the omission is indicated by the use of a
+comma.
+
+           "Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;
+     Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despis'd!"
+
+14. A comma is used before a short and informal quotation.
+
+     "In the bitterness of his wounded spirit, he said to
+     himself, '_She_ will cast me off too.'"
+
+15. A comma is used to separate the independent clauses of a compound
+sentence sufficiently involved to necessitate some mark of
+punctuation, and yet not involved enough to require marks of different
+ranks.
+
+     "But about the Christmas of the fifteenth year a second
+     great change came over Marner's life, and his history became
+     blent in a singular manner with the life of his neighbors."
+
+6. Small groups of more closely related words are inclosed by commas
+to indicate their near relation and to separate them from words they
+might otherwise be thought to modify.
+
+     "In this strange world, made a hopeless riddle to him, he
+     might, if he had had a less intense nature, have sat
+     weaving, weaving--looking towards the end of his pattern, or
+     towards the end of his web, till he forgot the riddle, and
+     everything else but his immediate sensations; but the money
+     had come to mark off his weaving into periods, and the money
+     not only grew, but it remained with him."
+
+                             SEMICOLONS.
+
+17. A semicolon is used to separate the parts of a compound sentence
+if they are involved, or contain commas. It is also used to give
+independence to the members of a compound sentence when not very
+complex.
+
+     "The meadow was searched in vain; and he got over the stile
+     into the next field, looking with dying hope towards a small
+     pond which was now reduced to its summer shallowness, so as
+     to leave a wide margin of good adhesive mud."
+
+     "As for the child, he would see that it was cared for; he
+     would never forsake it; he would do everything but own it."
+
+18. Semicolons are used to separate a series of clauses in much the
+same way as commas are used to separate a series of words.
+
+     "I love you more than words can wield the matter;
+     Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty;
+     Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
+     No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor;
+     As much as child e'er loved, or father found;
+     A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;
+     Beyond all manner of so much I love thee."
+
+19. A semicolon is generally used to introduce a clause of repetition,
+a clause stating the obverse, and a clause stating an inference.
+
+(Many examples of the last two rules will be found in the discussion
+of compound sentences on pages 202, 203.)
+
+                               COLONS.
+
+20. A colon is used to introduce a formal quotation. It is frequently
+followed by a dash.
+
+     "Under date of November 28, 1860, she wrote to a friend:--
+
+     "'I am engaged now in writing a story--the idea of which
+     came to me after our arrival in this house, and which has
+     thrust itself between me and the other book I was
+     meditating. It is Silas Manner, the Weaver of Raveloe.'"
+
+     "On the last day of the same year she wrote: 'I am writing a
+     story which came across my other plans by a sudden
+     inspiration, etc.'"
+
+21. A colon is used to introduce a series of particulars, either
+appositional or explanatory, which the reader has been led to expect
+by the first clause of the sentence. These particulars are separated
+from each other by semicolons.
+
+     "The study of the principles of composition should include
+     the following subjects: a study of words as to their origin
+     and meaning; a study of the structure of the sentence and of
+     the larger elements of discourse--in other words, of
+     concrete logic; a study of the principles of effective
+     literary composition, as illustrated in the various
+     divisions of literature; and also a study of the æsthetics
+     of literature."
+
+     "What John Morley once said of literature as a whole is even
+     more accurate when applied to fiction alone: its purpose is
+     'to bring sunshine into our hearts and to drive moonshine
+     out of our heads.'"
+
+22. A colon is used to separate the major parts of a very complex and
+involved sentence, if the major parts, or either of them, contain
+within themselves semicolons.
+
+     "For four years he had thought of Nancy Lammeter, and wooed
+     her with a tacit patient worship, as the woman who made him
+     think of the future with joy: she would be his wife, and
+     would make home lovely to him, as his father's home had
+     never been; and it would be easy, when she was always near,
+     to shake off those foolish habits that were no pleasures,
+     but only a feverish way of annulling vacancy."
+
+23. A colon is sometimes used to mark a strong independence in the
+parts of a compound sentence.
+
+     "He didn't want to give Godfrey that pleasure: he preferred
+     that Master Godfrey should be vexed."
+
+                              THE DASH.
+
+24. A dash is frequently used with a colon to introduce a formal
+quotation. The quotation then begins a new paragraph.
+
+     (Example under colon.)
+
+25. A dash is used alone or with a comma to inclose a phrase or clause
+which is parenthetic or explanatory.
+
+     "'But as for being ugly, look at me, child, in this
+     silver-colored silk--I told you how it 'ud be--I look as
+     yallow as a daffadil.'"
+
+     (Example under comma.)
+
+26. A dash is used to denote a sudden turn of the thought.
+
+     "I've no opinion of the men, Miss Gunn--I don't know what
+     _you_ have."
+
+     "'It does make her look funny, though--partly like a
+     short-necked bottle wi' a long quill in it."
+
+27. A dash is frequently used when the composition should be
+interrupted to indicate the intensity of the emotion.
+
+     "No--no--I can't part with it, I can't let it go,' said
+     Silas abruptly. 'It's come to me--I've a right to keep it.'"
+
+     "And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!
+     Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
+     And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,
+     Never, never, never, never, never!--
+     Pray you, undo this button:--thank you, sir.--
+     Do you see this? Look on her,--look,--her lips,--
+     Look there, look there!"--
+
+28. A dash is sometimes used alone before an appositive phrase or
+clause.
+
+     "For the first time he determined to try the coal-hole--a
+     small closet near the hearth."
+
+            PERIOD, EXCLAMATION POINT, INTERROGATION MARK.
+
+29. A period closes every declarative sentence.
+
+30. A period is used after abbreviations.
+
+31. An exclamation point follows an expression of strong emotion.
+
+32. An interrogation mark follows a direct question.
+
+33. An interrogation mark is sometimes used in the body of a sentence,
+when the writer wishes to make the assertion forceful and uses a
+rhetorical question for the purpose.
+
+     "The shepherd's dog barked fiercely when one of these
+     alien-looking men appeared on the upland, dark against the
+     early winter sunset; for what dog likes a figure bent under
+     a heavy bag?--and these pale men rarely stirred abroad
+     without that mysterious burden."
+
+34. Quotation marks inclose every quotation of the exact words of
+another. When one quotation is made within another, the inner or
+secondary quotation is inclosed with single marks, the main or outer
+quotation is included within the double marks.
+
+     (Examples of both may be found above.)
+
+                SUGGESTIONS FOR TEACHING PUNCTUATION.
+
+At the time the pupils are studying the rules for punctuation they are
+reading Hawthorne or some other author equally careful of his
+punctuation. In his writing they will find numerous examples of the
+rules for punctuation. Let them take five rules for the comma, finding
+all the examples in five pages of text. In the same way furnish
+semicolons, colons, and dashes. When the rules have all been learned,
+they should be able to give the reason for every mark they find in
+literature. Next place upon the board paragraphs not punctuated, and
+have the pupils punctuate them. Remember that there is not absolute
+uniformity in the use of the comma, semicolon, and colon; though in
+each author there is a general adherence to the principles he adopts.
+Punctuation should be consistent. Insist that the pupil punctuate his
+written work consistently.
+
+
+               E. SUPPLEMENTARY LIST OF LITERATURE.[57]
+
+HAWTHORNE . . . . . . . A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys.
+TENNYSON. . . . . . . . Enoch Arden.
+LONGFELLOW. . . . . . . Tales of a Wayside Inn.
+WHITTIER. . . . . . . . The Tent on the Beach.
+MACAULAY. . . . . . . . Lays of Ancient Rome.
+DICKENS . . . . . . . . A Christmas Carol.
+KIPLING . . . . . . . . Wee Willie Winkie, and Other Stories.
+KIPLING . . . . . . . . The Jungle Books.
+HAWTHORNE . . . . . . . Twice-Told Tales.
+HAWTHORNE . . . . . . . Mosses from an Old Manse.
+DICKENS . . . . . . . . The Cricket on the Hearth.
+BROWN . . . . . . . . . Rab and his Friends.
+OUIDA . . . . . . . . . A Dog of Flanders.
+HALE. . . . . . . . . . The Man without a Country.
+DEFOE . . . . . . . . . Robinson Crusoe.
+POE . . . . . . . . . . The Gold-Bug.
+SCOTT . . . . . . . . . Marmion.
+SCOTT . . . . . . . . . The Lady of the Lake.
+BROWNING. . . . . . . . Hervé Riel, an Incident of the French Camp,
+                          and other Narrative Poems.
+FRANKLIN. . . . . . . . Autobiography.
+COOPER. . . . . . . . . The Last of the Mohicans.
+LONGFELLOW. . . . . . . Evangeline.
+LONGFELLOW. . . . . . . Miles Standish.
+DAVIS . . . . . . . . . Gallegher, and Other Stories.
+MAUPASSANT. . . . . . . Number Thirteen.
+MISS WILKINS. . . . . . Short Stories.
+MISS JEWETT . . . . . . Short Stories.
+POPE. . . . . . . . . . The Iliad.
+ALDRICH . . . . . . . . Marjorie Daw.
+LOWELL. . . . . . . . . The Vision of Sir Launfal, and Other Poems.
+IRVING. . . . . . . . . Tales of a Traveller.
+IRVING. . . . . . . . . The Sketch Book.
+POE . . . . . . . . . . The Fall of the House of Usher.
+WHITTIER. . . . . . . . Snow-Bound.
+BURROUGHS . . . . . . . Sharp Eyes; Birds and Bees; Pepacton.
+GOLDSMITH . . . . . . . The Deserted Village.
+SCOTT . . . . . . . . . Ivanhoe.
+DICKENS . . . . . . . . David Copperfield.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . Julius Cæsar.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . The Merchant of Venice.
+IRVING. . . . . . . . . Rip Van Winkle.
+IRVING. . . . . . . . . The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.
+BRYANT. . . . . . . . . Selected Poems.
+GRAY. . . . . . . . . . An Elegy in a Country Churchyard.
+TENNYSON. . . . . . . . The Princess; Idylls of the King.
+DICKENS . . . . . . . . The Pickwick Papers.
+BURNS . . . . . . . . . Selected Poems.
+DRYDEN. . . . . . . . . Alexander's Feast.
+BYRON . . . . . . . . . Childe Harold.
+GEORGE ELIOT. . . . . . Silas Marner.
+COLERIDGE . . . . . . . The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.
+MACAULAY. . . . . . . . Essay on Milton.
+RUSKIN. . . . . . . . . Sesame and Lilies.
+EMERSON . . . . . . . . Friendship; Self-Reliance; Fortune of the
+                          Republic; The American Scholar.
+ARNOLD. . . . . . . . . On the Study of Poetry; Wordsworth and Keats.
+LOWELL. . . . . . . . . Emerson, the Lecturer; Milton; Books and
+                          Libraries.
+HOLMES. . . . . . . . . The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table.
+ADDISON . . . . . . . . The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers.
+WORDSWORTH. . . . . . . Intimations of Immortality, and Other Poems.
+KEATS . . . . . . . . . Selected Poems.
+SHELLEY . . . . . . . . Selected Poems.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . Macbeth.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . A Midsummer Night's Dream.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . As You Like It.
+WEBSTER . . . . . . . . Bunker Hill Monument Oration; Adams and
+                          Jefferson.
+GOLDSMITH . . . . . . . The Vicar of Wakefield.
+MILTON. . . . . . . . . L'Allegro; Il Penseroso; Comus; Lycidas.
+DE QUINCEY. . . . . . . Confessions of an English Opium Eater, and
+                          Other Papers.
+JOHN HENRY NEWMAN . . . Selected Essays.
+THACKERAY . . . . . . . Henry Esmond.
+STEVENSON . . . . . . . Virginibus Puerisque.
+STEVENSON . . . . . . . Memories and Portraits.
+SCHURZ. . . . . . . . . Abraham Lincoln.
+GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS . Selected Addresses.
+CHARLES LAMB. . . . . . Essays of Elia.
+STEVENSON . . . . . . . Travels with a Donkey.
+STEVENSON . . . . . . . An Inland Voyage.
+BURKE . . . . . . . . . Conciliation with the Colonies.
+LINCOLN . . . . . . . . Cooper Union Address; Gettysburg Speech.
+CHAUCER . . . . . . . . Prologue, and Two Canterbury Tales.
+MILTON. . . . . . . . . Paradise Lost, and Sonnets.
+CARLYLE . . . . . . . . Essay on Burns.
+TENNYSON. . . . . . . . In Memoriam, and Lyrics.
+BROWNING. . . . . . . . Rabbi Ben Ezra; Saul; A Grammarian's Funeral.
+THOREAU . . . . . . . . Walden.
+AUSTEN. . . . . . . . . Pride and Prejudice.
+GEORGE ELIOT. . . . . . Romola.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . King Lear.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . Hamlet.
+MACAULAY. . . . . . . . Essay on Johnson.
+THACKERAY . . . . . . . Vanity Fair.
+LOWELL. . . . . . . . . Democracy; Lincoln.
+STEVENSON . . . . . . . Lantern Bearers; A Humble Remonstrance; Gossip
+                          about Romance.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                                INDEX
+
+
+Abstract vs. concrete, 89, 90.
+
+"Adams and Jefferson," Webster's, quotation from, 176.
+
+Adjectives, 78.
+
+"Alice in Wonderland," a story without facts, 25.
+
+Allegory, 261.
+
+Allusion, 263.
+
+Amphibrach, 273.
+
+Analogy, use of, 137.
+
+Anapest, defined, 273;
+  interchangeable with iambus, 278.
+
+"And," use of, 192.
+
+Andersen, Hans Christian, his "Tannenbaum," 12.
+
+Anecdotes in exposition, 97.
+
+"Annabel Lee," quotations from, 271, 278, 279.
+
+Anti-climax, 210.
+
+Antithesis, 227.
+
+"Apologia," Newman's, quotation from, 160.
+
+Apostrophe, 261.
+
+Argument, 4, 128-137;
+  from cause, 133;
+  sign, 133-137;
+  example, 137.
+
+Arnold, Matthew, quotation from, 159;
+  quotation to illustrate repetition, 167;
+  to illustrate sentence structure, 222.
+
+Arrangement, in narration, 29-32;
+  description, 74, 75;
+  exposition, 108-114;
+  argument, 138-141;
+  sentence, 222, 223.
+
+Association of ideas, 103.
+
+"Autumn Effect, An," quotation from, 17.
+
+
+"Baa, Baa, Black Sheep," its purpose, 7;
+  beginning, 29;
+  length of sentences in, 33;
+  time for the action, 36.
+
+Balanced sentences, 227, 228.
+
+Ballad, defined, 285.
+
+"Barbara Frietchie," a narrative poem, 4.
+
+Bates, Arlo, quoted, 35.
+
+Beauty, gained by use of figurative language, 258.
+
+Beginning of a story, 29.
+
+Bellamy, Edward, his "Looking Backward," 7.
+
+"Biglow Papers," quotation from, 51.
+
+"Birthmark," Hawthorne's, 24.
+
+Blake, William, "Tiger, Tiger," quoted, 282, 283.
+
+"Bonnie Brier Bush, Beside the," 25.
+
+Bookish words, 242.
+
+"Break, Break, Break," quotation from, 283.
+
+"Bridge of Sighs, The," quotation from, 270.
+
+Brief in argument, 138, 139.
+
+Browning, Robert, vivid narration of, 23.
+
+"Burial of Sir John Moore, The," quotation from, 277.
+
+Burke, Edmund, quotation from his speech on "Conciliation with the
+     Colonies," 116;
+  that speech analyzed, 142-147;
+  quotations to illustrate paragraph structure, 171, 175, 177, 188;
+  quotations to show sentence structure, 200, 209, 214, 226.
+
+Burroughs, John, his knowledge of his field, 9;
+  quotations from, 158, 160.
+
+"But," use of, 192.
+
+
+Capital letters, 303.
+
+Cause and effect, 133-136.
+
+Characters, number of, 35.
+
+Chaucer, Geoffrey, quotation from, 245.
+
+Choice of subject, 8-12.
+
+Choice of words, 78-80, 239-255.
+
+"Cinderella," 12.
+
+Clearness and coherence, 180-193, 224, 225.
+
+Clearness gained by use of figurative language, 258.
+
+Climax, 139-141, 211, 218;
+  defined, 262.
+
+Coherence, 20;
+  in narration, 31, 32;
+  in description, 74, 75;
+  in exposition, 116-118;
+  in paragraphs, 180-193;
+  in sentences, 224, 225.
+
+Colons, 306, 307.
+
+Comedy, 286.
+
+Commas, 303, 304.
+
+Comparisons, use of, 77, 98;
+  paragraph of, 165;
+  confusion of, 259.
+
+Composition, 1;
+  oral and written, 2;
+  conventions of, 2.
+
+"Conciliation with the Colonies," Burke's speech on, quoted, 116, 171,
+     175, 177, 188, 214, 226;
+  analyzed, 142-147.
+
+Conclusion of a story, 23.
+
+Concrete facts, use of, 89, 90.
+
+Conjunctions, use of, 190, 191.
+
+Connectives in sentences, 228, 229.
+
+Consistency, 25.
+
+Cooke, Josiah P., his essay on "Fire," 8.
+
+"Copyright," quotations from Macaulay's speech on, 159, 172.
+
+Correction, marks for, 300.
+
+Curtis, George William, quoted, 111.
+
+
+Dactyl, defined, 272;
+  interchangeable with trochee, 278.
+
+"Daisy, The," Wordsworth's quotation from, 274.
+
+"Darkness and Dawn," 8.
+
+Dash, 307, 308.
+
+"David Copperfield," description quoted from, 65.
+
+"David Harum," its construction criticised, 22.
+
+Davis, Richard Harding, small number of characters in his books, 35;
+  simple plot in his "Gallegher," 36.
+
+Deduction, 129.
+
+Definition, a, 91-94.
+
+Description, 4, 49-80;
+  an aid to narration, 34;
+  and exposition, 91.
+
+Description and painting, 50.
+
+Details, in narration, 22-25;
+  paragraph of, 163.
+
+Dickens, Charles, his "Nicholas Nickleby" as an exposition, 5;
+  description from his "David Copperfield" quoted, 65;
+  quotations from Mr. Micawber's conversation, 253.
+
+Dictionary, use of, 237.
+
+Differentia, 92, 93.
+
+Digression, 22.
+
+Dimeter, 274.
+
+Discourse, forms of, 3-7.
+
+"Discussions and Arguments," Newman's, quotation from, 97.
+
+Dramatic poetry, 286.
+
+Dynamic point of sentence, 221.
+
+
+Elegy, the, 285.
+
+Eliot, George, her "Silas Marner," 13;
+  quotation from, 152-156.
+
+Emerson, Ralph Waldo, primarily an essayist, 9.
+
+Emotional statement, 115.
+
+Emphasis, how secured, 110-112, 115, 116, 217-219.
+
+End of a paragraph, 175-179;
+  of a sentence, 208-212.
+
+"English Composition," Wendell's, quotation from, 94.
+
+Enthymeme, 130.
+
+Enumeration _vs._ suggestion, 52.
+
+Enumerative description, 54.
+
+Epic, the, 284.
+
+Epithet, 260.
+
+"Evangeline," quotation from, 277, 278.
+
+Events, order of, 29, 30.
+
+Everett, Edward, description from, quoted, 71.
+
+Examples, paragraph of, 171.
+
+Exclamation, 262.
+
+Exclamation point, 308.
+
+Exclusion of details, 22, 23, 26.
+
+Exposition, 4, 89-120;
+  and description, 91.
+
+
+Facts in stories, 25.
+
+"Faerie Queene, The," quotation from, 281.
+
+"Fall of the House of Usher, The," descriptions in, 34;
+  quotation from, 69, 71.
+
+Familiar images, 76.
+
+Farrar, Canon, as a writer of sermons, 8.
+
+"Feathertop," 13.
+
+Figurative language, 257;
+  value of, 258.
+
+Figures of speech, 77, 250, 257-268.
+
+Fine writing, 253.
+
+"First Snow-Fall, The," quotation from, 274.
+
+Fiske, John, his "History of the United States," 25.
+
+Foot, a, in poetry, 272;
+  one kind may be substituted for another, 277-281;
+  first and last foot of a verse may be irregular, 281, 282.
+
+Force, gained by use of figurative language, 258.
+
+Foreign words, 243.
+
+Francis I. quoted, 113.
+
+"Function of Criticism at the Present Time," Arnold's, quotation from,
+     222.
+
+
+"Gallegher," simple plot of, 36.
+
+General terms, 89, 248-252.
+
+Genung, J. F., on paragraph structure, 162.
+
+Genus and differentia, 92, 93.
+
+"Gold Bug," length of sentences in, 33.
+
+Good usage, 222, 223, 239-245.
+
+Grant, U. S., his "Memoirs" have no plot, 16.
+
+
+Hackneyed phrases, 253.
+
+Haggard, Rider, 12.
+
+Hawthorne, Nathaniel, a story writer, 9;
+  his "Feathertop," 13;
+  his descriptions in "The Marble Faun," 34;
+  quoted, 50;
+  quotations from, about "The Old Manse," 58, 59;
+  descriptions from his "House of the Seven Gables" quoted, 66;
+  from "The Old Apple Dealer," 67.
+
+Heading of essay, 297.
+
+Heptameter, 275.
+
+"Hervé Riel" as a piece of narrative, 23.
+
+Hexameter, 275.
+
+"Hiawatha," quotation from, 270.
+
+"Historical Sketches," Newman's, quotation from, 52-54.
+
+Hood, Thomas, "The Bridge of Sighs" quoted, 270.
+
+"House of the Seven Gables," descriptions quoted from, 66.
+
+Hugo, Victor, his description of Waterloo quoted, 67.
+
+Huxley, Thomas, example of his use of comparison, 98;
+  quotation from, to illustrate paragraph structure, 161.
+
+Hyperbole, 263.
+
+
+Iambus, defined, 272;
+  the common foot of English verse, 272, 279;
+  interchangeable with anapest, 278.
+
+"Idea of a University," quotations from, 95, 171, 193, 203, 210, 247.
+
+Illustrations, their value, 97.
+
+"Impressions de Théâtre," quotation from, 63.
+
+"Incident of a French Camp, An," as an example of a short story, 23.
+
+Incident, the main, 20, 21.
+
+Incidents, order of, 29, 30.
+
+Inclusion of material, 24.
+
+Indention of paragraph, 297.
+
+Individual arrangement of paragraph, 181-188.
+
+Individuality of author, 8.
+
+Indorsement of essay, 298.
+
+Induction, 128, 132.
+
+Interest, 11, 12.
+
+Interrogation, 262.
+
+Interrogation point, 308.
+
+Introduction of story, 23.
+
+Inversion, 262.
+
+Irony, 262.
+
+Irrelevant matter, 22, 23.
+
+Irving, Washington, as a story writer in the third person, 27;
+  description from, quoted, 54;
+  short characterization quoted, 70;
+  description of a coachman quoted, 75;
+  quotations to illustrate paragraph structure, 164, 183;
+  to illustrate sentence construction, 202, 203, 219, 220, 229.
+
+
+Jonson, Ben, quotation from, 280.
+
+"Jungle Books," 12;
+  quotation from, 78.
+
+
+"Kidnapped," quotations from, 15, 165;
+  its unity, 27.
+
+"King Lear," its plot, 16;
+  quotation from, 60.
+
+Kingsley, Charles, "The Three Fishers" quoted, 271.
+
+Kipling, Rudyard, his "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep," 7;
+  his "Jungle Books," 12;
+  his use of climax, 21;
+  as a story-teller, 22, 27;
+  small number of characters in his stories, 35;
+  quotation from his "Light that Failed," 60;
+  description quoted from his "Jungle Books," 78;
+  quotation to illustrate sentence construction, 201;
+  his "L'Envoi" quoted, 252.
+
+
+"Lady of the Lake, The," quotation from, 269.
+
+Language _vs._ painting, 49-52.
+
+Lanier, Sidney, "The Science of English Verse," cited, 269;
+  quoted, 273.
+
+Latin words, 245-248.
+
+Le Gallienne, Richard, his essay on pigs, 10;
+  quoted, 257.
+
+"Legend of Sleepy Hollow, The," 27, 29;
+  description in, 34;
+  quotation from to show paragraph structure, 163, 183;
+  to show sentence structure, 202, 219.
+
+Lemaître, Jules, criticism of Zola quoted, 63.
+
+Length, of a description, 63, 64;
+  of a paragraph, 151-156;
+  of a sentence, 178, 179, 204, 205.
+
+"L'Envoi" to "The Seven Seas," quoted, 252.
+
+"Les Misérables," its intricate plot, 16;
+  quotation from, 67.
+
+"Light that Failed, The," quotation from, 60.
+
+"Little Dorrit," large number of characters in, 35.
+
+"Little Red Riding Hood," 12.
+
+Logical definition, 91.
+
+"London Bridge," quotation from, 282.
+
+Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, "Hiawatha" quoted, 270;
+  "Evangeline" quoted, 277, 278;
+  "The Village Blacksmith" quoted, 279, 280.
+
+"Looking Backward," as a novel with a purpose, 7.
+
+Loose sentences, 212, 214, 215.
+
+Lovelace, Richard, quoted, 112.
+
+Lowell, James Russell, his "Sir Launfal," 13;
+  quotation from "Biglow Papers," 51;
+  from a "Song," 52;
+  from "To W. L. Garrison," 89;
+  from "The First Snow-Fall," 274.
+
+Lyric poetry, 285.
+
+Lytton, Lord, quotation from, 241.
+
+
+Macaulay, Lord, quotation on Milton from, 96;
+  quotation to illustrate comparison, 98;
+  his essay on "Milton" analyzed, 106;
+  last sentence of that essay quoted, 111;
+  that essay as an example of proportion in treatment, 114;
+  his denunciation of Charles I. quoted, 115;
+  further quotations from his "Milton," 117;
+  his speeches on "Copyright" and the "Reform Bill" quoted, 159, 172,
+       193;
+  quotations from the "Milton" to illustrate paragraph structure, 164,
+       166, 168, 178, 182, 184.
+
+"Macbeth," 13.
+
+Maclaren, Ian, 25.
+
+Main incident, 20-26.
+
+Major term, 129.
+
+"Marble Faun, The," description in, 34.
+
+Margin of composition, 296.
+
+"Marmion," 27, 29;
+  quoted, 276.
+
+Mass, 20;
+  in description, 64-75;
+  in exposition, 108-114;
+  in paragraphs, 174-178;
+  in sentences, 207-212.
+
+Masson, David, 104.
+
+Maupassant, Guy de, quotation from his "Pierre et Jean," 56;
+  from his "Odd Number," 156.
+
+Meredith, George, quotation from, to illustrate paragraph structure,
+     161;
+  sentence structure, 205.
+
+Metaphor, 77, 260.
+
+Metonymy, 250, 263.
+
+Metre, kinds of, 273-275;
+  variations in, 276.
+
+Metrical romance, the, 284.
+
+Middle term, 130.
+
+"Milton," Macaulay's essay on, quotations from, 96, 98, 111, 115, 117,
+     119, 164, 166-168, 178, 184;
+  analyzed, 106.
+
+Milton, John, quotations from, 241, 245, 248.
+
+Minor term, 129.
+
+Monometer, 273.
+
+Mood in description, 59-62, 67-69.
+
+"Mosses from an Old Manse," quotation from, 50.
+
+Movement of story, 32, 33.
+
+
+Narration, 4, 13-37.
+
+Narrative poetry, 284.
+
+National usage, 242.
+
+"New Testament," quotation from, 241.
+
+Newman, Cardinal, quotation from, about Athens, 52;
+  quotation on theology, 95;
+  quotation to illustrate the use of specific instances in exposition,
+       97;
+  to illustrate paragraph structure, 160, 171, 177, 193;
+  to show sentence construction, 203, 210;
+  to show use of words, 247.
+
+"Nicholas Nickleby," as an exposition of school abuses, 5.
+
+Nouns, 78.
+
+Number of characters, 35.
+
+
+Observation, its value, 55.
+
+Obverse statement, 95, 96;
+  paragraph of, 169-171.
+
+Octameter, 275.
+
+"Odd Number, The," quotation from, 156.
+
+Ode, defined, 285.
+
+"OEnone," quotation from, 51.
+
+"Old Apple Dealer, The," quotation from, 67.
+
+Omniscience of an author, 27.
+
+Order of events in stories, 29;
+  of words in sentences, 217-219.
+
+Outline, use of, 32, 109, 110, 138, 139, 174.
+
+
+Palmer, Professor G. H., quotations from, on composition writing, 101,
+     112.
+
+"Paradise Lost," quotations from, 241, 245, 248.
+
+Paragraphs, 151-195.
+
+Parallel construction, 192-194, 226, 227.
+
+Particulars in exposition, 96;
+  paragraph of, 163.
+
+Penmanship, 300.
+
+Pentameter, 274.
+
+"Pepacton," 9;
+  quotations from, 158, 160.
+
+Period, 308.
+
+Periodic sentences, 212-216.
+
+Personification, 77, 260.
+
+Persuasion, 4.
+
+Philippians iv. 8, 241.
+
+"Physical Basis of Life," Huxley's, quotations from, 98, 161.
+
+"Pierre et Jean," quotation from, 55.
+
+"Pilgrim's Progress," 13.
+
+Place of a story, 29.
+
+Plot, 15-20, 36.
+
+Poe, Edgar Allan, his sentences, 33;
+  his use of description in "The Fall of the House of Usher," 34;
+  quotations from that work, 68, 71;
+  "Annabel Lee" quoted, 271, 278, 279.
+
+Poetic feet, 272.
+
+Poetical words, 254.
+
+Poetry, kinds of, 284-286.
+
+Point of view, 56-59;
+  change of, 58;
+  mental, 59.
+
+Position of words in sentences, 217.
+
+"Præterita," Ruskin's, quotations from, 169.
+
+Premises, 129;
+  false, 131.
+
+"Present Position of Catholics in England," Newman's, quotation from,
+     177.
+
+Present usage of words, 244, 245.
+
+"Prince Otto," quotations from, 72, 73.
+
+"Princess, The," quotation from, 251.
+
+Pronouns, use of, 188, 189.
+
+Proportion in description, 73;
+  in exposition, 104-108, 114;
+  in paragraphs, 179.
+
+"Prose Fancies," 10.
+
+Provincialisms, 242.
+
+Purpose, of an author, 6, 7;
+  in description, 59-62.
+
+
+Quotation marks, 308.
+
+"Quo Vadis," 7.
+
+
+Rapidity of movement, 32.
+
+"Reform Bill," quotation from Macaulay's speech on, 193.
+
+Refutation in argument, 141.
+
+Repetition, its value, 94;
+  paragraph of, 167.
+
+Reputable words, 239-241.
+
+"Richard Feverel," quotations from, 161, 205.
+
+"Richelieu," quotation from, 241.
+
+"Robinson Crusoe," has little plot, 16.
+
+Royce, Josiah, quotation from, 242.
+
+Ruskin, John, 49;
+  quotation to illustrate building up a paragraph, 169;
+  his "Sesame and Lilies," 239.
+
+
+Saxon words, 245-248.
+
+Scale of treatment, 104-108.
+
+Scansion, 275-284;
+  requisites for scanning, 283, 284.
+
+"Science of English Verse, The," quotation from, 273.
+
+Scott, Sir Walter, as a story-teller in the third person, 27;
+  his dull introductory chapters, 31;
+  "The Lady of the Lake" quoted, 269;
+  "Marmion" quoted, 276.
+
+Selection of material in narration, 21-28;
+  in description, 56-62;
+  in exposition, 102-104;
+  in argument, 138.
+
+"Self-Cultivation in English," quotation from, 101, 112.
+
+Semicolons, 202, 203, 305, 306.
+
+Sentences, 200-230;
+  simple and compound, 200, 201;
+  long or short, 204, 205.
+
+Sequence of events, 29, 30.
+
+Serial arrangement of paragraph, 181-188.
+
+"Sesame and Lilies," 239.
+
+Sienkiewicz, Henry, his "Quo Vadis," 7.
+
+"Silas Marner," written for a purpose, 13;
+  example of a plot, 20;
+  time consumed in the story, 36;
+  quotation to show paragraph length, 152-156.
+
+Simile, 77, 261.
+
+Sing-song, natural tendency toward, 269, 276.
+
+Slang, 240.
+
+Slowness of movement, 33.
+
+"Snow-Bound," narrative or descriptive?, 4.
+
+Song defined, 285.
+
+Sonnet defined, 285.
+
+Specific words, 248-252.
+
+Spencer, Herbert, on the philosophy of the periodic sentence, 212.
+
+Spenser, Edmund, "The Faerie Queene" quoted, 281.
+
+"Spirit of Modern Philosophy," Royce's, quotation from, 242.
+
+Spondee, 273.
+
+Stanza, 275.
+
+Stedman, E. C., an authority on literature, 9.
+
+Stevenson, Robert Louis, his "Treasure Island" and "Travels with a
+     Donkey" as narratives, 4;
+  quotation from "Kidnapped," 15;
+  his "An Autumn Effect" quoted, 17;
+  unity in his stories, 27;
+  descriptions from, quoted, 62, 72;
+  examples of personification from, 77;
+  his unusual use of words, 79;
+  quotation to show paragraph structure, 165.
+
+Subdual of subordinate parts, 219.
+
+Subject, 8-12;
+  common, 11;
+  interesting, 11;
+  in exposition, 99, 100.
+
+Suggestion _vs._ enumeration, 52.
+
+Suggestions to teachers, 257-260.
+
+Suggestive description, 55.
+
+Summary, a, 119.
+
+Superlatives, 80.
+
+Syllogism, 129-132.
+
+Synecdoche, 250, 263.
+
+
+"Tannenbaum," 12.
+
+Technical words, 242.
+
+Tennyson, Lord, quotations from, 51, 251, 283.
+
+Terms of syllogism, 129, 130.
+
+Testimony, 136.
+
+Tetrameter, 274.
+
+Thackeray, W. M., quotation from, 157.
+
+Theme in exposition, 100, 101.
+
+"Three Fishers, The," quotation from, 271.
+
+"Tiger, Tiger," quotation from, 283.
+
+Time of story, 35.
+
+Title in exposition, 102.
+
+"To W. L. Garrison," quotation from, 89.
+
+Topic-sentence, 157;
+  its position, 157-161.
+
+Tragedy, 286.
+
+Transitions, 118, 119.
+
+"Travels with a Donkey," narrative or descriptive? 4;
+  absence of plot, 17;
+  quotations from, 62, 65, 157.
+
+"Treasure Island," a narrative, 4;
+  plot simple, 16.
+
+Trimeter, 274.
+
+Trochee, defined, 272;
+  interchangeable with dactyl, 278.
+
+Type-form of paragraph, 162.
+
+
+"Ugly Duckling, The," 25.
+
+Undistributed middle, 131.
+
+Unity, 20;
+  in narration, 21, 22;
+  in description, 56-64;
+  in exposition, 102, 103;
+  in argument, 138;
+  in paragraphs, 173;
+  in sentences, 205.
+
+"Uses of Astronomy, The," quotation from, 72.
+
+
+Value of observation, 55.
+
+"Vanity Fair," example of a plot, 19;
+  quotation from, 157.
+
+Variations in metre, 276-284.
+
+Verbs in description, 79.
+
+Verne, Jules, 12.
+
+Verse, a, definition of, 273;
+  how named, 275.
+
+Verse forms, 269-291.
+
+"Village Blacksmith, The," quotation from, 279, 280.
+
+"Vision of Sir Launfal, The," 13;
+  quotation from, 67.
+
+Vocabulary, need of, 236.
+
+Vulgarisms, 240.
+
+
+"Wake Robin," 9.
+
+Webster, Daniel, quotation from, to illustrate paragraph structure,
+     176;
+  his use of words, 247.
+
+"Wee Willie Winkie," its climax, 21.
+
+Wendell, Barrett, quotation on printed words from, 94.
+
+Whittier, John G., his "Barbara Frietchie" and "Snow-Bound" as
+     narratives, 4.
+
+Wilkins, Miss, small number of characters in her books, 35.
+
+Wolfe, Charles, "The Burial of Sir John Moore" quoted, 277.
+
+Words, 235-256;
+  choice of, 78, 79, 80, 254-260;
+  reputable, 240, 241;
+  national, 242;
+  in present use, 244, 245;
+  Latin and Saxon, 245-248;
+  general and specific, 248-252.
+
+"Wordsworth," Arnold's essay on, quotations from, 158, 167;
+  "The Daisy" quoted, 274.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              FOOTNOTES
+
+
+1. See pp. 13, 14, of the Report of Committee on College Entrance
+   Requirements.
+
+2. See the first essay in _Prose Fancies._
+
+3. Unless otherwise stated, all page references are to the Riverside
+   Literature Series.
+
+4. _Biglow Papers,_ No. X.
+
+5. Tennyson's _OEnone._
+
+6. _Historical Sketches,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+7. _Pierre et Jean,_ by Maupassant. Quoted from Bates's _Talks on
+   Writing English._
+
+8. _Impressions de Théâtre,_ by Jules Lemaître.
+
+9. _The Marble Faun,_ by Nathaniel Hawthorne.
+
+10. _Travels with a Donkey,_ by R. L. Stevenson.
+
+11. _Les Misérables,_ by Victor Hugo.
+
+12. _The Stage Coach,_ in Irving's _Sketch Book._
+
+13. _The Jungle Book,_ by Rudyard Kipling.
+
+14. _To W. L. Garrison,_ by J. R. Lowell.
+
+15. _Idea of a University,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+16. _Essay on Milton,_ by Lord Macaulay.
+
+17. _Discussions and Arguments._
+
+18. _Essay on Milton._
+
+19. _The Physical Basis of Life,_ by T. H. Huxley.
+
+20. _Self-Cultivation in English,_ by Professor G. H. Palmer.
+
+21. Speech on _Conciliation with the Colonies,_ by Burke.
+
+22. A text-book on Logic, such as Jevons's, should be used to
+    illustrate the kinds of argument more fully.
+
+23. _Silas Marner,_ by George Eliot.
+
+24. _The Odd Number,_ by Guy de Maupassant.
+
+25. _Vanity Fair,_ by W. M. Thackeray.
+
+26. _Idyl of the Honey-Bee,_ from Burroughs's _Pepacton._
+
+27. _Essay on Wordsworth,_ by Matthew Arnold.
+
+28. Speech on _Copyright,_ by Lord Macaulay.
+
+29. _Idyl of the Honey-Bee,_ from Burroughs's _Pepacton._
+
+30. _The Physical Basis of Life,_ by T. H. Huxley.
+
+31. See Scott and Denney's _Composition-Rhetoric._
+
+32. _Legend of Sleepy Hollow,_ by W. Irving.
+
+33. _Essay on Milton,_ by Lord Macaulay.
+
+34. _Kidnapped,_ by R. L. Stevenson.
+
+35. _Præterita,_ by John Ruskin.
+
+36. Speech on _Conciliation with the Colonies,_ by Burke.
+
+37. Barrett Wendell's _English Composition._
+
+38. Oration on _Adams and Jefferson,_ by Daniel Webster.
+
+39. _Present Position of Catholics in England,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+40. Speech on _Conciliation with the Colonies,_ by Burke.
+
+41. Speech on the _Reform Bill of 1832,_ by Lord Macaulay.
+
+42. _Idea of a University,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+43. _Legend of Sleepy Hollow,_ by W. Irving.
+
+44. _Idea of a University,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+45. _Idea of a University,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+46. _Speech on Conciliation with the Colonies,_ by Burke.
+
+47. _Legend of Sleepy Hollow,_ by W. Irving.
+
+48. _Function of Criticism at the Present Time,_ by Matthew Arnold.
+
+49. _Speech on Conciliation with the Colonies,_ by Burke.
+
+50. _The Spirit of Modern Philosophy,_ by Josiah Royce.
+
+51. See Lowell's _Biglow Papers,_ Introduction to Second Series.
+
+52. _Idea of a University,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+53. From _The Princess: a Medley,_ Part IV.
+
+54. From _The Seven Seas,_ published by D. Appleton & Co., New York.
+    Copyright, 1896, by Rudyard Kipling.
+
+55. In any piece of literature there are many figures. The following
+    should be used only to make pupils familiar with varieties of
+    figures. They will find many more in the literature they read.
+
+56. The treatment of this subject is based upon Lanier's _The Science
+    of English Verse._
+
+57. See p. xix.
+
+
+
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook of English: Composition and Literature, by W.
+F. (William Franklin) Webster</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: English: Composition and Literature</p>
+<p>Author: W. F. (William Franklin) Webster</p>
+<p>Release Date: February 16, 2009  [eBook #28097]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH: COMPOSITION AND LITERATURE***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by Carl Hudkins, Fred Robinson,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="pagei" id="pagei">i</a></div>
+
+<h1>ENGLISH:</h1>
+<h2 class="nomarg">COMPOSITION AND LITERATURE</h2>
+<h3>BY</h3>
+<h2 class="nomarg">W. F. WEBSTER</h2>
+<p class="ctr"><b>PRINCIPAL OF THE EAST HIGH SCHOOL<br />
+MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA</b></p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h3>HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY</h3>
+<p class="ctr smcap">Boston: 4 Park Street; New York: 85 Fifth Avenue<br />
+Chicago: 378-388 Wabash Avenue</p>
+<p class="ctr script">The Riverside Press Cambridge</p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="pageii" id="pageii">ii</a></div>
+
+<p class="ctr">COPYRIGHT, 1900 AND 1902, BY W. F. WEBSTER<br />
+ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="pageiii" id="pageiii">iii</a></div>
+
+<h2>PREFACE</h2>
+
+<p>In July, 1898, I presented at the National Educational
+Association, convened in Washington, a Course
+of Study in English. At Los Angeles, in 1899, the
+Association indorsed the principles<a class="ftnt" id="footref_1" name="footref_1" href="#footnote_1">1</a> of this course, and
+made it the basis of the Course in English for High
+Schools. At the request of friends, I have prepared
+this short text-book, outlining the method of carrying
+forward the course, and emphasizing the principles
+necessary for the intelligent communication of ideas.</p>
+
+<p>It has not been the purpose to write a rhetoric. The
+many fine distinctions and divisions, the rarefied examples
+of very beautiful forms of language which a young
+pupil cannot possibly reproduce, or even appreciate,
+have been omitted. To teach the methods of simple,
+direct, and accurate expression has been the purpose;
+and this is all that can be expected of a high school
+course in English.</p>
+
+<p>The teaching of composition differs from the teaching
+of Latin or mathematics in this point: whereas
+pupils can be compelled to solve a definite number of
+problems or to read a given number of lines, it is not
+possible to compel expression of the full thought. The
+full thought is made of an intellectual and an emotional
+element. Whatever is intellectual may be compelled
+<a class="pgnm" name="pageiv" id="pageiv">iv</a>
+by dint of sheer purpose; whatever is emotional must
+spring undriven by outside authority, and uncompelled
+by inside determination. A boy saws a cord of wood
+because he has been commanded by his father; but he
+cannot laugh or cry because directed to do so by the
+same authority. There must be the conditions which
+call forth smiles or tears. So there must be the conditions
+which call forth the full expression of thought,
+both what is intellectual and what is emotional. This
+means that the subject shall be one of which the writer
+knows something, and in which he is interested; that
+the demands in the composition shall not be made a
+discouragement; and that the teacher shall be competent
+and enthusiastic, inspiring in each pupil a desire
+to say truly and adequately the best he thinks and
+feels.</p>
+
+<p>These conditions cannot be realized while working
+with dead fragments of language; but they are realized
+while constructing living wholes of composition.
+It is not two decades ago when the pupil in drawing
+was compelled to make straight lines until he made
+them all crooked. The pupil in manual training began
+by drawing intersecting lines on two sides of a board;
+then he drove nails into the intersections on one side,
+hoping that they would hit the corresponding points on
+the other. Now no single line or exercise is an end in
+itself; it contributes to some whole. Under the old
+method the pupil did not care or try to draw a straight
+line, or to drive a nail straight; but now, in order that
+he may realize the idea that lies in his mind, he does
+care and he does try: so lines are drawn better and nails
+<a class="pgnm" name="pagev" id="pagev">v</a>
+are driven straighter than before. In all training that
+combines intellect and hand, the principle has been
+recognized that the best work is done when the pupil&rsquo;s
+interest has been enlisted by making each exercise contribute
+directly to the construction of some whole.
+Only in the range of the spiritual are we twenty years
+behind time, trying to get the best construction by
+compulsion. It is quite time that we recognized that
+the best work in composition can be done, not while
+the pupil is correcting errors in the use of language
+which he never dreamed of, nor while he is writing ten
+similes or ten periodic sentences, but when both intellect
+and feeling combine and work together to produce
+some whole. Then into the construction of this whole
+the pupil will throw all his strength, using the most
+apt comparisons, choosing the best words, framing adequate
+sentences, in order that the outward form may
+worthily present to others what to himself has appeared
+worthy of expression.</p>
+
+<p>There are some persons who say that other languages
+are taught by the word and sentence method; then why
+not English? These persons overlook the fact that we
+are leaving that method as rapidly as possible, and
+adopting a more rational method which at once uses a
+language to communicate thought. And they overlook
+another fact of even greater importance: the pupil
+entering the high school is by no means a beginner in
+English. He has been using the language ten or
+twelve years, and has a fluency of expression in English
+which he cannot attain in German throughout a high
+school and college course. The conditions under which
+<a class="pgnm" name="pagevi" id="pagevi">vi</a>
+a pupil begins the study of German in a high school
+and the study of English composition are entirely dissimilar;
+and a conclusion based upon a fancied analogy
+is worthless.</p>
+
+<p>It is preferable, then, to practice the construction of
+wholes rather than the making of exercises; and it is
+best at the beginning to study the different kinds of
+wholes, one at a time, rather than all together. No
+one would attempt to teach elimination by addition and
+subtraction, by comparison and by substitution, all together;
+nor would an instructor take up heat, light,
+and electricity together. In algebra, or physics, certain
+great principles underlie the whole subject; and these
+appear and reappear as the study progresses through
+its allied parts. Still the best results are obtained by
+taking up these several divisions of the whole one after
+another. And in English the most certain and definite
+results are secured by studying the forms of discourse
+separately, learning the method of applying to each the
+great principles that underlie all composition.</p>
+
+<p>If the forms of discourse are to be studied one after
+another, which shall be taken up first? In general,
+all composition may be separated into two divisions:
+composition which deals with things, including narration
+and description; and composition which deals with
+ideas, comprising exposition and argument. It needs
+no argument to justify the position that an essay which
+deals with things seen and heard is easier for a beginner
+to construct than an essay which deals with ideas
+invisible and unheard. Whether narration or description
+should precede appears yet to be undetermined;
+<a class="pgnm" name="pagevii" id="pagevii">vii</a>
+for many text-books treat one first, and perhaps as
+many the other. I have thought it wiser to begin with
+the short story, because it is easier to gain free, spontaneous
+expression with narration than with description.
+To write a whole page of description is a task for a master,
+and very few attempt it; but for the uninitiated amateur
+about three sentences of description mark the limit
+of his ability to see and describe. To get started, to
+gain confidence in one&rsquo;s ability to say something, to acquire
+freedom and spontaneity of expression,&mdash;this is
+the first step in the practice of composition. Afterward,
+when the pupil has discovered that he really has
+something to say,&mdash;enough indeed to cover three or
+four pages of his tablet paper,&mdash;then it may be time
+to begin the study of description, and to acquire more
+careful and accurate forms of expression. Spontaneity
+should be acquired first,&mdash;crude and unformed it may
+be, but spontaneity first; and this spontaneity is best
+gained while studying narration.</p>
+
+<p>There can be but little question about the order of
+the other forms. Description, still dealing with the
+concrete, offers an admirable opportunity for shaping
+and forming the spontaneous expression gained in narration.
+Following description, in order of difficulty,
+come exposition and argument.</p>
+
+<p>I should be quite misunderstood, did any one gather
+from this that during the time in which wholes are being
+studied, no attention is to be given to parts; that
+is, to paragraphs, sentences, and words. All things
+cannot be learned at once and thoroughly; there must
+be some order of succession. In the beginning the
+<a class="pgnm" name="pageviii" id="pageviii">viii</a>
+primary object to be aimed at is the construction of
+wholes; yet during their construction, parts can also
+be incidentally studied. During this time many errors
+which annoy and exasperate must be passed over with
+but a word, in order that the weight of the criticism
+may be concentrated on the point then under consideration.
+As a pupil advances, he is more and more competent
+to appreciate and to form good paragraphs and
+well-turned sentences, and to single out from the multitude
+of verbal signs the word that exactly presents
+his thought. The appreciation and the use of the
+stronger as well as the finer and more delicate forms
+of language come only with much reading and writing;
+and to demand everything at the very beginning is
+little less than sheer madness.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover there never comes a time when the construction
+of a paragraph, the shaping of a phrase, or
+the choice of a word becomes an end in itself. Paragraphs,
+sentences, and words are well chosen when they
+serve best the whole composition. He who becomes
+enamored of one form of paragraph, who always uses
+periodic sentences, who chooses only common words,
+has not yet recognized that the beauty of a phrase
+or a word is determined by its fitness, and that it is
+most beautiful because it exactly suits the place it fills.
+The graceful sweep of a line by Praxiteles or the glorious
+radiancy of a color by Angelico is most beautiful
+in the place it took from the master&rsquo;s hand. So
+Lowell&rsquo;s wealth of figurative language and Stevenson&rsquo;s
+unerring choice of delicate words are most beautiful,
+not when torn from their original setting to serve as
+<a class="pgnm" name="pageix" id="pageix">ix</a>
+examples in rhetorics, but when fulfilling their part in
+a well-planned whole. And it is only as the beauties
+of literature are born of the thought that they ever
+succeed. No one can say to himself, &ldquo;I will now
+make a good simile,&rdquo; and straightway fulfill his promise.
+If, however, the thought of a writer takes fire,
+and instead of the cold, unimpassioned phraseology of
+the logician, glowing images crowd up, and phrases
+tipped with fire, then figurative language best suits the
+thought,&mdash;indeed, it is the thought. But imagery
+upon compulsion,&mdash;never. So that at no time should
+one attempt to mould fine phrases for the sake of the
+phrases themselves, but he should spare no pains with
+them when they spring from the whole, when they harmonize
+with the whole, and when they give to the
+whole added beauty and strength.</p>
+
+<p>It is quite unnecessary at this day to urge the study
+of literature. It is in the course of study for every
+secondary school. Yet a word may be said of the
+value of this study to the practice of composition.
+There are two classes of artists: geniuses and men of
+talent. Of geniuses in literature, one can count the
+names on his fingers; most authors are simply men of
+talent. Talent learns to do by doing, and by observing
+how others have done. When Brunelleschi left Rome
+for Florence, he had closely observed and had drawn
+every arch of the stupendous architecture in that ancient
+city; and so he was adjudged by his fellow citizens
+to be the only man competent to lift the dome of
+their Duomo. His observation discovered the secret
+of Rome&rsquo;s architectural grandeur; and the slow accumulation
+<a class="pgnm" name="pagex" id="pagex">x</a>
+of such secrets marks the development of
+every art and science. Milton had his method of writing
+prose, Macaulay his, and Arnold his,&mdash;all different
+and all excellent. And just as the architect stands
+before the cathedrals of Cologne, Milan, and Salisbury
+to learn the secret of each; as the painter searches
+out the secret of Raphael, Murillo, and Rembrandt;
+so the author analyzes the masterpieces of literature to
+discover the secret of Irving, of Eliot, and of Burke.
+Not that an author is to be a servile imitator of any
+man&rsquo;s manner; but that, having knowledge of all the
+secrets of composition, he shall so be enabled to set
+forth for others his own thought in all the beauty and
+perfection in which he himself conceives it.</p>
+
+<p>One thing further. A landscape painter would not
+make a primary study of Angelo&rsquo;s anatomical drawings;
+a composer of lyric forms of music would not
+study Sousa&rsquo;s marches; nor would a person writing a
+story look for much assistance in the arguments of
+Burke. The most direct benefit is derived from studying
+the very thing one wishes to know about, not from
+studying something else. That the literature may give
+the greatest possible assistance to the composition, the
+course has been so arranged that narration shall be
+taught by Hawthorne and Irving, description by Ruskin
+and Stevenson, exposition by Macaulay and Newman,
+and argument by Webster and Burke. Literature,
+arranged in this manner, is not only a stimulus to renewed
+effort, by showing what others have done; it is
+also the most skillful instructor in the art of composition,
+by showing how others have done.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="pagexi" id="pagexi">xi</a>
+It would be quite impossible for any one at the present
+time to write a text-book in English that would not
+repeat what has already been said by many others.
+Nor have I tried to. My purpose has been rather to
+select from the whole literature of the subject just those
+principles which every author of a book on composition
+or rhetoric has thought essential, and to omit minor
+matters and all those about which there is a difference
+of opinion. This limits the contents to topics already
+familiar to every teacher. It also makes it necessary
+to repeat what has been written before many times.
+Certain books, however, have treated special divisions
+of the whole subject in a thorough and exhaustive manner.
+There is nothing new to say of Unity, Mass, and
+Coherence; Mr. Wendell said all concerning these in
+his book entitled &ldquo;English Composition.&rdquo; So in paragraph
+development, Scott and Denney hold the field.
+Other books which I have frequently used in the classroom
+are &ldquo;Talks on Writing English,&rdquo; by Arlo Bates,
+and Genung&rsquo;s &ldquo;Practical Rhetoric.&rdquo; These books I
+have found very helpful in teaching, and I have drawn
+upon them often while writing this text-book.</p>
+
+<p>If the field has been covered, then why write a book
+at all? The answer is that the principles which are
+here treated have not been put into one book. They
+may be found in several. These essentials I have repeated
+many times with the hope that they will be
+fixed by this frequent repetition. The purpose has
+been to focus the attention upon these, to apply them
+in the construction of the different forms of discourse,
+paragraphs, and sentences, and to repeat them until it
+<a class="pgnm" name="pagexii" id="pagexii">xii</a>
+is impossible for a student to forget them. If the book
+fulfils this purpose, it was worth writing.</p>
+
+<p>Acknowledgments are due to Messrs. Charles Scribner&rsquo;s
+Sons for their kind permission to use the selections
+from the writings of Robert Louis Stevenson
+contained in this book; also, to Messrs. D. Appleton
+&amp; Co., The Century Co., and Doubleday &amp; McClure
+Co. for selections from the writings of Rudyard Kipling.</p>
+
+<p class="rtj">W. F. WEBSTER.</p>
+<p class="noind smcap">Minneapolis, 1900.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="pagexiii" id="pagexiii">xiii</a></div>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="toc">
+<p><a href="#page1">Chapter I.&mdash;Forms of Discourse</a></p>
+<ul>
+<li><a href="#page1">Composition</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page1">English Composition</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page2">Composition, Written and Oral</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page2">Conventions of Composition</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page3">Five Forms of Discourse</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page4">Definitions</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page4">Difficulty in distinguishing</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page6">Purpose of the Author</a></li>
+</ul>
+
+<p><a href="#page8">Chapter II.&mdash;Choice of Subject</a></p>
+<ul>
+<li><a href="#page8">Form and Material</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page8">Author&rsquo;s Individuality</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page9">Knowledge of Subject</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page10">Common Subjects</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page11">Interest</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page11">The Familiar</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page12">Human Life</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page12">The Strange</a></li>
+</ul>
+
+<p><a href="#page13">Chapter III.&mdash;Narration</a></p>
+<ul>
+<li><a href="#page13">Material of Narration</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page14">In Action</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page14">The Commonest Form of Discourse</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page15">Language as a Means of Expression</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page15">Without Plot</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page16">Plot</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page20">Unity, Mass, and Coherence</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page20">Main Incident</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page21">Its Importance</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page21">Unity</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page23">Introductions and Conclusions</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page23">Tedious Enumerations</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page24">What to include</a></li>
+<li><a class="pgnm" name="pagexiv" id="pagexiv">xiv</a>
+    <a href="#page25">Consistency</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page26">An Actor as the Story-teller</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page27">The Omniscience of an Author</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page28">The Climax</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page29">Who? Where? When? Why?</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page29">In what Order?</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page32">An Outline</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page32">Movement</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page32">Rapidity</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page33">Slowness</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page34">Description and Narration</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page35">Characters few, Time short</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page36">Simple Plot</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page38">Suggestive Questions and Exercises</a></li>
+</ul>
+
+<p><a href="#page49">Chapter IV.&mdash;Description</a></p>
+<ul>
+<li><a href="#page49">Difficulties of Language for making Pictures</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page50">Painting and Sculpture</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page50">Advantages of Language</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page52">Enumeration and Suggestion</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page54">Enumerative Description</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page55">Suggestive Description</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page55">Value of Observation</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page56">The Point of View</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page58">Moving Point of View</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page58">The Point of View should be stated</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page59">Mental Point of View</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page63">Length of Descriptions</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page64">Arrangement of Details in Description</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page70">The End of a Description</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page73">Proportion</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page74">Arrangement must be natural</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page75">Use Familiar Images</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page77">Simile, Metaphor, Personification</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page78">Choice of Words. Adjectives and Nouns</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page79">Use of Verbs</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page81">Suggestive Questions and Exercises</a></li>
+</ul>
+
+<p><a href="#page89">Chapter V.&mdash;Exposition</a></p>
+<ul>
+<li><a href="#page89">General Terms difficult</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page91">Definition</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page91">Exposition and Description distinguished</a></li>
+<li><a class="pgnm" name="pagexv" id="pagexv">xv</a>
+    <a href="#page91">Logical Definition</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page92">Genus and Differentia</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page93">Requisites of a Good Definition</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page94">How do Men explain? First, by Repetition</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page95">Second, by telling the obverse</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page96">Third, by Details</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page97">Fourth, by Illustrations</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page98">Fifth, by Comparisons</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page99">The Subject</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page100">The Subject should allow Concrete Treatment</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page100">The Theme</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page102">The Title</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page102">Selection of Material</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page104">Scale of Treatment</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page108">Arrangement</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page108">Use Cards for Subdivisions</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page109">An Outline</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page110">Mass the End</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page112">The Beginning</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page114">Proportion in Treatment</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page115">Emphasis of Emotion</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page116">Phrases indicating Emphasis</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page116">Coherence</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page118">Transition Phrases</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page119">Summary and Transition</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page121">Suggestive Questions and Exercises</a></li>
+</ul>
+
+<p><a href="#page128">Chapter  VI.&mdash;Argument</a></p>
+<ul>
+<li><a href="#page129">Induction and Deduction</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page129">Syllogism Premises</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page129">Terms</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page130">Enthymeme</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page130">Definition of Terms</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page131">Undistributed Middle</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page131">False Premises</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page132">Method of Induction</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page133">Arguments from Cause</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page134">Arguments from Sign</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page135">Sequence and Cause</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page137">Arguments from Example</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page138">Selection of Material</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page138">Plan called The Brief</a></li>
+<li><a class="pgnm" name="pagexvi" id="pagexvi">xvi</a>
+    <a href="#page139">Climax</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page140">Inductive precedes Deductive</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page140">Cause precedes Sign</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page141">Example follows Sign</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page141">Refutation</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page142">Analysis of Burke&rsquo;s Oration</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page148">Suggestive Questions</a></li>
+</ul>
+
+<p><a href="#page151">Chapter VII.&mdash;Paragraphs</a></p>
+<ul>
+<li><a href="#page151">Definition</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page151">Long and Short Paragraphs</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page157">Topic Sentence</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page161">No Topic Sentence</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page162">The Plan</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page163">Kinds of Paragraphs</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page163">Details</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page165">Comparisons</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page167">Repetition</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page169">Obverse</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page171">Examples</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page173">Combines Two or More Forms</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page173">Unity</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page174">Need of Outline</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page174">Mass</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page175">What begins and what ends a Paragraph?</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page178">Length of opening and closing Sentences</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page179">Proportion</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page180">Coherence and Clearness</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page181">Two Arrangements of Sentences in a Paragraph</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page187">Definite References</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page188">Use of Pronouns</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page190">Of Conjunctions</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page192">Parallel Constructions</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page195">Summary</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page196">Suggestive Questions</a></li>
+</ul>
+
+<p><a href="#page200">Chapter VIII.&mdash;Sentences</a></p>
+<ul>
+<li><a href="#page200">Definition and Classification. Simple Sentences</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page200">Compound Sentences</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page204">Short Sentences</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page204">Long Sentences</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page205">Unity</a></li>
+<li><a class="pgnm" name="pagexvii" id="pagexvii">xvii</a>
+    <a href="#page207">Mass</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page208">End of a Sentence</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page210">Effect of Anti-climax</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page211">Use of Climax</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page212">Loose and Periodic</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page212">The Period</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page214">Periodic and Loose combined</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page215">Which shall be used?</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page217">Emphasis by Change of Order</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page219">Subdue Unimportant Elements</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page221">The Dynamic Point of a Sentence</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page223">Good Use</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page224">Clearness gained by Coherence</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page226">Parallel Construction</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page227">Balanced Sentences</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page228">Use of Connectives</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page231">Suggestive Questions</a></li>
+</ul>
+
+<p><a href="#page235">Chapter IX.&mdash;Words</a></p>
+<ul>
+<li><a href="#page236">Need of a Large Vocabulary</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page237">Dictionary</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page238">Study of Literature</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page240">Vulgarisms are not reputable</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page240">Slang is not reputable</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page242">Words must be National. Provincialisms</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page242">Technical and Bookish Words</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page243">Foreign Words</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page244">Words in Present Use</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page245">Words in their Present Meaning</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page245">Words of Latin and Saxon Origin</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page248">General and Specific</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page249">Use Words that suggest most</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page250">Synecdoche, Metonymy</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page250">Care in Choice of Specific Words</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page253">Avoid Hackneyed Phrases</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page253">&ldquo;Fine Writing&rdquo;</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page254">In Prose avoid Poetical Words</a></li>
+</ul>
+
+<p><a href="#page257">Chapter X.&mdash;Figures of Speech</a></p>
+<ul>
+<li><a href="#page257">Figurative Language</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page259">Figures based upon Likeness</a></li>
+<li class="i1"><a href="#page260">Metaphor</a></li>
+<li class="i1"><a href="#page260">Epithet</a></li>
+<li class="i1"><a href="#page260">Personification</a></li>
+<li class="i1"><a class="pgnm" name="pagexviii" id="pagexviii">xviii</a>
+<a href="#page261">Apostrophe</a></li>
+<li class="i1"><a href="#page261">Allegory</a></li>
+<li class="i1"><a href="#page261">Simile</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page262">Figures based upon Sentence Structure</a></li>
+<li class="i1"><a href="#page262">Inversion</a></li>
+<li class="i1"><a href="#page262">Exclamation</a></li>
+<li class="i1"><a href="#page262">Interrogation</a></li>
+<li class="i1"><a href="#page262">Climax</a></li>
+<li class="i1"><a href="#page262">Irony</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page263">Metonymy</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page263">Synecdoche</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page263">Allusion</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page263">Hyperbole</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page264">Exercises in Figures</a></li>
+</ul>
+
+<p><a href="#page269">Chapter XI.&mdash;Verse Forms</a></p>
+<ul>
+<li><a href="#page269">Singing Verse</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page272">Poetic Feet</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page273">Kinds of Metre</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page275">Stanzas</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page276">Scansion</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page276">Variations in Metres</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page281">First and Last Foot</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page284">Kinds of Poetry</a></li>
+<li><a href="#page286">Exercises in Metres</a></li>
+</ul>
+
+<p>APPENDIX</p>
+<ol>
+<li><a href="#appendixA">Suggestions to Teachers</a></li>
+<li><a href="#appendixB">The Form of a Composition</a></li>
+<li><a href="#appendixC">Marks for Correction of Compositions</a></li>
+<li><a href="#appendixD">Punctuation</a></li>
+<li><a href="#appendixE">Supplementary List of Literature</a></li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="pagexix" id="pagexix">xix</a></div>
+
+<h2>A COURSE OF STUDY</h2>
+
+<h3 class="nomarg">IN LITERATURE AND COMPOSITION</h3>
+
+<p>The Course of Study which follows is presented, not because
+it is better than many others which might be made.
+For the purposes of this book it was necessary that some
+course be adopted as the basis of the text. The principles
+which guided in arranging this course I believe are sound;
+but the preferences of teachers and the peculiarities of environment
+will often make it wise to use other selections from
+literature. Of this a large &ldquo;supplementary list&rdquo; is given at
+the back of the book.</p>
+
+<p>It is now a generally accepted truth that the study of English
+should continue through the four years of a high-school
+course. The division of time that seems best is to take Narration
+and Description in the first year. In connection with
+Description, Figures of Speech should be studied. The next
+year, Exposition and Paragraphs form the major part of the
+work. This may be pleasantly broken by a study of Poetry,
+following the outline in the chapter on Verse Forms. In the
+third year, while the work in literature is mainly the Novel and
+the Drama, Sentences and Words should be studied in composition,
+with a review of the chapters on Narration and Description.
+Towards the close of the year, Exposition should be reviewed
+and the study of Argument taken up. The fourth year should
+be devoted to the study of such College Requirements as have
+not been taken in the course, and to the study of the History
+of English Literature as given in some good text book.</p>
+
+<p>In some instances, it will be found impossible to give so
+much time to the study of English. In such cases, the amount
+of literature to be studied should be decreased, and the work
+in the text book should be more rapidly done. The sequence
+of the parts should remain the same, but the time should be
+modified to suit the needs of any special environment.</p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="pagexx" id="pagexx">xx</a></div>
+
+<h3>NARRATION.</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr smcap">Composition.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><i>To give Spontaneity.</i></p>
+<div class="outline Ia1">
+<ol>
+<li><span class="smcap">External Form of Composition</span> (p. <a href="#page296">296</a>).</li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Marks for the Correction of Compositions</span> (p. <a href="#page300">300</a>).</li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Simple Rules for Punctuation</span> (pp. <a href="#page301">301</a>-<a href="#page309">309</a>).</li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Forms of Discourse. Definitions</span> (pp. <a href="#page1">1</a>-<a href="#page7">7</a>).</li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Choice of Subject</span> (pp. <a href="#page8">8</a>-<a href="#page12">12</a>).</li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Study of Narration</span> (pp. <a href="#page13">13</a>-<a href="#page48">48</a>).
+    <ol>
+    <li>Definition and General Discussion.</li>
+    <li>Narration without Plot.<br />
+        Interest the Essential Feature.</li>
+    <li>Narration with Plot.
+        <ol>
+        <li>Selection of Main Incident of first Importance.<br />
+            <span class="i4" style="font-size: smaller;">It gives to the story<br /></span>
+            Unity,<br />
+            <span class="i4" style="font-size: smaller;">ridding it of<br /></span>
+            <span class="i1">Long Introductions and Conclusions,<br /></span>
+            <span class="i1">Tedious Enumerations, and<br /></span>
+            <span class="i1">Irrelevant Details.</span></li>
+        <li>Arrangement of Material.<br />
+              Close of Story contains Main Incident.<br />
+              Opening of Story contains Characters, Place,
+               and Time.<br />
+              Incidents generally follow in Order of Time.</li>
+        <li>Movement.</li>
+        <li>Use of Description in Narration.</li>
+        <li>Some General Considerations.</li>
+        </ol>
+    </li>
+    </ol>
+</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p class="ctr smcap">Literature.</p>
+
+<p class="litlist">The Great Stone Face, The Gentle Boy, The Gray Champion,
+Roger Malvin&rsquo;s Burial, and other Stories. <i>Hawthorne.</i></p>
+
+<p class="litlist">Tales of a Wayside Inn. <i>Longfellow.</i></p>
+
+<p class="litlist">The Gold Bug. <i>Poe.</i></p>
+
+<p class="litlist"><a class="pgnm" name="pagexxi" id="pagexxi">xxi</a>
+Marmion, or The Lady of the Lake. <i>Scott.</i></p>
+
+<p class="litlist">A Christmas Carol, or The Cricket on the Hearth. <i>Dickens.</i></p>
+
+<p class="litlist">The Vision of Sir Launfal, and other Narrative Poems.
+<i>Lowell.</i></p>
+
+<p class="litlist">An Incident of the French Camp, Herv&eacute; Riel, The Pied
+Piper, How they brought the Good News from Ghent to
+Aix. <i>Browning.</i></p>
+
+<p class="outd">Meaning of the Author, calling for<br />
+  A Study of Words.<br />
+  Outline of Story.<br />
+  Turning Points in the Story.<br />
+  Central Idea, or Purpose of the Story.</p>
+
+<p class="outd">Method of the Author.<br />
+  Is there a Main Incident?<br />
+  Do all other Incidents converge to it?<br />
+  Is the Order a Sequence of Time alone?<br />
+  Is the Interest centred in Characters or Plot?</p>
+
+<p class="outd">Style of the Author.<br />
+  Compare the Works of the Author.</p>
+
+<h3>DESCRIPTION.</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr smcap">Composition.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><i>To secure Accuracy of Expression</i> (pp. <a href="#page49">49</a>-<a href="#page88">88</a>).</p>
+<div class="outline Ia1">
+<ol>
+<li><span class="smcap">Definition and General Discussion.</span><br />
+  Difficulties in Language as a Means of Picturing.<br />
+Value of Observation.</li>
+
+<li><span class="smcap">Structure of Whole.</span><br />
+    <ol>
+    <li>To secure Unity.<br />
+    Select a Point of View.</li>
+
+    <li>To secure Coherence.<br />
+    Arrange Details in Natural Order.</li>
+
+    <li>To secure Emphasis.<br />
+    Arrange and proportion Treatment to effect
+    your Purpose.</li>
+</ol>
+</li>
+<li><a class="pgnm" name="pagexxii" id="pagexxii">xxii</a><span class="smcap">Paragraph Structure.</span><br />
+  Definition.<br />
+  Length of Paragraphs.<br />
+Development of Paragraphs.</li>
+
+<li><span class="smcap">Words.</span><br />
+  Specific rather than General.<br />
+Adjectives, Nouns, and Verbs.</li>
+
+<li><span class="smcap">Figures Of Speech</span> (pp. <a href="#page257">257</a>-<a href="#page268">268</a>).<br />
+   Based on Likeness.<br />
+   Based on Sentence Structure.<br />
+Miscellaneous Figures.</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p class="ctr smcap">Literature.</p>
+<p class="litlist">The Old Manse, The Old Apple Dealer. <i>Hawthorne.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">An Indian-Summer Reverie, The Dandelion, The Birch, The
+Oak, and other Descriptive Poems. <i>Lowell.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">The Fall of the House of Usher. <i>Poe.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Selections from the Sketch
+Book. <i>Irving.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Selections from Childe Harold. <i>Byron.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">The Deserted Village. <i>Goldsmith.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Julius C&aelig;sar. <i>Shakespeare.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Poems selected from Palgrave&rsquo;s Golden Treasury.</p>
+
+<p class="outd">Meaning of the Author (as under Narration).</p>
+
+<p class="outd">Method of the Author.<br />
+  Does the Author keep his Point of View?<br />
+  Are the Details arranged in a Natural Order?<br />
+  Has any Detail a Supreme Importance?<br />
+  Are the Details treated in Proper Proportion?<br />
+  Has the Whole a Unity of Effect? Do you see the
+     Picture distinctly?<br />
+  For what Purpose has the Author used Description?<br />
+Does the Author employ Figures?</p>
+
+<p class="outd">Style of the Author.</p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="pagexxiii" id="pagexxiii">xxiii</a></div>
+
+<h3>EXPOSITION, PARAGRAPHS, VERSE FORMS.</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr smcap">Composition.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><i>To encourage Logical Thinking and Adequate Expression</i>
+(pp. <a href="#page89">89</a>-<a href="#page127">127</a>).</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><i>Exposition.</i></p>
+<div class="outline Ia1">
+<ol>
+<li><span class="smcap">Definition and General Considerations.</span></li>
+
+<li><span class="smcap">Exposition of Terms. Definition.</span></li>
+
+<li><span class="smcap">Exposition of Propositions.</span>
+    <ol>
+    <li>Clear Statement of the Proposition in a &ldquo;Key
+    Sentence.&rdquo;<br />
+    <span class="i4" style="font-size: smaller;">This will limit</span></li>
+    <li>The Discussion.
+        <ol>
+        <li>What shall be included?</li>
+        <li>What shall be excluded?</li>
+        <li>How shall Important Matters be emphasized?<br />
+        <span class="i1">Mass and Proportion.<br /></span>
+        <span class="i1">Expansion and Condensation.<br /></span>
+        <span class="i4" style="font-size: smaller;">To effect these ends use an</span></li>
+        <li>Outline.</li>
+        </ol>
+    </li>
+    </ol>
+</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p class="ctr"><i>Paragraphs</i> (pp. <a href="#page151">151</a>-<a href="#page199">199</a>).</p>
+<div class="outline Ia1">
+<ol>
+<li><span class="smcap">Definition.</span></li>
+
+<li><span class="smcap">Length of Paragraphs.</span></li>
+
+<li><span class="smcap">Development of Paragraphs.</span></li>
+
+<li><span class="smcap">Principles of Structure.</span><br />
+  <span class="i1">Unity.<br /></span>
+  <span class="i1">Mass.<br /></span>
+  <span class="i1">Coherence.</span></li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p class="ctr"><i>Verse Forms</i> (pp. <a href="#page269">269</a>-<a href="#page291">291</a>).</p>
+
+<p class="noind">Poetry Defined.<br />
+Kinds of Feet.<br />
+Number of Feet in a Verse.<br />
+Substitutions and Rests.<br />
+Kinds of Poetry.</p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="pagexxiv" id="pagexxiv">xxiv</a></div>
+
+<p class="ctr smcap">Literature.</p>
+
+<p class="litlist">Essay on Milton. <i>Macaulay.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Essay on Addison. <i>Macaulay.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Commemoration Ode. <i>Lowell.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. <i>Coleridge.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Intimations of Immortality, and other Poems. <i>Wordsworth.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Selections from Palgrave&rsquo;s Golden Treasury.</p>
+<p class="litlist">The Bunker Hill Oration, or Adams and Jefferson. <i>Webster.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Sesame and Lilies. <i>Ruskin.</i></p>
+
+<p class="outd">Meaning of the Author.<br />
+  Outline showing the Main Thesis with the Dependence<br />
+  of Subordinate Propositions.</p>
+
+<p class="outd">Method of the Author.<br />
+  Does he hold to his Point and so gain Unity<br />
+  Does he arrange his Material so as to secure Emphasis?<br />
+  Does one Paragraph grow out of another?<br />
+  Does each Paragraph treat a Single Topic?<br />
+  Are the Sentences dovetailed together?<br />
+  Does the Author use Figures?<br />
+  Are the Figures Effective?<br />
+  Are his Words General or Specific?</p>
+
+<p class="outd">Style of the Author.<br />
+  Is it Clear?<br />
+  Has it Force?<br />
+  Is the Diction Elegant?<br />
+  How has he gained these Ends?</p>
+
+<h3>SENTENCES, WORDS, ARGUMENT.</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr smcap">Composition.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><i>Sentences</i> (pp. <a href="#page200">200</a>-<a href="#page234">234</a>).</p>
+<div class="outline Ia1">
+<ol>
+<li><span class="smcap">Definition and Classification.</span></li>
+
+<li><span class="smcap">Principles of Structure.</span>
+    <ol>
+    <li>Unity.</li>
+    <li>Mass.
+        <ol>
+        <li><a class="pgnm" name="pagexxv" id="pagexxv">xxv</a>
+        Prominent Positions in a Sentence.</li>
+        <li>Periodic Sentences.</li>
+        <li>Loose Sentences.</li>
+        </ol>
+    </li>
+    <li>Coherence.
+        <ol>
+        <li>Parallel Constructions.</li>
+        <li>Connectives.</li>
+        </ol>
+    </li>
+    </ol>
+</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p class="ctr"><i>Words</i> (pp. <a href="#page235">235</a>-<a href="#page256">256</a>).</p>
+
+<p class="noind">Reputable Words.<br />
+Latin or Saxon Words.<br />
+General or Specific.<br />
+Figures of Speech.<br />
+The One Rule for the Use of Words.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><i>Narration and Description Reviewed.</i></p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><i>Exposition Reviewed.</i></p>
+
+<p class="ctr smcap">Literature.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><i>Argument</i> (pp. <a href="#page128">128</a>-<a href="#page150">150</a>).</p>
+<div class="outline Ia1">
+<ol>
+<li><span class="smcap">Kinds of Argument.</span></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Order of Arguments.</span></li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Refutation.</span></li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p class="litlist">Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. <i>Addison.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">The Vicar of Wakefield. <i>Goldsmith.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Silas Marner. <i>Eliot.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Ivanhoe. <i>Scott.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Macbeth, The Merchant of Venice, A Midsummer Night&rsquo;s
+Dream. <i>Shakespeare.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Conciliation with the Colonies. <i>Burke.</i></p>
+
+<h3>COMPOSITION.</h3>
+
+<p>In the last year of the course, the compositions should be
+such as will test the maturer powers of the pupil. They
+should be written under the careful supervision of the teacher.
+<a class="pgnm" name="pagexxvi" id="pagexxvi">xxvi</a>
+They should be of all forms of discourse, and the subjects
+should be drawn from the subjects of study in the high
+school, especially from the literature.</p>
+
+<h3>LITERATURE.</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><i>Difficult Selections.</i></p>
+
+<p class="litlist">L&rsquo;Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas. <i>Milton.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Paradise Lost. Two Books. <i>Milton.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Essay on Burns. <i>Carlyle.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">In Memoriam, The Princess, and other Poems. <i>Tennyson.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Selections. <i>Browning.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">Selections. <i>Emerson.</i></p>
+<p class="litlist">A History of English Literature</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div style="margin-top: 1em;"><a class="pgnm" name="page1" id="page1">1</a></div>
+
+<h2>ENGLISH:</h2>
+
+<h3 class="nomarg">COMPOSITION AND LITERATURE</h3>
+
+<hr class="small" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><b>FORMS OF DISCOURSE</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Composition.</span>
+Composition, from the Latin words <i>con,</i> meaning together,
+and <i>ponere,</i> meaning to place, signifies
+a placing together, a grouping or arrangement
+of objects or of ideas. This arrangement is generally
+made so that it will produce a desired result.
+Speaking accurately, the putting together is the composition.
+Much of the desired result is gained by care
+in the selection of materials. Placing together a well-worn
+book, a lamp, and a pair of heavy bowed spectacles
+makes a suggestive picture. The selection and
+grouping of these objects is spoken of as the composition
+of the picture. So in music, an author composes,
+when he groups certain musical tones and phrases so
+that they produce a desired effect. In literature, too,
+composition is, strictly speaking, the selection and arrangement
+of materials, whether the incidents of a story
+or the details of a description, to fulfill a definite purpose.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">English Composition.</span>
+In practice, however, English composition has come
+to include more than the selection and arrangement
+of the materials,&mdash;incidents, objects,
+or ideas, as the case may be; the term
+has been extended to include the means by which the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page2" id="page2">2</a>
+speaker or writer seeks to convey this impression to
+other persons. As a painter must understand drawing,
+the value of lights and shades, and the mixing of
+colors before he can successfully reproduce for others
+the idea he has to express, so the artist in literature
+needs a knowledge of elementary grammar and of the
+simpler usages of language in order clearly to represent
+to others the idea which lies in his own mind. As commonly
+understood, then, <i>English composition</i> may be
+defined as <i>the art of selecting, arranging, and communicating
+ideas by means of the English language.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Composition, Written and Oral.</span>
+The term &ldquo;English composition&rdquo; is now generally
+understood to mean written composition, and
+not oral composition. At first thought they
+seem to be the same thing. So far as the
+selection and arrangement of matter is concerned,
+they are the same. Moreover, both use words,
+and both employ sentences; but here the likeness ends.
+If sentences should be put upon paper exactly as they
+were spoken, in most instances they would not convey to
+a reader the same thought they conveyed to a listener.
+It is much more exacting to express the truth one
+wishes to convey, by silent, featureless symbols than
+by that wonderful organ of communication, the human
+voice. Now, if to the human voice be added eyes, features,
+gestures, and pose, we easily understand the great
+advantage a speaker has over a writer.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Conventions of Composition.</span>
+Moreover, there are imposed upon a writer certain
+established rules which he must follow. He
+must spell words correctly, and he must use
+correctly marks of punctuation. These things
+need not annoy a speaker; yet they are conditions
+which must be obeyed by a writer. A man
+who eats with a knife may succeed in getting his food
+to his mouth, yet certain conventions exclude such a
+<a class="pgnm" name="page3" id="page3">3</a>
+person from polite society. So in composition, it is
+possible for a person to make himself understood,
+though he write &ldquo;alright&rdquo; instead of &ldquo;all right,&rdquo; and
+never use a semicolon; still, such a person could hardly
+be considered a highly cultured writer. To express
+one&rsquo;s thoughts correctly and with refinement requires
+absolute obedience to the common conventions of good
+literature.</p>
+
+<p>The study of composition includes, first, the careful
+selection of materials and their effective arrangement;
+and second, a knowledge of the established conventions
+of literature: of spelling; of the common uses of the
+marks of punctuation,&mdash;period, question mark, exclamation
+point, colon, semicolon, comma; of the common
+idioms of our language; and of the elements of
+its grammar. From the beginning of the high school
+course, the essay, the paragraph, the sentence, the word,
+are to be studied with special attention to the effective
+use of each in adequately communicating ideas.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Five Forms of Discourse.</span>
+All written composition may be arranged in two
+classes, or groups. The first group will include
+all composition that deals with actual
+happenings and real things; the second, all
+that deals with abstract thoughts and spiritual ideas.
+The first will include narration and description; the
+second, exposition, argument, and persuasion. All
+literature, then, may be separated into five classes,&mdash;narration,
+description, exposition, argument, and persuasion.</p>
+
+<p>Narration tells what things do; description tells how
+things look. Narration deals with occurrences; description
+deals with appearances. Exposition defines
+a term, or explains a proposition; argument proves the
+truth or falsity of a proposition; persuasion urges to
+action upon a proposition. Exposition explains; argument
+<a class="pgnm" name="page4" id="page4">4</a>
+convinces; persuasion arouses. These are the
+broad lines of distinction which separate the five forms
+of discourse.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Definitions.</span>
+<i>Narration is that form of discourse which recounts
+events in a sequence.</i> It includes stories,
+novels, romances, biographies, some books of
+travel, and some histories.</p>
+
+<p><i>Description is that form of discourse which aims
+to present a picture.</i> It seldom occurs alone, but it
+is usually found in combination with the other forms
+of discourse.</p>
+
+<p><i>Exposition is that form of discourse which seeks to
+explain a term or a proposition.</i> Text-books, books of
+information, theses, most histories, many magazine articles,
+and newspaper leaders are of this class of literature.</p>
+
+<p><i>Argument is that form of discourse which has for
+its object the proof of the truth or falsity of a proposition.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Persuasion is that form of discourse the purpose of
+which is to influence the will.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Difficulty in distinguishing.</span>
+Though these definitions seem to set apart the great
+classes of literature, and to insure against any
+danger of confusion, it is not always easy to
+place individual pieces of literature in one of
+these divisions. Whittier&rsquo;s &ldquo;Barbara Frietchie&rdquo; and
+Stevenson&rsquo;s &ldquo;Treasure Island&rdquo; are narrative beyond
+any question; but what about &ldquo;Snow-Bound&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;Travels with a Donkey&rdquo; by the same authors? Are
+they narration or description? In them the narrative
+and descriptive portions are so nearly equal that one
+hesitates to set them down to either class; the reader
+is constantly called from beautiful pictures to delightful
+stories. The narrative can easily be separated
+from the descriptive portions; but when this has been
+<a class="pgnm" name="page5" id="page5">5</a>
+done, has it been decided whether the whole piece is
+narration or description?</p>
+
+<p>When a person takes up the other forms of discourse,
+the difficulty becomes still greater. Description and
+narration are frequently used in exposition. If a boy
+should be asked to explain the working of a steam
+engine, he would, in all likelihood, begin with a description
+of an engine. If his purpose was to explain how
+an engine works, and was not to tell how an engine
+looks, the whole composition would be exposition. So,
+too, it is often the easiest way to explain what one
+means by telling a story. The expression of such
+thoughts would be exposition, although it might contain
+a number of stories and descriptions.</p>
+
+<p>Narration and description may be found in a piece
+of exposition; and all three may be employed in argument.
+If a person should wish to prove the dangers
+of intemperance, he might enforce his proof by a story,
+or by a description of the condition of the nervous system
+after a drunken revel. And one does not need to
+do more than explain the results of intemperance to a
+sensible man to prove to him that he should avoid all
+excesses. The explanation alone is argument enough
+for such a person. Still, is such an explanation exposition
+or argument? If the man cared nothing about
+convincing another that there are dangers in intemperance,
+did not wish to prove that the end of intemperance
+is death and dishonor, the composition is as much
+exposition as the explanation of a steam engine. If,
+on the other hand, he explained these results in order
+to convince another that he should avoid intemperance,
+then the piece is argument.</p>
+
+<p>Persuasion introduces a new element into composition;
+for, while exposition and argument are directed to
+a man&rsquo;s reason, persuasion is addressed to the emotions
+<a class="pgnm" name="page6" id="page6">6</a>
+and the will. Its purpose is to arouse to action. One
+can readily imagine that a simple explanation of the
+evils of intemperance might be quite enough to convince
+a man that its dangers are truly great,&mdash;so great
+that he would determine to fight these evils with all his
+strength. In such a case explanation alone has convinced
+him; and it has aroused him to do something.
+Is the piece exposition, or argument, or persuasion?
+Here, as before, the answer is found in the purpose of
+the author. If he intended only to explain, the piece
+is exposition; if to convince, it is argument; if to
+arouse to action, it belongs to the literature of persuasion.</p>
+
+<p>It must now be plain that few pieces of literature are
+purely one form of discourse. The forms are mingled
+in most of our literature. Hardly a story can be found
+that does not contain some descriptions; and a description
+of any considerable length is sure to contain some
+narrative portions. So, too, narration and description
+are often found in exposition, argument, and persuasion;
+and these last three forms are frequently combined.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Purpose of the Author.</span>
+It must also be evident that the whole piece of literature
+will best be classified by discovering
+the purpose of the author. If his purpose is
+simply to tell a good story, his work is narration;
+if the purpose is merely to place a picture before
+the reader&rsquo;s mind, it is description; if to explain conditions
+and nothing more, it is exposition; if to prove
+to the reason the truth or falsity of a proposition, it is
+argument; while, if the writer addresses himself to the
+emotions and the will, no matter whether he tells anecdotes
+or paints lurid pictures, explains conditions or
+convinces of the dangers of the present course,&mdash;if he
+does all these to urge the reader to do something, the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page7" id="page7">7</a>
+composition belongs to the literature of persuasion. The
+five forms of discourse are most easily distinguished by
+discovering the purpose of the author.</p>
+
+<p>One addition should be made. Few novels are written
+in which there is nothing more than a story. Nearly
+all contain some teaching; and it is a safe conclusion
+that the authors have taught &ldquo;on purpose.&rdquo; In &ldquo;Baa,
+Baa, Black Sheep,&rdquo; Kipling has shown the imperative
+necessity of a &ldquo;real, live, lovely mamma;&rdquo; in &ldquo;The
+Legend of Sleepy Hollow,&rdquo; Irving has placed before us
+a charming picture of rural life in a dreamy Dutch
+village on the Hudson; and in his &ldquo;Christmas Carol,&rdquo;
+Dickens shows plainly that happiness is not bought
+and sold even in London, and that the only happy man
+is he who shares with another&rsquo;s need. Yet all of these,
+and the hundreds of their kind, whatever the purpose
+of the authors when writing them, belong to the
+&ldquo;story&rdquo; or &ldquo;novel&rdquo; class. The purpose <i>in telling</i>
+the story is secondary to the purpose <i>to tell</i> a story.
+They are to be classified as narration.</p>
+
+<p>English composition, then, is a study of the selection
+and arrangement of ideas, and of the methods of using
+the English language to communicate them. All composition
+is divided into five great classes. These classes
+have broad lines of distinction, which are most easily
+applied by determining the purpose of the author.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page8" id="page8">8</a></div>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER II</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><b>CHOICE OF SUBJECT</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Form and Material.</span>
+From the considerations in the preceding chapter
+may be derived several principles regarding
+the choice of subject. If the composition is to
+be narrative, it should be upon a subject that
+readily lends itself to narrative form. One can tell a
+story about &ldquo;A Day&rsquo;s Hunt&rdquo; or &ldquo;What We did Hallowe&rsquo;en;&rdquo;
+but it would try one&rsquo;s powers of imagination
+to write a story of &ldquo;A Tree&rdquo; or &ldquo;A Chair.&rdquo; The latter
+subjects do not lend themselves to narration, but they
+may be described. Josiah P. Cooke has written a brilliant
+exposition of &ldquo;Fire&rdquo; in &ldquo;The New Chemistry;&rdquo;
+yet a young person would be foolish to take &ldquo;Fire&rdquo; as
+a subject for exposition, though he might easily write a
+good description of &ldquo;How the Fire looked from My
+Window,&rdquo; or narrate &ldquo;How a Fireman rescued My
+Sister.&rdquo; So in all work in composition, <i>select a subject
+that readily lends itself to the form of discourse
+demanded; or, conversely, select the form of discourse
+suitable for presenting most effectively your
+material.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Author&rsquo;s Individuality.</span>
+If an author is writing for other purposes than for
+conscious practice, he should choose the form
+of discourse in which he can best work, and
+to which he can best shape his material. Some
+men tell stories well; others are debaters; while yet
+others are wonderfully gifted with eloquence. Emerson
+<a class="pgnm" name="page9" id="page9">9</a>
+understood life thoroughly. He knew man&rsquo;s feelings,
+his motives, his hopes, his strength, his weakness; yet
+one cannot imagine Emerson shaping this material into
+a novel. But just a little way down the road lived a
+wizard who could transmute the commonest events of
+this workaday world to the most beautiful shapes; no
+one wishes that Hawthorne had written essays. The
+second principle guiding in the choice of a subject is
+this: <i>Select a subject which is suited to your peculiar
+ability as an author.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Knowledge of Subject.</span>
+The form, then, should suit the matter; and it should
+be the form in which the author can work.
+There is a third principle that should guide
+in the choice of a subject. <i>It should be a
+subject of which the author knows something.</i> Pupils
+often exclaim, &ldquo;What can I write about!&rdquo; as if they
+were expected to find something new to write. An
+exercise in composition has not for its object the proclaiming
+of any new and unheard-of thing; it is an
+exercise in the expression of things already known.
+Even when the subject is known, the treatment offers
+difficulties enough. It is not true that what is thoroughly
+understood is easily explained. Many excellent
+scholars have written very poor text-books because
+they had not learned the art of expression. A necessary
+antecedent of all good composition is a full and
+accurate knowledge of the subject; and even when one
+knows all about it, the clear expression of the thought
+will be difficult enough.</p>
+
+<p>To demand accurate knowledge of the subject before
+an author begins work upon it narrows the field from
+which themes may be drawn. Burroughs is an authority
+on all the tenants of our groves; &ldquo;Wake-Robin,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Pepacton,&rdquo; and his other books all show a master&rsquo;s
+certain hand. So Stedman is an authority in matters
+<a class="pgnm" name="page10" id="page10">10</a>
+relating to literature. But Burroughs and Stedman
+alike would find difficulty in writing an essay on &ldquo;Electricity
+in the Treatment of Nervous Diseases.&rdquo; They
+do not know about it. A boy in school probably
+knows something of fishing; of this he can write. A
+girl can tell of &ldquo;The Last Parlor Concert.&rdquo; Both could
+write very entertainingly of their &ldquo;First Algebra Recitation;&rdquo;
+neither could write a convincing essay on &ldquo;The
+Advantages of Free Trade.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Common Subjects.</span>
+This will seem to limit the list of subjects to the
+commonplace. The fact is that in a composition
+exercise the purpose is not to startle
+the world with some new thing; it is to learn the art
+of expression. And here in the region of common
+things, things thoroughly understood, every bit of
+effort can be given to the manner of expression. The
+truth is, it does not require much art to make a book
+containing new and interesting material popular; the
+matter in the book carries it in spite of poor composition.
+Popular it may be, but popularity is not immortality.
+Columns of poorly written articles upon
+&ldquo;Dewey&rdquo; and &ldquo;The Philippines&rdquo; have been eagerly
+read by thousands of Americans; it would require a
+literary artist of great power to write a one-column
+article on &ldquo;Pigs&rdquo; so that it would be eagerly read by
+thousands. Real art in composition is much more
+manifest when an author takes a common subject and
+treats it in such a way that it glows with new life.
+Richard Le Gallienne has written about a drove of pigs
+so beautifully that one forgets all the traditions about
+these common animals.<a class="ftnt" id="footref_2" name="footref_2" href="#footnote_2">2</a> Choose common subjects, then,&mdash;subjects
+that allow every particle of your strength to
+go into the manner of saying what you already know.</p>
+
+<p>The requirement that the subject shall be common
+<a class="pgnm" name="page11" id="page11">11</a>
+does not mean that the subject shall be trivial. &ldquo;Sliding
+to First,&rdquo; &ldquo;How Billy won the Game,&rdquo; with all
+of this class of subjects, at once put the writer into a
+trifling, careless attitude toward his work. The subjects
+themselves seem to call forth a cheap, slangy vocabulary
+and the vulgar phrases of sporting life. An equally
+common subject could be selected which would call
+forth serious, earnest effort. If a boy knew nothing
+except about ball games, it would be advisable for him
+to write upon this subject. Such a condition is hardly
+possible in a high school. <i>Choose common subjects,
+but subjects that call for earnest thinking and dignified
+expression.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Interest.</span>
+Interest is another consideration in the choice of a
+subject. It applies equally to writer and
+reader. <i>Choose subjects that are interesting.</i>
+Not only must an author know about the subject;
+he must be interested in it. A pupil may have accurate
+knowledge of the uses of a semicolon; but he
+would not be likely to succeed in a paragraph about
+semicolons, largely because he is not much interested
+in semicolons. This matter of interest is so important
+that it is well to know what things all persons, authors
+and readers alike, are interested in. What, then, is
+generally interesting?</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Familiar.</span>
+First, <i>the familiar is interesting.</i> When reading a
+newspaper each one instinctively turns to the
+local column, or glances down the general
+news columns to see if there is anything from his home
+town. To a former resident, Jim Benson&rsquo;s fence in
+Annandale is more interesting than the bronze doors of
+the Congressional Library in Washington. For the
+same reason a physician lights upon &ldquo;a new cure for
+consumption,&rdquo; a lawyer devours Supreme Court decisions,
+while the dealer in silks is absorbed in the process
+<a class="pgnm" name="page12" id="page12">12</a>
+of making silk without the aid of the silkworm.
+Each is interested in that which to him is most familiar.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Human Life.</span>
+Second, <i>human life in all its phases is interesting.</i>
+The account of a fire or of a railroad accident
+takes on a new interest when, in addition to
+the loss of property, there has been a loss of life.
+War is horribly fascinating, not so much because there
+is a wanton destruction of property, as because it involves
+the slaughter of men. Stories about trees and
+animals are usually failures, unless handled by artists
+who breathe into them the life of man. Andersen&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Tannenbaum&rdquo; and Kipling&rsquo;s &ldquo;Jungle Books&rdquo; are
+intensely interesting because in them trees and animals
+feel and act just as men do.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Strange.</span>
+Third, <i>the romantic, the unique, and the impossible
+are interesting.</i> A new discovery, a new invention,
+a people of which little is known,&mdash;anything
+new is interesting. The stories of Rider
+Haggard and Jules Verne have been popular because
+they deal with things which eye hath not seen. This
+peculiar trait of man allows him to relish a good fish
+story, or the latest news from the sea-serpent. Just
+for the same reason, children love to hear of Little
+Red Riding Hood and Cinderella. Children and their
+parents are equally interested in those things which are
+entirely outside of their own experience.</p>
+
+<p>These, then, are the general conditions which govern
+the choice of a subject. It shall easily lend itself to
+the form of discourse chosen; it shall be suited to the
+peculiar ability of the author; it shall be thoroughly
+understood by the author,&mdash;common, but not trivial;
+it shall be interesting to both reader and author.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page13" id="page13">13</a></div>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER III</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><b>NARRATION</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Material of Narration.</span>
+Narration has been defined as the form of discourse
+which recounts events in a sequence.
+It includes not only letters, journals, memoirs,
+biographies, and many histories, but, in addition,
+that great body of literature which people generally include
+in the comprehensive term of &ldquo;stories.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>If this body of literature be examined, it will be
+found that it deals with things as opposed to ideas;
+incidents as opposed to propositions. Sometimes, it is
+true, the author of a story is in reality dealing with
+ideas. In the fable about &ldquo;The Hare and the Tortoise,&rdquo;
+the tortoise stands for the idea of slow, steady plodding;
+while the hare is the representative of quick wits which
+depend on their ability to show a brilliant burst of
+speed when called upon. The fable teaches better than
+an essay can that the dullness which perseveres will arrive
+at success sooner than brilliancy of mind which
+wastes its time in doing nothing to the purpose. Andersen&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Ugly Duckling,&rdquo; Ruskin&rsquo;s &ldquo;King of the
+Golden River,&rdquo; and Lowell&rsquo;s &ldquo;Sir Launfal&rdquo; stand for
+deep spiritual ideas, which we understand better for
+this method of presentation. In an allegory like &ldquo;Pilgrim&rsquo;s
+Progress,&rdquo; the passions and emotions, the sins
+and weaknesses of men are treated as if they were real
+persons. Ideas are represented by living, breathing
+persons; and we may say that all such narratives deal,
+not with ideas, but, for want of a better word, with
+things.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">In Action.</span>
+<a class="pgnm" name="page14" id="page14">14</a>
+Not only does narration deal with things, but with
+things doing something. Things inactive might
+be written of, but this would be description.
+It is necessary in narration that the things be in an
+active mood; that something be doing. &ldquo;John struck
+James,&rdquo; then, is a narrative sentence; it tells that
+John has been doing something. Still, this one sentence
+would not ordinarily be accepted as narration.
+For narration there must be a series, a sequence of
+individual actions. <i>Recounting events in a sequence
+is narration.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Commonest Form of Discourse.</span>
+Narration is the most popular form of discourse.
+Between one fourth and one third of all
+books published are stories; and more than
+one half of the books issued by public libraries
+belong to the narrative class. Such a
+computation does not include the large number of
+stories read in our papers and magazines. In addition
+to being the most popular form of discourse, it is the
+most natural. It is the first form of connected discourse
+of the child; it is the form employed by the
+uncultured in giving his impressions; it is the form
+most used in conversation. Moreover, narration is the
+first form found in great literatures: the Iliad and
+the Odyssey, the songs of the troubadours in France,
+and the minnesingers in Germany, the chronicles and
+ballads of England,&mdash;all are narrative.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Language as a Means of Expression.</span>
+Narration is especially suited to the conditions imposed
+by language. Men do not think in single
+words, but in groups of words,&mdash;phrases,
+clauses, and sentences. In hearing, too, men
+do not consider the individual words; the mind waits
+until a group of words, a phrase, or a simple sentence
+perhaps,&mdash;which expresses a unit of thought, has been
+uttered. In narration these groups of words follow in
+<a class="pgnm" name="page15" id="page15">15</a>
+a sequence exactly as the actions which they represent
+do. Take this rather lurid bit from Stevenson:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;He dropped his cutlass as he jumped, and when he felt
+the pistol, whipped straight round and laid hold of me, roaring
+out an oath; and at the same time either my courage
+came again, or I grew so much afraid as came to the same
+thing; for I gave a shriek and shot him in the midst of the
+body.&rdquo; (&ldquo;Kidnapped.&rdquo;)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Each phrase or clause here is a unit of thought, and
+each follows the others in the same order as the events
+they tell of occurred. On the other hand, when one attempts
+description, and exposition too in many cases, he
+realizes the great difficulties imposed by the language
+itself; for in these forms of discourse the author not
+infrequently wishes to put the whole picture before the
+reader at once, or to set out several propositions at the
+same time, as belonging to one general truth. In order
+that the reader may get the complete picture or the complete
+thought, he must hold in mind often a whole paragraph
+before he unites it into the one conception the
+author intended. In narration one action is completed;
+it can be dropped. Then another follows, which can
+also be dropped. They need not be held in mind until
+the paragraph is finished. Narration is exactly suited
+to the means of its communication. The events which
+are recorded, and the sentences which record them, both
+follow in a sequence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Without Plot.</span>
+The sequence of events in narration may be a simple
+sequence of time, in which case the narrative
+is without plot. This is the form of
+narration employed in newspapers in giving the events
+of the day. It is used in journals, memoirs, biographies,
+and many elementary histories. It makes little
+demand upon an author further than that he shall
+<a class="pgnm" name="page16" id="page16">16</a>
+say clearly something that is interesting. Interesting
+it must be, if the author wishes it to be read; readers
+will not stay over dull material. Newspapers and
+magazines look out for interesting material, and it is
+for the matter in them that they are read. So memoirs
+and biographies are read, not to find out what happens
+at last,&mdash;that is known,&mdash;but to pick up information
+concerning an interesting subject.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Plot.</span>
+Or the sequence may be a more subtle and binding
+relation of cause and effect. This is the
+sequence employed in stories. One thing
+happens because another thing has happened. Generally
+the sequence of time and the sequence of cause
+and effect correspond; for effects come after causes.
+When, however, more than one cause is introduced,
+or when some cause is at work which the author hides
+until he can most advantageously produce it, or when
+an effect is held back for purposes of creating interest,
+the events may not be related exactly in the order in
+which they occurred. When any sequence is introduced
+in addition to the simple sequence of time, or
+when the time sequence is disturbed for the purpose of
+heightening interest, there is an arrangement of the
+parts which is generally termed plot.</p>
+
+<p>Plot is a term difficult to define. We feel, however,
+that Grant&rsquo;s &ldquo;Memoirs&rdquo; have no plot, and we feel
+just as sure that &ldquo;King Lear&rdquo; has a plot. So, too,
+we say that &ldquo;Robinson Crusoe&rdquo; has little, almost no
+plot; that the plot is simple in &ldquo;Treasure Island,&rdquo; and
+that &ldquo;Les Mis&eacute;rables&rdquo; has an intricate plot. A plot
+seems to demand more than a mere succession of events.
+<i>Any arrangement of the parts of a narrative so that
+the reader&rsquo;s interest is aroused concerning the result
+of the series of events detailed is a plot.</i></p>
+
+<p>It often occurs that a book which, as a whole, is
+<a class="pgnm" name="page17" id="page17">17</a>
+without a plot, contains incidents which have a plot.
+In &ldquo;Travels with a Donkey,&rdquo; by Stevenson, no one
+cares for the plot of the whole book,&mdash;in fact there
+is none; yet the reader is interested in the purchase
+of the &ldquo;neat and high bred&rdquo; Modestine up to the
+&ldquo;last interview with Father Adam in a billiard-room
+at the witching hour of dawn, when I administered the
+brandy.&rdquo; This incident has a plot. The following is
+a paragraph from &ldquo;An Autumn Effect&rdquo; by Mr. Stevenson.
+The simple events are perfectly ordered, and
+there is a delightful surprise at the end. This paragraph
+has a plot. Yet the thirty pages of &ldquo;An Autumn
+Effect&rdquo; could not be said to have a plot.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Bidding good-morning to my fellow-traveler, I left the
+road and struck across country. It was rather a revelation
+to pass from between the hedgerows and find quite a bustle
+on the other side, a great coming and going of school-children
+upon by-paths, and, in every second field, lusty horses
+and stout country-folk a-ploughing. The way I followed took
+me through many fields thus occupied, and through many
+strips of plantation, and then over a little space of smooth
+turf, very pleasant to the feet, set with tall fir-trees and
+clamorous with rooks, making ready for the winter, and so
+back again into the quiet road. I was now not far from the
+end of my day&rsquo;s journey. A few hundred yards farther,
+and, passing through a gap in the hedge, I began to go down
+hill through a pretty extensive tract of young beeches. I was
+soon in shadow myself, but the afternoon sun still colored
+the upmost boughs of the wood, and made a fire over my
+head in the autumnal foliage. A little faint vapor lay
+among the slim tree-stems in the bottom of the hollow; and
+from farther up I heard from time to time an outburst of
+gross laughter, as though clowns were making merry in the
+bush. There was something about the atmosphere that
+brought all sights and sounds home to one with a singular
+purity, so that I felt as if my senses had been washed with
+<a class="pgnm" name="page18" id="page18">18</a>
+water. After I had crossed the little zone of mist, the path
+began to remount the hill; and just as I, mounting along
+with it, had got back again from the head downwards, into
+the thin golden sunshine, I saw in front of me a donkey tied
+to a tree. Now, I have a certain liking for donkeys, principally,
+I believe, because of the delightful things that Sterne
+has written of them. But this was not after the pattern of
+the ass at Lyons. He was of a white color, that seemed to
+fit him rather for rare festal occasions than for constant
+drudgery. Besides, he was very small, and of the daintiest
+proportions you can imagine in a donkey. And so, sure
+enough, you had only to look at him to see he had never
+worked. There was something too roguish and wanton in
+his face, a look too like that of a schoolboy or a street Arab,
+to have survived much cudgeling. It was plain that these
+feet had kicked off sportive children oftener than they had
+plodded with freight through miry lanes. He was altogether
+a fine-weather, holiday sort of a donkey; and though
+he was just then somewhat solemnized and rueful, he still
+gave proof of the levity of his disposition by impudently
+wagging his ears at me as I drew near. I say he was somewhat
+solemnized just then; for with the admirable instinct
+of all men and animals under restraint, he had so wound
+and wound the halter about the tree that he could go neither
+back nor forwards, nor so much as put his head down to
+browse. There he stood, poor rogue, part puzzled, part
+angry, part, I believe, amused. He had not given up hope,
+and dully revolved the problem in his head, giving ever and
+again another jerk at the few inches of free rope that still
+remained unwound. A humorous sort of sympathy for the
+creature took hold upon me. I went up, and, not without
+some trouble on my part, and much distrust and resistance
+on the part of Neddy, got him forced backwards until the
+whole length of the halter was set loose, and he was once
+more as free a donkey as I dared to make him. I was
+pleased (as people are) with this friendly action to a fellow-creature
+in tribulation, and glanced back over my shoulder
+to see how he was profiting by his freedom. The brute was
+<a class="pgnm" name="page19" id="page19">19</a>
+looking after me; and no sooner did he catch my eye than
+he put up his long white face into the air, pulled an impudent
+mouth at me, and began to bray derisively. If ever
+any one person made a grimace at another, that donkey
+made a grimace at me. The hardened ingratitude of his
+behavior, and the impertinence that inspired his whole face
+as he curled up his lip, and showed his teeth and began to
+bray, so tickled me and was so much in keeping with what
+I had imagined to myself of his character, that I could not
+find it in my heart to be angry, and burst into a peal of
+hearty laughter. This seemed to strike the ass as a repartee,
+so he brayed at me again by way of rejoinder; and we went
+on for awhile, braying and laughing, until I began to grow
+a-weary of it, and shouting a derisive farewell, turned to
+pursue my way. In so doing&mdash;it was like going suddenly
+into cold water&mdash;I found myself face to face with a prim,
+little old maid. She was all in a flutter, the poor old dear!
+She had concluded beyond question that this must be a lunatic
+who stood laughing aloud at a white donkey in the
+placid beech-woods. I was sure, by her face, that she had
+already recommended her spirit most religiously to Heaven,
+and prepared herself for the worst. And so, to reassure her,
+I uncovered and besought her, after a very staid fashion, to
+put me on my way to Great Missenden. Her voice trembled
+a little, to be sure, but I think her mind was set at rest; and
+she told me, very explicitly, to follow the path until I came
+to the end of the wood, and then I should see the village
+below me in the bottom of the valley. And, with mutual
+courtesies, the little old maid and I went on our respective
+ways.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Books of travel, memoirs, and biographies, as whole
+books, are generally without any arrangement serious
+enough to be termed a plot; yet a large part of the
+interest in such books would be lost were the incidents
+there collected not well told, with a conscious attempt
+to set them out in the very best fashion; indeed, if
+each incident did not have a plot. In &ldquo;Vanity Fair&rdquo;
+<a class="pgnm" name="page20" id="page20">20</a>
+with its six hundred pages, in &ldquo;Silas Marner&rdquo; with
+its two hundred pages, in the short stories of our best
+magazines, in the spicy little anecdotes in the &ldquo;Youth&rsquo;s
+Companion,&rdquo;&mdash;in the least bit of a good story as well
+as the three-volume novel, the authors have used the
+means best suited to retain the interest to the end.
+They have constructed plots.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Unity, Mass, and Coherence.</span>
+In the construction of any piece of composition
+there are three principles of primary importance:
+they are Unity, which is concerned
+with the material itself; and Mass and Coherence,
+which are concerned with the arrangement
+of the material. A composition has unity when all
+the material has been so sifted and selected that each
+part contributes its share to the central thought of
+the whole. Whether of a sentence, a paragraph, or a
+whole composition, all those parts must be excluded
+which do not bring something of value to the whole;
+and everything must be included which is necessary to
+give a clear understanding of the whole. Mass, the
+second principle of structure, demands that those parts
+of a composition, paragraph, or sentence which are
+of most importance shall be so placed that they will
+arrest the attention. By coherence is meant that principle
+of structure which, in sentences, paragraphs, and
+whole compositions, places those parts related in thought
+near together, and keeps separate those parts which are
+separated in thought.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Main Incident.</span>
+For the construction of a story that will retain the
+reader&rsquo;s interest to the end, for the selection
+of such material as will contribute to a central
+thought, for the arrangement of this material so
+that the most important matter shall occupy the most
+important position in the theme, one simple rule is of
+value. It is this: <i>First choose the main incident</i>
+<a class="pgnm" name="page21" id="page21">21</a>
+towards which all the other incidents converge, and
+for the accomplishment of which the preceding incidents
+are necessary. A few pages will be given to
+the application of this rule, and to the results of its
+application.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Its Importance.</span>
+There should be in each story, however slight the
+plot, some incident that is more important
+than the others, and toward which all the
+others converge. A reader is disappointed if, after
+reading a story through, he finds that there is no worthy
+ending, that all the preparation was made for no
+purpose. If, in &ldquo;Wee Willie Winkie,&rdquo; Kipling had
+stopped just before Miss Allardyce started across the
+river, it would have been a poor story. It would have
+had no ending. It is because a story gets somewhere
+that we like it. Yet not just somewhere; it must
+arrive at a place worthy of all the preparation that has
+preceded. A very common fault with the compositions
+of young persons is that they begin big and end
+little. It is not infrequent that the first paragraph
+promises well; the second is not quite so good; and
+the rest gradually fall off until the end is worthless.
+The order should be changed. Have the first paragraph
+promise well, make the second better, and the
+last best of all. The main incident should be more
+important than each incident that precedes it. Get
+the main incident in mind before beginning; be sure
+it is the main incident; then bend all your energies
+to make it the most important incident toward which
+all the other incidents converge.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Unity.</span>
+The choice of a main incident will determine what
+incidents to exclude. The world is full of
+incidents&mdash;enough to make volumes more
+than we now have. A phonograph and a camera could
+gather enough any day at a busy corner in a city
+<a class="pgnm" name="page22" id="page22">22</a>
+to fill a volume; yet these pictures and these bits of
+conversation, interesting as each in itself might be,
+would not be a unit,&mdash;not one story, but many. Few
+persons, indeed, would write anything so disjointed as
+the report made by this phonograph; yet good writers
+are often led astray by the brilliancy of their own
+ideas. They have so many good stories on hand which
+they would like to tell, that they force some of them
+into their present story, and so spoil two stories. In the
+very popular &ldquo;David Harum,&rdquo; it would puzzle any one
+to know why the author has introduced the ladies from
+the city and the musical party at the lake. The episode
+is good enough in itself; but in this story it has
+not a shadow of excuse. There is a phrase of Kipling&rsquo;s
+that should ring in every story-teller&rsquo;s ears. Not once
+only, but a number of times, this prince of modern
+story-tellers catches himself&mdash;almost too late sometimes&mdash;and
+writes, &ldquo;But that is another story.&rdquo; One
+incident calls up another; paragraph follows paragraph
+naturally. It is easy enough to look back and trace the
+road by which the writer arrived at his present position;
+yet it would be very hard to tell why he came hither,
+or to see how the journey up to this point will at all
+put him toward his destination. He has digressed;
+he has left the road. And he must get back to the
+road. By this digression he has wasted just as much
+time as it has taken to come from the direct road to
+this point added to the time it will take to go back.
+Do not digress; tell one story at a time; let no incident
+into your story which cannot answer the question,
+&ldquo;Why are you here?&rdquo; by &ldquo;I help;&rdquo; keep your eye
+on the main incident; things which do not unquestionably
+contribute something to the main incident should
+be excluded.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Introductions and Conclusions.</span>
+The choice of the main incident towards which all
+<a class="pgnm" name="page23" id="page23">23</a>
+other incidents converge will rid compositions of worthless
+introductions and trailing conclusions.
+A story should get under way at once; and
+any explanations at the beginning, the introduction
+of long descriptions or tedious paragraphs of
+&ldquo;fine writing,&rdquo; will be headed off if the pupil keeps
+constantly in mind that it must all lead directly toward
+the main incident. Again, if everything converges to
+the main incident, when that has been told the story is
+finished. After that there must be no explanations,
+no moralizing, nothing. When the story has been told
+it is a good rule to stop.</p>
+
+<p>An excellent example of a short story well told is
+&ldquo;An Incident of the French Camp,&rdquo; by Robert Browning.
+Only the absolutely necessary has been introduced.
+The incidents flash before the reader. Nothing
+can be said after the last line. &ldquo;Herv&eacute; Riel&rdquo; is a
+vivid piece of narrative too. Such an exhibition of
+manliness appeals to all. Was it necessary to attach
+the last stanza? If this poem needed it, why not the
+other? If the story has no moral in it, no man can
+tie it on; if there is one, the reader should be accounted
+intelligent enough to find it without any help.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Tedious Enumerations.</span>
+Making all the incidents converge to one main
+incident will avoid tiresome enumerations of
+inconsequential events, which frequently fill
+the compositions of young pupils. Such
+essays generally start with &ldquo;a bright, clear morning,&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;a party of four of us.&rdquo; After recounting
+a dozen events of no consequence whatever, &ldquo;we
+came home to a late supper, well repaid for our day&rsquo;s
+outing.&rdquo; These compositions may be quite correct in
+the choice of words, sentences, and paragraphs, and with
+it all be flat. There is nothing to them; they get the
+reader nowhere. Pick out one of the many incidents.
+<a class="pgnm" name="page24" id="page24">24</a>
+Work it up. Turn back to the paragraph from Stevenson
+and notice how little there is to it when reduced to
+bare outline. He has worked it up so that it is good.
+Always remember that a short anecdote well told is
+worth pages of aimless enumeration.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">What to include.</span>
+The selection of the main incident will guide in
+determining what to include; for every detail
+must be included that is necessary to
+make the main incident possible. A young pupil
+wrote of a party in the woods. The girls had found
+pleasant seats in a car and were chatting about their
+friends, when they felt a sudden lurch, and soon one
+of the party was besmeared by slippery, sticky whites
+of eggs. Now, if eggs were in the habit of clinging
+to the roofs of cars and breaking at unfortunate
+moments, there would be no need of any explanation;
+but as the cook forgot to boil the eggs and the girl
+had put them up into the rack herself, some of this
+should have been told. Enough at least should be told
+to make the main incident a possibility. Stories are
+full of surprises, but they can be understood easily
+from the preceding incidents; or else the new element
+is one that happens frequently, and of itself is nothing
+new. In the paragraph from Stevenson, the entrance
+of the &ldquo;prim, little old maid&rdquo; is a surprise, but it is a
+very common thing for ladies to walk upon a public
+highway. Any surprise must be natural,&mdash;the result
+of causes at work in the story, or of circumstances
+which are always occurring and by themselves no surprises.
+If the story be a tangled web of incidents
+culminating in some horror, as the death of the beautiful
+young wife in Hawthorne&rsquo;s &ldquo;Birthmark,&rdquo; all the
+events must be told that are necessary to carry the
+reader from the first time he beholds her beauty until
+he sees her again, her life ebbing away as the fairy hand
+<a class="pgnm" name="page25" id="page25">25</a>
+fades from her cheek. In &ldquo;Baa, Baa, Black Sheep&rdquo; it
+would be impossible to pass directly from the sweet
+boy of the first chapter to the little liar of the last;
+something must be told of those miserable days that
+intervene, and their telling effect on the little fellow.
+So a reader could not harmonize his idea of old Scrooge
+gained in the first chapter with generous Mr. Scrooge
+of the last without the intermediate chapters. Keeping
+the main incident in mind, include all that is necessary
+to make it possible.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Consistency.</span>
+This same rule more than any other will make a
+story consistent. If incidents are chosen with
+relation to the one main incident, they will all
+have a common quality; they can scarcely be inconsistent.
+It is much more essential that a story be consistent
+than that it be a fact. Indeed, facts are not
+necessary in stories, and they are dangerous. Ian
+Maclaren says that the only part of his stories that has
+been severely criticised is a drowning episode, which
+was a fact, and the only one he ever used. Yet to
+those who have read &ldquo;The Bonnie Brier Bush,&rdquo; the
+old doctor is as well known as any person who lives
+across the street; he is real to us, though he never
+lived. &ldquo;Old Scrooge&rdquo; and &ldquo;Brom Bones&rdquo; are better
+known than John Adams is. A good character or
+a good story need not be drawn from facts. Indeed,
+in literature as in actual life, facts are stubborn things,
+and will not accommodate themselves to new surroundings.
+Make the story consistent; be not too careful
+about the facts.</p>
+
+<p>A story may be good and be entirely contrary to
+all known facts. &ldquo;The Ugly Duckling&rdquo; is as true as
+Fiske&rsquo;s &ldquo;History of the United States,&rdquo; and every
+whit as consistent. &ldquo;Alice in Wonderland&rdquo; is an excellent
+story; yet it contains no facts. The introduction
+<a class="pgnm" name="page26" id="page26">26</a>
+of a single fact would ruin the story; for between the
+realm of fact and the region of fancy is a great gulf
+fixed, and no man has successfully crossed it. Whatever
+conditions of life and action are assumed in one
+part of a story must be continued throughout. If walruses
+talk and hens are reasonable in one part of the
+story, to reduce them to every-day animals would be
+ruinous. Consistency, that the parts stand together,
+that the story seem probable,&mdash;this is more essential
+than facts. And to gain this consistency the surest
+rule is to test the material by its relation to the main
+incident.</p>
+
+<p>The choice of the main incident, then, will determine
+to a great degree what to exclude and what to include;
+it will assist in ridding compositions of countless enumerations,
+aimless wanderings, and flat endings; it will
+help the writer to get started, and insure a stop when
+the story is told; and it will give to the story the quality
+most essential for its success, consistency.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">An Actor as the Storyteller.</span>
+There is yet another condition that enters into the
+selection of materials: it makes a difference
+who tells the story. If the story be told in
+the first person, that is, if one of the actors
+tell the story, he cannot be supposed to know all that
+the other persons do when out of sight and hearing,
+nor can he know what they think. To take an illustration
+from a pupil&rsquo;s essay. A girl took her baby
+sister out upon the lake in a rowboat. A violent
+storm arose, lashing the lake into a fury. The oars
+were wrenched from her hands. Helpless on the water,
+how was she to be saved? Here the essayist recited
+an infinite amount of detail about the distress at home,
+giving the conversation and the actions. These things
+she could not have known in the character she had
+assumed at the beginning, that of the chief actor. All
+<a class="pgnm" name="page27" id="page27">27</a>
+of that should have been excluded. When Stevenson
+tells of the fight in the round house, though he knew
+what those old salts were doing outside, matters of
+great interest to the reader, he does not let David say
+anything except what he could see or hear, and a very
+little of what he &ldquo;learned afterwards.&rdquo; Stevenson
+knew well who was telling the story; David is too good
+a story-teller to tell what he could not know. In the
+pupil&rsquo;s essay and in &ldquo;Kidnapped,&rdquo; all such matters
+would have a direct bearing on the main incident; they
+could be included without destroying the unity of the
+story. But they cannot be included when the story is
+told by one of the actors.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Omniscience of an Author.</span>
+Many stories, probably most stories, are told in the
+third person. In this case the author assumes
+the position of an omniscient power who
+knows everything that is done, said, or
+thought by the characters in his story. Not only what
+happens in the next room, but what is thought at the
+other side of the world, is comprehended in his omniscience.
+This is the position assumed by Irving in
+&ldquo;The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,&rdquo; by Kipling in the
+series of stories included with &ldquo;Wee Willie Winkie,&rdquo;
+by Scott in &ldquo;Marmion,&rdquo; and by most great novelists.
+Omniscience is, however, a dangerous prerogative
+for a young person. The power is so great
+that the person who has but recently come into possession
+of it becomes dizzy with it and uncertain in his
+movements. A young person knows what he would do
+under certain conditions; but to be able to know what
+some other person would do and think under a certain
+set of circumstances requires a sure knowledge of character,
+and the capability of assuming entirely different
+and unaccustomed points of view. It is much safer
+for the beginner to take the point of view of one of the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page28" id="page28">28</a>
+actors, and tell the story in the first person. Then
+when the grasp has become sure from this standpoint,
+he may assume the more difficult role of the omniscient
+third person.</p>
+
+<p>To sum up what has been said about the selection of
+materials: only those materials should be admitted to
+a story which contribute to its main incident, which
+are consistent with one another, and which could have
+been known by the narrator.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Climax.</span>
+When the materials for a story have been selected,
+the next consideration is their arrangement.
+If the materials have been selected to contribute
+to the main incident and converge toward it,
+it will follow that <i>the main incident</i> will come last
+in the story; it <i>will be the climax</i> towards which
+the several parts of the story are directed. Moreover,
+it should be last, in order to retain the interest
+of the reader up to that time. This is in accordance
+with the demands of the second great principle
+of structure, Mass. An essay is well massed if the
+parts are so arranged that things of importance will
+arrest the attention. In literature to be read, to arrest
+the attention is almost equivalent to catching the
+eye. The positions that catch the eye, whether in sentence,
+paragraph, or essay, are the beginning and the
+end. Were it not for another element which enters
+into the calculation, these positions would be of nearly
+equal importance. Since, however, the mind retains
+the most vivid impression of the thing it received
+last, the impression of the end of the sentence, paragraph,
+or essay is stronger than the impression made
+by its beginning. The climax of a story should come
+at the end, both because it is the result of preceding
+incidents, and because by this position it receives the
+additional emphasis due to its position.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Who? Where? When? Why?</span>
+<a class="pgnm" name="page29" id="page29">29</a>
+The beginning is the position of second importance.
+What, then, shall stand in this place? A story resembles
+a puzzle. The solution of the puzzle is given at
+the end; the thing of next importance is the conditions
+of the puzzle. In &ldquo;Baa, Baa, Black Sheep&rdquo; the story
+culminates in the surprise of a devoted mother
+when she discovers that her boy is a
+secretive little liar, who now deserves to be
+called &ldquo;Black Sheep.&rdquo; This is the end; what was the
+beginning,&mdash;the conditions necessary to bring about
+this deplorable result? First, they were <i>the persons;</i>
+second, <i>the place;</i> third, <i>the time.</i> In many stories
+there is introduced the reason for telling the story.
+These conditions, answering the questions Who?
+Where? When? and Why? are all, or some of them,
+introduced at the beginning of any narrative, and as
+soon as it can be done, they ought all to be given. In
+a short essay, they are in the first paragraph; in a
+novel, in the first chapters. In &ldquo;Marmion&rdquo; the time,
+the place, and the principal character are introduced
+into the first canto. So Irving begins &ldquo;The Legend
+of Sleepy Hollow&rdquo; with the place and time, then follow
+the characters. In all stories the beginning is
+occupied in giving the conditions of the story; that is,
+the principal characters, the time, and the place.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">In what Order?</span>
+Having the end and the beginning clearly in mind,
+the next question is how best to get from one
+to the other. Shall the incidents be arranged
+in order of time? or shall other considerations govern?
+If it be any narrative of the journal form, whether a
+diary or a biography, the chronological arrangement
+will direct the sequence of events. Again, if it be a
+simple story with a single series of events, the time
+order will prevail. If, however, it be a narrative which
+contains several series of events, as a history or a novel,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page30" id="page30">30</a>
+it may be wise, even necessary, to deviate from the
+time sequence. It would have been unwise for Scott
+to hold strictly to the order of time in &ldquo;Marmion;&rdquo;
+after introducing the principal character, giving the
+time and the setting, it was necessary for him to bring
+in another element of the plot, Constance, and to go
+backward in time to pick up this thread of the story.
+The really essential order in any narrative is the order
+of cause and effect. As causes precede effects, the
+causal order and the time order generally coincide. In
+a single series of events, that is, where one cause alone
+produces an effect, which in turn becomes the cause of
+another effect, the time order is the causal order. In
+a novel, or a short story frequently, where there are
+more than one series of incidents contributing to and
+converging towards the main incident, these causes
+must all be introduced before the effect, and may
+break the chronological order of the story. In &ldquo;Roger
+Malvin&rsquo;s Burial,&rdquo; it would be impossible to tell what
+the stricken father was doing and what the joyous
+mother was thinking at the same time. Hawthorne
+must leave one and go to the other until they meet in
+their awful desolation. The only rule that can be
+given is, introduce causes before effects. In all stories,
+short or long, this will result in an approximation to
+the order of time; in a simple story it will invariably
+give a time sequence.</p>
+
+<p>There is one exception to this rule which should
+be noted. It is necessary at the very beginning to
+have some incident that will arrest the attention. This
+does not mean that persons, place, and time shall not
+come first. They shall come first, but they shall be
+so introduced as to make an interesting opening to
+the story. The novels of some decades ago did not
+sufficiently recognize the principle. One can frequently
+<a class="pgnm" name="page31" id="page31">31</a>
+hear it said of Scott&rsquo;s stories, &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t get started
+with them; they are too dry.&rdquo; The introductory
+chapters are often uninteresting. So much history is
+introduced, so much scenery is described before the
+author sets out his characters; and all this is done before
+he begins the story. Novelists of to-day realize
+that they must interest the reader at the beginning;
+when they have caught him, they are quite certain
+that he will bear with them while they bring up the
+other divisions of the story, which now have become interesting
+because they throw light on what has already
+been told. Even more than novelists, dramatists recognize
+this principle. When the curtain rises on the
+first act, something interesting is going on. The action
+frequently begins far along in the time covered by the
+story; then by cleverly arranged conversation all circumstances
+before the time of the opening that are
+necessary to the development of the plot are introduced.
+The audience receives these minor yet essential
+details with no impatience, since they explain in
+part a situation already interesting. The time order
+may be broken in order to introduce at the beginning
+of the story some interesting situation which will immediately
+engage the reader&rsquo;s attention.</p>
+
+<p>In arranging the materials of a story, the main considerations
+are Mass and Coherence. Mass demands
+important matters at the beginning and at the end of
+a story. Coherence demands that events closely related
+shall stand close together: that an effect shall immediately
+follow its cause. Beginning with some interesting
+situation that will also introduce the principal
+characters, the time, and the setting, the story follows
+in the main the order of time, and concludes with the
+main incident.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">An Outline.</span>
+One practical suggestion will assist in arranging the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page32" id="page32">32</a>
+parts of a story. Use an outline. It will guard
+against the omission of any detail that may
+afterward be found necessary, and against the
+necessity of offering the apology, inexcusable in prepared
+work, of &ldquo;forgetting to say;&rdquo; it will help the
+writer to see the best arrangement of the parts, to
+know that causes have preceded effects. The outline
+in narration should not be too much in detail, nor
+should it be followed if, as the story progresses, new
+light comes and the writer sees a better way to proceed.
+The writer should be above the outline, not its
+slave; but the outline is a most valuable servant of
+the writer.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Movement.</span>
+<i>Movement is an essential quality of narrative;</i> a
+story must advance. This does not mean
+that the story shall always go at the same
+rate, though it does mean that it shall always go. If
+a story always had the rapidity and intensity of a climax,
+it would be intolerable. Music that is all rushing
+climaxes is unbearable; a picture must not be a
+glare of high lights. The quiet passages in music, the
+grays and low tones in the background of the picture,
+the slow chapters in a story, are as necessary as their
+opposites; indeed, climaxes are dependent on contrasts
+in order to be climaxes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Rapidity.</span>
+The question of movement resolves itself into these
+two: how is rapidity of movement obtained,
+and how can the writer delay the movement.
+Rapidity is gained by the omission of all unnecessary
+details, and the use of the shortest, tersest sentences to
+express the absolutely essential. Dependent clauses
+disappear; either the sentences are simple, just one
+sharp statement, or they are made of co&ouml;rdinate
+clauses with no connectives. Every weight that could
+clog the story is thrown away, and it runs with the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page33" id="page33">33</a>
+swiftness of the thought. At such a time it would be
+a waste of good material to introduce beautiful descriptions
+or profound philosophy. Such things would be
+skipped by the reader. Everything must clear the
+way for the story.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Slowness.</span>
+What has been said of rapidity will indicate the
+answer to the second question. Slowness of
+movement is obtained by introducing long
+descriptions, analyses of characters, and information regarding
+the history or customs of the time. Sentences
+become long and involved; dependent clauses abound;
+connective words and phrases are frequent. Needless
+details may be introduced until the story becomes
+wearisome; it has almost no movement.</p>
+
+<p>Very closely connected with what has been said
+above is another fact concerning movement. Strip
+the sentences as you may, there are still the verbs remaining.
+Verbs and derivatives from verbs are the
+words which denote action. If other classes of words
+be taken out, the ratio of verbs to the other words in
+the sentence is larger. Shorter sentences and an increased
+ratio of verbs mark the passages in which the
+movement is more rapid. In &ldquo;Baa, Baa, Black Sheep&rdquo;
+the sentences average twenty-five words in the slower
+parts; in the intenser paragraphs the sentences have an
+average of fifteen words. Poe&rsquo;s &ldquo;Gold-Bug&ldquo; changes
+from thirty-eight to twenty-one. Again, Stevenson&rsquo;s
+essays have a verb to eight words, while the fight at the
+round house has a verb to about five and a half words.
+One of Kipling&rsquo;s stories starts in with a verb to eight
+and a half words, and the climax has a verb in every four
+words. These figures mean that as the sentences are
+shortened, adjectives, adverbs, phrases, connectives, disappear.
+Everything not absolutely necessary is thrown
+away when the passage is to express rapid movement.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page34" id="page34">34</a>
+No person should think that, by eliminating all dependent
+clauses, cutting away all unnecessary matters,
+and putting in a verb to every four words, he can gain
+intensity of expression. These are only accompanying
+circumstances. Climaxes are in the thought. When
+the thought moves rapidly, when things are being done
+with a rush, when the climax has been reached, then
+the writer will find that he can approach the movement
+of the thought most nearly by using these means.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Description and Narration.</span>
+<i>A valuable accessory to narration is description;</i> in
+truth, description for its own sake is not frequently
+found. The story must be somewhere; and it is more
+real when we know in what kind of a place
+it occurs. Still it is not wise to do as Scott
+so often has done,&mdash;give chapters of description
+at the beginning of the story. Rather the setting
+should be scattered through the story so that it is
+hardly perceptible. At no time should the reader halt
+and realize that he is being treated to a description.
+Even in the beautiful descriptions by Stevenson quoted
+in the next chapter, the work is so intimately blended
+with the story that the reader unfortunately might pass
+over it. A large part of the pleasure derived from the
+best stories is supplied by good descriptions, giving a
+vivid picture of the setting of the story.</p>
+
+<p>Description has another use in narration beside giving
+the setting of the story; it is often used to accent
+the mood of the action. In &ldquo;The Fall of the House of
+Usher&rdquo; by Poe, much of the gloomy foreboding is caused
+by the weird descriptions. Hawthorne understood well
+the harmony between man&rsquo;s feelings and his surroundings.
+The Sylvan Dance in &ldquo;The Marble Faun&rdquo; is wonderfully
+handled. Irving, in &ldquo;The Legend of Sleepy
+Hollow,&rdquo; throws about the story a &ldquo;witching influence,&rdquo;
+and long before the Headless Horseman appears,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page35" id="page35">35</a>
+the reader is quite sure that the region abounds in
+&ldquo;ghosts and goblins,&rdquo; dwelling in its &ldquo;haunted fields,
+and haunted brooks, and haunted bridges, and haunted
+houses.&rdquo; The danger in the use of description for this
+purpose is in overdoing it. The fact is, as Arlo Bates
+says, &ldquo;the villains no longer steal through smiling
+gardens whose snowy lilies, all abloom, and sending
+up perfume like incense from censers of silver, seem to
+rebuke the wicked.&rdquo; Yet when handled as Stevenson
+and Irving handled it, description assists in accenting
+the mood of the action.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Characters few, Time short.</span>
+<i>The number of characters should be few</i> and the
+time of the action short. Pupils are not able
+to handle a large number of persons. There
+is, however, a stronger reason for it than incapacity.
+A young person would have great trouble
+in remembering the large number of persons introduced
+into &ldquo;Little Dorrit.&rdquo; Many of them would
+always remain entire strangers. Such a scattering of
+attention is unfavorable to a story. To focus the interest
+upon a few, to have the action centred in these
+few, increases the movement and intensity of the narrative.
+The writers of short stories in France (perhaps
+the best story-tellers of the present), Kipling, Davis,
+Miss Wilkins, and some others of our best authors,
+find few characters all that are necessary, and they
+gain in intensity by limiting the number of characters.</p>
+
+<p>For the same reason <i>the time should be short.</i> If
+all the incidents chosen are crowded into a short period
+of time, the action must be more rapid. The reader
+does not like to know five years have elapsed between
+one event and the next, even if the story-teller does
+not try to fill up the interim with matters of no consequence
+to the narrative. One exception must be
+made to this rule. In stories whose purpose is to portray
+<a class="pgnm" name="page36" id="page36">36</a>
+a change of character, a long time is necessary;
+for the transformation is not usually the result of
+a day&rsquo;s experience, but a gradual process of years.
+&ldquo;Silas Marner&rdquo; and &ldquo;Baa, Baa, Black Sheep&rdquo; demand
+time to make naturally the great changes recounted.
+In general, however, the time should be short.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Simple Plot.</span>
+Moreover, <i>the plot should be simple.</i> This is not
+saying that the plot should be evident. No one is
+quite satisfied if he knows just how the story will turn
+out. There are, however, so many conditions in a story
+that the accentuation of one or the subordination
+of another may bring about something
+quite unexpected, yet perfectly natural. Complicated
+plots have had their day; simple plots are now in
+vogue. They are as natural as life, and quite as unfathomable.
+In Davis&rsquo;s &ldquo;Gallegher&rdquo; there is nothing
+complicated; one thing follows another in a perfectly
+natural way; yet there are many questions in the
+reader&rsquo;s mind as to how the little rascal will turn out,
+and whether he will accomplish his mission. Much
+more cleverness is shown by the sleight-of-hand trickster,
+who, unassisted and in the open, with no accessories,
+dupes his staring assembly, than by him who, on the
+stage, with the aid of mirrors, lights, machines, and a
+crowd of assistants, manages to deceive your eyes. A
+story that by its frank simplicity takes the reader into
+its confidence, and brings him to a conclusion that is
+so natural that it should have been foreseen from the
+beginning, has a good plot. The conclusion of a story
+must be natural,&mdash;the result of the causes at work in
+the story. It must be an expected surprise. If it
+cannot be accounted for by the causes at work in
+the story, the construction is faulty. In the world of
+fiction there is not the liberty one experiences in
+the world of fact. There things unexpected and unexplainable
+<a class="pgnm" name="page37" id="page37">37</a>
+occur. But the story-teller has no such
+privilege. Truth is stranger than fiction dare be. A
+simple, natural story, with few characters and covering
+but a short period of time, has three elements of success.</p>
+
+<p>Paragraph structure, sentence structure, and choice
+of words are taken up in subsequent chapters. Of
+paragraphs it may be wise to say that there will be as
+many as there are divisions in the outline; and sometimes,
+by reason of the length of topic, a subdivision
+may be necessary. The paragraph most common in
+narration is the paragraph of details, the first form
+presented in the chapter on paragraphs. What needs
+to be said of sentences has already been said when
+treating of movement. Of words one thing may be
+suggested. Choose live words, specific words, words
+that have &ldquo;go&rdquo; in them.</p>
+
+<p>It should be remembered that everything cannot be
+learned at once. The study of the whole is the principal
+occupation just now. Select the main incident;
+choose other incidents to be consistent with it; start
+out at once giving the conditions of the story; proceed
+now fast, now slow, as the thought demands, arriving
+at a conclusion that is an expected surprise, the result
+of forces at work in the story.</p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page38" id="page38">38</a></div>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br/><b>SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES</b></p>
+
+<p>The questions are only suggestive. They indicate how
+literature can be made to teach composition. Some questions
+may seem hard, and will provoke discussion. To have
+even a false opinion, backed by only a few facts, is better
+than an entire absence of thought. Encourage discussion.
+The answers to the questions have not been suggested in the
+questions themselves. The object has been to throw the
+pupil upon his own thinking.</p>
+
+<p>These questions upon the &ldquo;Method of the Author&rdquo; should
+not be considered until the far more important work of
+deriving the &ldquo;Meaning of the Author&rdquo; has been finished.
+Only after the whole piece has been carefully studied can
+the relation of the parts to the whole be understood. Reserve
+the questions for the review.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><b>QUESTIONS.</b><br /><br />
+THE GREAT STONE FACE.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 40.)</p>
+
+<p>In what paragraphs is the main incident?</p>
+
+<p>Can you find one sentence on the second page of the story
+that foreshadows the result?</p>
+
+<p>How many incidents or episodes contribute to the story?</p>
+
+<p>Do these help in the development of Ernest&rsquo;s character?
+If not, what is the use of them?</p>
+
+<p>Why are they arranged in this order?</p>
+
+<p>Introduce into its proper place an incident of a scientist.
+Write it up.</p>
+
+<p>Do you think one of the incidents could be omitted?
+Which one?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page39" id="page39">39</a>
+Are the incidents related in the order in which they
+occurred? Is one the cause of another?</p>
+
+<p>Has the story a plot? Why do you think so? What is
+a plot?</p>
+
+<p>Where are introduced the time, place, and the principal
+character?</p>
+
+<p>What is the use of the description of &ldquo;the great stone
+face&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>Why does the author tell only what &ldquo;was reported&rdquo; of
+the interior of Mr. Gathergold&rsquo;s palace? Is it better so?</p>
+
+<p>Are the descriptions to accent the mood of the story? or
+are they primarily to make concrete and real the persons
+and places?</p>
+
+<p>Is there any place where the movement of the story is
+rapid?</p>
+
+<p>Does the author begin at once, and close when the story
+is told?</p>
+
+<p>Did you find any use of comparisons in the piece? (See
+top of p. 6, top of p. 19, middle of p. 22.) <a class="ftnt" id="footref_3" name="footref_3" href="#footnote_3">3</a></p>
+
+<p>Of what value are they in composition?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />THE GENTLE BOY.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 145.)</p>
+
+<p>What is the main incident?</p>
+
+<p>In relation to the whole story, in what place does it
+stand?</p>
+
+<p>Do the other incidents serve to develop the character of
+&ldquo;the gentle boy&rdquo;? or are they introduced to open up to the
+reader that character? (Compare with &ldquo;Wee Willie
+Winkie.&rdquo;)</p>
+
+<p>Do you consider all the incidents necessary?</p>
+
+<p>Why has the author introduced the fact that Ilbrahim
+gently cared for the little boy who fell from the tree?</p>
+
+<p>What is the use of the first two pages of the story?</p>
+
+<p>Where does the story really begin?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page40" id="page40">40</a>
+How could you know the time, if the first page were not
+there? Is it a delicate way of telling &ldquo;when&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>Notice that time, place, and principal characters all are
+introduced into the first paragraph of the real story.</p>
+
+<p>Why does the author note the change in Tobias&rsquo;s circumstances?
+Does it add to the interest of the story? Would
+you omit it?</p>
+
+<p>Do you think this plot more complicated than that of
+&ldquo;The Great Stone Face&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>What is the use of the description on p. 31?</p>
+
+<p>What do you note as the difference between<br />
+<span class="i1">(<i>a</i>) second line of p. 19, sixth line of p. 27, sixteenth line
+of p. 29, and (<i>b</i>) fourth line of p. 25, the figure in the complete
+paragraph on p. 40?</span></p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />THE GRAY CHAMPION.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 145.)</p>
+
+<p>Note the successive stages by which the time is approached.
+(Compare with the beginning of &ldquo;Silas Marner.&rdquo;)</p>
+
+<p>Can you feel any difference between the movement of this
+story and the movement in &ldquo;The Gentle Boy&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>Is there any difference in the length of the sentences?
+(Remember that the independent clauses of a compound sentence
+are very nearly the same as simple sentences.)</p>
+
+<p>Is there any difference in the proportion of verbs and
+verbals? What parts of speech have almost disappeared?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />ROGER MALVIN&rsquo;S BURIAL.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 145.)</p>
+
+<p>Why is the first paragraph needed?</p>
+
+<p>Why could the incident in the first paragraph on p. 50 not
+be omitted? Do you find it later?</p>
+
+<p>How many chapters could you divide the story into?
+What is the basis of division?</p>
+
+<p>Why did not Hawthorne tell the result of the shot at
+once?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page41" id="page41">41</a>
+A plot is usually made by introducing more than one
+cause, by hiding one of the causes, or by holding back an
+effect. Which in this story?</p>
+
+<p>Is there a change of movement between the beginning
+and the end of the story? Look at the last two pages carefully.
+How has the author expressed the intensity of the
+situation?</p>
+
+<p>Does the story end when it is finished?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />THE WEDDING KNELL.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 145.)</p>
+
+<p>Of the three common ways of giving uncertainty to a
+plot, which has been used?</p>
+
+<p>Do you call this plot more complicated than those of the
+other tales studied?</p>
+
+<p>Why does the author say, at the top of p. 72, &ldquo;necessary
+preface&rdquo;? Could it not be omitted? If not, what principle
+of narrative construction would be violated by its omission?</p>
+
+<p>Why has he introduced the last paragraph on p. 74 reaching
+over to p. 75?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />THE AMBITIOUS GUEST.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 40.)</p>
+
+<p>In what order are the elements of the story introduced?</p>
+
+<p>Pick out phrases which prepare you for the catastrophe.</p>
+
+<p>Can you detect any difference in the movement of the
+different parts of the story? What aids its expression?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />THE GOLD-BUG.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 120.)</p>
+
+<p>Would you have been satisfied if the story had stopped
+when the treasure was discovered? What more do you want
+to know?</p>
+
+<p>What, then, is the main incident? Was the main incident
+the last to occur in order of time? Why did Poe delay telling
+it until the end?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page42" id="page42">42</a>
+Do you see how relating the story in the first person
+helped him to throw the main incident last? Why could he
+not tell it before?</p>
+
+<p>Does Poe tell any other stories in the first person?</p>
+
+<p>In what person are &ldquo;Treasure Island&rdquo; and &ldquo;Kidnapped&rdquo;
+told? Are they interesting?</p>
+
+<p>If a friend is telling you a story, do you care more for it
+if it is about a third party or about himself? Why?</p>
+
+<p>What, then, is the advantage of making an actor the narrator?
+What are some of the disadvantages?</p>
+
+<p>Do you think this plot as good as those of Hawthorne&rsquo;s
+stories?</p>
+
+<p>Why was it necessary to have &ldquo;a day of remarkable chilliness&rdquo;
+(p. 3), and a Newfoundland dog rushing into the
+room (p. 6)?</p>
+
+<p>What principle would it violate to omit these little matters?
+(Text-book, p. <a href="#page24">24</a>.)</p>
+
+<p>What of the rapidity of movement when they are digging?
+How has rapidity been gained?</p>
+
+<p>What form of wit does Poe attempt? Does he succeed?</p>
+
+<p>Do you think the conversation is natural? If not, what
+is the matter with it?</p>
+
+<p>Are negroes usually profane? Does Jupiter&rsquo;s general
+character lead you to expect profanity from him? Is anything
+gained by his oaths? Is anything sacrificed? In this
+story is profanity artistic? (To know what is meant by
+&ldquo;artistic,&rdquo; read the last line of &ldquo;L&rsquo;Envoi&rdquo; on p. <a href="#page253">253</a> of the
+text-book.)</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 30.)</p>
+
+<p>What is the purpose of the first stanza?</p>
+
+<p>What connection in thought is there between the second,
+third, and fourth stanzas? What have these stanzas to do
+with the story? If they have nothing to do with it, what
+principle of structure do they violate? Would Lowell be
+likely to do this?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page43" id="page43">43</a>
+What is the use of the description beginning &ldquo;And what
+is so rare as a day in June&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>Would the story be complete without the preludes?
+Would the teaching be understood without them?</p>
+
+<p>Are time and place definitely stated in the poem? Why
+should they be, or not be?</p>
+
+<p>Why does so much time elapse between Part I. and Part
+II. of the story?</p>
+
+<p>In what lines do you find the main incident?</p>
+
+<p>In the first prelude is Lowell describing a landscape of
+New England or Old England? Where is the story laid?
+What comment have you to make upon these facts?</p>
+
+<p>Pick out the figures. Are they useful?</p>
+
+<p>Can you find passages of exposition and description in
+this narrative? Why do you call it narration?</p>
+
+<p>What is Lowell&rsquo;s criticism upon himself? (See &ldquo;Fable
+for Critics.&rdquo;)</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />A CHRISTMAS CAROL.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 57.)</p>
+
+<p>Is the opening such as to catch the attention?</p>
+
+<p>What is the essential idea in the description of Scrooge?
+Do all details enforce this idea? Do you know Scrooge?</p>
+
+<p>In what paragraph does Dickens tell where the story
+occurs?</p>
+
+<p>Find places on p. 19 and p. 96 where Dickens has used
+&ldquo;in&rdquo; or &ldquo;into.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>What advantage to the story is the appearance in Scrooge&rsquo;s
+office of his nephew and the two gentlemen? Do they come
+into the story again?</p>
+
+<p>Are the details in the description of the apparition on
+p. 41 in the order in which they would be noted? Which
+is the most important detail? Where is it in the description?</p>
+
+<p>Is the description of Mrs. Fezziwig on p. 52 successful?</p>
+
+<p>What helps express rapidity of movement in the paragraph
+at the bottom of p. 53? (See also paragraph on
+p. 85.)</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page44" id="page44">44</a>
+Examining the words used by Dickens and Hawthorne,
+which are longer? Which are most effectual? Are you
+sure? Rewrite one of Hawthorne&rsquo;s paragraphs with a
+Dickens vocabulary. What is the result?</p>
+
+<p>What word is the topic of the last paragraph on p. 73?</p>
+
+<p>Recast the first sentence of the last paragraph on p. 77.</p>
+
+<p>Does Dickens use slang? (Do not consider conversation
+in the answer to this question.)</p>
+
+<p>What is the main incident? Is there one of the minor
+incidents that could be omitted?</p>
+
+<p>Which one could you most easily spare?</p>
+
+<p>What is the need of the last chapter?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />MARMION.<br />
+(Rolfe&rsquo;s Student&rsquo;s Series, Vol. 2.)</p>
+
+<p>How do you know the time of &ldquo;Marmion&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>Do you see any reason why stanza vi. of Canto I. would
+better precede stanza v.?</p>
+
+<p>Where is the first mention of De Wilton? the first intimation
+of Clara de Clare? of Constance?</p>
+
+<p>What form of discourse in stanza vii. of Canto II.?</p>
+
+<p>What part in the development of the narrative does Fitz-Eustace&rsquo;s
+song make?</p>
+
+<p>Does the tale related by the host break the unity of the
+whole? Is it &ldquo;another story&rdquo;? What value has it?</p>
+
+<p>Why does Scott not tell of Marmion&rsquo;s encounter with the
+Elfin Knight in Canto III.? Where is it told? Why there?</p>
+
+<p>Why is Canto II. put after Canto I.? Did the events
+related in II. occur after those related in I.?</p>
+
+<p>How many of the descriptions of persons in &ldquo;Marmion&rdquo;
+begin with the face? How many times are they of the face
+only?</p>
+
+<p>Try to write the incident related in stanzas xix., xx., xxi.,
+and xxii. of Canto III. in fewer words than Scott has done
+it without sacrificing any detail.</p>
+
+<p>Are you satisfied with the description of King James in
+stanza viii. Canto V.? Do you see him?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page45" id="page45">45</a>
+Write an outline of the plot of &ldquo;Marmion&rdquo; in two hundred
+words.</p>
+
+<p>Why is the story of Lady Clare reserved until Canto V.?</p>
+
+<p>What cantos contain the main incident?</p>
+
+<p>Were all that precedes omitted, would &ldquo;The Battle&rdquo; be
+as interesting?</p>
+
+<p>Do you think the plot good? Is it complicated?</p>
+
+<p>What of the number of figures used in the last canto
+compared with those used in any other canto? Do you find
+more in narrative or descriptive passages? Why?</p>
+
+<p>Read stanza viii. Canto III. Can you describe a voice
+without using comparison?</p>
+
+<p>Do the introductions to the several cantos form any part
+of the story? Would they be just as good anywhere else?
+Would the story be better with them, or without them?
+What principle of structure do they violate?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><b>EXERCISES.</b></p>
+
+<p>The subjects for composition given below are not intended
+as a course to be followed, but only to suggest a plan for the
+work. The individual topics for essays may not be the best
+for all cases. Long lists of topics can be found in rhetorics.
+Bare subjects, however, are usually unsuggestive. They
+should be adapted to the class. Put the subjects in such
+shape that there is something to get hold of. Give the
+pupils a fair start.</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li> through 4. In order to place before the pupils good models for
+constructing stories, read one like &ldquo;A Piece of String&rdquo; in
+&ldquo;An Odd Number,&rdquo; by Maupassant. Stories for this purpose
+should not be long. Talk the story over with the pupils,
+bringing out clearly the main incident and the several episodes
+which contribute to it. Have them notice how characters,
+time, and place are introduced; and how each succeeding
+event is possible and natural. Then have it rewritten.
+This will fix the idea of plan. For this purpose some of
+Miss Wilkins&rsquo;s stories are excellent; Kenneth Grahame&rsquo;s
+<a class="pgnm" name="page46" id="page46">46</a>
+&ldquo;The Golden Age,&rdquo; and Miss Jewett&rsquo;s short stories are good
+material. Some of the short stories in current magazines
+serve well.</li>
+
+<li value="5"> and 6. Read the first of a story and its close,&mdash;enough to
+indicate the main incident and the setting of the story.
+Have the pupils write it complete.</li>
+
+<li value="7">Read the close of a story. The pupils will then write
+the whole.</li>
+
+<li>Read the opening of a story. Have the pupils complete
+it.</li>
+
+<li>Finish &ldquo;The Circus-Man&rsquo;s Story&rdquo; (Text-book, p. <a href="#page297">297</a>.)</li>
+
+<li>My First Algebra Lesson. Remember that in composition
+a good story is worth more than a true one. The
+basis may be a fact. Do not hesitate to fix it up.</li>
+
+<li>A delivery horse runs away. No persons are in the
+wagon. Tell about it.</li>
+
+<li>Write about a runaway in which you and your little
+sister are injured. (I have found it very helpful to use the
+same subject, but having the relation of the narrator to the
+incident very different. It serves to bring out a whole new
+vocabulary in order to express the difference in the feelings
+of the narrator.)</li>
+
+<li>Write the story suggested to your mind by these
+words: Digging in the sand I found a board much worn
+by the waves, on which were cut, in characters scarcely
+traceable, these words: &ldquo;Dec.&mdash;&mdash;18 9, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;N. J.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li>A humorous incident in a street car, in which the
+joke was on the other fellow.</li>
+
+<li>Another in which the joke was on me. The same
+incident may be used with good effect. The choice of new
+words to express the difference of feelings makes an excellent
+exercise.</li>
+
+<li>Tell the story that Doreas related to her neighbors
+about her husband&rsquo;s escape and her father&rsquo;s death.</li>
+
+<li>To bring out the fact that the language must be varied
+to suit the character of the reader or listener, tell a
+fairy story to a sleepy five-year old so that he will not go
+<a class="pgnm" name="page47" id="page47">47</a>
+to sleep. Do not hesitate at exaggerations. Only remember
+it must be consistent.</li>
+
+<li>Have &ldquo;The Gentle Boy&rdquo; tell one of the incidents in
+which he was cruelly treated. This may well be an incident
+of your own life adapted to its purpose.</li>
+
+<li>and 20. Jim was a mean boy. Meanness seemed to be in
+his blood. He was all mean. His hair was mean; his
+freckles were mean; his big, chapped hands were mean.
+And he was always mean. He was mean to his pets; he
+was meaner to small boys; and he was as mean as he dared
+to be to his equals in size.<br /><br />
+
+Write one incident to show Jim&rsquo;s meanness.<br /><br />
+
+Write another to show how Jim met his match, and
+learned a lesson.</li>
+
+<li value="21">Work up the following into a story. It all occurs
+in one day at the present time. Place, your own city.
+Characters, a poor sewing girl, her little sick brother, and
+a wealthy society lady. Incidents: a conversation between
+brother and sister about some fruit; a conversation between
+the sewing girl and the lady about money due for sewing;
+stealing apples; arrest; appearance of the lady. Title:
+Who was the Criminal?</li>
+
+<li>A story of a modern Sir Launfal.</li>
+
+<li>The most thrilling moment of my life.</li>
+
+<li>Tell the whole story suggested by the stanza of
+&ldquo;A Nightingale in the Study,&rdquo; by Lowell, which begins,
+&ldquo;Cloaked shapes, a twanging of guitars.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li>Write a story which teaches a lesson. Remember
+that the lesson is in the story, not at its end.</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p>In the work at this time but little attention can be given
+to the teaching of paragraphs and sentences. The pupil
+should learn what a paragraph is, and should have his composition
+properly divided into paragraphs. But the form
+and massing of paragraphs cannot be taken up at this time.
+The same may be said of sentences. He should have no
+sentences broken in two by periods; nor should he have two
+sentences forced into one. Grammatical errors should be
+<a class="pgnm" name="page48" id="page48">48</a>
+severely criticised. However, the present work is to get the
+pupils started; and they cannot get started if there is a
+teacher holding them back by discouraging criticisms. Mark
+all mistakes of whatever kind; but put the stress upon the
+whole composition: its unity, its coherence, its mass, and
+its movement. Everything cannot be done at once; many
+distressing faults will have to be passed over until later.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page49" id="page49">49</a></div>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><b>DESCRIPTION</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Difficulties of Language for making Pictures.</span>
+Description has been defined as the form of literature
+which presents a picture by means of
+language. In the preceding chapter, it has
+been pointed out that the sequence of language
+is perfectly adapted to detail the sequence
+of action in a narrative. For the purpose of
+constructing a picture, the means has serious drawbacks.
+The picture has to be presented in pieces;
+and the difficulties are much as would be experienced
+if &ldquo;dissected maps and animals&rdquo; used for children&rsquo;s
+amusement were to be put together in the head. It
+would not be easy to arrange the map of the United
+States from blocks, each containing a small part of it,
+taken one at a time from a box. Yet this closely
+resembles the method language forces us to adopt in
+constructing a picture. Each phrase is like one of the
+blocks, and introduces a new element into the picture;
+from these phrases the reader must reconstruct the
+whole. This means not alone that he shall remember
+them all, but there is a more serious trouble: he must
+often rearrange them. For example, a description by
+Ruskin begins, &ldquo;Nine years old.&rdquo; Either a boy or a
+girl, the reader thinks, as it may be in his own home.
+In the case of this reader it is a boy, rather tall of
+his age, with brown hair and dark eyes. But the next
+phrase reads, &ldquo;Neither tall nor short for her age.&rdquo;
+Now the reader knows it is a girl of common stature.
+<a class="pgnm" name="page50" id="page50">50</a>
+Later on he learns that her eyes are &ldquo;deep blue;&rdquo; her
+lips &ldquo;perfectly lovely in profile;&rdquo; and so on through
+the details of the whole sketch. Many times in the
+course of the description the reader makes up a new
+picture; he is continually reconstructing. Any one
+who will observe his own mind while reading a new
+description can prove that the picture is arranged and
+rearranged many times. This is due to the means by
+which it is presented. Language presents only a phrase
+at a time,&mdash;a fragment, not a whole,&mdash;and so fails
+in the instantaneous presentation of a complete picture.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Painting and Sculpture.</span>
+The painter or sculptor who upon canvas or in
+stone flashes the whole composition before us
+at the same instant of time, has great advantages
+over the worker in words. In these
+methods there is needed no reconstruction of previous
+images, no piecing together of a number of fragments.
+Without any danger of mistakes which will have to
+be corrected later, the spectator can take in the whole
+picture at once,&mdash;every relation, every color, every
+difference in values.</p>
+
+<p>It is because pictures are the surest and quickest
+means of representing objects to the mind that books,
+especially text-books, and magazines are so profusely
+illustrated. No magazine can claim popularity to-day
+that does not use illustrations where possible; no text-book
+in science or history sells unless it contains pictures.
+And this is because all persons accurately and
+quickly get the idea from a picture.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Advantages of Language.</span>
+Whatever be the disadvantages of language, there
+are some advantages. Who could paint this
+from Hawthorne?</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Soon the smoke ascended among the trees, impregnated
+with <i>savory incense,</i> not <i>heavy, dull,</i> and <i>surfeiting,</i> like
+<a class="pgnm" name="page51" id="page51">51</a>
+the steam of cookery indoors, but <i>sprightly</i> and <i>piquant.</i>
+The <i>smell</i> of our feast was akin to the woodland odors with
+which it mingled.&rdquo; (&ldquo;Mosses from an Old Manse.&rdquo;)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Or this from Lowell?&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;Under the yaller-pines I house,</p>
+<p>When sunshine makes &rsquo;em all <i>sweet-scented,</i></p>
+<p>An&rsquo; <i>hear</i> among their furry boughs</p>
+<p>The <i>baskin&rsquo;</i> west wind <i>purr contented,</i></p>
+<p>While &rsquo;way o&rsquo;erhead, ez <i>sweet</i> an&rsquo; <i>low</i></p>
+<p><i>Ez distant bells thet ring for meetin&rsquo;,</i></p>
+<p>The wedged wil&rsquo; geese <i>their bugles blow,</i></p>
+<p>Further an&rsquo; further South retreatin&rsquo;.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_4" name="footref_4" href="#footnote_4">4</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Or cut this from marble?&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida,</p>
+<p>Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.</p>
+<p>For now the noonday quiet holds the hill;</p>
+<p>The grasshopper is silent in the grass;</p>
+<p>The lizard, with his shadow on the stone,</p>
+<p>Rests like a shadow, and the winds are dead.</p>
+<p>The purple flower droops; the golden bee</p>
+<p>Is lily-cradled; I alone awake.</p>
+<p>My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love,</p>
+<p>My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim,</p>
+<p>And I am all aweary of my life.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_5" name="footref_5" href="#footnote_5">5</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The painter cannot put sounds upon a canvas, nor
+can the sculptor carve from marble an odor or a taste.
+We use the other senses in determining qualities of
+objects; and words which describe effects produced by
+other senses beside sight are valuable in description.
+As Lowell says, &ldquo;we may shut our eyes, but we cannot
+help knowing&rdquo; a large number of beautiful things.
+Moreover, language suggests hidden ideas that the
+representative arts cannot so well do. The following
+<a class="pgnm" name="page52" id="page52">52</a>
+from a &ldquo;Song&rdquo; by Lowell has in it suggestions which
+the picture could not present.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i1">&ldquo;Violet! sweet violet!</p>
+<p class="i1">Thine eyes are full of tears;</p>
+<p class="i3">Are they wet</p>
+<p class="i3">Even yet</p>
+<p>With the thought of other years?</p>
+<p>Or with gladness are they full,</p>
+<p>For the night so beautiful,</p>
+<p>And longing for those far-off spheres?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i1">&ldquo;Thy little heart, that hath with love</p>
+<p class="i1">Grown colored like the sky above,</p>
+<p class="i1">On which thou lookest ever,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i3">Can it know</p>
+<p class="i3">All the woe</p>
+<p>Of hope for what returneth never,</p>
+<p>All the sorrow and the longing</p>
+<p>To these hearts of ours belonging?&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Enumeration and Suggestion</span>
+Description, like narration, has two large divisions:
+one simply to give information or instruction;
+the other to present a vivid picture. One
+is <i>representative</i> or <i>enumerative;</i> the other,
+<i>suggestive.</i> One may be illustrated by guide-books;
+the other by the descriptions of Stevenson or Ruskin.
+And in the most artistic fashion the two have been
+made to supplement each other in the following picture
+of &ldquo;bright and beautiful Athens&rdquo; by Cardinal Newman.
+From the first, to the sentence beginning &ldquo;But
+what he would not think of,&rdquo; there is simply an
+enumeration of features which a commercial agent
+might see; the rest is what the artistic soul of the
+lover of beauty saw there. One is enumeration; the
+other a gloriously suggestive picture.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;A confined triangle, perhaps fifty miles its greatest length,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page53" id="page53">53</a>
+and thirty its greatest breadth; two elevated rocky barriers,
+meeting at an angle; three prominent mountains, commanding
+the plain,&mdash;Parnes, Pentelicus, and Hymettus; an unsatisfactory
+soil; some streams, not always full;&mdash;such is
+about the report which the agent of a London company
+would have made of Attica. He would report that the
+climate was mild; the hills were limestone; there was plenty
+of good marble; more pasture land than at first survey might
+have been expected, sufficient, certainly, for sheep and goats;
+fisheries productive; silver mines once, but long since worked
+out; figs fair; oil first-rate; olives in profusion. But what
+he would not think of noting down was that that olive-tree
+was so choice in nature and so noble in shape that it excited
+a religious veneration; and that it took so kindly to the
+light soil as to expand into woods upon the open plain, and
+to climb up and fringe the hills. He would not think of
+writing word to his employers, how that clear air, of which
+I have spoken, brought out, yet blended and subdued, the
+colors on the marble, till they had a softness and harmony,
+for all their richness, which in a picture looks exaggerated,
+yet is after all within the truth. He would not tell how that
+same delicate and brilliant atmosphere freshened up the pale
+olive, till the olive forgot its monotony, and its cheek glowed
+like the arbutus or beech of the Umbrian hills. He would
+say nothing of the thyme and the thousand fragrant herbs
+which carpeted Hymettus; he would hear nothing of the hum
+of its bees; nor take account of the rare flavor of its honey,
+since Gaza and Minorca were sufficient for the English
+demand. He would look over the &AElig;gean from the height
+he had ascended; he would follow with his eyes the chain of
+islands, which, starting from the Sunian headland, seemed
+to offer the fabled divinities of Attica, when they would visit
+their Ionian cousins, a sort of viaduct thereto across the
+sea; but that fancy would not occur to him, nor any admiration
+of the dark violet billows with their white edges down
+below; nor of those graceful, fan-like jets of silver upon the
+rocks, which slowly rise aloft like water spirits from the deep,
+then shiver, and break, and spread, and shroud themselves,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page54" id="page54">54</a>
+and disappear in a soft mist of foam; nor of the gentle, incessant
+heaving and panting of the whole liquid plain; nor
+of the long waves, keeping steady time, like a line of soldiery
+as they resound upon the hollow shore,&mdash;he would not
+deign to notice the restless living element at all except to
+bless his stars that he was not upon it. Nor the distinct details,
+nor the refined coloring, nor the graceful outline and
+roseate golden hue of the jutting crags, nor the bold shadows
+cast from Otus or Laurium by the declining sun;&mdash;our
+agent of a mercantile firm would not value these matters even
+at a low figure. Rather, we must turn for the sympathy we
+seek to yon pilgrim student, come from a semi-barbarous
+land to that small corner of the earth, as to a shrine, where
+he might take his fill of gazing on those emblems and coruscations
+of invisible unoriginate perfection. It was the stranger
+from a remote province, from Britain or from Mauritania,
+who in a scene so different from that of his chilly, woody
+swamps, or of his fiery, choking sands, learned at once what
+a real University must be, by coming to understand the sort
+of country which was its suitable home.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_6" name="footref_6" href="#footnote_6">6</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Enumerative Description.</span>
+Enumerative description has one point of great difference
+from suggestive description. In the
+former everything is told; in the latter the
+description is as fortunate in what it omits as
+in what it includes. Were an architect to give specifications
+for the building of a house, every detail would
+have to be included; but after all the pages of careful
+enumeration the reader would know less of how it
+looked than after these few words from Irving. &ldquo;A
+large, rickety wooden building stood in its place, with
+great gaping windows, some of them broken and
+mended with old hats and petticoats, and over the door
+was painted &lsquo;The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+So the manual training student uses five hundred
+words to describe in detail a box which would be
+thrown off with but a few words in a piece of literature.
+<a class="pgnm" name="page55" id="page55">55</a>
+In enumerative description, one element is of
+as much importance as another; no special feature is
+made primary by the omission or subdual of other
+qualities. It has value in giving exact details of objects,
+as if for their construction, and in including an
+object in a class.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Suggestive Description.</span>
+Suggestive description, description the aim of which
+is not information, but the reproduction of a
+picture, is the kind most employed in literature.
+To present a picture, not all the details
+should be given. The mind cannot carry them all,
+and, much worse, it cannot arrange them. Nor is there
+any need for a detailed enumeration. A room has
+walls, floor, and ceiling; a man naturally has ears,
+arms, and feet. These things may be taken for granted.
+It is not what is common to a class that describes; it
+is what is individual, what takes one object out of a
+class.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Value of Observation.</span>
+This leads to the suggestion that <i>good description
+depends largely on accurate observation.</i> A
+selection frequently quoted, but none the less
+valuable because often seen, is in point here.
+It is the last word on the value of observation.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Talent is long patience. It is a question of regarding
+whatever one desires to express long enough and with attention
+close enough to discover a side which no one has seen
+and which has been expressed by nobody. In everything
+there is something of the unexplored, because we are accustomed
+to use our eyes only with the thought of what has
+already been said concerning the thing we see. The smallest
+thing has in it a grain of the unknown. Discover it. In
+order to describe a fire that flames or a tree in the plain, we
+must remain face to face with that fire or that tree until for
+us they no longer resemble any other tree or any other fire.
+This is the way to become original.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page56" id="page56">56</a>
+&ldquo;Having, moreover, impressed upon me the fact that there
+are not in the whole world two grains of sand, two insects,
+two hands, or two noses absolutely alike, he forced me to
+describe a being or an object in such a manner as to individualize
+it clearly, to distinguish it from all other objects of
+the same kind. &lsquo;When you pass,&rsquo; he said to me, &lsquo;a grocer
+seated in his doorway, a concierge smoking his pipe, a row
+of cabs, show me this grocer and this concierge, their attitude,
+all their physical appearance; suggest by the skill of
+your image all their moral nature, so that I shall not confound
+them with any other grocer or any other concierge;
+make me see, by a single word, wherein a cab-horse differs
+from the fifty others that follow or precede him.&rsquo;... Whatever
+may be the thing which one wishes to say, there is but
+one word for expressing it; only one verb to animate it, but
+one adjective to qualify it. It is essential to search for this
+verb, for this adjective, until they are discovered, and never
+to be satisfied with anything else.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_7" name="footref_7" href="#footnote_7">7</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Point of View.</span>
+With the closest observation, an author gets into
+his own mind what he wishes to present to
+another; but with this essential step taken,
+he is only ready to begin the work of communication.
+For the successful communication of a picture there
+are some considerations of value. And first is <i>the
+point of view.</i> It has much the same relation to description
+as the main incident has to narration. In
+large measure it determines what to exclude and what
+to include. When a writer has assumed his point of
+view, he must stay there, and tell not a thing more
+than he can see from there. It would hardly be possible
+for a man, telling only so much as he saw while
+gazing from Eiffel Tower into the streets below, to
+say that the people looked like Lilliputians and that
+their hands were dirty. To one lying on the bank of a
+<a class="pgnm" name="page57" id="page57">57</a>
+stream, it does not look like &ldquo;a silver thread running
+through the landscape.&rdquo; Things do not look the same
+when they are near as when at a distance. This fact
+has been acted upon more by the modern school of
+painting than ever before in art. Verboeckhoven
+painted sheep in a marvelous way. The drawing is
+perfect, giving the animal to the life. Still, no matter
+how far away the artist was standing, there are the same
+marvelously painted tufts of wool, showing almost the
+individual fibres. Tufts of wool were on the sheep,
+and made of fibres; but no artist at twenty rods could
+see them. The new school gives only what actually
+can be seen. Its first law is that each &ldquo;shall draw the
+thing as he sees it for the God of Things as They Are.&rdquo;
+Make no additions to what you can actually see because,
+as a result of experience, you know that there are some
+things not yet mentioned in your description; the hands
+may be dirty, but the man on the tower cannot see
+the dirt. Neither make an addition simply because it
+sounds well; the &ldquo;silver thread through the landscape&rdquo;
+is beautiful, but, unfortunately, it is not always true.</p>
+
+<p>Not only does distance cut out details from a picture;
+the fact that man sees in a straight line and not
+around a corner eliminates some features. In describing
+a house, remember that as you stand across the street
+from it, the back porch cannot be seen, neither can the
+shrubbery in the back yard. A writer would not be
+justified in speaking of a man&rsquo;s necktie, if the man he
+was describing were walking in front of him. In enumerative
+description the inside of a box may be told of;
+a man may be turned around, as it were; but to present
+a picture, only one side can be described, just as it would
+be shown in a photograph. Any addition to what can
+actually be known from the point of view assumed by
+the author is a fault and a source of confusion. Choose
+<a class="pgnm" name="page58" id="page58">58</a>
+your point of view; stay there; and tell only what is
+seen from that point.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Moving Point of View.</span>
+It has been said that the point of view should not be
+changed. This requires one modification. It
+may be changed, if the reader is kept informed
+of the changes. If a person wished
+to describe an interior, he would be unable to see the
+whole from any one point of view. As he passed from
+room to room he should inform his reader of his change
+of position. Then the description, though a unit, is a
+combination of several descriptions; just as the house
+is one, though made of dining-room, sitting-rooms, bedrooms,
+and attic. This kind of description is very
+common in books of travel, in which the author tells
+what he sees in passing. The thing to be remembered
+in writing this kind of description is to inform the
+reader where the author is when he writes the different
+parts of the description,&mdash;to give the points of view.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Point of View should be stated.</span>
+The point of view, whether fixed or moving, should
+be made clear. Either it should be definitely
+stated, or it should be suggested by some
+phrase in the description. In the many examples
+which are quoted in this chapter, it would be
+well to see what it is that gives the point of view. The
+picture gains in distinctness when the point of view is
+known. The following sentences are from &ldquo;The Old
+Manse;&rdquo; there is no mistake here. The reader knows
+every move the author makes. It opens with:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Between two tall gateposts of rough-hewn stone (the
+gate itself having fallen from its hinges at some unknown
+epoch) we beheld the gray front of the old parsonage terminating
+the vista of an avenue of black ash-trees.&rdquo;
+</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>From the street the reader is taken to &ldquo;the rear of
+the house,&rdquo; where there was &ldquo;the most delightful little
+<a class="pgnm" name="page59" id="page59">59</a>
+nook of a study that ever offered its snug seclusion to
+a scholar.&rdquo; Through its window the clergyman saw
+the opening of the &ldquo;deadly struggle between two
+nations.&rdquo; He heard the rattle of musketry, and</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>
+&ldquo;there needed but a gentle wind to sweep the battle smoke
+around this quiet house. Perhaps the reader, whom I
+cannot help considering as my guest in the Old Manse
+and entitled to all courtesy in the way of sight-showing,&mdash;perhaps
+he will choose to take a nearer view of the memorable
+spot. We stand now on the river&rsquo;s brink.&rdquo;... &ldquo;Here
+we are, at the point where the river was crossed by the old
+bridge.&rdquo;... &ldquo;The Old Manse! We had almost forgotten
+it, but will return thither through the orchard.&rdquo;... &ldquo;What
+with the river, the battle-field, the orchard, and the garden,
+the reader begins to despair of finding his way back into the
+Old Manse. But in agreeable weather it is the truest hospitality
+to keep him out-of-doors. I never grew quite acquainted
+with my habitation till a long spell of sulky rain
+had confined me beneath its roof. There could not be a
+more sombre aspect of external nature than as then seen
+from the windows of my study.&rdquo;
+</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p class="noind">And so Hawthorne continues through this long and
+beautiful description of &ldquo;The Old Manse;&rdquo; every
+change in the point of view is noted.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Mental Point of View.</span>
+Closely connected with the physical point of view is
+the mood or purpose of the writer; this might
+be called <i>the mental point of view.</i> Not everything
+should be told which the author could
+know from his position, but only those things which
+at the time serve his purpose. In the description already
+quoted from Newman, the mercantile gentleman
+notes a large number of features which are the commercial
+advantages of Attica; of these but three are
+worthy of mention by &ldquo;yon pilgrim student&rdquo; in giving
+his impression of Athens as &ldquo;a shrine where he might
+<a class="pgnm" name="page60" id="page60">60</a>
+take his fill of gazing on those emblems and coruscations
+of invisible unoriginate perfection.&rdquo; The others&mdash;the
+soil, the streams, the climate, the limestone, the
+fisheries, and the silver mines&mdash;do not serve his purpose.
+Hawthorne in the long description already mentioned
+has retained those features which suggest quiet
+and peace. Such a profusion of &ldquo;quiet,&rdquo; &ldquo;half asleep,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;peaceful,&rdquo; &ldquo;unruffled,&rdquo; &ldquo;unexcitable&rdquo; words and
+phrases never &ldquo;loitered&rdquo; through forty pages of
+&ldquo;dreamy&rdquo; and &ldquo;whispering&rdquo; description.</p>
+
+<p>In the following bit from &ldquo;Lear,&rdquo; where Edgar tells
+his blinded father how high the cliff is, only those details
+are included which measure distance.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p class="i9">&ldquo;How fearful</p>
+<p>And dizzy &rsquo;tis to cast one&rsquo;s eyes so low!</p>
+<p>The crows and choughs that wing the midway air</p>
+<p>Show scarce so gross as beetles; half way down</p>
+<p>Hangs one that gathers samphire,&mdash;dreadful trade!</p>
+<p>Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:</p>
+<p>The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,</p>
+<p>Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,</p>
+<p>Diminished to her cock; her cock, a buoy</p>
+<p>Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,</p>
+<p>That on th&rsquo; unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,</p>
+<p>Cannot be heard so high.&mdash;I&rsquo;ll look no more,</p>
+<p>Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight</p>
+<p>Topple down headlong.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The following is from Kipling&rsquo;s &ldquo;The Light that
+Failed:&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you think of a big, red, dead city built of red
+sandstone, with green aloes growing between the stones, lying
+out neglected on honey-colored sands? There are forty dead
+kings there, Maisie, each in a gorgeous tomb finer than all
+the others. You look at the palaces and streets and shops
+and tanks, and think that men must live there, till you find
+<a class="pgnm" name="page61" id="page61">61</a>
+a wee gray squirrel rubbing its nose all alone in the marketplace,
+and a jeweled peacock struts out of a carved doorway
+and spreads its tail against a marble screen as fine pierced
+as point-lace. Then a monkey&mdash;a little black monkey&mdash;walks
+through the main square to get a drink from a tank
+forty feet deep. He slides down the creepers to the water&rsquo;s
+edge, and a friend holds him by the tail, in case he should
+fall in.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is all that true?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have been there and seen. Then evening comes and
+the lights change till it&rsquo;s just as though you stood in the
+heart of a king-opal. A little before sundown, as punctually
+as clockwork, a big bristly wild boar, with all his family following,
+trots through the city gate, churning the foam on his
+tusks. You climb on the shoulder of a big black stone god,
+and watch that pig choose himself a palace for the night and
+stump in wagging his tail. Then the night-wind gets up, and
+the sands move, and you hear the desert outside the city
+singing, &lsquo;Now I lay me down to sleep,&rsquo; and everything is
+dark till the moon rises.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Note how every detail introduced serves to make the
+city dead. Dead kings, a wee gray squirrel, a little
+black monkey, a bristly wild boar, the night wind, and
+the desert singing,&mdash;these could not be seen or heard
+in a live city with street cars; but all serve to emphasize
+the fact that here is &ldquo;a big, red, dead city.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At the risk of over-emphasizing this point that the purpose
+of the author, the mental point of view of the writer,
+the feeling which the object gives him and which he
+wishes to convey to the reader, the central thought in
+the description, is primary, and an element that cannot
+be overlooked in successful description, I give another
+example. This point really cannot be over-emphasized:
+a writer cannot be too careful in selecting materials.
+Careless grouping of incongruous matters cannot make
+a picture. Nor does the artistic author leave the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page62" id="page62">62</a>
+reader in doubt as to the purpose of the description;
+its central thought is usually suggested in the first sentence.
+In the quotations from Shakespeare and Kipling,
+the opening sentences are the germ of what follows.
+Each detail seems to grow out of this sentence,
+and serves to emphasize it. In the following by Stevenson,
+the paragraphs spring from the opening sentence;
+they explain it, they elaborate it, and they accent it.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof; but in
+the open world it passes lightly, with its stars and dews and
+perfumes, and the hours are marked by changes in the face
+of Nature. What seems a kind of temporal death to people
+choked between walls and curtains is only a light and
+living slumber to the man who sleeps afield. All night long
+he can hear Nature breathing deeply and freely; even as
+she takes her rest she turns and smiles; and there is one
+stirring hour unknown to those who dwell in houses, when a
+wakeful influence goes abroad over the sleeping hemisphere,
+and all the outdoor world are on their feet. It is then that
+the first cock crows, not this time to announce the dawn, but
+like a cheerful watchman speeding the course of the night.
+Cattle awake on the meadows; sheep break their fast on the
+dewy hillsides, and change to a new lair among the ferns;
+and houseless men, who have lain down with the fowls, open
+their dim eyes and behold the beauty of the night.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At what inaudible summons, at what gentle touch of Nature,
+are all these sleepers thus recalled in the same hour to
+life? Do the stars rain down an influence, or do we share
+some thrill of mother earth below our resting bodies? Even
+shepherds and old country-folk, who are the deepest read in
+these arcana, have not a guess as to the means or purpose of
+this nightly resurrection. Towards two in the morning they
+declare the thing takes place; and neither know nor inquire
+further. And at least it is a pleasant incident. We are
+disturbed in our slumber only, like the luxurious Montaigne,
+&lsquo;that we may the better and more sensibly enjoy it.&rsquo; We
+have a moment to look upon the stars. And there is a special
+<a class="pgnm" name="page63" id="page63">63</a>
+pleasure for some minds in the reflection that we share
+the impulse with all outdoor creatures in our neighborhood,
+that we have escaped out of the Bastille of civilization, and
+are become, for the time being, a more kindly animal and
+a sheep of Nature&rsquo;s flock.&rdquo; (&ldquo;Travels with a Donkey.&rdquo;)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Length of Descriptions.</span>
+There is one more step in the exclusion of details.
+This considers neither the point of view nor
+the purpose of the writer, but it is what is
+due the reader. Stevenson says in one of his
+essays that a description which lasts longer than two
+minutes is never attempted in conversation. The listener
+cannot hold the details enumerated. The clearest
+statement regarding this comes from Jules Lema&icirc;tre
+in a criticism upon some descriptions by Emile Zola
+which the critic says are praised by persons who have
+never read them. He says:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;It has been one of the greatest literary blunders of the
+time to suppose that an enumeration of parts is a picture, to
+think that forever placing details side by side, however picturesque
+they may be, is able in the end to make a picture,
+to give us any conception of the vast spectacles in the physical
+universe. In reality, a written description arranges its
+parts in our mind only when the impression of the first features
+of which it is formed are remembered sufficiently, so
+that we can easily join the first to those which complete and
+end it. In short, a piece of description is ineffective if we
+cannot hold in mind all its details at one time. It is necessary
+that all the details coexist in our memory just as the
+parts of a painting coexist under our eye. This becomes
+next to impossible if the description of one definite object
+last over fifteen minutes of reading. The longer it is, the
+more obscure it becomes. The individual features fade
+away in proportion to the number which are presented;
+and for this reason one might say that we cannot see the
+forest for the trees. Every description which is over fifty
+lines ceases to be clear to a mind of ordinary vigor. After
+<a class="pgnm" name="page64" id="page64">64</a>
+that there is only a succession of fragmentary pictures which
+fatigues and overwhelms the reader.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_8" name="footref_8" href="#footnote_8">8</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>These, then, are the principles that guide in the
+choice of materials for a description. First, the point
+of view, whether fixed or movable, should be made
+clear to the reader; it should be retained throughout
+the description, or the change should be announced.
+By regard for it the writer will be guided to the exclusion
+of matters that could not be observed, and to the
+inclusion of such details as can be seen and are essential.
+Second, the writer will keep out matters that do
+not contribute to his purpose, and will select only those
+details which assist in producing the desired impression.
+Third, the limitations of the reader&rsquo;s powers advise
+a writer to be brief: five hundred words should be
+the outside; two hundred are enough for most writers.
+These principles will give to the whole that unity of
+materials and of structure which is the first requisite
+of an effective description.</p>
+
+<p>The next matter for consideration is the arrangement
+of the materials. The arrangement depends on the
+principles that guided in narration, Mass and Coherence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Arrangement of Details in Description.</span>
+After we have looked at any object long enough to
+be able to write about it, one feature comes
+to assume an importance that sets it far above
+all others. To a writer who has looked long
+at a man, he may shrink to a cringing piece
+of weakness, or he may grow to a strong, self-centred
+power whose presence alone inspires serenest trust.
+Hawthorne, standing in St. Peter&rsquo;s, saw only the gorgeous
+coloring; proportions, immensity, and sacredness
+were as nothing to the harmonious brilliancy of this
+expanded &ldquo;jewel casket.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_9" name="footref_9" href="#footnote_9">9</a> Stevenson, thinking of the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page65" id="page65">65</a>
+beast of burden best suited to carry his great sleeping
+sack, discarded the horse, for, as he says, &ldquo;she is a
+fine lady among animals.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_10" name="footref_10" href="#footnote_10">10</a> The description of a horse
+which follows this statement emphasizes the fact that
+a horse is not intended for carrying burdens. From
+the germinal impression of a description, all the details
+grow; to this primary impression they all contribute.
+In the case of buildings, or other things material, this
+impression is generally one of form, sometimes of the
+height of the object; if striking, it may be color. The
+strongest impression of persons is a quality of character
+which shows itself either in the face or in the pose
+of a man. An example of each may be found in the
+following paragraphs from &ldquo;David Copperfield:&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;At length we stopped before a very old house bulging
+out over the road; a house with long, low lattice-windows
+bulging out still farther, and beams with carved heads on
+the ends bulging out too, so that I fancied the whole house
+was leaning forward, trying to see who was passing on the
+narrow pavement below. It was quite spotless in its cleanliness.
+The old-fashioned brass knocker on the low-arched
+door, ornamented with carved garlands of fruits and flowers,
+twinkled like a star; the two stone steps descending to the
+door were as white as if they had been covered with fair
+linen; and all the angles and corners, and carvings and
+mouldings, and quaint little panes of glass, and quainter little
+windows, though as old as the hills, were as pure as any
+snow that ever fell upon the hills.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When the pony-chaise stopped at the door, and my eyes
+were intent upon the house, I saw a cadaverous face appear
+at a small window on the ground floor (in a little round
+tower that formed one side of the house), and quickly disappear.
+The low arched door then opened, and the face came
+out. It was quite as cadaverous as it had looked in the window,
+though in the grain of it there was that tinge of red
+<a class="pgnm" name="page66" id="page66">66</a>
+which is sometimes to be observed in the skins of red-haired
+people. It belonged to a red-haired person&mdash;a youth of
+fifteen, as I take it now, but looking much older whose hair
+was cropped as close as the closest stubble; who had hardly
+any eyebrows, and no eyelashes, and eyes of a red-brown;
+so unsheltered and unshaded that I remember wondering
+how he went to sleep. He was high-shouldered and bony;
+dressed in decent black, with a white wisp of a neck cloth;
+buttoned up to the throat; and had a long, lank, skeleton
+hand, which particularly attracted my attention, as he stood
+at the pony&rsquo;s head, rubbing his chin with it, and looking up
+at us in the chaise.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Hawthorne thus begins his description of &ldquo;The
+House of the Seven Gables:&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Maule&rsquo;s Lane, or Pyncheon Street, as it were now more
+decorous to call it, was thronged, at the appointed hour, as
+with a congregation on its way to church. All, as they approached,
+looked upward at the imposing edifice, which was
+henceforth to assume its rank among the habitations of mankind.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>And in the same volume his description of &ldquo;The
+Pyncheon of To-day&rdquo; begins:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;As the child went down the steps, a gentleman ascended
+them, and made his entrance into the shop. It was the
+portly, and, had it possessed the advantage of a little more
+height, would have been the stately figure of a man, considerably
+in the decline of life, dressed in a black suit of some
+thin stuff, resembling broadcloth as closely as possible.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>If the description be long, and the object will lend
+itself to such a treatment, a definite, tangible, easily
+understood shape or form should be suggested at once.
+Notice Newman&rsquo;s first sentence describing Attica: &ldquo;A
+confined triangle, perhaps fifty miles its greatest length,
+and thirty its greatest breadth.&rdquo; Like this is the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page67" id="page67">67</a>
+beginning of the description of the battle of Waterloo
+by Victor Hugo.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Those who would get a clear idea of the battle of
+Waterloo have only to lay down upon the ground in their
+mind a capital letter A. The left stroke of the A is the road
+to Nivelles, the right stroke is the road from Genappe, the
+cross of the A is the sunken road from Ohain to Braine
+l&rsquo;Alleud. The top of the A is Mont Saint Jean, Wellington
+is there; the left-hand lower point is Hougomont, Reille is
+there with Jerome Bonaparte; the right-hand lower point
+is La Belle Alliance, Napoleon is there. A little below the
+point where the cross of the A meets and cuts the right
+stroke, is La Haie Sainte. At the middle of this cross is
+the precise point where the final battle word was spoken.
+There the lion is placed, the involuntary symbol of the supreme
+heroism of the Imperial Guard. The triangle contained
+at the top of the A, between the two strokes and the
+cross, is the plateau of Mont Saint Jean. The struggle for
+this plateau was the whole of the battle.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_11" name="footref_11" href="#footnote_11">11</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>In &ldquo;The Vision of Sir Launfal&rdquo; Lowell opens his
+beautiful description with the words, &ldquo;And what is so
+rare as a day in June?&rdquo; From this general and comprehensive
+sentence follow all the details which make
+a June day perfect.</p>
+
+<p>Hawthorne, after telling how he happened to write
+of him, begins his long description of &ldquo;The Old Apple
+Dealer&rdquo; with the following paragraph:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;He is a small man, with gray hair and gray stubble beard,
+and is invariably clad in a shabby surtout of snuff color,
+closely buttoned, and half concealing a pair of gray pantaloons;
+the whole dress, though clean and entire, being evidently
+flimsy with much wear. His face, thin, withered,
+furrowed, and with features which even age has failed to
+render impressive, has a frost-bitten aspect. It is a moral
+frost which no physical warmth or comfortableness could
+<a class="pgnm" name="page68" id="page68">68</a>
+counteract. The summer sunshine may fling its white heat
+upon him, or the good fire of the depot room may make him
+the focus of its blaze on a winter&rsquo;s day; but all in vain; for
+still the old man looks as if he were in a frosty atmosphere,
+with scarcely warmth enough to keep life in the region
+about his heart. It is a patient, long-suffering, quiet,
+hopeless, shivering aspect. He is not desperate,&mdash;that,
+though its etymology implies no more, would be too positive
+an expression,&mdash;but merely devoid of hope. As all his past
+life, probably, offers no spots of brightness to his memory,
+so he takes his present poverty and discomfort as entirely a
+matter of course; he thinks it the definition of existence, so
+far as himself is concerned, to be poor, cold, and uncomfortable.
+It may be added, that time has not thrown dignity as
+a mantle over the old man&rsquo;s figure: there is nothing venerable
+about him: you pity him without a scruple.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>So this old apple dealer shivers all through this
+description of nine pages to the last sentences:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;God be praised, were it only for your sake, that the
+present shapes of human existence are not cast in iron nor
+hewn in everlasting adamant, but moulded of the vapors that
+vanish away while the essence flits upward to the Infinite.
+There is a spiritual essence in this gray and lean old shape
+that shall flit upward too. Yes; doubtless there is a region
+where the lifelong shiver will pass away from his being, and
+that quiet sigh, which it has taken him so many years to
+breathe, will be brought to a close for good and all.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The prominent characteristic may be the feeling
+aroused by the object. It may be horror, as in a description
+of a haunted house or a murderer; it may
+be love, as in the picture of an old home or a sainted
+mother. The emotion occasioned is often mentioned
+or suggested at once, and the details are afterward
+given which have called forth the feeling. Poe uses
+this in the first paragraph of &ldquo;The House of Usher.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page69" id="page69">69</a>
+&ldquo;During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the
+autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low
+in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback,
+through a singularly dreary tract of country, and at length
+found myself, as the shades of evening drew on, within view
+of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was&mdash;but,
+with the first glimpse of the building, <i>a sense of insufferable
+gloom pervaded my spirit.</i> I say insufferable;
+for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable,
+because poetic, sentiment with which the mind usually receives
+even the sternest natural images of the desolate or
+terrible. I looked upon the scene before me&mdash;upon the
+mere house, and the simple landscape features of the domain&mdash;upon
+the bleak walls&mdash;upon the vacant, eye-like windows&mdash;upon
+a few rank sedges&mdash;and upon a few white
+trunks of decayed trees&mdash;with an utter depression of soul
+which I can compare to no earthly sensation more properly
+than to the after-dream of a reveler upon opium&mdash;the bitter
+lapse into every-day life&mdash;the hideous dropping off of the veil.
+There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart&mdash;an
+unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the
+imagination could torture into aught of the sublime.... It
+was, possible, I reflected, that a mere different arrangement of
+the particulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would
+be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to annihilate, its capacity
+for sorrowful impression; and, acting upon this idea, I
+reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid
+tarn that lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling, and gazed
+down&mdash;but with a shudder even more thrilling than before&mdash;upon
+the remodeled and inverted images of the gray sedge,
+and the ghastly tree-stems, and the vacant and eye-like windows.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>And one may see from looking back at the illustrations
+given that the dominant impression which gives
+the character to the whole description, this leading
+quality which is the essence of the whole, usually
+stands at the very beginning, and to it all the succeeding
+details cling.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The End of a Description.</span>
+<a class="pgnm" name="page70" id="page70">70</a>
+The end of a description is equally as important as
+the opening. In most descriptions, whether
+short or long, the most important detail, the
+detail that emphasizes most the general feeling
+of the whole, stands at the end. If the description
+be short, the necessity of a comprehensive opening statement
+is not imperative,&mdash;indeed, it may be made so
+formal and ostentatious when compared with the rest
+of the description as to be ridiculous; yet even in the
+short description some important detail should close it.
+In a long description the repetition of the opening
+statement in a new form sometimes stands at the end.
+If the description be of movement or change, the end
+will be the climax of the movement, the result of the
+change.</p>
+
+<p>In the examples already given there are illustrations
+of the methods of closing. In each case, there is an
+important detail or an artistic repetition of the general
+impression. Many examples of short characterization
+can be found in all narratives. In Irving&rsquo;s description
+of Ichabod Crane, the next to the last sentence gives
+the significant detail, and the last gives another general
+impression. It reads:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his person.
+He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders,
+long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of
+his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his
+whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was
+small, and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy
+eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weather-cock
+perched upon his spindle neck to tell which way the
+wind blew.&rdquo; (&ldquo;The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.&rdquo;)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>So far this is but an amplification of his likeness to
+a crane; certainly &ldquo;a long snipe nose&rdquo; &ldquo;upon his spindle
+<a class="pgnm" name="page71" id="page71">71</a>
+neck&rdquo; is the most important detail. Next the author
+gives another general impression:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy
+day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one
+might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending
+upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The following is from &ldquo;The House of Usher:&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Shaking off from my spirit what <i>must</i> have been a
+dream, I scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building.
+Its principal feature seemed to be that of an excessive
+antiquity. The discoloration of ages had been great. Minute
+fungi overspread the whole exterior, hanging in a fine
+tangled web-work from the eaves. Yet all this was apart
+from any extraordinary dilapidation. No portion of the
+masonry had fallen, and there appeared to be a wild inconsistency
+between its still perfect adaptation of parts and the
+crumbling condition of the individual stones. In this there
+was much that reminded me of the specious totality of old
+woodwork which has rotted for long years in some neglected
+vault with no disturbance from the breath of the external air.
+Beyond this indication of extensive decay, however, the fabric
+gave little token of instability. Perhaps the eye of a scrutinizing
+observer might have discovered a barely perceptible
+fissure, which, extending from the roof of the building in
+front, made its way down the wall in a zigzag direction, until
+it became lost in the sullen waters of the tarn.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>In this every detail emphasizes the &ldquo;excessive antiquity&rdquo;
+of the house; and on reading the story there
+is no question of the importance of the &ldquo;barely perceptible
+fissure.&rdquo; Thereby hangs the tale.</p>
+
+<p>The two following are descriptions of dawn, of
+change; they have marked climaxes. The first is by
+Edward Everett, the second by Stevenson. The similarity
+in choice of words and in the feelings of the men
+is remarkable.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page72" id="page72">72</a>
+&ldquo;Such was the glorious spectacle as I entered the train.
+As we proceeded, the timid approach of twilight became
+more perceptible; the intense blue of the sky began to soften;
+the smaller stars, like little children, went first to rest; the
+sister-beams of the Pleiades soon melted together; but the
+bright constellations of the west and north remained unchanged.
+Steadily the wondrous transfiguration went on.
+Hands of angels, hidden from mortal eyes, shifted the scenery
+of the heavens; the glories of night dissolved into the glories
+of dawn. The blue sky now turned more softly gray; the
+great watch-stars shut up their holy eyes; the east began to
+kindle. Faint streaks of purple soon blushed along the sky;
+the whole celestial concave was filled with the inflowing tides
+of the morning light, which came pouring down from above
+in one great ocean of radiance, till at length, as we reached
+the Blue Hills, a flash of purple blazed out from above the
+horizon, and turned the dewy teardrops of flower and leaf
+into rubies and diamonds. In a few seconds, the everlasting
+gates of morning were thrown wide open, and the lord of
+day, arrayed in glories too severe for the gaze of man, began
+his state.&rdquo; (&ldquo;The Uses of Astronomy.&rdquo;)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote style="margin-top: 2em;">
+<p>&ldquo;At last she began to be aware of a wonderful revolution,
+compared to which the fire of Mittwalden Palace was but a
+crack and flash of a percussion cap. The countenance with
+which the pines regarded her began insensibly to change;
+the grass, too, short as it was, and the whole winding staircase
+of the brook&rsquo;s course, began to wear a solemn freshness
+of appearance. And this slow transfiguration reached her
+heart, and played upon it, and transpierced it with a serious
+thrill. She looked all about; the whole face of nature looked
+back, brimful of meaning, finger on lip, leaking its glad
+secret. She looked up. Heaven was almost emptied of
+stars. Such as still lingered shone with a changed and waning
+brightness, and began to faint in their stations. And
+the color of the sky itself was most wonderful; for the rich
+blue of the night had now melted and softened and brightened;
+and there had succeeded a hue that has no name, and
+<a class="pgnm" name="page73" id="page73">73</a>
+that is never seen but as the herald of the morning. &lsquo;Oh!&rsquo;
+she cried, joy catching at her voice, &lsquo;Oh! it is the dawn!&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In a breath she passed over the brook, and looped up
+her skirts and fairly ran in the dim alleys. As she ran, her
+ears were aware of many pipings, more beautiful than music;
+in the small, dish-shaped houses in the fork of giant arms,
+where they had lain all night, lover by lover, warmly pressed,
+the bright-eyed, big-hearted singers began to awaken for the
+day. Her heart melted and flowed forth to them in kindness.
+And they, from their small and high perches in the
+clerestories of the wood cathedral, peered down sidelong at
+the ragged Princess as she flitted below them on the carpet
+of the moss and tassel.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Soon she had struggled to a certain hilltop, and saw far
+before her the silent inflooding of the day. Out of the East
+it welled and whitened; the darkness trembled into light;
+and the stars were extinguished like the street-lamps of a
+human city. The whiteness brightened into silver; the silver
+warmed into gold, and the gold kindled into pure and living
+fire; and the face of the East was barred with elemental
+scarlet. The day drew its first long breath, steady and
+chill; and for leagues around the woods sighed and shivered.
+And then, at one bound the sun had floated up; and her
+startled eyes received day&rsquo;s first arrow, and quailed under
+the buffet. On every side, the shadows leaped from their
+ambush and fell prone. The day was come, plain and garish;
+and up the steep and solitary eastern heaven, the sun, victorious
+over his competitors, continued slowly and royally to
+mount.&rdquo; (&ldquo;Prince Otto.&rdquo;)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Proportion.</span>
+One thing further should be said regarding Mass.
+Not everything can stand first or last; some
+important details must be placed in the midst
+of a description. These particulars will not be of
+equal importance. The more important details may
+be given their proportionate emphasis by relatively
+increasing the length of their treatment. If one detail
+is more important than another, it requires more to be
+<a class="pgnm" name="page74" id="page74">74</a>
+said about it; unimportant matters should be passed
+over with a word. Proportion in the length of treatment
+is a guide to the relative importance of the matters
+introduced into a description.</p>
+
+<p>In the description of &ldquo;The House of Usher,&rdquo; position
+emphasizes the barely perceptible fissure. Proportion
+singles out the crumbling condition of the
+individual stones and makes this detail more emphatic
+than either the discoloration or the fungi. And in
+Newman&rsquo;s description, the olive-tree, the brilliant atmosphere,
+the thyme, the bees, all add to the charms
+of bright and beautiful Athens; but most of all the
+&AElig;gean, with its chain of islands, its dark violet billows,
+its jets of silver, the heaving and panting of its
+long waves,&mdash;the restless living element fascinates
+and enraptures &ldquo;yon pilgrim student.&rdquo; Position and
+proportion are the means of emphasis in a paragraph
+of description.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Arrangement must be natural.</span>
+Having settled the massing of the description, the
+next matter for consideration is the arrangement.
+In order that the parts of a description
+may be coherent, hold together, they
+should be arranged in the order in which they would
+naturally be perceived. What strikes the eye of the
+beholder as most important, often the general characteristic
+of the whole, should be mentioned first; and the
+details should follow as they are seen. In a building,
+the usual way of observing and describing is from
+foundation to turret stone. A landscape may be described
+by beginning with what is near and extending
+the view; this is common. Sometimes the very opposite
+plan is pursued; or one may begin on either hand
+and advance toward the other. Of a person near by,
+the face is the first thing observed; for it is there that
+his character can be best discovered. Afterward details
+<a class="pgnm" name="page75" id="page75">75</a>
+of clothing follow as they would naturally be noticed.
+If a person be at a distance his pose and carriage
+would be about all that could be seen; as he approaches,
+the other details would be mentioned as they
+came into view. To arrange details in the order in
+which they are naturally observed will result in an
+association in the description of the details that are
+contiguous in the objects. Jumping about in a description
+is a source of confusion. How entirely it may
+ruin a paragraph can be estimated by the effect upon
+this single sentence, &ldquo;He was tall, with feet that
+might have served for shovels, narrow shoulders, hands
+that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, long arms and
+legs, and his whole frame most loosely hung together.&rdquo;
+This rearrangement makes but a disjointed and feeble
+impression; and the reason is entirely that an order
+in which no person ever observed a man has been substituted
+for the commonest order,&mdash;from head to foot.
+Arrange details so that the parts which are contiguous
+shall be associated in the description, and proceed in
+the order in which the details are naturally observed.</p>
+
+<p>The following is by Irving; he is describing the
+stage-coachman:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;He has commonly a broad, full face, curiously mottled
+with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding
+into every vessel of the skin; he is swelled into jolly dimensions
+by frequent potations of malt liquors, and his bulk is
+still further increased by a multiplicity of coats, in which he
+is buried like a cauliflower, the upper one reaching to his
+heels. He wears a broad-brimmed, low-crowned hat; a huge
+roll of colored handkerchief about his neck, knowingly knotted
+and tucked in at the bosom; and has in summer time a
+large bouquet of flowers in his buttonhole, the present, most
+probably, of some enamored country lass. His waistcoat is
+commonly of some bright color, striped, and his small-clothes
+<a class="pgnm" name="page76" id="page76">76</a>
+extend far below the knees, to meet a pair of jockey boots
+which reach about half way up his legs.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_12" name="footref_12" href="#footnote_12">12</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Use Familiar Images.</span>
+When the materials have been selected and arranged,
+the hardest part of the work has been done. It now
+remains to express in language the picture. A few
+suggestions regarding the kind of language
+will be helpful. The writer must always bear
+in mind the fact that in constructing a mental picture
+each reader does it from the images he already possesses.
+&ldquo;Quaint arabesques&rdquo; is without meaning to many persons;
+and until the word has been looked up in the
+dictionary, and the picture seen there, the beautiful
+line of &ldquo;Sir Launfal&rdquo; suggests no image whatever.
+So when Stevenson speaks of the birds in the &ldquo;clerestories
+of the wood cathedral,&rdquo; the image is not distinct
+in the mind of a young American. Supposing a pupil
+in California were asked to describe an orange to an
+Esquimau. He might say that it is a spheroid about
+the size of an apple, and the color of one of Lorraine&rsquo;s
+sunsets. This would be absolutely worthless to a child
+of the frigid zone. Had he been told that an orange
+was about the size of a snowball, much the color of the
+flame of a candle, that the peeling came off like the
+skin from a seal, and that the inside was good to eat,
+he would have known more of this fruit. The images
+which lie in our minds and from which we construct
+new pictures are much like the blocks that a child-builder
+rearranges in many different forms; but the
+blocks do not change. From them he may build a
+castle or a mill; yet the only difference is a difference
+in arrangement. So it is with the pictures we build
+up in imagination: our castle in Spain we have never
+seen, but the individual elements which we associate
+to lift up this happy dwelling-place are the things we
+know and have seen. A reader creates nothing new;
+<a class="pgnm" name="page77" id="page77">77</a>
+all he does is to rearrange in his own mind the images
+already familiar. Only so may he pass from the known
+to the unknown.</p>
+
+<p>The fact that we construct pictures of what we read
+from those images already in our minds warns the
+writer against using materials which those for whom
+he writes could not understand. It compels him to
+select definite images, and it urges him to use the
+common and the concrete. It frequently drives him
+to use comparisons.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Use of Comparisons.</span>
+To represent the extremely bare and unornamented
+appearance of a building, one might write,
+&ldquo;It looked like a great barn,&rdquo; or &ldquo;It was a
+great barn.&rdquo; In either case the image would
+be definite, common, and concrete. In both cases there
+is a comparison. In the first, where the comparison is
+expressed, there is a <i>simile;</i> in the second, where the
+comparison is only implied, there is a <i>metaphor.</i> These
+two figures of speech are very common in description,
+and it is because they are of great value. One other
+is sometimes used,&mdash;<i>personification,</i> which ascribes to
+inanimate things the attributes of life which are the
+property of animate nature. What could be happier
+than this by Stevenson: &ldquo;All night long he can hear
+Nature breathing deeply and freely; even as she takes
+her rest she turns and smiles&rdquo;? or this, &ldquo;A faint sound,
+more like a moving coolness than a stream of air&rdquo;?
+And at the end of the chapter which describes his
+&ldquo;night under the pines,&rdquo; he speaks of the &ldquo;tapestries&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;the inimitable ceiling&rdquo; and &ldquo;the view which I
+command from the windows.&rdquo; In this one chapter are
+personification, simile, metaphor,&mdash;all comparisons,
+and doing what could hardly be done without them.
+Common, distinct, concrete images are surest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Choice of Words. Adjectives and Nouns.</span>
+To body forth these common, distinct, concrete
+<a class="pgnm" name="page78" id="page78">78</a>
+images calls for a discriminating choice of words; for
+in the choice of words lies a large part of the
+vividness of description. If the thing described
+be unknown to the reader, it requires
+the right word to place it before him; if it be common,
+still must the right word be found to set it apart from
+the thousand other objects of the same class. The
+words that may justly be called describing words are
+adjectives and nouns; and of these the adjective is the
+first descriptive word. The rule that a writer should
+never use two adjectives where one will do, and that
+he should not use one if a noun can be found that completely
+expresses the thought, is a good one to follow.
+One certain stroke of the crayon is worth a hundred
+lines, each approaching the right one. One word, the
+only one, will tell the truth more vividly than ten that
+approach its expression. For it must be remembered
+that a description must be done quickly; every word
+that is used and does nothing is not only a waste of
+time, but is actually in the way. In a description every
+word must count. It may be a comparison, an epithet,
+personification, or what not, but whatever method is
+adopted, the right word must do it quickly.</p>
+
+<p>How much depends on the nice choice of words may
+be seen by a study of the selections already quoted;
+and especially by a careful reading of those by Stevenson
+and Everett. To show the use of adjectives and
+nouns in description, the following from Kipling is a
+good illustration. Toomai had just reached the elephants&rsquo;
+&ldquo;ball-room&rdquo; when he saw&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;white-tusked wild males, with fallen leaves and nuts and
+twigs lying in the wrinkles of their necks and the folds of
+their ears; fat, slow-footed she-elephants, with restless pinky-black
+calves only three or four feet high, running under
+their stomachs; young elephants with their tusks just beginning
+<a class="pgnm" name="page79" id="page79">79</a>
+to show, and very proud of them; lanky, scraggy,
+old-maid elephants, with their hollow, anxious faces, and
+trunks like rough bark; savage old bull-elephants, scarred
+from shoulder to flank with great weals and cuts of by-gone
+fights, and the caked dirt of their solitary mud bath
+dropping from their shoulders; and there was one with a
+broken tusk and the marks of the full-stroke, the terrible
+drawing scrape of a tiger&rsquo;s claw on his side.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_13" name="footref_13" href="#footnote_13">13</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>One third of the words in this paragraph are descriptive
+nouns and adjectives, none of which the reader
+wishes to change.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Use of Verbs.</span>
+Verbs also have a great value in description. In
+the paragraph picturing the dawn, Stevenson
+has not neglected the verbs. &ldquo;Welled,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;whitened,&rdquo; &ldquo;trembled,&rdquo; &ldquo;brightened,&rdquo; &ldquo;warmed,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;kindled,&rdquo; and so on through the paragraph. Try to
+change them, and it is apparent that something is lost
+by any substitution. Kaa, the python, &ldquo;<i>pours</i> himself
+along the ground.&rdquo; If he is angry, &ldquo;Baloo and Bagheera
+could see the big swallowing-muscles on either
+side of Kaa&rsquo;s throat <i>ripple</i> and <i>bulge.</i>&ldquo;</p>
+
+<p>Yet in the choice of words, one may search for the
+bizarre and unusual rather than for the truly picturesque.
+Stevenson at times seems to have lapsed.
+When he says that Modestine would feel a switch
+&ldquo;more <i>tenderly</i> than my cane;&rdquo; that he &ldquo;must <i>instantly</i>
+maltreat this uncomplaining animal,&rdquo; meaning
+constantly; and at another place that he &ldquo;had to labor
+so <i>consistently</i> with&rdquo; his stick that the sweat ran into
+his eyes, there is a suspicion of a desire for the sensational
+rather than the direct truth. On the other hand,
+the beginner finds himself using words that have lost,
+their meaning through indiscriminate usage. &ldquo;Awful
+good,&rdquo; &ldquo;awful pretty,&rdquo; and &ldquo;awful sweet&rdquo; mean
+something less than good, pretty, and sweet. &ldquo;Lovely,&rdquo;
+<a class="pgnm" name="page80" id="page80">80</a>
+&ldquo;dear,&rdquo; &ldquo;splendid,&rdquo; &ldquo;unique,&rdquo; and a large number of
+good words have been much dulled by the ignorant use
+of babblers. Superlatives and all words denoting comparison
+should be used with stinginess. One cannot
+afford to part with this kind of coin frequently; the
+cheaper coins should be used, else he will find an empty
+purse when need arises. Thackeray has this: &ldquo;Her
+voice was the sweetest, low song.&rdquo; How much better
+this, Her voice was a sweet, low song. All the world
+is shut out from this, while in the former he challenges
+the world by the comparison. Shakespeare was wiser
+when he made Lear say,&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p class="i6">&ldquo;Her voice was ever soft,</p>
+<p>Gentle, and low,&mdash;an excellent thing in woman.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Avoid words which have lost their meaning by indiscriminate
+use; shun the sensational and the bizarre;
+use superlatives with economy; but in all you do,
+whether in unadorned or figurative language, choose
+the word that is quick and sure and vivid&mdash;the one
+word that exactly suggests the picture.</p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page81" id="page81">81</a></div>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><b>SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES</b></p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><b>QUESTIONS.</b></p>
+
+<p class="ctr">THE OLD MANSE.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 69.)</p>
+
+<p>Are there narrative portions in &ldquo;The Old Manse&rdquo;? paragraphs
+of exposition?</p>
+
+<p>Do you term the whole narration, description, or exposition?
+Why?</p>
+
+<p>Frame a sentence which you think would be an adequate
+topic sentence for the whole piece.</p>
+
+<p>What phrase in the first paragraph allows the author to
+begin the second with the words, &ldquo;Nor, in truth, had the
+Old Manse,&rdquo; etc.? Where in the second paragraph is found
+the words which are the source of &ldquo;my design,&rdquo; mentioned
+in the third? How does the author pass from the fourth
+paragraph to the fifth? In the same way note the connections
+between the succeeding paragraphs. They are most
+skillfully dovetailed together. Now make a list of the
+phrases in the first fifteen pages which introduce paragraphs,
+telling from what in the preceding paragraph each
+new paragraph springs. Do you think that such a felicitous
+result just happened? or did Hawthorne plan it?</p>
+
+<p>Does Hawthorne generally introduce his descriptions by
+giving the feeling aroused by the object described, a method
+very common with Poe?</p>
+
+<p>In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of p. 18, what
+do you think of the selection of material? What have
+guided in the inclusion and exclusion of details?</p>
+
+<p>Write a paragraph upon this topic: There could not be a
+more joyous aspect of external nature than as seen from the
+windows of my study just after the passing of a cooling
+shower. Be careful to select things that have been made
+<a class="pgnm" name="page82" id="page82">82</a>
+happy, and to use adjectives and nouns that are full of
+joy.</p>
+
+<p>Make a list of the words used to describe &ldquo;The Old Apple
+Dealer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Has this description Unity?</p>
+
+<p>What relation to the whole has the first sentence of paragraph
+three? the last?</p>
+
+<p>Do you think there is a grammatical error in the third
+sentence of this paragraph?</p>
+
+<p>By contrasts to what has Hawthorne brought out better the
+character of the Apple Dealer? When can contrasts help?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />AN INDIAN-SUMMER REVERIE, AND OTHER POEMS.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 30.)</p>
+
+<p>In this poem what purpose is served by the first two
+stanzas?</p>
+
+<p>Where in the landscape does the author begin? Which
+way does he progress?</p>
+
+<p>Quote stanzas in which other senses than sight are called
+upon.</p>
+
+<p>Make a list of the figures of speech. How many similes?
+metaphors? examples of personification? Which seems
+most effective? Which instance of its use do you prefer?
+Has Lowell used too many figures?</p>
+
+<p>Read &ldquo;The Oak,&rdquo; &ldquo;The Dandelion,&rdquo; and &ldquo;Al Fresco.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Are they description or exposition? Do they bear out
+Lowell&rsquo;s estimate of himself?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />THE SKETCH-BOOK.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, Nos. 51, 52.)</p>
+
+<p>Why has Irving given four pages to the description of
+Sleepy Hollow before he introduces Ichabod Crane?</p>
+
+<p>Why, then, seven pages to Ichabod before the story
+begins?</p>
+
+<p>What gives the peculiar interest to this tale?</p>
+
+<p>In the &ldquo;Legend of Sleepy Hollow&rdquo; how many paragraphs
+of description close with an important detail?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page83" id="page83">83</a>
+In how many with a general characterization?</p>
+
+<p>In all the descriptions of buildings by Irving that you
+have read, what are the first things mentioned,&mdash;size,
+shape, color, or what? Make a list, so as to be sure.</p>
+
+<p>Does Irving use many comparisons? Are the likenesses
+to common things? Select the ten you think best. Are
+there more in narrative or descriptive passages? What do
+you gather from this fact?</p>
+
+<p>In &ldquo;Christmas Day,&rdquo; on p. 51 (R. L. S., No. 52), does
+Irving proceed from far to near in the landscape? Is this
+common?  Find another example.</p>
+
+<p>How has Irving emphasized the littleness of the minister
+described on p. 56 (R. L. S., No. 52)?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 119.)</p>
+
+<p>Is the arrangement of the details in the last two lines of
+the first paragraph stronger than the arrangement of the
+same details on p. 63? Why, or why not?</p>
+
+<p>In the description of the hall, pp. 67 and 68, do the
+details produce the effect upon you which they did upon
+Poe?</p>
+
+<p>Find a description in this piece which closes with an important
+detail.</p>
+
+<p>Is Usher described at all when Poe says, &ldquo;I gazed upon
+him with a feeling half of pity, half of awe&rdquo;?  Do the
+details enumerated arouse such feelings in you?  Would
+the feeling have been called forth if it had not been suggested
+by Poe?  Is there, then, any advantage in this
+method of opening a description?</p>
+
+<p>What good was done by describing Usher as Poe knew
+him in youth?</p>
+
+<p>Why is the parenthetical clause on p. 72 necessary?</p>
+
+<p>On p. 80, should Poe write &ldquo;previously to its final interment&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>What do you think of the length of the sentence quoted
+on p. 85?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page84" id="page84">84</a>
+Does Poe use description to accent the mood of the narrative,
+or to make concrete the places and persons?</p>
+
+<p>Why is &ldquo;The Haunted Palace&rdquo; introduced into the
+story?</p>
+
+<p>Is this story as good as &ldquo;The Gold-Bug&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />SILAS MARNER.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 83.)</p>
+
+<p>Why is not the early history of Silas Marner related
+first in the story?</p>
+
+<p>By what steps has the author approached the definite
+time?</p>
+
+<p>From the fragments about his appearance, do you get a
+clear idea of how Marner looks?</p>
+
+<p>Do you approve this method of scattering the description
+along through the story? Write a description of Marner
+on the night he was going to the tavern.</p>
+
+<p>Could not the quarrel between Godfrey and Dunsey been
+omitted?</p>
+
+<p>Describe the interior of Marner&rsquo;s cottage.</p>
+
+<p>Why should Sally Oates and her dropsy be admitted to
+the story?</p>
+
+<p>Do you know as well how George Eliot&rsquo;s characters look
+as how they think and feel?</p>
+
+<p>What do you think of the last sentence of Chapter IV.?
+Why does not Chapter V. go on with Dunsey&rsquo;s story? Why
+is Chapter VI. introduced at all? What of its close?</p>
+
+<p>What figure in the last sentence of Chapter X.?</p>
+
+<p>Would you prefer to know how tall Eppie was, what kind
+of clothes she wore, etc., to the knowledge you gain of her
+on p. 178?</p>
+
+<p>Suppose that Dunsey came home the night he staked
+Wildfire, recite the conversation between him and Godfrey.</p>
+
+<p>Have Dolly Winthrop, Priscilla Lammeter, and Mr. Macey
+talk over &ldquo;The New Minister.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Write on &ldquo;What I see in George Eliot&rsquo;s Face.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><a class="pgnm" name="page85" id="page85">85</a>
+THE DESERTED VILLAGE.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 68.)</p>
+
+<p>Is this piece description or exposition?</p>
+
+<p>In the first stanza where is the topic sentence?</p>
+
+<p>The author has made two groups of charms. Would it
+be as well to change them about? Give your reasons.</p>
+
+<p>Where has he used the ear instead of the eye to suggest
+his picture? Is it clear?</p>
+
+<p>What method is adopted in lines 125-128? See also lines
+237-250.</p>
+
+<p>Can you unite the paragraphs on p. 25? Why do you
+think so?</p>
+
+<p>Could you suggest a new arrangement of details in lines
+341-362 that would be as good as the present? What are
+the last four lines for?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><b>EXERCISES.</b></p>
+
+<p>Enumerative Description may well employ a few lessons.
+In it accuracy of detail must be studied, and every detail
+must be introduced.</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li>The Teacher&rsquo;s Desk.</li>
+
+<li>Write a letter to a carpenter giving details for the construction
+of a small bookcase.</li>
+
+<li>By telling how you made it, describe a camp, a kite,
+a dress, or a cake. Narration may be employed for the
+purpose of description. A good example may be found in
+&ldquo;Robinson Crusoe&rdquo; in the chapter describing his home
+after the shipwreck.</li>
+
+<li>Describe an unfurnished room. Shape, size, position,
+and number of windows, the fireplace, etc., should be definite.
+Be sure to give the point of view. To say &ldquo;On my
+right hand,&rdquo; &ldquo;In front of me,&rdquo; or any similar phrases means
+nothing unless the reader knows where you are.</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p>In these exercises the pupil will doubtless employ the paragraph
+of particulars. This is the most common in description.
+Other forms are valuable.</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li value="5">Using a paragraph telling what it was not, finish this:
+<a class="pgnm" name="page86" id="page86">86</a>
+I followed the great singer to her home. Imagine my surprise
+in finding that the house in which this lady lived was
+not a home of luxury and splendor,&mdash;not even a home of
+comfort. Go on with the details of a home of luxury which
+were <i>not</i> there. Finish with what you did see. This is
+really a description of two houses set in artistic contrast to
+heighten the effect. Remember you are outside.</li>
+
+<li>By the use of comparison finish this: The home of my
+poor little friend was but little better than a barn. Choose
+only such details as emphasize the barn-like appearance of
+the home. There is but one room. Remember where you
+are standing; and keep in mind the effect you wish to
+produce.</li>
+
+<li>Using a moving point of view, describe an interior.
+Do not have too many rooms.</li>
+
+<li>Furnish the room described in number four to suit your
+taste. Tell how it looks. Remember that a few things give
+character to a room.</li>
+
+<li>Describe your childhood&rsquo;s home as it would look to you
+after years of absence.</li>
+
+<li>Using a paragraph of the obverse, describe the appearance
+of the house from which you were driven by the
+cruelty of a drunken father.</li>
+
+<li>Describe a single tree standing alone in a field. It
+will be well for the teacher to read to the class some descriptions
+of trees,&mdash;Lowell&rsquo;s &ldquo;Birch&rdquo; and &ldquo;Oak,&rdquo; &ldquo;Under
+the Willows,&rdquo; and some stanzas from &ldquo;An Indian Summer
+Reverie.&rdquo; Holmes has some good paragraphs on trees in
+&ldquo;The Autocrat.&rdquo; Any good tree descriptions will help
+pupils to do it better than they can without suggestion.
+They should describe their own tree, however.</li>
+
+<li>Describe some single flower growing wild. Read
+Lowell&rsquo;s &ldquo;Dandelion,&rdquo; &ldquo;Violet, Sweet Violet,&rdquo; Wordsworth&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Daisy,&rdquo; &ldquo;The Daffodils,&rdquo; &ldquo;The Small Celandine,&rdquo;
+and Burns&rsquo;s &ldquo;Daisy.&rdquo; These do not so much describe as
+they arouse a feeling of love for the flowers which will show
+itself in the composition.</li>
+
+<li>Describe a view of a lake. If possible, have your
+<a class="pgnm" name="page87" id="page87">87</a>
+point of view above the lake and use the paragraph of comparison.</li>
+
+<li>Describe a landscape from a single point of view.
+Read Curtis&rsquo;s &ldquo;My Castles in Spain&rdquo; from &ldquo;Prue and I,&rdquo;
+many descriptions in &ldquo;An Inland Voyage&rdquo; by Stevenson,
+and &ldquo;Bay Street&rdquo; by Bliss Carman in &ldquo;The Atlantic
+Monthly.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li>Describe your first view of a small cluster of houses
+or a small town.</li>
+
+<li>Approach the town, describing its principal features.
+Keep the reader informed as to where you are.</li>
+
+<li>Describe a dog of your own.</li>
+
+<li>Describe a dog of your neighbor&rsquo;s. Before the description
+is undertaken read &ldquo;Our Dogs&rdquo; and &ldquo;Rab&rdquo; by Dr.
+Brown; &ldquo;A Dog of Flanders&rdquo; by Ouida. Scott has some
+noble fellows in his novels.</li>
+
+<li>Describe a flock of chickens. There are good descriptions
+of chickens in &ldquo;The House of the Seven Gables&rdquo;
+and in &ldquo;Sketches&rdquo; by Dickens.</li>
+
+<li>Describe the burning of your own home. Be careful
+not to narrate.</li>
+
+<li>Describe a stranger you met on the street to-day. It
+is easier to describe a person if you and the person you describe
+move toward each other. Remember that you begin
+the description at a distance. Details should be mentioned
+as they actually come into view.</li>
+
+<li>Describe your father in his favorite corner at home.</li>
+
+<li>Describe a person you do not like, by telling what he
+is not.</li>
+
+<li>Describe a person you admire, but are not acquainted
+with, using the paragraph of comparisons.</li>
+
+<li>Describe a picture.</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p>It would be well to have at the end of this year four or
+five stories written, in which description plays a part. Its
+principal use is to give the setting to the story, to give concreteness
+to the characters, and to accent the mood of the
+story.</p>
+
+<p>Most passages of description are short. Rarely will any
+<a class="pgnm" name="page88" id="page88">88</a>
+pupil write over three hundred words. One hundred are
+often better. The short composition gives an opportunity for
+the study of accuracy of expression. What details to include;
+in what order to arrange them that they produce the best
+effect, both of vividness and naturalness; and the influence
+of the point of view and the purpose of the author on the
+unity of description should be kept constantly present in the
+exercises. Careful attention should be paid to choice of
+words, for on right words depends in a large degree the
+vividness of a description. Right words in well-massed
+paragraphs of vivid description should be the object this
+term.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page89" id="page89">89</a></div>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER V</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><b>EXPOSITION</b></p>
+
+<p>So far we have studied discourse which deals with
+things,&mdash;things active, doing something, considered
+under the head of narration; and things at rest, and
+pictured, considered in description. Now we come to
+exposition, which deals with ideas either separately or
+in combinations. Instead of Mr. Smith&rsquo;s horse, exposition
+treats of the general term, horse. &ldquo;The Great
+Stone Face&rdquo; may have taught a lesson by its story,
+but the discussion of the value of lofty ideals is a subject
+for exposition.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">General Terms Difficult.</span>
+That general terms and propositions are harder to
+get hold of than concrete facts is readily
+apparent in the first reading of an author
+like Emerson. To a young person it means
+little. Yet when he puts in the place of the general
+terms some specific examples, and so verifies the statements,
+the general propositions have a mine of meaning,
+and &ldquo;the sense of the author is as broad as the
+world.&rdquo; This stanza from Lowell is but little suggestive
+to young readers:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;Such earnest natures are the fiery pith,</p>
+<p class="i1">The compact nucleus, round which systems grow!</p>
+<p>Mass after mass becomes inspired therewith,</p>
+<p class="i1">And whirls impregnate with the central glow.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_14" name="footref_14" href="#footnote_14">14</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p class="noind">Yet when Columbus and Luther and Garrison are
+mentioned as illustrations of the meaning, it becomes
+<a class="pgnm" name="page90" id="page90">90</a>
+world-wide in its application. Still in order to get at
+the thought, there is first the need of the specific and
+the concrete; afterward we pass to the general and the
+abstract.</p>
+
+<p>As abstract ideas are harder to get hold of than concrete
+facts, so exposition has difficulties greater than
+those found in narration and description. It is not so
+hard to tell what belongs in a story; the events are all
+distinct. Nor is it so difficult to know what to include
+in a description; one can look and see. In exposition
+this is not so. In most minds ideas do not have distinct
+limits; the edges rather are indistinct. It is
+hard to tell where the idea stops. In writing of &ldquo;The
+Uses of Coal,&rdquo; it is easy to wander over an indistinct
+boundary and to take a survey of &ldquo;The Origin of
+Coal.&rdquo; Not only may one include what unquestionably
+should be excluded, but there is no definite guide
+to the arrangement of the materials, such as was found
+in narration. There a sequence of time was an almost
+infallible rule; here the writer must search carefully
+how to arrange hazy ideas in some effective form. As
+discourse comes to deal more with general ideas, the
+difficulties of writing increase; and the difficulties are
+not due to any new principles of structure which must
+be introduced. When one says that the material
+should be selected according to the familiar law of
+Unity, he has given the guiding principle. Yet the
+real difficulty is still before an author: it is to decide
+what stamp to put upon such elusive matter as ideas.
+They cannot be kept long enough in the twilight of
+consciousness to analyze them; and often ideas that
+have been marked &ldquo;accepted&rdquo; have, upon re&euml;xamination,
+to be &ldquo;rejected.&rdquo; To examine ideas&mdash;the material
+used in this form of discourse&mdash;so thoroughly that
+they may be accurately, definitely known in their backward
+<a class="pgnm" name="page91" id="page91">91</a>
+relation and their bearing upon what follows,
+this is the seat of the difficulty in exposition.</p>
+
+<p>Exposition may conveniently be classified into exposition
+of a term, or definition; and exposition of a
+proposition, which is generally suggested by the term
+exposition.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Definition.</span>
+Definition of a word means giving its limits or
+boundaries. Of man it might be said that it
+is a living animal, having a strong bony skeleton;
+that this skeleton consists of a trunk from which
+extend four limbs, called arms and legs, and is surmounted
+by a bony cavity, called a skull; that the
+skeleton protects the vital organs, and is itself covered
+by a muscular tissue which moves the bones and gives
+a rounded beauty to their ugliness; that man has a
+highly developed nervous system, the centre of which
+is the brain placed in the skull. So a person might go
+on for pages, enumerating the attributes which, taken
+together, make up the general idea of man.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Exposition and Description distinguished.</span>
+This sort of exposition is very near description; indeed,
+were the purpose different, it would be
+description. The purpose, however, is not to
+tell how an individual looks, but to place the
+object in a class. It is therefore not description,
+but exposition. Moreover, the method is different.
+In description those characteristics are given that
+distinguish the object from the rest of the class; while
+in exposition those qualities are selected which are
+common to all objects of its class.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Logical Definition.</span>
+On account of the length of the definition by an
+enumeration of all the attributes, it is not frequently
+used except in long treatises. For it there has been
+substituted what is called a <i>logical definition.</i>
+Instead of naming all the characteristics
+of an object, a logical definition groups many attributes
+<a class="pgnm" name="page92" id="page92">92</a>
+under one general term, and then adds a quality
+which distinguishes the object from the others of the
+general class. Man has been defined as the &ldquo;reasoning
+animal.&rdquo; In this definition a large number of
+attributes have been gathered together in the general
+term &ldquo;animal;&rdquo; then man is separated from the whole
+class &ldquo;animal&rdquo; by the word &ldquo;reasoning.&rdquo; A logical
+definition consists, then, of two parts: the general term
+naming the genus, and the limiting term naming the
+distinguishing attribute called the differentia.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Genus and Differentia.</span>
+Genus and differentia are found in every good definition.
+The <i>genus</i> should be a term more
+general than the term defined. &ldquo;Man is a
+person who reasons&rdquo; is a poor definition; because
+&ldquo;person&rdquo; is no more general than &ldquo;man.&rdquo; &ldquo;A canine
+is a dog that is wild&rdquo; is very bad, because &ldquo;dog,&rdquo; the
+general term in the definition, is less general than the
+word defined. However, to say that &ldquo;a dog is a canine
+that has been domesticated,&rdquo; is a definition in which the
+genus is more general than the term defined.</p>
+
+<p>Next, the genus should be a term well understood.
+&ldquo;Man is a mammal who reasons&rdquo; is all right, in having
+a genus more general than the term defined, but
+the definition fails with many because &ldquo;mammal&rdquo; is
+not well understood. &ldquo;Botany is that branch of biology
+which treats of plant life&rdquo; has in it the same error.
+&ldquo;Biology&rdquo; is not so well understood as &ldquo;botany,&rdquo;
+though it is a more general term. In cases of this
+sort, the writer should go farther toward the more general
+until he finds a term perfectly clear to all. &ldquo;Man
+is an animal that reasons,&rdquo; &ldquo;botany is the branch of
+science that treats of plant life,&rdquo; would both be easily
+understood. The genus should be a term better understood
+than the term defined; and it should be a term
+more general than the term defined.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page93" id="page93">93</a>
+A definition may be faulty in its <i>differentia</i> also.
+The differentia is that part of a definition which names
+the difference between the term defined and the general
+class to which it belongs. &ldquo;Man is a reasoning
+animal.&rdquo; &ldquo;Animal&rdquo; names the general class, and
+&ldquo;reasoning&rdquo; is the differentia which separates &ldquo;man&rdquo;
+from other &ldquo;animals.&rdquo; On the selection of this limiting
+word depends the accuracy of the definition. &ldquo;Man
+is an animal that walks,&rdquo; or &ldquo;that has hands,&rdquo; or
+&ldquo;that talks,&rdquo; are all faulty; because bears walk, monkeys
+have hands, and parrots talk. Supposing the following
+definitions were given: &ldquo;A cat is an animal that
+catches rats and mice;&rdquo; &ldquo;A rose is a flower that bears
+thorns;&rdquo; &ldquo;Gold is a metal that is heavy;&rdquo; all would
+be faulty because the differentia in each is faulty.
+Notice, too, the definitions of &ldquo;dog&rdquo; and &ldquo;canine&rdquo;
+already given. Even &ldquo;man is a reasoning animal&rdquo;
+may fail; since many men declare that other animals
+reason. The differentia should include all the members
+that the term denotes, and it should exclude all
+that it does not denote.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Requisites of a good Definition.</span>
+The requisites of a good definition are: first, that it
+shall include or denote all the members of
+the class; second, that it shall exclude everything
+which does not belong to its class; third,
+that the words used in the definition shall be better
+understood than the word defined; fourth, that it shall
+be brief.</p>
+
+<p>A definition may perfectly expound a term; and because
+of the very qualities that make it a good definition,
+accuracy and brevity, it may be almost valueless
+to the ordinary reader. For instance, this definition,
+&ldquo;An acid is a substance, usually sour and sharp to
+the taste, that changes vegetable blue colors to red,
+and, combining with an earth, an alkali, or a metallic
+<a class="pgnm" name="page94" id="page94">94</a>
+oxide, forms a salt,&rdquo; would not generally be understood.
+So it frequently becomes necessary to do more than
+give a definition in order to explain the meaning of a
+term. This brings us to the study of exposition, as it
+is generally understood, in which all the resources of
+language are called into service to explain a term or a
+proposition.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">How do Men explain? First, by Repetition.</span>
+What, then, are the methods of explaining a proposition?
+First, <i>a proposition may be explained by the
+repetition of the thought in some other form.</i> To be
+effective, repetition must add something to what has
+been said; the words used may be more specific or
+they may be more general. For example, &ldquo;A
+strong partisan may not be a good citizen.
+The stanchest Republican may by reason of
+a blind adherence to party be working an
+injury to the country he loves. Indeed, one can easily
+conceive a body of men so devoted to a theory, beautiful
+though it may be in many respects, that they stand in
+the way of the world&rsquo;s progress.&rdquo; The second sentence
+repeats the thought of the first in more specific terms;
+the third repeats it in more general terms. The specific
+may be explained by the general; more often the
+general is cleared up by the specific. In either case,
+the proposition must be brought one step nearer to
+the reader by the restatement, or the repetition is not
+good.</p>
+
+<p>Speaking of written or printed words, Barrett
+Wendell writes:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;In themselves, these black marks are nothing but black
+marks more or less regular in appearance. Modern English
+type and script are rather simple to the eye. Old English
+and German are less so; less so still, Hebrew and Chinese.
+But all alphabets present to the eye pretty obvious traces of
+regularity; in a written or printed page the same mark will
+<a class="pgnm" name="page95" id="page95">95</a>
+occur over and over again. This is positively all we see,&mdash;a
+number of marks grouped together and occasionally repeated.
+A glance at a mummy-case, an old-fashioned tea-chest,
+a Hebrew Bible, will show us all that any eye can ever
+see in a written or printed document. The outward and
+visible body of style consists of a limited number of marks
+which, for all any reader is apt to know, are purely arbitrary.&rdquo;
+(&ldquo;English Composition.&rdquo;)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>In this paragraph every sentence is a repetition of
+some part of the opening or topic sentence, and serves
+to explain it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Second, by telling the obverse.</span>
+Second, <i>a proposition may be explained by telling
+what it is not.</i> At times this is as valuable as telling
+what it is. Care should be taken that the
+thing excluded or denied have some likeness
+to the proposition or term being explained;
+that the two be really in some danger of being confused.
+Unless to a hopelessly ignorant person, it
+would not explain anything to say &ldquo;a horse is not a
+man;&rdquo; but to assert that &ldquo;a whale is not a fish,
+though they have many points in common,&rdquo; would prepare
+the way for an explanation of what a whale is.
+The obverse statement is nearly always followed by a
+repetition of what the thing is.</p>
+
+<p>The following from Newman illustrates the method:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Now what is Theology? First, I will tell you what it is
+not. And here, in the first place (though of course I speak
+on the subject as a Catholic), observe that, strictly speaking,
+I am not assuming that Catholicism is true, while I make
+myself the champion of Theology. Catholicism has not
+formally entered into my argument hitherto, nor shall I just
+now assume any principle peculiar to it, for reasons which
+will appear in the sequel, though of course I shall use Catholic
+language. Neither, secondly, will I fall into the fashion
+of the day, of identifying Natural Theology with Physical
+<a class="pgnm" name="page96" id="page96">96</a>
+Theology; which said Physical Theology is a most jejune
+study, considered as a science, and really no science at all,
+for it is ordinarily no more than a series of pious or polemical
+remarks upon the physical world viewed religiously,
+whereas the word &lsquo;Natural&rsquo; comprehends man and society,
+and all that is involved therein, as the great Protestant
+writer, Dr. Butler, shows us. Nor, in the third place, do I
+mean by Theology polemics of any kind; for instance, what
+are called &lsquo;Evidences of Religion,&rsquo; or &lsquo;the Christian Evidences.&rsquo;...
+Nor, fourthly, do I mean by Theology that
+vague thing called &lsquo;Christianity,&rsquo; or &lsquo;our common Christianity,&rsquo;
+or &lsquo;Christianity the law of the land,&rsquo; if there is any
+man alive who can tell what it is.... Lastly, I do not
+understand by Theology, acquaintance with the Scriptures;
+for, though no person of religious feeling can read Scripture
+but he will find those feelings roused, and gain much knowledge
+of history into the bargain, yet historical reading and
+religious feeling are not a science. I mean none of these
+things by Theology. I simply mean the Science of God, or
+the truths we know about God put into a system; just as we
+have a science of the stars, and call it astronomy, or of the
+crust of the earth, and call it geology.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_15" name="footref_15" href="#footnote_15">15</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Third, by Details.</span>
+Third, <i>a common way of explaining a proposition
+is to go into particulars about it.</i> Enough
+particulars should be given to furnish a reasonable
+explanation of the proposition. Macaulay,
+writing of the &ldquo;muster-rolls of names&rdquo; which Milton
+uses, goes into details. He says:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;They are charmed names. Every one of them is the first
+link in a long chain of associated ideas. Like the dwelling
+place of our infancy revisited in manhood, like the song of
+our country heard in a strange land, they produce upon us
+an effect wholly independent of their intrinsic value. One
+transports us back to a remote period of history. Another
+places us among the novel scenes and manners of a distant
+region. A third evokes all the dear classical recollections of
+<a class="pgnm" name="page97" id="page97">97</a>
+childhood,&mdash;the schoolroom, the dog-eared Virgil, the holiday,
+and the prize. A fourth brings before us the splendid
+phantoms of chivalrous romance, the trophied lists, the embroidered
+housings, the quaint devices, the haunted forests,
+the enchanted gardens, the achievements of enamoured
+knights, and the smiles of rescued princesses.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_16" name="footref_16" href="#footnote_16">16</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Fourth, by Illustrations.</span>
+Fourth, <i>a proposition may be explained by the use
+of a single example or illustration.</i> The
+value of this method depends on the choice
+of the example. It must in no essential way
+differ from the general case it is intended to illustrate.
+Supposing this proposition were advanced by some
+woman-hater: &ldquo;All women are, by nature, liars,&rdquo;
+and it should be followed by this sentence, &ldquo;For example,
+take this lady of fashion.&rdquo; Such an illustration
+is worthless. The individual chosen does not
+fairly represent the class. If, on the other hand, a
+teacher in physics should announce that &ldquo;all bodies
+fall at the same rate in a vacuum,&rdquo; and should illustrate
+by saying, &ldquo;If I place a bullet and a feather in
+a tube from which the air has been exhausted, they
+will be found to fall equally fast,&rdquo; his example would
+be a fair one, as the two objects differ in no manner
+essential to the experiment from &ldquo;all bodies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here should be included anecdotes used as illustrations.
+They are of value if they are of the same
+type as the general class they are intended to explain.
+They may be of little value, however. It could safely
+be said that half the stories told in campaign speeches
+are not instances in point at all, but are told only to
+amuse and deceive. Specific instances must be chosen
+with care if they are to serve a useful purpose in exposition.</p>
+
+<p>This example is from Newman:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;To know is one thing, to do is another; the two things
+<a class="pgnm" name="page98" id="page98">98</a>
+are altogether distinct. A man knows that he should get up
+in the morning,&mdash;he lies abed; he knows that he should
+not lose his temper, yet he cannot keep it. A laboring man
+knows that he should not go to the ale-house, and his wife
+knows that she should not filch when she goes out charing,
+but, nevertheless, in these cases, the consciousness of a duty
+is not all one with the performance of it. There are, then,
+large families of instances, to say the least, in which men
+may become wiser, without becoming better.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_17" name="footref_17" href="#footnote_17">17</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Fifth, by Comparisons.</span>
+Last, <i>a thing may be explained by telling what it is
+like, or what it is not like.</i> This method of comparison
+is very frequently employed. To liken a thing to
+something already known is a vivid way of explaining.
+Moreover in many cases it is easier than the
+method of repetition or that of details. By
+this method Macaulay explains his proposition
+that &ldquo;it is the character of such revolutions that
+we always see the worst of them first.&rdquo; He says:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;A newly liberated people may be compared to a northern
+army encamped on the Rhine or the Xeres. It is said that
+when soldiers in such a situation first find themselves able to
+indulge without restraint in such a rare and expensive luxury,
+nothing is to be seen but intoxication. Soon, however,
+plenty teaches discretion, and, after wine has been for a few
+months their daily fare, they become more temperate than
+they had ever been in their own country. In the same manner,
+the final and permanent fruits of liberty are wisdom,
+moderation, and mercy. Its immediate effects are often
+atrocious crimes, conflicting errors, skepticism on points the
+most clear, dogmatism on points the most mysterious.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_18" name="footref_18" href="#footnote_18">18</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The comparison may be a simile or a metaphor, as
+when Huxley writes, explaining &ldquo;the physical basis of
+life:&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Protoplasm, simple or nucleated, is the formal basis of
+all life. It is the clay of the potter: which, bake it and
+<a class="pgnm" name="page99" id="page99">99</a>
+paint it as he will, remains clay, separated by artifice, and
+not by nature, from the commonest brick or sun-dried clod.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_19" name="footref_19" href="#footnote_19">19</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>These, then, are the methods commonly adopted for
+explaining terms and propositions. First, by the use
+of definitions; second, by repeating the proposition
+either directly or obversely, adding something to the
+thought by each repetition; third, by enumerating
+particulars which form the ground for the statement;
+fourth, by selecting an instance which fairly illustrates
+the proposition; fifth, by the use of comparisons and
+analogies.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Subject.</span>
+Some general considerations regarding the choice of
+a subject have been given. A subject should
+lend itself to the form of discourse employed;
+next, it should be a subject interesting to the readers;
+and third, it should be interesting to the writer and
+suited to his ability. The last condition makes it
+advisable to limit the subject to a narrow field. Few
+persons have the ability to view a general subject in
+all its relations. &ldquo;Books&rdquo; everybody knows something
+of; yet very few are able to treat this general
+subject in all its ramifications. A person writing of
+the general topic &ldquo;books&rdquo; would not only be compelled
+to know what a book is, what may truly be
+called a book, and what is the value of books to readers,
+and therefore the influence of the different kinds
+of literature; he would also be driven to study the
+machinery for making books, the history of printing,
+illustrating, and binding books, and all the mechanical
+processes connected with the manufacture of books.
+The subject might take quite another turn, and be the
+development of fiction or drama; it might be a discussion
+of the influences, political or social, that have
+moulded literature; it might be a study of character
+as manifested in an author&rsquo;s works. No one is well
+<a class="pgnm" name="page100" id="page100">100</a>
+fitted to write on the general topic &ldquo;books.&rdquo; A subject
+should be limited.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Subject should allow Concrete Treatment.</span>
+For young persons <i>the subject should be so selected
+and stated that the treatment may be concrete.</i>
+As persons advance they make more
+generalizations; few, however, go so far as
+to think in general terms. Macaulay says,
+&ldquo;Logicians may reason about abstractions, but the
+great mass of men must have images.&rdquo; That author
+depended largely for his glittering effects upon the use
+of common, concrete things which the masses understand.
+The subject should be such that it can be
+treated concretely. &ldquo;Love,&rdquo; as a general proposition,
+is beautiful; but what more can a young writer say
+about it? Let him leave the whole horde of abstract
+subjects found in old rhetorics alone. They are subjects
+for experience; they cannot be handled by youth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Theme.</span>
+After the subject has been chosen, the writer next
+considers how he shall treat it. He selects
+the attitude he will assume toward the proposition,
+his point of view; and this position he embodies
+in a short sentence, called his <i>theme.</i> For instance,
+&ldquo;patriotism&rdquo; is the subject; as it stands it is abstract
+and very general. However, this, &ldquo;Can a partisan be
+a patriot?&rdquo; would be sufficiently concrete to be treated.
+Even yet there is no indication of the author&rsquo;s point of
+view. Should he write, &ldquo;A real partisan is no patriot,&rdquo;
+his theme is announced, and his point of view known.</p>
+
+<p>A <i>theme,</i> either explicit or implicit, <i>is essential in
+exposition.</i> It is not necessary that it shall be stated
+to the reader, but it must be clearly stated by the
+writer for his own guidance. It is, however, usually
+announced at the opening of the essay. Whether
+announced or not, it is most essential to the success
+of the essay. It is the touchstone by which the author
+<a class="pgnm" name="page101" id="page101">101</a>
+tries all the material which he has collected. Not
+everything on the subject of patriotism should be admitted
+to an essay that has for its theme, &ldquo;A real
+partisan cannot be a true patriot.&rdquo; It would save
+many a digression if the theme were always written
+in bold, black letters, and placed before the author as
+he writes. Every word in a theme should be there
+for a purpose, expressing some important modification
+of the thought. For instance, the statement above
+regarding a partisan may be too sweeping; perhaps
+the essayist would prefer to discuss the modified statement
+that &ldquo;a blind partisan cannot always be a true
+patriot.&rdquo; The theme should state exactly what will
+be treated in the essay. The statement of it should
+employ the hardest kind of thinking; and when the
+theme is determined definitely and for all, the essay
+is safe from the intrusion of foreign ideas which disturb
+the harmony of the whole.</p>
+
+<p>Another advantage in the theme is that, when once
+chosen, it will go far toward writing the essay. One
+great trouble with the young writer is that he is not
+willing to rely on his theme to suggest his composition.
+Mr. Palmer well says:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;He examines his pen point, the curtains, his inkstand, to
+see if perhaps ideas may not be had from these. He wonders
+what the teacher will wish him to say, and he tries to
+recall how the passage sounded in the Third Reader. In
+every direction but one he turns, and that is the direction
+where lies the prime mover of his toil, his subject. Of that
+he is afraid. Now, what I want to make evident is that his
+subject is not in reality the foe, but the friend. It is his
+only helper. His composition is not to be, as he seems to
+suppose, a mass of laborious inventions, but it is made up
+exclusively of what the subject dictates. He has only to
+attend. At present he stands in his own way, making such
+<a class="pgnm" name="page102" id="page102">102</a>
+a din with his private anxieties that he cannot hear the rich
+suggestions of his subject. He is bothered with considering
+how he feels, or what he or somebody else will like to see on
+his paper. This is debilitating business. He must lean on his
+subject, if he would have his writing strong, and busy himself
+with what it says, rather than with what he would say.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_20" name="footref_20" href="#footnote_20">20</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Title.</span>
+Having selected a subject, and with care stated the
+theme, it yet remains to give the essay a
+name. There is something in a name, and
+those authors who make a living by the pen are the
+shrewdest in displaying their wares under the most
+attractive titles. <i>The title should be attractive,</i> but
+it should not promise what the essay does not give.
+Newspaper headlines are usually attractive enough,
+but shamefully untruthful. Next, the title should <i>indicate
+the scope of the essay.</i> When Mr. Palmer
+calls his little book &ldquo;Self-Cultivation in English,&rdquo; it
+is evident that it is not a text-book, and that it will
+not treat English as literature or as a science. Then,
+the title should be <i>short.</i> The theme can rarely be
+used as a title; it is too long. But the paramount
+idea developed in the essay should be embodied in the
+title. &ldquo;Partisanship and Patriotism&rdquo; would be a
+good subject to give the essay we have spoken of.
+The title, then, should be attractive; it should be
+short; and it should truthfully indicate the contents
+of the essay.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Selection of Material.</span>
+One of the important factors in the construction of
+an essay is the selection of material. Though
+theme and title have already been discussed,
+it was not because they are the things for a
+writer to consider next after he has chosen his subject,
+but because they are so intimately bound up in the
+subject that their consideration at that time was natural.
+Before a writer can decide upon the position he will
+<a class="pgnm" name="page103" id="page103">103</a>
+assume toward a proposition, he should have looked
+over the field in a general way; for only with the facts
+before him is he competent to choose his point of view
+and to state his theme. The title is not in the least
+essential to the writing of the essay; it may be deferred
+until the essay is finished. It is necessary, however,
+that the writer have much knowledge of his subject,
+and that from this knowledge he be able to frame an
+opinion regarding the subject. When this has been
+done he is ready to begin the work of constructing his
+essay; and the first question in exposition, as in narration
+and description, is the selection of material to develop
+the theme he has chosen.</p>
+
+<p>The selection of material is a more difficult matter
+in exposition than in narration and description. It
+requires the shrewdest scrutiny to keep out matter that
+does not help the thought forward. In narration we
+decided by the main incident; in description by the
+purpose and the point of view; in exposition we test
+all material by its relation to the theme. Does it help
+to explain the theme? If not, however good material
+it may be, it has no business in the essay.</p>
+
+<p>Association of ideas is a law by which, when one of
+two related ideas is mentioned, the other is suggested.
+To illustrate, when Manila is mentioned, Admiral
+Dewey appears; when treason is spoken of, Arnold is
+in the mind. This law is of fundamental importance
+in arranging an essay; one thing should suggest the
+next. But valuable as it is, even indispensable, it
+may become the source of much mischief. For instance,
+a pupil has this for a topic, &ldquo;Reading gives
+pleasure to many.&rdquo; He writes as his second sentence,
+&ldquo;By pleasure I mean the opposite of pain,&rdquo; and goes
+on. &ldquo;All things are understood by their opposites.
+If we did not know sickness, we could not enjoy our
+<a class="pgnm" name="page104" id="page104">104</a>
+health. Joy is understood through sorrow. I remember
+my first sorrow. My father had just given me a
+new knife,&mdash;my first knife,&rdquo; and so on from one thing
+to another. And not so unnaturally either; each sentence
+has suggested the next, but not one is on the topic.
+The most anxious watch must be kept in the selection
+of material. Some will be admitted without any question;
+some will be excluded with a brusqueness almost
+brutal. There is a third class, however, that is allied
+with the subject, yet it is not so easy to determine
+whether it should be admitted or rejected. This class
+requires the closest questioning. It must contribute to
+the strength of the essay, not to its pages, or it has no
+place there.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Scale of Treatment.</span>
+<i>There is another condition which must be considered
+in the selection of material, the scale of treatment.</i>
+If Macaulay had been asked by a
+daily paper to contribute a paragraph of five hundred
+words on Milton, he could not have introduced all the
+numerous topics which have their place in his essay of
+one hundred pages. He might have mentioned Milton&rsquo;s
+poetry and his character, the two main divisions
+of the present essay; but Dante and &AElig;schylus, Puritan
+and Royalist, would scarcely have received notice.
+The second consideration in selecting material
+is the purpose and length of the essay, and the consequent
+thoroughness with which the subject is to be
+treated.</p>
+
+<p><i>The exhaustiveness with which an author treats any
+subject depends, first, on his knowledge.</i> Any person
+could write a paragraph on Milton; Macaulay and
+Lowell wrote delightful essays on the topic; David
+Masson has written volumes about him. These would
+have been impossible except to a person who had been
+a special student of the subject. Second, the thoroughness
+<a class="pgnm" name="page105" id="page105">105</a>
+of the treatment depends <i>on the knowledge of the
+readers.</i> For persons acquainted with the record of
+the momentous events of Milton&rsquo;s time, it would have
+been quite unnecessary, it might be considered even
+an insult to intelligence, to go into such details of
+history. The shortest statement suffices when the
+reader is already familiar with the subject and needs
+only to know the application in this case. Third, the
+scale of treatment depends <i>on the purpose for which
+the essay is written.</i> If a newspaper paragraph, it is
+one thing; if for a magazine, it is quite another; if it
+is to be the final word on the subject, it may reach to
+volumes.</p>
+
+<p>An apt illustration of proportion in the scale of
+treatment has been given by Scott and Denny in their
+&ldquo;Composition-Rhetoric.&rdquo; They suggest that three
+maps of the United States, one very large, another
+half the size of the first, and a third very small, be
+hung side by side. If a comparison be made, it will
+be found that, whereas a great number of cities are
+represented on the largest map, only half as many appear
+on the middle-sized map. If the smallest map be
+examined, only the largest cities, the longest rivers,
+the greatest lakes, and the highest mountains can be
+found; all others must be omitted. On all three maps
+the same relation of parts is maintained. In proportion
+to the whole, New York State will hold the same
+position in all of them. The Mississippi River will
+flow from Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico, and the
+Gulf will sweep in a curve from Texas to Florida.
+The scale is different, but the proportion does not
+change.</p>
+
+<p>This principle applies in the construction of themes.
+In a paragraph only very important topics will receive
+any mention. In an essay these important topics retain
+<a class="pgnm" name="page106" id="page106">106</a>
+their proper place and relation, while many other
+points of subordinate rank will be introduced. If the
+treatment be lengthened to a book, a host of minor
+sub-topics will be considered, each adding something
+to the development of the theme, and each giving to
+its principal topic the relative importance which belongs
+to the main divisions of the essay. The scale of
+treatment will have much to do with the selection of
+material.</p>
+
+<p>Using Macaulay&rsquo;s &ldquo;Milton&rdquo; as an illustration, the
+analyses below will show how by increasing the size
+of the essay new subjects come into the field for notice.
+The first is but a paragraph and has the two
+main divisions of the essay. The second is an outline
+for an essay of two thousand words. In the third only
+one of the sub-topics is analyzed, as Macaulay has discussed
+it. It would take too much space to analyze
+minutely the whole essay.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr">MILTON.</p>
+<div class="outline AI">
+<ol>
+<li>Milton&rsquo;s poetry has given him his position among great
+men.</li>
+<li>His conduct was such as was to be expected from a man
+of a spirit so high and of an intellect so powerful.</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p>In the following outline the same main headings are
+retained, and the sub-topics which explain them are
+introduced. The numbers indicate the paragraphs
+in Macaulay&rsquo;s essay given to each topic.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr">INTRODUCTION (1-8).</p>
+<div class="outline AI">
+<ol>
+<li>Milton&rsquo;s poetry has given him his position among men.
+(9-46.)
+    <ol>
+    <li>No poet has ever triumphed over greater difficulties
+    than Milton. (10-19.)</li>
+    <li>In his lesser works he shows his great power.
+    (20-31.)</li>
+    <li><a class="pgnm" name="page107" id="page107">107</a>
+    There is but one modern poem that can be compared
+    with &ldquo;Paradise Lost;&rdquo; Dante&rsquo;s &ldquo;Divine Comedy&rdquo; has
+    great power, is upon a kindred subject, but in style of
+    treatment widely different. (32-46.)<br />
+    Transition. (47-49.)</li>
+    </ol>
+</li>
+<li>His conduct was such as was to be expected from a
+man of a spirit so high and of an intellect so powerful.
+(50-90.)
+    <ol>
+    <li>He lived at one of the most memorable eras in the history
+    of mankind, and his conduct must be judged as
+    that of the people is judged. (50-78.)</li>
+    <li>There were some peculiarities which distinguished
+    him from his contemporaries. (79-90.)<br />
+    Conclusion. (91-94.)</li>
+    </ol>
+</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p>Again, taking up but one section, B, II., the analysis
+is as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="outline IA1a">
+<ol>
+<li value="2">There were some peculiarities which distinguished him
+from his contemporaries. (79-90.)
+    <ol>
+    <li>Milton adopted the noblest qualities of every
+    party&mdash;
+        <ol>
+        <li>Puritans. (80-84.)
+            <ol>
+            <li>They excited contempt. However</li>
+            <li>They were no vulgar fanatics; but</li>
+            <li>They derived their peculiarities from their
+            daily contemplation of superior beings and
+            eternal interests.</li>
+            <li>Thus the Puritan was made up of two men,&mdash;the
+            one all self-abasement, the other all
+            pride.</li>
+            <li>R&eacute;sum&eacute; of character of Puritans.</li>
+            </ol>
+        </li>
+        <li>Heathens were passionate lovers of freedom. (85.)</li>
+        <li>Royalists had individual independence, learning,
+        and polite manners of the Court.</li>
+        </ol>
+    </li>
+    <li>But he alone fought the battle for the freedom of
+    the mind. (88.)
+        <ol>
+        <li>This led him to discard parties; and (89)</li>
+        <li>To dare the boldest literary services. (90.)</li>
+        </ol>
+    </li>
+    </ol>
+</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page108" id="page108">108</a>
+The fundamental principle guiding in the selection
+of material is unity. It decides what may with propriety
+be admitted to the essay, and it determines in
+part what must be left out. Another principle, secondary
+to this, is scale of treatment. If the essay is
+to be short, only essentials may be used; if long, many
+related sub-topics must take their subordinate positions
+in the essay.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Arrangement.</span>
+Following the selection of material comes its arrangement.
+Here also there is greater difficulty
+than was experienced in narration or description.
+Though the same principles of Coherence and
+Mass guide, they are more difficult to apply. The
+seat of the difficulty is in the elusiveness of the material.
+It is hard to picture distinctly the value and
+relation of the different topics of an essay. Suppose
+the subject is &ldquo;The Evils of War.&rdquo; The first paragraph
+might contain a general statement announcing
+the theme. Then these topics are to be discussed:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="outline">
+<ol>
+<li>The effect on the <i>morale</i> of a nation.</li>
+<li>The suffering of friends and relatives.</li>
+<li>The destruction of life.</li>
+<li>The backward step in civilization.</li>
+<li>The destruction of property.</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p>The order could not be much worse. How shall a
+better be obtained?</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Use Cards for Subdivisions.</span>
+The most helpful suggestion regarding a method of
+making the material in some degree visible,
+capable of being grasped, is that each subdivision
+be placed on a separate card, and that,
+as the material is gathered, it be put upon the card containing
+the group to which it belongs. By different
+arrangements of these cards the writer can find most
+easily the order that is natural and effective. It is
+much like anagrams, this ordering of matter in an
+<a class="pgnm" name="page109" id="page109">109</a>
+essay. Take these letters, s-l-y-w-a-r-e, and in your
+head try to put them together to make a word; you
+will have some trouble, probably. If, however, these
+same letters be put upon separate slips of paper, you
+may with some arrangement get out the rather common
+word, lawyers. It is much the same with topic
+cards in exposition; they can be moved and rearranged
+in all possible ways, and at last an order distinctly
+better than any other will be found.</p>
+
+<p>Speaking of cards, it might be well to say that the
+habit of putting down a fact or an idea bearing on a
+topic just as soon as it occurs to one is invaluable for
+a writer. All men have good memories; some persons
+have better ones than others. But there is no one
+who does not forget; and each catches himself very
+often saying, &ldquo;I knew that, but I forgot it.&rdquo; It is a
+fact, not perhaps complimentary, that paper tablets
+are surer than the tablets of memory.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">An Outline.</span>
+In exposition, where the whole attention of the
+reader should be given to the thought, where
+more than ever the mind should be freed from
+every hindrance, and its whole energy directed to getting
+the meaning, the greatest care should be given
+to making a plan. No person who has attained distinction
+in prose has worked without a plan. Any
+piece of literature, even the most discursive, has in it
+something of plan; but in literature of the first rank
+the plan is easily discovered. How clear it is in Macaulay&rsquo;s
+essay has been seen. In Burke it is yet more
+logical and exact. However beautiful a piece may be,
+however naturally one thought grows out of another,
+as though it were always so and could be no other way,
+be sure it is so because of some man&rsquo;s thought, on account
+of careful planning. And it may be said without
+a chance of contradiction that when an essay has
+<a class="pgnm" name="page110" id="page110">110</a>
+been well planned it is half done, and that half by far
+the harder. &ldquo;We can hardly at the present day understand
+what Menander meant, when he told a man
+who inquired as to the progress of his comedy that he
+had finished it, not having yet written a single line,
+because he had constructed the action of it in his mind.
+A modern critic would have assured him that the merit
+of his piece depended on the brilliant things which
+arose under his pen as he went along.&rdquo; The brilliant
+things are but the gargoyles and the scrolls, the ornaments
+of the structure; and when so brilliant as to attract
+especial attention, they divert the mind from the
+total effect much as a series of beautiful marbles set
+between those perfect columns would have ruined the
+Parthenon. It was not in any single feature&mdash;not in
+pediment, column, or capital, not in frieze, architrave,
+or tympanum&mdash;that its glorious beauty lay, but in
+the simple strength and the harmonious symmetry of
+the whole, in the general plan. Webster planned his
+orations, Newman planned his essays, Carlyle planned
+his Frederick the Great. Their works are not a momentary
+inspiration; they are the result of forethought,
+long and painstaking. The absolute essential in the
+structure of an essay, that without which it will fail to
+arrive anywhere, that compared to which all ornament,
+all fine writing, is but sounding brass and a tinkling
+cymbal, that absolute essential is the total effect secured
+by making a plan.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Mass the End.</span>
+The principles governing the arrangement of material
+are Mass and Coherence. Both are
+equally essential, but in practice some questions
+regarding Mass are settled first. <i>The important
+positions in an essay are the beginning and the
+end; of these the more important is the end.</i> In this
+place, then, there shall be those sentences or those
+<a class="pgnm" name="page111" id="page111">111</a>
+paragraphs which deserve that distinction. Here frequently
+stands the theme, the conclusion of the whole
+matter, that for which the composition was constructed.
+So that if one wished to know the theme of an essay,
+he would be justified in looking at its conclusion to find
+it. In the essay on &ldquo;Milton,&rdquo; it is evident from the
+last paragraph that Macaulay never intended it to be
+only a criticism of his poetry, though he has devoted
+many pages to this discussion. Here is just the last
+sentence: &ldquo;Nor do we envy the man who can study
+either the life or the writings of the great poet and
+patriot without aspiring to emulate, not indeed the
+sublime works with which his genius has enriched our
+literature, but the zeal with which he labored for the
+public good, the fortitude with which he endured every
+private calamity, the lofty disdain with which he looked
+down on temptations and dangers, the deadly hatred
+which he bore to bigots and tyrants, and the faith
+which he so sternly kept with his country and his
+fame.&rdquo; Notice the last sentence of a delightful essay
+by George William Curtis; one could easily guess the
+contents and the title. &ldquo;Fear of yourself, fear of your
+own rebuke, fear of betraying your consciousness of
+your duty and not doing it&mdash;that is the fear that
+Lovelace loved better than Lucasta; that is the fear
+which Francis, having done his duty, saved, and justly
+called it honor.&rdquo; Examples of the ending in which the
+theme of the essay stands in the place of greatest distinction
+are so plentiful that there needs no collector to
+establish the assertion.</p>
+
+<p>In a single paragraph of exposition not exceeding
+two or three hundred words, it is a very safe rule for
+a beginner always to have the theme in the last sentence;
+or if he has stated the theme in the opening,
+to have a restatement of it in different form, fuller and
+<a class="pgnm" name="page112" id="page112">112</a>
+more explicit usually, sometimes a shorter and more
+epigrammatic form, in the conclusion.</p>
+
+<p>If the pupil should obey this little rule to have
+at the end something worthy of the position, a vast
+amount of time would be saved both to teacher and to
+pupil. It can be safely said that not more than one
+half the essays end when the thought ends. Instead
+of quitting when he has finished, the writer dribbles
+on, repeating in diluted fashion what he has said with
+some force before, and often introducing matters that
+are not within hailing distance of his theme. When
+one has said what he started out to say, it is time to
+stop. If he stops then, he will have something important
+in the place of distinction.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Beginning.</span>
+<i>The position of second importance is the beginning.</i>
+If but a paragraph be written, the topic is
+usually announced at the opening. In short
+essays this is the most frequent beginning, and it may
+safely be used at all times. Exposition is explanation;
+the natural thing is to let the reader know at once
+what the writer is attempting to explain. Then the
+reader knows what the author is talking about and can
+relate every statement to the general proposition. To
+delay the topic compels the reader to hold in mind all
+that has been said up to the time the real theme is
+uncovered; this frequently results in inattention. In
+the little book by Mr. Palmer, the first paragraph opens
+with these two sentences: &ldquo;English as a study has four
+aims: the mastery of our language as a science, as a
+history, as a joy, and as a tool. I am concerned with
+but one, the mastery of it as a tool.&rdquo; So, too, the essay
+of which the last sentence has been quoted begins:
+&ldquo;These are very precious words of Lovelace:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&lsquo;I could not love thee, dear, so much,</p>
+<p>Loved I not honor more.&rsquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p class="noind"><a class="pgnm" name="page113" id="page113">113</a>
+And Francis First&rsquo;s message to his mother after Pavia,
+&lsquo;All is lost but honor,&rsquo; is in the same key.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Instead of announcing the theme at the very beginning,
+in essays of some length there is sometimes an
+account of the occasion which led to the composition.
+Macaulay has used this opening in the essay on &ldquo;Milton.&rdquo;
+Second, the opening may be the clearing away
+of matters unrelated in reality, but which people have
+commonly associated with the topic. And third, the
+essay may open with definitions of the terms that will
+be used in the discussion. Of these three, only the
+first will be much used by young persons. It makes
+an easy approach to the subject, and avoids the unpleasant
+jar of an abrupt start. It is common with
+Macaulay, Lowell, and many essayists that write in an
+easy, almost conversational style.</p>
+
+<p>There is one case in which the theme should not be
+announced at the opening. If the proposition were
+distasteful, if it were generally believed to be false, it
+would not be policy to announce it at the beginning.
+However reasonable men may be, it is still true that
+reason is subject to emotions and beliefs to a greater
+degree than is praiseworthy. If a man should open an
+address upon Abraham Lincoln by saying that he was
+a cringing coward, he would have difficulty to get an
+audience to hear anything he said after that, no matter
+how much truth he spoke. The author of such a statement
+would be so disliked that nothing would win for
+him favor. When an unwelcome theme is to be discussed,
+it must be approached carefully by successive
+steps which prepare the reader for the reception of a
+truth that before seemed false to him. In this case
+the theme will be stated at the end, but not at the beginning
+of the essay.</p>
+
+<p>Get started as soon as you can, and stop when you
+<a class="pgnm" name="page114" id="page114">114</a>
+have finished; by so doing you will have important
+matters in those places which will emphasize them.
+Shun the allurements of high-sounding introductions
+and conclusions. Professor Marston used to tell his
+pupils to write the best introduction they could, to
+fashion their most gorgeous peroration, and to be sure
+to have the discussion clear, logical, and well expressed.
+Then he said that when he had cut off both ends, he
+generally had left a good essay. An essay should be
+done much as a business man does business. He does
+not want the gentleman who calls on him during business
+hours to bow and scatter compliments before he
+takes up the matter which brought him there; nor does
+he care to see him swaying on the doorknob after the
+business is finished. To the business at once, and leave
+off when you have done. Introductions, exordiums,
+perorations, and conclusions are worthless unless they
+be in reality a part of the discussion and necessary to
+the understanding of the whole.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Proportion in Treatment.</span>
+Everything, however, cannot occupy the first and last
+places. How can other matters be emphasized?
+To refer to the parallel of the map, in
+order to make people see that the Mississippi
+River is longer than the Hudson, the designer made it
+longer on the map. That is exactly what is done in an
+essay. If one matter is of greater importance than
+another, it should take up a larger part of the essay.
+When Macaulay passes over Milton&rsquo;s sonnets with a
+paragraph, while he devotes sixteen paragraphs to &ldquo;Paradise
+Lost,&rdquo; he indicates by the greater mass the greater
+value he ascribes to the epic. So again, a very good
+proof that he did not intend this essay to be a literary
+criticism primarily, another evidence beside the closing
+paragraph, is found in his division of the whole essay.
+To Milton&rsquo;s poetry he has given forty-one paragraphs,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page115" id="page115">115</a>
+and to his character fifty-two paragraphs. The most
+common way of emphasizing important divisions of an
+essay is by increasing the length of treatment.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Emphasis of Emotion.</span>
+However, there are times when this cannot be done:
+a point may be so well known that it needs no
+amplification. In such a case there may be
+an emphasis of emotion; that is, the statement
+may be made with an intensity that counterbalances
+the weight of the larger treatment. It might be
+said that the one has great velocity and little mass,
+while the other has great mass and little velocity. By
+hurling forth the smaller mass at a higher velocity, the
+momentum may be as great as when the larger mass
+moves with little velocity. The dynamic force of burning
+words may give an emphasis to a paragraph out
+of all proportion to the length of treatment. In one
+paragraph Macaulay dashes aside all the defenses of
+Charles. He writes:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The advocates of Charles, like the advocates of other
+malefactors against whom overwhelming evidence is produced,
+generally decline all controversy about the facts, and content
+themselves with calling testimony to character. He had so
+many private virtues! And had James II. no private virtues?
+Was Oliver Cromwell, his bitterest enemies themselves being
+the judges, destitute of private virtues? And what, after all,
+are the virtues ascribed to Charles? A religious zeal, not
+more sincere than that of his son, and fully as weak and
+narrow-minded, and a few of the ordinary household decencies
+which half the tombstones in England claim for those
+who lie beneath them. A good father! A good husband!
+Ample apologies indeed for fifteen years of persecution,
+tyranny, and falsehood.&rdquo; (&ldquo;Essay on Milton.&rdquo;)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Phrases indicating Emphasis.</span>
+Moreover, phrases and sentences may be introduced
+to show that a writer considers some topics of equal
+importance to others, or even of greater importance,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page116" id="page116">116</a>
+though they do not demand the same length of treatment.
+<i>Of equal importance, not less weighty,
+beyond question the most pertinent,</i> illustrate
+what is meant by phrases which indicate
+values. These and many of their class which the occasion
+will call forth are necessary to give certain topics
+the rank they hold in the writer&rsquo;s conception of the
+whole subject. In discussing the temper and character
+of the American people, Burke ascribes it to six powerful
+causes. The relative value of these is indicated
+in the last three by phrases. I quote only the opening
+sentences.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;First, the people of the colonies are descendants of Englishmen.&rdquo;...
+&ldquo;They were further confirmed in this pleasing
+error by the form of their provincial legislative assemblies.&rdquo;...
+&ldquo;If anything were wanting to this necessary operation of
+the form of government, religion would have given it a complete
+effect.&rdquo;... &ldquo;There is a circumstance attending these
+[southern] colonies which makes the spirit of liberty <i>still
+more</i> high and haughty than in those to the northward.&rdquo;...
+&ldquo;Permit me, Sir, to add another circumstance which contributes
+<i>no mean part</i> towards the growth and effect of this
+untractable spirit.&rdquo;... &ldquo;The last cause of this disobedient
+spirit in the colonies is <i>hardly less powerful</i> than the rest.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_21" name="footref_21" href="#footnote_21">21</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Emphasis is indicated, then, by position; by the
+length of treatment; by dynamic statement; and by
+phrases denoting values.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Coherence.</span>
+Coherence is the second principle which modifies the
+internal structure of a composition. That
+arrangement should be sought for that places
+in proximity one to another those ideas which are
+most closely related. More than in composition dealing
+with things, in those forms of discourse dealing
+with intangible, invisible ideas,&mdash;with thoughts, with
+<a class="pgnm" name="page117" id="page117">117</a>
+speculations,&mdash;the greatest care is necessary to make
+one topic spring of necessity from a preceding topic.
+And this is not impossible when the material has been
+carefully selected. The principal divisions of the subject
+bear a necessary and logical relation to the whole
+theme, and the subordinate divisions have a similar relation
+to their main topic. In the essay on &ldquo;Milton,&rdquo;
+Macaulay is seeking to commend his hero to the reader
+for two reasons: first, because his writings &ldquo;are powerful,
+not only to delight, but to elevate and purify;&rdquo;
+second, because &ldquo;the zeal with which he labored for
+the public good, the fortitude with which he endured
+every private calamity, the lofty disdain with which he
+looked down on temptations and dangers, the deadly
+hatred which he bore to bigots and tyrants, and the
+faith which he so sternly kept with his country and with
+his fame&rdquo; made him a patriot worthy of emulation.
+We feel instinctively that this arrangement, poetry
+first and character next, and not the reverse, is the
+right order. To discuss character first and poetry
+last would have been ruinous to Macaulay&rsquo;s purpose.
+Notice next the development of a sub-topic in the same
+essay. Only one sentence from a paragraph is given.
+The defenders of Charles do not choose to discuss &ldquo;the
+great points of the question,&rdquo; but &ldquo;content themselves
+with exposing some of the crimes and follies to which
+public commotions necessarily give birth.&rdquo; &ldquo;Be it so.&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Many evils were produced by the Civil War.&rdquo; &ldquo;It is
+the character of such revolutions that we always see the
+worst of them first.&rdquo; Yet &ldquo;there is only one cure for
+the evils which newly acquired freedom produces, and
+that cure is freedom.&rdquo; &ldquo;Therefore it is that we decidedly
+approve of the conduct of Milton and the other
+wise and good men who, in spite of much that was
+ridiculous and hateful in the conduct of their associates,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page118" id="page118">118</a>
+stood firmly by the cause of public liberty.&rdquo; No
+other arrangement of these paragraphs seems possible.
+To shift the sequence would break the chain. Each
+paragraph grows naturally from the paragraph preceding.
+Closely related topics stand together. There is
+Coherence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Transition Phrases.</span>
+The logical connection between topics which have
+been well arranged may be made more evident
+by the skillful use of words and phrases
+that indicate the relation of what has been said to what
+is to be said. These phrases are guideposts pointing
+the direction the next topic will take. They advise the
+reader where he is and whither he is going. Cardinal
+Newman, who had the ability to write not only so that
+he could be understood, but so that he could not be
+misunderstood, made frequent use of these guides. The
+question in one of his essays is &ldquo;whether knowledge,
+that is, acquirement, is the real principle of enlargement,
+or whether that is not rather something beyond
+it.&rdquo; These fragments of sentences open a series of
+paragraphs. 1. &ldquo;For instance, let a person ... go for
+the first time where physical nature puts on her wilder
+and more awful forms,&rdquo; etc. 2. &ldquo;Again, the view of
+the heavens which the telescope opens,&rdquo; etc. 3. &ldquo;And
+so again, the sight of beasts of prey and other foreign
+animals,&rdquo; etc. 4. &ldquo;Hence Physical Science generally,&rdquo;
+etc. 5. &ldquo;Again, the study of history,&rdquo; etc. 6. &ldquo;And
+in like manner, what is called seeing the world,&rdquo; etc.
+7. &ldquo;And then again, the first time the mind comes
+across the arguments and speculations of unbelievers,&rdquo;
+etc. 8. &ldquo;On the other hand, Religion has its own
+enlargement,&rdquo; etc. 9. &ldquo;Now from these instances, ...
+it is plain, first, that the communication of knowledge
+certainly is either a condition or a means of that sense
+of enlargement, or enlightenment of which at this day
+<a class="pgnm" name="page119" id="page119">119</a>
+we hear so much in certain quarters: this cannot be
+denied; but next, it is equally plain, that such communication
+is not the whole of the process.&rdquo; How
+extremely valuable such phrases are may be realized
+from the fact that, though the matter is entirely unknown,
+any one can know the relation of the parts of
+this essay, whither it tends, and can almost supply
+Newman&rsquo;s thoughts.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Summary and Transition.</span>
+To secure coherence between the main divisions of
+an essay, instead of words and phrases, there
+are employed sentences and paragraphs of
+summary and transition. Summaries gather
+up what has been said on the topic, much like a conclusion
+to a theme; transitions show the relation between
+the topic already discussed and the one next
+to be treated. Summaries at the conclusion of any
+division of the whole subject are like the seats on a
+mountain path which are conveniently arranged to give
+the climber a needed rest, and to spread out at his feet
+the features of the landscape through which he has
+made his way. Summaries put the reader in possession
+of the situation up to that point, and make him
+ready for the next stage of the advance. At the end
+of the summary there is frequently a transition, either
+a few sentences or sometimes a short paragraph. The
+sentence or paragraph of transition is much more frequent
+than the paragraph which summarizes.</p>
+
+<p>The examples of these summaries and transitions are
+so frequent in Macaulay and Burke that one transition
+is sufficient to indicate their use. Macaulay writes:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;There are several minor poems of Milton on which we
+would willingly make a few remarks.... Our limits, however,
+prevent us from discussing the point at length. We
+hasten on to that extraordinary production which the general
+suffrage of critics has placed in the highest class of human
+compositions.&rdquo; (&ldquo;Essay on Milton.&rdquo;)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page120" id="page120">120</a>
+To conclude, exposition embraces definition and explanation.
+Definition is usually too concise to be clear,
+and needs an added explanation. In any piece of
+exposition there must be unity, and this principle will
+dispense with everything that is not essential to the
+theme; there must be judicious massing, that those
+parts of the essay deserving emphasis may receive it;
+and there must be a coherence between the parts,
+large and small, so close and intimate that the progress
+from one topic to another shall be steady and without
+hindrance. Unity, Mass, and Coherence should be the
+main considerations in composition the aim of which is
+to explain a term or a proposition.</p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page121" id="page121">121</a></div>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><b>SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES.</b></p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><b>QUESTIONS.</b></p>
+
+<p class="ctr">MACAULAY&rsquo;S ESSAY ON MILTON.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 103.)</p>
+
+<p>What makes up the introduction of this essay? Does he
+use the same method in the Essay on Addison? Take a
+volume of his essays and see how many begin in similar
+fashion. At what paragraph of this Essay on Milton does
+the introduction end? Would it be as well to omit it?
+Give reasons for your opinion.</p>
+
+<p>Make an analysis of his argument of the proposition, &ldquo;No
+poet has ever triumphed over greater difficulties than Milton.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Does Macaulay give a definition of poetry on page 13, or
+is it an exposition of the term?</p>
+
+<p>What figure of speech do you find in the last sentence of
+the paragraph on page 43?</p>
+
+<p>When Macaulay begins to discuss &ldquo;the public conduct of
+Milton,&rdquo; what method of introduction does he adopt? What
+value is there in it?</p>
+
+<p>Do the trifles mentioned at the end of the paragraph on
+page 55 make an anticlimax?</p>
+
+<p>What arrangement of sentences in the paragraph does he
+use most, individual or serial?</p>
+
+<p>Does he close his paragraphs with a repetition of the topic
+more frequently than with a single detail emphasizing the
+topic?</p>
+
+<p>Is his last sentence, in case it is a repetition of the topic,
+longer or shorter than the topic sentence?</p>
+
+<p>Does Macaulay frequently use epigrams? antitheses?</p>
+
+<p>Find all transition paragraphs.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page122" id="page122">122</a>
+Find ten full sentence transitions outside of the transition
+paragraphs.</p>
+
+<p>Where, in such paragraphs, is the topic sentence?</p>
+
+<p>In this essay find examples of the five methods of expounding
+a proposition.</p>
+
+<p>Which method does Macaulay use oftenest?</p>
+
+<p>Is his treatment of the subject concrete?</p>
+
+<p>What advantage is there in such treatment?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />OF KINGS&rsquo; TREASURIES.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 142.)</p>
+
+<p>Do you think the title good?</p>
+
+<p>Is Ruskin wise in disclosing his subject at once?</p>
+
+<p>In section 3 what purpose does the first paragraph fulfill?
+What method of exposition is adopted in the last paragraph?
+What method in section 4?</p>
+
+<p>For what purpose is the first paragraph of section 5 introduced?
+Is the last paragraph of this section a digression?</p>
+
+<p>Do you think the last sentence of section 9 upon the
+topic announced in the first sentence? Where does Ruskin
+begin to treat the second topic? Should there be two paragraphs?</p>
+
+<p>Find the genus and differentia in the definition of &ldquo;a
+good book of the hour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>What is the use of the analogy in section 13?</p>
+
+<p>What figure do you find in section 14?</p>
+
+<p>Do you think a large part of section 30 a digression?</p>
+
+<p>What do you think of the structure of sentences 4 and 8 in
+section 32? Could you improve it by a change of punctuation?</p>
+
+<p>What is the effect of the supposed case at the end of
+section 33? Is it a fair deduction? Is it at the right place
+in the paragraph, and why?</p>
+
+<p>Where would you divide the paragraph in section 37?</p>
+
+<p>Is the example in section 36 a fair one, and does it prove
+the case?</p>
+
+<p>What is a very common method with Ruskin of connecting
+paragraphs?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page123" id="page123">123</a>
+Could you break up the sixth sentence of section 31 so
+that it would be better?</p>
+
+<p>If his audience had been hostile to him would he have
+been fortunate in some of his assertions? Make an analysis
+of the whole essay. Does he seem to you to have digressed
+from his topic? At what point? Should it be two essays?</p>
+
+<p>What led Ruskin into this long criticism of English character?</p>
+
+<p>Could you include all the main topics that Ruskin has
+included, and by a change in proportion keep the essay on
+the subject?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />WEBSTER&rsquo;S BUNKER HILL ORATION.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 56.)</p>
+
+<p>Number the paragraphs in this oration.</p>
+
+<p>Why is paragraph 3 introduced?</p>
+
+<p>What method of development is used in paragraph 7?
+In paragraph 8?</p>
+
+<p>In how many paragraphs is the last sentence short?</p>
+
+<p>In how many is the last sentence a repetition of the topic?</p>
+
+<p>What purpose is served in paragraphs 8, 9, and 10?</p>
+
+<p>In paragraph 12 note the use of contrast.</p>
+
+<p>What kind of development in paragraph 27?</p>
+
+<p>Analyze the oration from paragraph 28.</p>
+
+<p>Does he place the topic sentence near the beginning of
+the paragraphs?</p>
+
+<p>Does he frequently use transition sentences?</p>
+
+<p>Do you think the outline of this as distinct as that of
+Macaulay&rsquo;s Essay on Milton? Should it be?</p>
+
+<p>What figure of speech in the word &ldquo;axe&rdquo; in paragraph
+32, and &ldquo;bayonet&rdquo; in paragraph 36?</p>
+
+<p>What figure at the end of paragraph 40?</p>
+
+<p>Does he use figures as frequently as Macaulay?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><b>EXERCISES.</b></p>
+
+<p>This year, taking up the study of exposition, offers especially
+good opportunities for exercises in paragraph and
+<a class="pgnm" name="page124" id="page124">124</a>
+sentence construction. During the first eight or ten weeks
+the pupils will write isolated paragraphs. The unity and
+arrangement of these should be carefully criticised. Also
+the exercises should be arranged so that the pupils will employ
+all forms of paragraphs. Before he begins to write a
+paragraph, the pupil should know what he is to include in
+it, and in what order; otherwise the paragraph will fail in
+unity and effective massing. Paragraphs are made by forethought,
+not by inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>Following the writing of isolated paragraphs is the composition
+of the long essay. The first thing is a study of outlines.
+This will take up six or eight weeks. To secure the
+view of the whole in different arrangements, use the cards.</p>
+
+<p>When the class has gained some grasp of outlines, the
+writing of essays should be begun. At the option of the
+pupils, they may write some of the essays already outlined,
+or study new themes. Two or three paragraphs are all that
+can be well done for a lesson. Good, not much, should be
+the ideal. In this way a single essay may occupy a class
+from three to six weeks.</p>
+
+<p>It should be remembered that these exercises are written
+consciously for practice. They are exercises&mdash;no more.
+Their purpose is to give skill and judgment in composition.
+It is because they are exercises that they may be somewhat
+stereotyped and artificial in form, just as exercises in music
+may be artificially constructed to meet the difficulties the
+young musician will have to confront.</p>
+
+<p>During the writing of these essays special attention should
+be given to sentence construction. The inclusion of just the
+ideas needed in the sentence and no more; the massing that
+makes prominent the thought that deserves prominence; and
+the nice adjustment of one sentence to the next: these objects
+should be striven for during this semester.</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li>and 2. Write definitions of such common terms as jingoism,
+civil service, gold standard, the submerged tenth, sweat shop,
+internal revenue, cyclonic area, foreign policy, imperialism,
+free silver, mugwump, political pull, Monroe doctrine, etc.
+Five or six terms which are not found in a dictionary will
+<a class="pgnm" name="page125" id="page125">125</a>
+make a hard exercise; and two or three lessons in definitions
+will set the pupils in the direction of accurate and adequate
+statements.</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p>For isolated paragraphs write upon the following subjects:&mdash;</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li value="3">Novel reading gives one a knowledge of the world not
+to be gained in any other way. Particulars.</li>
+
+<li>Novel reading unfits people for the actualities of life.
+Specific instances.</li>
+
+<li>Among the numerous uses of biography three stand
+forth pre&euml;minent,&mdash;it furnishes the material of history, it
+lets us into the secrets of the good and great, and it sets before
+us attainable ideals of noble humanity. Repetition.</li>
+
+<li>It is beyond any possibility of successful contradiction
+that the examination system encourages cheating. Proofs.</li>
+
+<li> Electric cars and automobiles are driving horses out of
+the cities. Instances.</li>
+
+<li>Every great development in the culture of a nation has
+followed a great war. Proofs.</li>
+
+<li>From the following general subjects have the pupils
+state definite themes. Write isolated paragraphs on a few
+of them.<br /><br />
+
+Political Parties.<br />
+War.<br />
+Books.<br />
+Machines.<br />
+Inventions.<br />
+Great Men.<br />
+Planets.<br />
+Civil Service.<br />
+Coeducation.<br />
+Roads.<br />
+Tramps.<br />
+Boycotts.</li>
+
+<li><p>Place another similar list on the board and have the
+pupils vote on what three they prefer. Use these in making
+outlines. Then select more.</p>
+
+<p>Supposing they had settled upon this theme: The tramp
+<a class="pgnm" name="page126" id="page126">126</a>
+is the logical result of our economic system; have it outlined.
+The result might be as follows:&mdash;</p>
+<div class="outline A1a">
+<ol>
+<li>What is a tramp?
+    <ol>
+    <li>Who become tramps?</li>
+    <li>Their number.</li>
+    <li>Where are they?</li>
+    </ol>
+</li>
+<li>Why is he a tramp?
+    <ol>
+    <li>Inventions have increased the power of production
+    more rapidly than the demand for products has
+    grown.
+        <ol>
+        <li>On the farm.</li>
+        <li>Transportation.</li>
+        <li>Factories.</li>
+        <li>Piecework.</li>
+        </ol>
+    </li>
+    <li>Women now do much work formerly done by men.
+        <ol>
+        <li>As clerks.</li>
+        <li>As typewriters, stenographers, and bookkeepers.</li>
+        <li>In the professions.</li>
+        </ol>
+    </li>
+    <li>The result of these causes is that many men willing
+    to work are out of employment.</li>
+    </ol>
+</li>
+<li>What must be done?</li>
+</ol>
+</div></li>
+
+<li><p>Fill out the following outline.</p>
+
+<p>Subject: The Thermometer.</p>
+
+<div class="outline A1a">
+<ol>
+<li>Its Invention.</li>
+<li>Its Construction.</li>
+<li>Its Value and Uses.</li>
+</ol>
+</div></li>
+
+<li>Outline six more themes.</li>
+
+<li>Beginning the writing of long essays, write essays in
+sections. Using &ldquo;Tramps&rdquo; for an illustration, as it is outlined
+it contains about twelve paragraphs. All of section
+&ldquo;A&rdquo; may be included in one paragraph. &ldquo;B, 1&rdquo; may be
+a paragraph of repetition; &ldquo;a,&rdquo; &ldquo;b,&rdquo; &ldquo;c,&rdquo; &ldquo;d,&rdquo; may each
+make a paragraph of particulars. By stating &ldquo;B, 2&rdquo; in the
+following way, it may be a paragraph of &ldquo;what not:&rdquo; It
+was once considered unladylike for women to engage in any
+occupation outside of the home. Men said that they could
+not retain, etc.&mdash;Go on with the things woman could not do,
+closing with a statement of what she does do.
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page127" id="page127">127</a>
+&ldquo;B, 2, a.&rdquo; On account of their fidelity, honesty, and courtesy,
+women succeed as clerks. Repetition.</p>
+
+<ol style="list-style-type: lower-alpha;">
+<li value="2">The quickness of their intelligence and the accuracy
+of their work have made women more desirable for
+routine work in an office than men. Comparison and
+Contrast.</li>
+<li>There are certain feminine qualities which especially
+fit women for the practice of teaching and medicine.
+Details.</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p>&ldquo;B, 3.&rdquo; By Combination of Forms.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;C.&rdquo; By Details.</p></li>
+</ol>
+
+<p>It would be a pleasure to go on with this list of exercises,
+but it is unnecessary and it is unwise. These indicate the
+objects to be sought for in the exercises. They are not a
+specific course, though they might suit a certain environment.
+Each teacher knows her own pupils,&mdash;their attainments and
+their interests. The subjects should be chosen to suit their
+special cases. Only make them interesting; put them into
+such form that there is something to get hold of; and adapt
+them so that all the topics to be studied will be illustrated in
+the work. The pupils should be able to write any form of
+paragraph, to arrange it so that any idea is made prominent,
+and to make easy transitions. Arrange the exercises to
+accomplish definite results.</p>
+
+<p>During the third year, attention should be given to words
+and to the refinements of elegant composition. These the
+pupils will best learn by careful watch of the literature.
+The teacher should be quick to feel the strength and beauty
+of any passage and able to point out the means adopted to
+obtain the delightful effect. Clearness first is the thing to
+be desired; if to this can be added force and a degree of
+elegance during the last two years, the work of the instructor
+has been well done.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page128" id="page128">128</a></div>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><b>ARGUMENT</b></p>
+
+<p>Argument has been defined as that form of discourse
+the purpose of which is to convince the reader
+of the truth or falsity of a proposition. It is closely
+allied with exposition. To convince a person, it is first
+necessary that the proposition be explained to him.
+This is all that is necessary in many cases. Did men
+decide all matters without prejudice, and were they
+willing to accept the truth at any cost, even to discard
+the beliefs that have been to them the source of greatest
+happiness, the simple explanation would be sufficient.
+However, as men are not all-wise, and as they
+are not always &ldquo;reasonable,&rdquo; they are found to hold
+different opinions regarding the same subject; and one
+person often wishes to convince another of the error of
+his beliefs. Men continually use the words <i>because</i>
+and <i>therefore;</i> indeed, a great deal of writing has in it
+an element of argument.</p>
+
+<p>From the fact that argument and exposition are so
+nearly alike, it follows that they will be governed by
+much the same principles. As argument, in addition
+to explaining, seeks to convince, it is necessary, in addition
+to knowing how to explain, to know what is considered
+convincing,&mdash;what are proofs; and secondly,
+what is the best order in which to arrange proofs.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Induction and Deduction.</span>
+Arguments have been classified as inductive and
+deductive.<a class="ftnt" id="footref_22" name="footref_22" href="#footnote_22">22</a> Induction includes arguments that proceed
+<a class="pgnm" name="page129" id="page129">129</a>
+from individual cases to establish a general truth.
+Deduction comprises arguments that proceed
+from a general truth to establish the proposition
+in specific instances, or groups of instances.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Syllogism. Premises.</span>
+If one should say &ldquo;Socrates is mortal because he
+is a man,&rdquo; or &ldquo;Socrates will die because all
+men are mortal,&rdquo; or &ldquo;Socrates is a man,
+therefore he will die,&rdquo; by any of these he has expressed
+a truth which all men accept. In any of these expressions
+are bound up two propositions, called premises,
+from which a third proposition, called a conclusion, is
+derived. If expanded, the three propositions assume
+this form: All men are mortal. Socrates is a man.
+Therefore Socrates is mortal. This is termed a syllogism.
+A syllogism consists of a major premise, a
+predication about all the members of a general class of
+objects; a minor premise, a predication that includes
+an individual or a group of individuals in the general
+class named by the major premise; and a conclusion,
+the proposition which is derived from the relation
+existing between the other two propositions. The
+propositions above would be classified as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>Major premise: All men are mortal, a predication about
+<i>all</i> men.</p>
+
+<p>Minor premise: Socrates is a man, including an individual
+in the general class.</p>
+
+<p>Conclusion: Socrates is mortal.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Terms.</span>
+In every syllogism there are three terms,&mdash;major,
+minor, and middle. The middle term is
+found in both the premises, but not in the
+conclusion. It is the link connecting the major and
+minor terms. The major term is usually the predicate
+of the major premise and the predicate of the conclusion.
+The minor term is the subject of the minor premise
+<a class="pgnm" name="page130" id="page130">130</a>
+and the subject of the conclusion. &ldquo;Men&rdquo; is
+the middle term, &ldquo;are mortal&rdquo; the major term, and
+&ldquo;Socrates,&rdquo; the minor term.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Enthymeme.</span>
+It is rarely the case in literature that the syllogism
+is fully stated: generally one of the premises
+is omitted. Such a form of statement is
+termed an enthymeme. &ldquo;Socrates will die because all
+men are mortal&rdquo; is an enthymeme. The minor premise
+has been omitted. &ldquo;Socrates is mortal because
+he is a man&rdquo; is also an enthymeme, because the major
+premise which states that &ldquo;all men are mortal&rdquo; has
+been omitted.</p>
+
+<p>The conclusions arrived at by means of syllogisms
+are irresistible, provided the form be correct and the
+premises be true. It is impossible here to discuss the
+forms of syllogisms; they are too many. It will be
+of value, however, to call attention to a few of the
+commonest errors in syllogisms.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Definition of Terms.</span>
+The first error arises from a misunderstanding of
+terms. It is often said that George Eliot is
+a poet; there are some who disagree. Certain
+it is that she wrote in verse form; and it is true
+that she has embodied noble thoughts in verse; but it
+is quite as true that she lacks &ldquo;the bird-note.&rdquo; If this
+were reduced to a syllogism, it would not be a discussion
+of whether George Eliot be a poet, but rather a
+discussion of what is a poet. Stated, it reads: All
+persons who embody noble thoughts in verse form are
+poets. George Eliot is a person who has embodied
+noble thoughts in verse form. Therefore George Eliot
+is a poet. If the major premise of this syllogism be
+granted, the conclusion is unquestionable. The terms
+should be defined at the beginning; then this error,
+springing from a misunderstanding of terms, perhaps
+the most common, would be avoided.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Undistributed Middle.</span>
+<a class="pgnm" name="page131" id="page131">131</a>
+The second error arises from the fact that the middle
+term is not &ldquo;distributed;&rdquo; that is, the major
+premise makes no statement about all the
+members of a class. The premises in the
+following are true, but the conclusion is nonsense.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>A horse is an animal.<br />
+Man is an animal.<br />
+Therefore, man is a horse.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p class="noind">The middle term, in this case &ldquo;animal,&rdquo; must be &ldquo;distributed;&rdquo;
+some statement must be made of <i>all</i> animals.
+The following would be true: All animals have
+life; therefore man has life. The major premise predicates
+life of all animals.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">False Premises.</span>
+A third error in a syllogism is in the premises themselves.
+If either premise be false, the conclusion
+is not necessarily true. A parent
+might say to his son, &ldquo;You are doing wrong, and
+you will pay the penalty for it soon.&rdquo; Generally
+he would be right. However, if this were put into a
+syllogism, it would read as follows: All persons who
+do wrong pay the penalty soon. You are such a person.
+Therefore, etc. Admitting the son is breaking
+the law, the fact is that the major premise is not
+always true, and the conclusion holds the weakness of
+the weak premise. Again, supposing everybody accepted
+the general truth, &ldquo;All unrepentant sinners will
+be punished.&rdquo; The minister might then say to a young
+man, &ldquo;You will certainly be punished, because all unrepentant
+sinners will be punished.&rdquo; The young man
+might deny the suppressed minor premise, which is,
+&ldquo;You are an unrepentant sinner.&rdquo; Both premises
+must be true if they prove anything. The conclusion
+contains the weakness of either premise. In both of
+these examples note that the mistake is in the premise
+which does not appear. In an enthymeme, great care
+<a class="pgnm" name="page132" id="page132">132</a>
+should be taken with the suppressed premise. Be sure
+it is true when you use this form of argument, and be
+sure to look for it and state it in full when examining
+another&rsquo;s argument. It is a common way of hiding a
+weak point to cover it in the suppressed premise of an
+enthymeme.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Method of Induction.</span>
+Induction, which proceeds directly opposite to the
+method of deduction, is the method by which
+all our ultimate knowledge has been obtained.
+By observing individual instances man has gathered
+a great store of general truths. There was a time
+when the first man would not have been justified in
+saying, &ldquo;The sun will rise in the east to-morrow.&rdquo; The
+general law had not been established. To-day it is
+practically certain that the sun will rise in the east to-morrow
+morning, because it has done so for thousands
+of years; the large number of instances establishes the
+general truth. Yet there may come a day when it will
+rise in the south, or not rise at all. Until every case
+has been tried and found to conform to the law, theoretically
+man cannot be absolutely certain of any general
+truth. There may come an exception to the
+general rule that all men must die. So far, however,
+there is no experience to justify any man in hoping to
+escape death. &ldquo;As sure as death&rdquo; means in practice
+absolutely sure, though this is not what is called a
+perfect induction; that is, an induction in which every
+possible case has been included. &ldquo;All the other States
+are smaller than Texas&rdquo; is a perfect induction, but it
+forms no basis for argument. All the cases must be
+known for a perfect induction; there is no unknown
+to argue to. This, then, is only a short statement of
+many individual truths, and has but little of value.
+Induction that is imperfect is more valuable; for with
+many cases the probability becomes so strong that it is
+a practical certainty. It is the method of science.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page133" id="page133">133</a>
+More valuable for literature is another division of
+arguments into arguments from cause, arguments from
+sign, and arguments from example.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Arguments from Cause.</span>
+Arguments from cause include those propositions
+which, if they were granted, would account
+for the fact or proposition maintained. The
+decisive test is to suppose the proposition to
+be true; then, if it will account for the condition, it is
+an argument from cause. A child holds its finger in
+a flame; therefore its finger is burned. If the first
+proposition be supposed to be true, it will account for
+a burned finger. It is an argument from cause, and it
+is conclusive. Again, if a man severs his carotid artery,
+he will die. If the first proposition be supposed to be
+true, it will account for the man&rsquo;s subsequent death.
+Now, supposing a man takes strychnine, he will die.
+This is not quite so sure. If a stomach-pump were
+used or an antidote given, he might not die. The
+cause has been hindered in its action, or another cause
+has intervened to counterbalance the first. If, then, a
+cause be adequate to produce the effect, and if it act
+unhindered or unmodified, the effect will certainly follow
+the active cause. An argument that uses as a
+premise such a cause may predicate its effect as a conclusion
+with absolute certainty. Such an argument is
+conclusive.</p>
+
+<p>The argument from cause is used more frequently
+to establish a probability than to prove a fact or proposition.
+However strong the proofs of a statement
+may be, men hesitate to accept either the statement or
+the proofs if the proposition is not plausible, or, as
+people say, if &ldquo;they do not understand it,&rdquo; or if &ldquo;it is
+not reasonable.&rdquo; If a murder be done and circumstances
+all point to your friend, you do not believe
+your friend to be the criminal until some fact is produced
+<a class="pgnm" name="page134" id="page134">134</a>
+sufficient to cause your friend to commit the
+crime,&mdash;until some motive is established. If it be
+shown that the friend hated the murdered man and
+would be benefited by his death, a motive is established,&mdash;the
+proposition is made plausible. A man
+could &ldquo;understand how he came to do it.&rdquo; The hatred
+and the benefit being granted, they would account for
+his deed. It is an argument from cause, used not as a
+proof, but to establish a probability. It makes the proposition
+ready for proof.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Arguments from Sign.</span>
+The second class of arguments, arguments from sign,
+is most often used for proof. If two facts or
+conditions always occur together, the presence
+of one is a sign of the presence of the other. Cause
+and effect are so related that if either be observed, it
+is an indication of the other. No cause acts without
+a consequent effect; an effect is a sure sign of a preceding
+cause. Supposing one should say, &ldquo;Because
+the flowers are dead, there was a frost,&rdquo; or &ldquo;If ice has
+formed on the river, it must have been cold,&rdquo; in both
+instances the argument would be an argument from
+sign. Both also proceed from the effect to the cause.
+Only a low temperature forms ice on the river; the
+argument from effect to cause is conclusive. In the
+first case, the argument is not conclusive, because flowers
+may die from other causes. In a case like this,
+it is necessary to find all possible causes, and then by
+testing each in succession to determine which could
+not have acted and leave the one that is the only
+actual cause. A man is found dead; death has resulted
+from natural causes, from murder, or from suicide.
+Each possible cause would be tested; and by
+elimination of the other possible causes the one right
+cause would be left. This method of elimination is
+frequently employed in arguments from effect to cause.
+<a class="pgnm" name="page135" id="page135">135</a>
+When this method is used the alternatives should be
+few, else it gives rise to confusion and to lack of attention
+caused by the tediousness of the discussion. And
+an enumeration of all possible causes must be made;
+for if one be omitted it may be the one that is in fact
+the right one.</p>
+
+<p>The relation between cause and effect is so intimate
+that the occurrence of one may be regarded as a sure
+sign of the presence of the other. If an effect is produced
+by only one cause, the presence of the effect is
+a certain indication of the cause. If several causes
+produce the same effect, some other methods must be
+used to determine the cause operating in this special
+case.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Sequence and Cause.</span>
+In reasoning from effect to cause, one must be sure
+that he is dealing with a cause. As effect
+follows cause, there is danger that anything
+that follows another may be considered as caused by it.
+Because a man died just after eating, it would not be
+quite reasonable to connect eating and death as cause
+and effect. The fact is that death is surer to follow
+starvation. The glow at evening is generally followed
+by fair weather the next day; but the fair weather is
+not an effect of a clear sunset. Common sense must be
+used to determine whether the relation is one of cause
+and effect; something more than a simple sequence is
+necessary.</p>
+
+<p>Another argument from sign associates conditions
+that frequently occur together, though one is not the
+cause of the other. &ldquo;James is near, because there is
+his blind father,&rdquo; means that James always accompanies
+his father; where the father is, the son is too.
+If one had noticed that potatoes planted at the full
+of the moon grew well, and potatoes planted at other
+times did not thrive, he might say as a result of years
+<a class="pgnm" name="page136" id="page136">136</a>
+of observation that a certain crop would be a failure
+because it was not planted at the right time. This
+argument might have weight with ignorant people, but
+intelligent persons do not consider it a sure sign. All
+signs belong to this class of arguments; they are of value
+or worthless as they come true more or less frequently.
+Every time there is an exception the argument is
+weakened; another case of its working strengthens it.
+Where there is no sure relation like cause and effect,
+the strength of the argument depends on the frequency
+of the recurrence of the associated conditions.</p>
+
+<p>A third argument from sign associates two effects
+of the same cause. A lad on waking exclaims, &ldquo;The
+window is covered with frost; I can go skating to-day.&rdquo;
+The frost on the window is not the cause of the
+ice on the river. Rather, both phenomena are results
+of the same cause. This kind of argument is not
+necessarily conclusive; yet with others it always
+strengthens a case.</p>
+
+<p>Testimony is usually called an argument from sign.
+The assertion by some one that a thing occurred is not
+sure proof; it is only a sign that it occurred. People
+have said that they have seen witches, ghosts, and
+sea serpents, and unquestionably believed it; men generally
+do not accept their testimony. In a criminal
+case, it would be difficult to accept the testimony of
+both sides. Though testimony seems a strong argument,
+it is or it is not, according to the conditions
+under which it is given. One would care little for
+the testimony of an ignorant man in a matter that
+called for wisdom; he would hesitate to accept the
+testimony of a man who claimed he saw, but upon
+cross-examination could not report what he saw; and
+he would not think it fair to be condemned upon the
+testimony of his enemies. Books have been written
+<a class="pgnm" name="page137" id="page137">137</a>
+upon evidence, but three principles are all that are
+needed in ordinary arguments. First, the person giving
+testimony must be capable of observation; second,
+he must be able to report accurately what he has observed;
+third, he must have a desire to tell the exact
+truth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Arguments from Example.</span>
+The third large division comprises arguments from
+example. That is, if a truth be asserted of an
+individual, it can therefore be predicated of
+the class to which the individual belongs.
+For instance, if the first time a person saw a giraffe,
+he observed that it was eating grass, he would be justified
+in saying that giraffes are herbivorous. All gold
+is yellow, heavy, and not corroded by acid, though no
+one has tested it all. However, every giraffe does not
+have one ear brown and the other gray because the
+first one seen happened to be so marked; neither is all
+gold in the shape of ten-dollar gold pieces. Only common
+sense will serve to pick out essential qualities;
+but if essential and invariable qualities be selected, the
+argument from the example of an individual to all
+members of its class is very powerful.</p>
+
+<p>Analogies resemble examples. In exposition they
+are used for illustration; in argument they are employed
+as proofs. Though two things belong to different
+classes of objects, they may have some qualities that
+are similar, and so an argument may be made from
+one to another. &ldquo;Natural Law in the Spiritual
+World&rdquo; is a book written to show how the physical
+laws hold true in the region of spirit. It is not because
+an enemy sowed tares in a neighbor&rsquo;s field that
+there are wicked men in the world; nor is it because
+a lover of jewels will sell everything that he has to
+buy the pearl of greatest price that men devote everything
+they have to the kingdom of heaven. Analogies
+<a class="pgnm" name="page138" id="page138">138</a>
+prove nothing. They clear up relations and often help
+the reader to appreciate other arguments. They are
+valuable when the likeness is broad and easily traced.
+They should never be used alone.</p>
+
+<p>These, then, are the principal forms of argument:
+deduction and induction; arguments from cause, from
+sign, and from example. Upon these men depend
+when they wish to convince of truth or error.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Selection of Material.</span>
+In argument the material is selected with reference
+to its value as proof. Every particle of matter
+must be carefully tested. While a piece
+of material that could be omitted without loss
+to the explanation may sometimes find a place in exposition,
+such a thing must not occur in argument. As
+soon as a reader discovers that the writer is off the
+track, either he loses respect for the author&rsquo;s words, or
+he suspects him of trying to hide the weakness of his
+position in a cloud of worthless and irrelevant matters.
+Every bit of material should advance the argument one
+step; it should fill its niche in the well-planned structure;
+it should contribute its part to the strength of
+the whole.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Plan called The Brief.</span>
+When the material has been selected, it must be
+arranged. An argument is a demonstration.
+Each of its parts is the natural result of what
+has preceded, and, up to the last step, each part is the
+basis for the next step. As in geometry a demonstration
+that omits one step in its development, or, which
+comes to the same thing, puts the point out of its logical
+order, is worthless as a demonstration, so in argument
+not one essential step can be omitted, nor can it
+be misplaced. The plan in an argument may be more
+evident than in exposition. We are a little offended
+if the framework shows too plainly in exposition; but
+there is no offense in a well-articulated skeleton in an
+<a class="pgnm" name="page139" id="page139">139</a>
+argument. It is quite the rule that the general plan
+and the main divisions of the argument are announced
+at the very beginning. Any device that will make the
+relation of the parts clearer should be used. Over and
+over again the writer should arrange the cards with
+the topics until he is certain that no other order is so
+good. The writing is a mere trifle compared with the
+outline, called in argument the brief.</p>
+
+<p>Though the brief is so essential, it is unfortunately
+a thing about which but few suggestions can be given.
+The circumstances under which arguments are written&mdash;especially
+whether written to defend a position or
+to attack it&mdash;are so various that rules cannot be given.
+Still a few general principles may be of value.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Climax.</span>
+Proofs should be arranged in a climax. This does
+not mean that the weakest argument should
+come first, and the next stronger should follow,
+and so on until the last and strongest is reached.
+It is necessary to begin with something that will catch
+the attention; and in argument it is frequently a proof
+strong enough to convince the reader that the writer
+knows what he is contending for, and that he can strike
+a hard blow. Then again, it is evident that in all
+arguments there are main points in the discussion that
+must be established by points of minor importance.
+The main points should be arranged in a logical climax,
+and the sub-topics which go to support one of
+the main divisions should have their climax. At the
+end of the whole should be the strongest and the most
+comprehensive argument. It should be a general advance
+of the whole line of argument, including all the
+propositions that have previously been called into
+action, sweeping everything before it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Inductive precedes Deductive.</span>
+To gain this climax what kind of arguments should
+precede? Of inductive and deductive, the inductive
+<a class="pgnm" name="page140" id="page140">140</a>
+proofs generally go first. The advance from particular
+instances to general truths is the best suited to
+catch the attention, for men think with individual examples,
+and general truths make little appeal
+to them. Moreover, if one is addressing people
+of opposing views,&mdash;and in most cases
+he is, else why is he arguing?&mdash;it is unwise to begin
+with bald statements of unwelcome truths. They will
+be rejected without consideration. They can with
+advantage be delayed until they are reached in the regular
+development, and the reader has been prepared for
+their reception. General truths and their application
+by deductive arguments usually stand late in the brief.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Cause precedes Sign.</span>
+Of arguments from cause, sign, or example, it is
+ordinarily wise to place arguments from cause
+first. A person does not listen to any explanation
+of an unknown truth until he knows that the explanation
+is plausible; that the cause assigned is adequate
+to produce the result. After one knows that
+the cause is sufficient and may have brought about the
+result, he is in a position to learn that it is the very
+cause that produced the effect. Arguments from cause
+are very rarely conclusive proofs of fact. They only
+establish a probability. And it would be unwise to
+prove that a thing might be a possibility after one had
+attempted to prove that it is a fact. It would be a
+long step backward, a retreat. Therefore arguments
+from cause, unless absolutely conclusive proof of fact,
+should not come last; but by other arguments,&mdash;by
+testimony, by example, by analogy,&mdash;the possibility,
+which has been reached by the argument from cause,
+may be established as a fact.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Example follows Sign.</span>
+Of the two, sign and example, example generally
+follows sign. In arguments about human affairs, examples
+seldom prove anything; for under similar conditions
+<a class="pgnm" name="page141" id="page141">141</a>
+one person may not act like another. Though
+this be true, the argument from example is one
+of the most effective&mdash;it is not at all conclusive&mdash;in
+that class of cases where oratory is
+combined with argument to convince and persuade.
+This is because men learn most readily from examples.
+To reason about matters of conduct on abstract principles
+of morality convinces but few; to point to a Lincoln
+or a Franklin has persuaded thousands. Examples
+are of most use in enforcing and illustrating and
+strengthening a point already established, and they
+generally follow arguments from sign.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Refutation.</span>
+One other class of arguments finds a place in debate:
+namely, indirect arguments. It is
+often as much an advantage to a debater to
+dispose of objections as it is to establish his own case.
+This is because a question usually has two alternatives.
+If one can refute the arguments in favor of the opponent&rsquo;s
+position, he has by that very process established
+his own. If the points of the refutation are of minor
+importance and are related to any division of his own
+direct argument, the refutation of such points should
+be taken up in connection with the related parts of the
+direct argument. If, however, it is an argument of
+some weight and should be considered separate and
+apart from the direct argument, it is generally wisest
+to proceed to its demolition at the end of the direct
+argument and before the conclusion of the whole. For
+then the whole weight of the direct argument will be
+thrown into the refutation and will render every word
+so much the more destructive. Again, if the opposing
+argument be very strong and have taken complete
+possession of the audience, it must be attacked and
+disposed of at the very beginning. Otherwise it is
+impossible for the direct argument to make any advance.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page142" id="page142">142</a>
+From these suggestions one derives the general principle
+that each case must be considered by itself.
+There will be cases of conflict among the rules, and
+there must be a careful weighing of methods. Common
+sense and patient labor are the most valuable
+assistants in arranging a powerful argument.</p>
+
+<p>It hardly needs to be said that the suggestions made
+in the chapter on Exposition regarding Mass and Coherence
+should be observed here. In argument as in
+exposition, topics are emphasized by position, and by
+proportion in the scale of treatment. Here as there,
+matters that are closely related in thought should be
+connected in the discourse, and matters that are not related
+in thought should not be associated in the essay.</p>
+
+<p>It will be an advantage now to look through &ldquo;Conciliation
+with the Colonies&rdquo; and note its general plan
+of structure. Only the main divisions of this powerful
+oration can be given, as to make a full brief would
+deprive this piece of literature of half its value for
+study.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Analysis of Burke&rsquo;s Oration.</span>
+Mr. Burke begins by saying that it is &ldquo;an awful
+subject or there is none this side of the
+grave.&rdquo; He states that he has studied the
+question for years, and while Parliament has
+pursued a vacillating policy and one aggravating to
+the colonies, he has a fixed policy and one sure to restore
+&ldquo;the former unsuspecting confidence in the Mother
+Country.&rdquo; His policy is simple peace. This by
+way of introduction. He then divides the argument
+into two large divisions and proceeds.</p>
+
+<div class="outline IAi1">
+<ol>
+<li><span class="smcap">Ought you to concede?</span>
+    <ol>
+    <li>What are &ldquo;the true nature and the peculiar circumstances
+    of the object which we have before us?&rdquo;
+        <ol>
+        <li>America has a rapidly growing population.</li>
+        <li><a class="pgnm" name="page143" id="page143">143</a>
+        It has a rapidly increasing commercial value, shown
+        by
+            <ol>
+            <li>Its demand for our goods.</li>
+            <li>The value of its agricultural products.</li>
+            <li>The value of the products of its fisheries.</li>
+            </ol>
+        </li>
+        <li>There is in the people a &ldquo;fierce spirit of liberty.&rdquo;
+        This is the result of
+            <ol>
+            <li>Their descent from Englishmen.</li>
+            <li>Their popular form of government.</li>
+            <li>Religion in the North.</li>
+            <li>The haughty spirit of the South.</li>
+            <li>Their education.</li>
+            <li>Their remoteness from the governing body.</li>
+            </ol>
+        </li>
+        </ol>
+    </li>
+    <li>&ldquo;You have before you the object.&rdquo; &ldquo;What ... shall
+    we do with it?&rdquo; &ldquo;There are but three ways of
+    proceeding relative to this stubborn spirit in the
+    colonies.&rdquo;
+        <ol>
+        <li>To change it by removing the causes. This is impracticable.</li>
+        <li>To prosecute it as criminal. This is inexpedient.</li>
+        <li><i>To comply with it as necessary.</i> This is the answer
+        to the first question.</li>
+        </ol>
+    </li>
+    </ol>
+</li>
+<li><span class="smcap">Of what nature ought the concession to be?</span>
+    <ol>
+    <li>A concession that grants to any colony the satisfaction
+    of the grievances it complains of brings about
+    conciliation and peace. This general proposition
+    is established by the following examples. It has
+    done so in
+        <ol style="list-style-type: decimal;">
+        <li>Ireland,</li>
+        <li>Wales,</li>
+        <li>Durham, and</li>
+        <li>Chester.</li>
+        </ol>
+    </li>
+    <li>The grievances complained of in America are unjust
+    taxation and no representation.</li>
+    <li>Therefore these resolutions rehearsing facts and calculated
+    to satisfy their grievances will bring about
+    conciliation and peace.
+        <ol>
+        <li><a class="pgnm" name="page144" id="page144">144</a>
+        They are unrepresented.</li>
+        <li>They are taxed.</li>
+        <li>No method has been devised for procuring a representation
+        in Parliament for the said Colonies.</li>
+        <li>Each colony has within itself a body with powers to
+        raise, levy, and assess taxes.</li>
+        <li>These assemblies have at sundry times granted large
+        subsidies and aids to his Majesty&rsquo;s service.</li>
+        <li>Experience teaches that it is expedient to follow
+        their method rather than force payment.</li>
+        </ol>
+    </li>
+    <li>As a result of the adoption of these resolutions,
+    &ldquo;everything which has been made to enforce a
+    contrary system must, I take it for granted, fall
+    along with it. On that ground, I have drawn the
+    following resolutions.&rdquo;
+        <ol>
+        <li>It is proper to repeal certain legislation regarding
+        taxes, imports, and administration of justice.</li>
+        <li>To secure a fair and unbiased judiciary.</li>
+        <li>To provide better for the Courts of Admiralty.</li>
+        </ol>
+    </li>
+    <li>He next considers objections.</li>
+    </ol>
+</li>
+<li style="list-style-type: none;">Conclusion.</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p>Notice first the introduction. It goes straight to the
+question. To tell a large opposition that it has vacillated
+on a great question is not calculated to win a kind
+hearing; yet this point, necessary to Burke&rsquo;s argument,
+is so delicately handled that no one could be seriously
+offended, nor could any one charge him with weakness.
+The introduction serves its purpose; it gains the attention
+of the audience and it exactly states the proposition.</p>
+
+<p>He then divides the whole argument into two parts.
+The framework is visible, and with intent. These great
+divisions he takes up separately. First, that there
+may be a perfect understanding of the question, he explains
+&ldquo;the true nature and the peculiar circumstances
+of the object which we have before us.&rdquo; This illustrates
+<a class="pgnm" name="page145" id="page145">145</a>
+the use of exposition in argument. The descent
+and education did not prove that the Americans had
+a fiery spirit; that was acknowledged and needed no
+proof. It simply sets forth the facts,&mdash;facts which
+he afterward uses as powerful instruments of conviction.
+As long as a man can use exposition, he can
+carry his readers with him; it is when he begins to
+argue, to force matters, that he raises opposition. So
+this use of exposition was fortunate. America was an
+English colony. Her strength and riches were England&rsquo;s
+strength and wealth. It would be pleasing to
+all Englishmen to hear the recital of America&rsquo;s prosperity.
+Up to the time he asks, &ldquo;What, in the name
+of God, shall we do with it,&rdquo; the oration is not essentially
+argument; it does nothing more than place &ldquo;before
+you the object.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In the section marked &ldquo;I. B,&rdquo; Burke begins the real
+argument by the method of elimination. He asserts
+that there are only three ways of dealing with this
+fierce spirit of liberty. Then he conclusively proves
+the first impracticable and the second inexpedient.
+There is left but the one course, concession. This
+method of proof is absolutely conclusive if every possible
+contingency is stated and provided for. Notice
+that in this section &ldquo;B&rdquo; everything that was mentioned
+in the first section &ldquo;A&rdquo; is used, and the whole is one
+solid mass moving forward irresistibly to the conclusion
+of the first and the most important part of this
+argument.</p>
+
+<p>The second main division is devoted to the conclusion
+of the first. If you must concede,&mdash;the conclusion
+of the first half,&mdash;what will be the nature of your
+concession? A concession, to be a concession, must
+grant what the colonists wish, not what the ministry
+thinks would be good for them. Then by the history
+<a class="pgnm" name="page146" id="page146">146</a>
+of England&rsquo;s dealings with Ireland, Wales, Chester,
+and Durham, he proves that such a concession has been
+followed by peace. This makes the major premise of
+his syllogism, stated in &ldquo;II. A.&rdquo; The minor premise
+is a statement of the grievances of the colonies. The
+conclusion is in the resolutions for the redress of the
+grievances of the colonies. The second part is then
+one great syllogism, the premises of which are established
+by ample proof, the conclusion of which cannot
+well be disputed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And here I should close,&rdquo; says the orator; the
+direct argument is finished. There are some objections
+which demand dignified consideration. At this point,
+however, it is easy to refute any objections, for behind
+each word there is now the crushing weight of the whole
+argument.</p>
+
+<p>The conclusion recites the advantages of Burke&rsquo;s plan
+over all others, and reasserts its value, now proven at
+every point. It is a powerful summary, and a skillful
+plea for the adoption of a policy of conciliation with
+the colonies of America.</p>
+
+<p>Every kind of argument is used in this oration. One
+would look long for a treasury better supplied with
+illustrations. The great conclusions are reached by
+the certain methods of elimination and deduction. In
+establishing the minor points Burke has used arguments
+from sign, cause, example, and induction. He
+calls in testimony; he quotes authority; he illustrates.
+Not any device of sound argument that a man honest
+in his search for truth may use has been omitted. It
+is worthy of patient study.</p>
+
+<p>In conclusion, the student of argument should learn
+well the value of different kinds of argument; he
+should exercise the most careful scrutiny in selecting
+his material, without any hesitation rejecting irrelevant
+<a class="pgnm" name="page147" id="page147">147</a>
+matter; he should state the proposition so that it cannot
+be misunderstood; he must consider his readers,
+guiding his course wisely with regard for all the conditions
+under which he produces his argument; he
+should remember that the law in argument is climax,
+and that coherence should be sought with infinite
+pains. Above all, the man who takes up a debate
+must be fair and honest; only so will he win favor
+from his readers, and gain what is worth more than
+victory,&mdash;the distinction of being a servant of truth.</p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page148" id="page148">148</a></div>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><b>SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS</b></p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><b>QUESTIONS.</b></p>
+
+<p class="ctr">MACAULAY&rsquo;S ESSAY ON MILTON.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 103.)</p>
+
+<p>Put into a syllogism, Macaulay&rsquo;s opponents said, &ldquo;An
+educated man living in an enlightened age has better facilities
+for writing poetry than an uneducated man at the dawn
+of civilization. Milton was an educated man, living in an enlightened
+age; therefore Macaulay had better facilities,&rdquo; etc.</p>
+
+<p>Which premise does Macaulay attack? Does he demolish
+it?</p>
+
+<p>What value is there in an analogy between experimental
+sciences and imitative arts? Between poetry and a magic-lantern?
+Is either an argument that is convincing? Are
+both effective in the essay?</p>
+
+<p>What do you think of Macaulay&rsquo;s estimate of Wordsworth?
+Granting that this estimate is true, what kind of
+a proof is it of the proposition that &ldquo;his very talents will be
+a hindrance to him&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>Is it a uniform phenomenon that as civilization advances,
+poetry declines? Name some instances that prove it.</p>
+
+<p>Name some instances that disprove it. What method of
+proof have you used in both?</p>
+
+<p>Is an uncivilized state of society the cause of good poetry,
+or only an attendant circumstance?</p>
+
+<p>What method of proof is adopted on pages 34 and 35?</p>
+
+<p>Granting that you cannot conceive &ldquo;a good man and an
+unnatural father,&rdquo; does that prove anything about the first
+sentence at the bottom of page 55?</p>
+
+<p>Does the example of the prisoner on page 60 prove anything?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><a class="pgnm" name="page149" id="page149">149</a>
+BURKE&rsquo;S SPEECH ON CONCILIATION WITH THE COLONIES.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 100.)</p>
+
+<p>What argument does Burke use to prove that hedging in
+the population is not practicable?</p>
+
+<p>When he says that they will occupy territory because they
+have done so, is that an inductive or deductive argument, or
+is it an argument from sign?</p>
+
+<p>If it is deductive, what is the suppressed premise?</p>
+
+<p>Are the arguments from 48 to 64 more in the nature of
+direct or indirect proofs?</p>
+
+<p>What value is there in an indirect argument?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Americans speak the English language, therefore they
+are English.&rdquo; Is the argument good? Where is the fault?
+Look for the suppressed premise.</p>
+
+<p>Is paragraph 55 direct or indirect argument?</p>
+
+<p>Does he prove that criminal procedure against the colonies
+would fail, by sign or by deduction?</p>
+
+<p>Do the four precedents which he cites of Ireland, Wales,
+Durham, and Chester prove that his plan will work in
+America?</p>
+
+<p>Upon what general principle do all arguments from example
+depend?</p>
+
+<p>Is paragraph 79 in itself exposition or argument?</p>
+
+<p>What method is adopted in paragraph 88 to prove that
+the principle of concession is applicable to America?</p>
+
+<p>How does he prove that Americans were grieved by
+taxes?</p>
+
+<p>How does he establish the competence of the colony assemblies?</p>
+
+<p>How could the arguments have made &ldquo;the conclusion irresistible&rdquo;?
+(Paragraph 112.)</p>
+
+<p>What principle of argument is stated in paragraph 114?</p>
+
+<p>In paragraph 127 is the one example cited enough to
+prove the rule?</p>
+
+<p>Find an example of argument from sign. Is it a relation
+of cause and effect? Is it conclusive?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page150" id="page150">150</a>
+In paragraph 129 what does Burke mention as arguments
+of value?</p>
+
+<p>What kind of arguments in paragraphs 128 to 136? What
+is the conclusion?</p>
+
+<p>Whenever Burke states a general truth it forms a part of
+what? Supply the other premise in five cases, and derive
+a conclusion.</p>
+
+<p>Does he ever use an argument from cause to establish a
+probability? To establish a fact?</p>
+
+<p>Does he use deduction more frequently than sign?</p>
+
+<p>Does he seek for a climax in the arrangement of the parts
+of his brief?</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page151" id="page151">151</a></div>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><b>PARAGRAPHS</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Definition.</span>
+So far we have been dealing with whole compositions;
+we now take up the study of paragraphs,
+sentences, and words. A paragraph
+in many respects resembles a whole composition. It
+may be narrative, descriptive, expositive, or argumentative.
+It must have a beginning, a middle, and an
+end. It is constructed with regard to Unity, Mass, and
+Coherence. And as a whole composition treats a single
+theme, so a paragraph treats one division of a theme.
+It has been defined as a composition in miniature. A
+paragraph is a sentence or a group of sentences serving
+a single purpose in the development of a theme. The
+purpose may be simply to announce the theme-subject,
+to make a conclusion, to indicate a transition; but in
+the great majority of cases its purpose is to treat a
+single topic. So true is this that many authors, with
+good reason, define a paragraph as a group of sentences
+treating a single topic.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Long and Short Paragraphs.</span>
+Nobody would have trouble in telling where on a
+page a paragraph began and where it ended.
+The indention at the beginning, and usually
+the incomplete line at the end, mark its visible
+limits. Unfortunately there is no specified length
+after which the writer is to make a break in the lines
+and begin a new paragraph. The length of a paragraph
+depends on something deeper than appearances; as the
+topic requires a lengthy or but a short treatment, as
+<a class="pgnm" name="page152" id="page152">152</a>
+the paragraph may be a long summary or a short transition,
+the length of a paragraph varies. Yet there is
+one circumstance which should counsel an author to
+keep his paragraphs within certain bounds: he should
+always have regard for his readers. Readers shirk
+heavy labor. If a book or an article looks hard, it is
+passed by; if it looks easy, it is read. If the paragraphs
+be long and the page solid, the composition
+looks difficult; if the paragraphs be short and the page
+broken, the piece looks easy. This fact should advise a
+writer to make the page attractive by using short paragraphs;
+provided, and the provision is important, he
+can so make real paragraphs, divisions of composition
+that fully treat one topic. These divisions may in
+reality be but one sentence, and they may just as unquestionably
+be two pages of hard reading.</p>
+
+<p>Successive paragraphs, each more than a page of
+ordinary print in length, repel as too hard; and a
+series of paragraphs of less than a quarter of a page
+impresses a reader as scrappy, and the work seems to
+lack the authority of complete treatment. An author
+will serve his readers and himself best by so subdividing
+his subject that the paragraphs are within these limits.</p>
+
+<p>The following paragraph is much too long and can
+with no difficulty be subdivided. The paragraphs in
+the next group are too short, and they are incomplete.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Keating rode up now, and the transaction became more
+complicated. It ended in the purchase of the horse by Bryce
+for a hundred and twenty, to be paid on the delivery of
+Wildfire, safe and sound, at the Batherley stables. It did
+occur to Dunsey that it might be wise for him to give up the
+day&rsquo;s hunting, proceed at once to Batherley, and, having
+waited for Bryce&rsquo;s return, hire a horse to carry him home
+with the money in his pocket. But the inclination for a run,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page153" id="page153">153</a>
+encouraged by confidence in his luck, and by a draught of
+brandy from his pocket-pistol at the conclusion of the bargain,
+was not easy to overcome, especially with a horse under
+him that would take the fences to the admiration of the field.
+Dunstan, however, took one fence too many, and got his
+horse pierced with a hedge-stake. His own ill-favored person,
+which was quite unmarketable, escaped without injury;
+but poor Wildfire, unconscious of his price, turned on his
+flank, and painfully panted his last. It happened that Dunstan,
+a short time before, having had to get down to arrange
+his stirrup, had muttered a good many curses at this interruption,
+which had thrown him in the rear of the hunt near
+the moment of glory, and under this exasperation had taken
+the fences more blindly. He would soon have been up with
+the hounds again, when the fatal accident happened; and
+hence he was between eager riders in advance, not troubling
+themselves about what happened behind them, and far-off
+stragglers, who were as likely as not to pass quite aloof from
+the line of road in which Wildfire had fallen. Dunstan,
+whose nature it was to care more for immediate annoyances
+than for remote consequences, no sooner recovered his legs,
+and saw that it was all over with Wildfire, than he felt a
+satisfaction at the absence of witnesses to a position which
+no swaggering could make enviable. Reinforcing himself,
+after his shake, with a little brandy and much swearing, he
+walked as fast as he could to a coppice on his right hand,
+through which it occurred to him that he could make his
+way to Batherley without danger of encountering any member
+of the hunt. His first intention was to hire a horse there
+and ride home forthwith, for to walk many miles without a
+gun in his hand, and along an ordinary road, was as much
+out of the question to him as to other spirited young men of
+his kind. He did not much mind about taking the bad news
+to Godfrey, for he had to offer him at the same time the
+resource of Marner&rsquo;s money; and if Godfrey kicked, as he
+always did, at the notion of making a fresh debt, from which
+he himself got the smallest share of advantage, why, he
+<a class="pgnm" name="page154" id="page154">154</a>
+wouldn&rsquo;t kick long: Dunstan felt sure he could worry Godfrey
+into anything. The idea of Marner&rsquo;s money kept
+growing in vividness, now the want of it had become immediate;
+the prospect of having to make his appearance with
+the muddy boots of a pedestrian at Batherley, and to encounter
+the grinning queries of stablemen, stood unpleasantly in
+the way of his impatience to be back at Raveloe and carry
+out his felicitous plan; and a casual visitation of his waistcoat-pocket,
+as he was ruminating, awakened his memory to
+the fact that the two or three small coins his fore-finger encountered
+there were of too pale a color to cover that small
+debt, without payment of which the stable-keeper had declared
+he would never do any more business with Dunsey Cass.
+After all, according to the direction in which the run had
+brought him, he was not so very much farther from home
+than he was from Batherley; but Dunsey, not being remarkable
+for clearness of head, was only led to this conclusion by
+the gradual perception that there were other reasons for
+choosing the unprecedented course of walking home. It was
+now nearly four o&rsquo;clock, and a mist was gathering: the sooner
+he got into the road the better. He remembered having
+crossed the road and seen the finger-post only a little while
+before Wildfire broke down; so, buttoning his coat, twisting
+the lash of his hunting-whip compactly round the handle, and
+rapping the tops of his boots with a self-possessed air, as if to
+assure himself that he was not at all taken by surprise, he
+set off with the sense that he was undertaking a remarkable
+feat of bodily exertion, which somehow, and at some time,
+he should be able to dress up and magnify to the admiration
+of a select circle at the Rainbow. When a young gentleman
+like Dunsey is reduced to so exceptional a mode of locomotion
+as walking, a whip in his hand is a desirable corrective
+to a too bewildering dreamy sense of unwontedness in his
+position; and Dunstan, as he went along through the gathering
+mist, was always rapping his whip somewhere. It was
+Godfrey&rsquo;s whip, which he had chosen to take without leave
+because it had a gold handle; of course no one could see,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page155" id="page155">155</a>
+when Dunstan held it, that the name <i>Godfrey Cass</i> was cut
+in deep letters on that gold handle&mdash;they could only see
+that it was a very handsome whip. Dunsey was not without
+fear that he might meet some acquaintance in whose eyes he
+would cut a pitiable figure, for mist is no screen when people
+get close to each other; but when he at last found himself in
+the well-known Raveloe lanes without having met a soul, he
+silently remarked that that was part of his usual good luck.
+But now the mist, helped by the evening darkness, was more
+of a screen than he desired, for it hid the ruts into which his
+feet were liable to slip&mdash;hid everything, so that he had to
+guide his steps by dragging his whip along the low bushes in
+advance of the hedgerow. He must soon, he thought, be
+getting near the opening at the Stone-pits: he should find it
+out by the break in the hedgerow. He found it out, however,
+by another circumstance which he had not expected&mdash;namely,
+by certain gleams of light, which he presently guessed
+to proceed from Silas Marner&rsquo;s cottage. That cottage and
+the money hidden within it had been in his mind continually
+during his walk, and he had been imagining ways of cajoling
+and tempting the weaver to part with the immediate possession
+of his money for the sake of receiving interest. Dunstan
+felt as if there must be a little frightening added to the
+cajolery, for his own arithmetical convictions were not clear
+enough to afford him any forcible demonstration as to the
+advantages of interest; and as for security, he regarded it
+vaguely as a means of cheating a man by making him believe
+that he would be paid. Altogether, the operation on the
+miser&rsquo;s mind was a task that Godfrey would be sure to hand
+over to his more daring and cunning brother: Dunstan had
+made up his mind to that; and by the time he saw the light
+gleaming through the chinks of Marner&rsquo;s shutters, the idea
+of a dialogue with the weaver had become so familiar to him,
+that it occurred to him as quite a natural thing to make the
+acquaintance forthwith. There might be several conveniences
+attending this course: the weaver had possibly got
+a lantern, and Dunstan was tired of feeling his way. He
+<a class="pgnm" name="page156" id="page156">156</a>
+was still nearly three quarters of a mile from home, and
+the lane was becoming unpleasantly slippery, for the mist
+was passing into rain. He turned up the bank, not without
+some fear lest he might miss the right way, since he was not
+certain whether the light were in front or on the side of the
+cottage. But he felt the ground before him cautiously with
+his whip-handle, and at last arrived safely at the door. He
+knocked loudly, rather enjoying the idea that the old fellow
+would be frightened at the sudden noise. He heard no
+movement in reply: all was silence in the cottage. Was the
+weaver gone to bed, then? If so, why had he left a light?
+That was a strange forgetfulness in a miser. Dunstan
+knocked still more loudly, and, without pausing for a reply,
+pushed his fingers through the latch-hole, intending to shake
+the door and pull the latch-string up and down, not doubting
+that the door was fastened. But, to his surprise, at this
+double motion the door opened, and he found himself in
+front of a bright fire, which lit up every corner of the cottage&mdash;the
+bed, the loom, the three chairs, and the table&mdash;and
+showed him that Marner was not there.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_23" name="footref_23" href="#footnote_23">23</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><br />&ldquo;The country, all white, lit up by the fire, shone like a
+cloth of silver tinted with red.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A bell, far off, began to toll.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The old &lsquo;Sauvage&rsquo; remained standing before her ruined
+dwelling, armed with her gun, her son&rsquo;s gun, for fear lest
+one of those men might escape.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When she saw that it was ended, she threw her weapon
+into the brasier. A loud report rang back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;People were coming, the peasants, the Prussians.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They found the woman seated on the trunk of a tree,
+calm and satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A German officer, who spoke French like a son of
+France, demanded of her:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Where are your soldiers?&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She extended her thin arm towards the red heap of fire
+which was gradually going out, and she answered with a
+strong voice:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page157" id="page157">157</a>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;There!&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They crowded round her. The Prussian asked:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;How did it take fire?&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;It was I who set it on fire.&rsquo;&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_24" name="footref_24" href="#footnote_24">24</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Topic Sentence.</span>
+Paragraphs are developments of a definite topic;
+and this topic is generally announced at the
+beginning of the paragraph. In isolated
+paragraphs, paragraphs that are indeed compositions
+in miniature, the topic-sentence is the first sentence.
+The reader is then advised of the subject of the discussion;
+and as sentence after sentence passes him, he
+can relate it to the topic, and the thought is a cumulative
+whole. If the subject be not announced, the
+individual sentences must be held in mind until the
+reader catches the drift of the discussion, or the author
+at last presents the topic.</p>
+
+<p>Below are four paragraphs, from different forms of
+discourse, all having the topic-sentence at the beginning.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>But success or defeat was a minor matter to them, who
+had only thought for the safety of those they loved.</i> Amelia,
+at the news of the victory, became still more agitated even
+than before. She was for going that moment to the army.
+She besought her brother with tears to conduct her thither.
+Her doubts and terrors reached their paroxysm; and the
+poor girl, who for many hours had been plunged into stupor,
+raved and ran hither and thither in hysteric insanity,&mdash;a
+piteous sight. No man writhing in pain in the hard-fought
+field fifteen miles off, where lay, after their struggles, so
+many of the brave&mdash;no man suffered more keenly than this
+poor harmless victim of the war. Jos could not bear the
+sight of her pain. He left his sister in the charge of her
+stouter female companion and descended once more to the
+threshold of the hotel, where everybody still lingered, and
+talked, and waited for more news.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_25" name="footref_25" href="#footnote_25">25</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><br /><a class="pgnm" name="page158" id="page158">158</a>
+&rdquo;<i>Yet the fact remains that the honey-bee is essentially a
+wild creature, and never has been and cannot be thoroughly
+domesticated.</i> Its proper home is the woods, and thither
+every new swarm counts on going; and thither many do go
+in spite of the care and watchfulness of the bee-keeper. If
+the woods in any given locality are deficient in trees with
+suitable cavities, the bees resort to all kinds of makeshifts;
+they go into chimneys, into barns and outhouses, under stones,
+into rocks, and so forth. Several chimneys in my locality
+with disused flues are taken possession of by colonies of
+bees nearly every season. One day, while bee-hunting, I developed
+a line that went toward a farmhouse where I had
+reason to believe no bees were kept. I followed it up and
+questioned the farmer about his bees. He said he kept no
+bees, but that a swarm had taken possession of his chimney,
+and another had gone under the clapboards in the gable
+end of his house. He had taken a large lot of honey out of
+both places the year before. Another farmer told me that one
+day his family had seen a number of bees examining a knot-hole
+in the side of his house; the next day as they were sitting
+down to dinner their attention was attracted by a loud
+humming noise, when they discovered a swarm of bees settling
+upon the side of the house and pouring into the knot-hole.
+In subsequent years other swarms came to the same
+place.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_26" name="footref_26" href="#footnote_26">26</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><br />&ldquo;<i>It is important, therefore, to hold fast to this: that poetry
+is at bottom a criticism of life;</i> that the greatness of a
+poet lies in his powerful and beautiful application of ideas
+to life,&mdash;to the question: How to live. Morals are often
+treated in a narrow and false fashion; they are bound up
+with systems of thought and belief which have had their day;
+they have fallen into the hands of pedants and professional
+dealers; they grow tiresome to some of us. We find attraction,
+at times, even in a poetry of revolt against them; in a
+poetry which might take for its motto Omar Khayyam&rsquo;s
+words: &lsquo;Let us make up in the tavern for the time which
+<a class="pgnm" name="page159" id="page159">159</a>
+we have wasted in the mosque.&rsquo; Or we find attractions in a
+poetry indifferent to them; in a poetry where the contents
+may be what they will, but where the form is studied and
+exquisite. We delude ourselves in either case; and the best
+cure for our delusion is to let our minds rest upon that great
+and inexhaustible word <i>life,</i> until we learn to enter into its
+meaning. A poetry of revolt against moral ideas is a poetry
+of revolt against <i>life;</i> a poetry of indifference toward moral
+ideas is a poetry of indifference toward <i>life.</i>&ldquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_27" name="footref_27" href="#footnote_27">27</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><br />&ldquo;<i>The advantages arising from a system of copyright are
+obvious.</i> It is desirable that we should have a supply of
+good books: we cannot have such a supply unless men of
+letters are liberally remunerated; and the least objectionable
+way of remunerating them is by means of copyright.
+You cannot depend for literary instruction and amusement
+on the leisure of men occupied in the pursuits of active life.
+Such men may occasionally produce compositions of great
+merit. But you must not look to such men for works which
+require deep meditation and long research. Works of that
+kind you can expect only from persons who make literature
+the business of their lives. Of these persons few will be
+found among the rich and the noble. The rich and the noble
+are not impelled to intellectual exertion by necessity. They
+may be impelled to intellectual exertion by the desire of distinguishing
+themselves, or by the desire of benefiting the community.
+But it is generally within these walls that they seek
+to signalize themselves and to serve their fellow-creatures.
+Both their ambition and their public spirit, in a country like
+this, naturally take a political turn. It is then on men whose
+profession is literature, and whose private means are not
+ample, that you must rely for a supply of valuable books.
+Such men must be remunerated for their literary labor. And
+there are only two ways in which they can be remunerated.
+One of those ways is patronage; the other is copyright.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_28" name="footref_28" href="#footnote_28">28</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page160" id="page160">160</a>
+Frequently the topic-sentence is delayed until after
+the connection between what was said in the preceding
+paragraph and what will be said has been made. To
+establish this relation requires sometimes but a word
+or a short phrase, and sometimes sentences. In these
+cases the topic-sentence follows the transition, and it
+may come as late as the middle of the paragraph.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The crows we have always with us, but it is not every
+day or every season that one sees an eagle. <i>Hence I must
+preserve the memory of one I saw the last day I went bee-hunting.</i>
+As I was laboring up the side of a mountain at
+the head of a valley, the noble bird sprang from the top of a
+dry tree above me and came sailing directly over my head.
+I saw him bend his eye down upon me, and I could hear the
+low hum of his plumage, as if the web of every quill in his
+great wings vibrated in his strong, level flight. I watched
+him as long as my eye could hold him. When he was fairly
+clear of the mountain he began that sweeping spiral movement
+in which he climbs the sky. Up and up he went without
+once breaking his majestic poise till he appeared to sight
+some far-off alien geography, when he bent his course thitherward,
+and gradually vanished in the blue depths. The eagle
+is a bird of large ideas, he embraces long distances; the continent
+is his home. I never look upon one without emotion; I
+follow him with my eye as long as I can. I think of Canada,
+of the Great Lakes, of the Rocky Mountains, of the wild and
+sounding sea-coast. The waters are his, and the woods and
+the inaccessible cliffs. He pierces behind the veil of the
+storm, and his joy is height and depth and vast spaces.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_29" name="footref_29" href="#footnote_29">29</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><br />&ldquo;Now these insinuations and questions shall be answered
+in their proper places; here I will but say that I scorn and
+detest lying, and quibbling, and double-tongued practice, and
+slyness, and cunning, and smoothness, and cant, and pretence,
+quite as much as any Protestants hate them; and I pray to
+<a class="pgnm" name="page161" id="page161">161</a>
+be kept from the snare of them. But all this is just now by
+the bye; <i>my present subject is my Accuser;</i> what I insist
+upon here is this unmanly attempt of his, in his concluding
+pages, to cut the ground from under my feet;&mdash;to poison by
+anticipation the public mind against me, John Henry Newman,
+and to infuse into the imaginations of my readers suspicion
+and mistrust of everything that I may say in reply to
+him. This I call poisoning the wells.&rdquo; (&ldquo;Apologia.&rdquo;)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>In exposition and argument, and sometimes in the
+other forms of discourse, the topic-sentence may be at
+the end of the paragraph. This is for emphasis in narration
+and description. In exposition and argument
+it is better to lead up to an unwelcome truth than to
+announce it at once.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Thus the matter of life, so far as we know it (and we
+have no right to speculate on any other), breaks up, in consequence
+of that continual death which is the condition of its
+manifesting vitality, into carbonic acid, water, and nitrogenous
+compounds which certainly possess no properties but
+those of ordinary matter. And out of these same forms of
+ordinary matter, and from none which are simpler, the vegetable
+world builds up all the protoplasm which keeps the
+animal world a-going. <i>Plants are the accumulators of the
+power which animals distribute and disperse.</i>&ldquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_30" name="footref_30" href="#footnote_30">30</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">No Topic-Sentence.</span>
+Sometimes no topic-sentence appears in the paragraph.
+In such a case it is easily discovered;
+or at times it is too fragile to be compressed
+into any definite shape&mdash;a feeling, or a sentiment too
+delicate, too volatile for expression. A paragraph with
+no topic-sentence is most common in narration and description.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The tide of color has ebbed from the upper sky. In
+the west the sea of sunken fire draws back; and the stars
+leap forth, and tremble, and retire before the advancing
+<a class="pgnm" name="page162" id="page162">162</a>
+moon, who slips the silver train of cloud from her shoulders,
+and, with her foot upon the pine-tops, surveys heaven.&rdquo;
+(&ldquo;Richard Feverel,&rdquo; by George Meredith.)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Plan.</span>
+Whether the topic form a part of the paragraph or
+not, it should be distinctly before the writer,
+and he should write upon the topic. Nothing
+contributes so much to the success of paragraphs as a
+definite treatment of one single topic. The paragraph
+is the development, the growth of this topic, as the
+plant is the development of its seed. Moreover, the
+development is according to a definite plan. The different
+steps are not usually laid out, as was done in the
+outline of a theme. Genung, in the &ldquo;Practical Elements
+of Rhetoric,&rdquo; presents what he calls a typical
+form for a paragraph. It shows that a paragraph which
+is fully developed is in reality a miniature theme. It
+is as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The Subject proposed.</p>
+<div class="outline Ia1">
+<ol>
+<li>Whatever is needed to explain the subject.<br />
+  Repetition.<br />
+  Obverse.<br />
+  Definition.</li>
+
+<li>Whatever is needed to establish the subject.<br />
+  Exemplification or detail.<br />
+  Illustration.<br />
+  Proof.</li>
+
+<li>Whatever is needed to apply the subject.<br />
+  Result or consequence.<br />
+  Enforcement.<br />
+  Summary or recapitulation.</li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Kinds of Paragraphs.</span>
+This typical form of a paragraph embodies all that
+paragraphs may do, and it is the logical arrangement.
+However, it is rare, perhaps it never occurs, that a
+paragraph is found having all these elements developed.
+<a class="pgnm" name="page163" id="page163">163</a>
+The purpose determines which part of a paragraph
+should receive the amplification. If it
+be narrative or descriptive, there is no definition
+or proof; but the development by details
+will predominate. In an argument, definition and proof
+will form the large part of the paragraphs. Again, the
+position in the theme determines what kind of a paragraph
+should be used. In exposition the first paragraphs
+would be devoted to stating the proposition,
+and would therefore be largely given up to definition
+and repetition; the body would be especially paragraphs
+of detail and illustration; while the closing
+paragraph would be taken up with results and a summary.
+As one of the elements of a paragraph has
+been especially developed, paragraphs have been named
+paragraphs of repetition,<a class="ftnt" id="footref_31" name="footref_31" href="#footnote_31">31</a> of the obverse, of details, of
+instances or examples, and of comparisons. Such a
+division is somewhat mechanical; but for purposes of
+study and for conscious practice in construction it has
+value.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Details.</span>
+The paragraph of details is by far the most common.
+It is found in all kinds of discourse. It originates
+from the fact that persons generally
+give the general truth first and follow this statement
+with the details or particulars. Whether the storyteller
+begins by saying, &ldquo;Now I&rsquo;ll tell you just how
+they happened to be there;&rdquo; or the traveler writes,
+&ldquo;From the Place de la Concorde one has about him
+magnificent views,&rdquo; or &ldquo;There were many unfortunate
+circumstances about the Dreyfus affair;&rdquo; in each
+case he will follow the general statement of the opening
+sentence with sentences going into particulars or
+details.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><i>&ldquo;All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet schoolroom.</i>
+<a class="pgnm" name="page164" id="page164">164</a>
+The scholars were hurried through their lessons without
+stopping at trifles; those who were nimble skipped over
+half with impunity, and those who were tardy had a smart
+application now and then in the rear, to quicken their speed
+or help them over a tall word. Books were flung aside
+without being put away on the shelves, inkstands were overturned,
+benches thrown down, and the whole school was
+turned loose an hour before the usual time, bursting forth
+like a legion of young imps, yelping and racketing about the
+green in joy at their early emancipation.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_32" name="footref_32" href="#footnote_32">32</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><br />&ldquo;It was toward evening that Ichabod arrived at the castle
+of the Heer Van Tassel, <i>which he found thronged with the
+pride and flower of the adjacent country.</i> Old farmers, a
+spare leathern-faced race, in homespun coats and breeches,
+blue stocking, huge shoes, and magnificent pewter buckles.
+Their brisk, withered little dames, in close crimped caps,
+long-waisted short-gowns, homespun petticoats, with scissors
+and pincushions, and gay calico pockets hanging on the outside.
+Buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their mothers,
+excepting where a straw hat, a fine ribbon, or perhaps a
+white frock gave symptoms of city innovation. The sons,
+in short square-skirted coats, with rows of stupendous brass
+buttons, and their hair generally queued in the fashion of the
+times, especially if they could procure an eelskin for the
+purpose, it being esteemed throughout the country as a
+potent nourisher and strengthener of the hair.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" href="#footnote_32">32</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><br />&ldquo;The enemies of the Parliament, indeed, rarely choose
+to take issue in the great points of the question. They content
+themselves with exposing some of <i>the crimes and follies</i>
+to which public commotions necessarily give birth. They
+bewail the unmerited fate of Strafford. They execrate the
+lawless violence of the army. They laugh at the scriptural
+names of the preachers. Major-generals fleecing their districts;
+soldiers reveling on the spoils of a ruined peasantry;
+upstarts, enriched by the public plunder, taking possession
+of the hospitable firesides and hereditary trees of the old
+<a class="pgnm" name="page165" id="page165">165</a>
+gentry; boys smashing the beautiful windows of cathedrals;
+Quakers riding naked through the market-place; Fifth-monarchy
+men shouting for King Jesus; agitators lecturing from
+the tops of tubs on the fate of Agag,&mdash;all these, they tell us,
+were the offspring of the great Rebellion.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_33" name="footref_33" href="#footnote_33">33</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>In narration and in a short paragraph of description
+this paragraph of details is frequently without a topic-sentence.
+The circumstances that make up a transaction
+are grouped, but there is no need of writing,
+&ldquo;I will now detail this.&rdquo; In the following, since the
+paragraph is plainly about the preparation for the
+fight, it is unnecessary to say so. Such a patent statement
+would hinder the movement of the story.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Alan drew a dirk, which he held in his left hand in
+case they should run in under his sword. I, on my part,
+clambered up into the berth with an armful of pistols and
+something of a heavy heart, and set open the window where
+I was to watch. It was a small part of the deck that I
+could overlook, but enough for our purpose. The sea had
+gone down, and the wind was steady and kept the sails
+quiet; so that there was a great stillness on the ship, in
+which I made sure I heard the sound of muttering voices.
+A little after, and there came a clash of steel upon the deck,
+by which I knew they were dealing out the cutlasses, and
+one had been let fall; and after that silence again.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_34" name="footref_34" href="#footnote_34">34</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Comparisons.</span>
+The paragraph of comparisons tells what a thing is
+like and what a thing is not like. It is much
+used in description and exposition. It is often
+the clearest way to describe an object or to explain a
+proposition. One thing may be likened to a number
+of things, drawing from each a quality that more definitely
+pictures it; or it may be compared with but one,
+and the likeness may be followed out to the limit of
+its value. In the same manner it is often of value
+<a class="pgnm" name="page166" id="page166">166</a>
+to tell what a thing or a proposition does not resemble,
+to contrast it with one or more ideas, and by this
+means exclude what might otherwise be confusing.
+Note that after the negative comparison the paragraph
+closes with what it is like, or what it is.</p>
+
+<p>From Macaulay&rsquo;s long comparison of the writings of
+Milton and Dante, one paragraph is enough to illustrate
+the use of contrast.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Now let us <i>compare</i> with the exact details of Dante the
+dim intimations of Milton. We will cite a few examples.
+The English poet has never thought of taking the measure
+of Satan. He gives us merely a vague idea of vast bulk.
+In one passage the fiend lies stretched out, huge in length,
+floating many a rood, equal in size to the earth-born enemies
+of Jove, or to the sea monster which the mariner mistakes
+for an island. When he addresses himself to battle
+against the guardian angels, he stands like Teneriffe or
+Atlas; his stature reaches the sky. Contrast with these
+descriptions the lines in which Dante has described the gigantic
+spectre of Nimrod: &lsquo;His face seemed to me as long
+and as broad as the ball of St. Peter&rsquo;s at Rome, and his
+other limbs were in proportion; so that the bank, which concealed
+him from the waist downwards, nevertheless showed
+so much of him that three tall Germans would in vain have
+attempted to reach to his hair.&rsquo;&rdquo; (&ldquo;Essay on Milton.&rdquo;)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The following indicates the use of similarity.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the character of such revolutions that we always
+see the worst of them at first. Till men have been some
+time free, they know not how to use their freedom. The
+natives of wine countries are generally sober. In climates
+where wine is a rarity intemperance abounds. A newly
+liberated people may be <i>compared to</i> a northern army
+encamped on the Rhine or the Xeres. It is said that, when
+soldiers in such a situation first find themselves able to indulge
+without restraint in such a rare and expensive luxury,
+nothing is to be seen but intoxication. Soon, however, plenty
+<a class="pgnm" name="page167" id="page167">167</a>
+teaches discretion, and, after wine has been for a few months
+their daily fare, they become more temperate than they had
+ever been in their own country. In the same manner, the
+final and permanent fruits of liberty are wisdom, moderation,
+and mercy. Its immediate effects are often atrocious
+crimes, conflicting errors, skepticism on points the most clear,
+dogmatism on points the most mysterious. It is just at this
+crisis that its enemies love to exhibit it. They pull down the
+scaffolding from the half-finished edifice; they point to the
+flying dust, the falling bricks, the comfortless rooms, the
+frightful irregularity of the whole appearance, and then ask
+in scorn where the promised splendor and comfort is to be
+found. If such miserable sophisms were to prevail, there
+would never be a good house or a good government in the
+world.&rdquo; (&ldquo;Essay on Milton,&rdquo; by Lord Macaulay.)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Repetition.</span>
+A third method of developing a paragraph from
+a topic-sentence is by repetition. Simply to
+repeat in other words would be useless redundancy;
+but so to repeat that with each repetition the
+thought broadens or deepens is valuable in proposing
+a subject or explaining it. No person has attained
+greater skill in repetition than Matthew Arnold, and
+much of his clearness comes from his repetition, often
+of the very same phrases.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Wordsworth has been in his grave for some thirty years,
+and certainly his lovers and admirers cannot flatter themselves
+that this great and steady light of glory as yet shines
+over him. He is not fully recognized at home; he is not
+recognized at all abroad. Yet I firmly believe that the
+poetical performance of Wordsworth is, after that of Shakespeare
+and Milton, of which all the world now recognizes the
+worth, undoubtedly the most considerable in our language
+from the Elizabethan age to the present time. Chaucer is
+anterior; and on other grounds, too, he cannot well be
+brought into the comparison. But taking the roll of our
+chief poetical names, besides Shakespeare and Milton, from
+<a class="pgnm" name="page168" id="page168">168</a>
+the age of Elizabeth downwards, and going through it,&mdash;Spenser,
+Dryden, Pope, Gray, Goldsmith, Cowper, Burns,
+Coleridge, Scott, Campbell, Moore, Byron, Shelley, Keats
+(I mention those only who are dead),&mdash;I think it certain
+that Wordsworth&rsquo;s name deserves to stand, and will finally
+stand, above them all. Several of the poets named have
+gifts and excellencies which Wordsworth has not. But taking
+the performance of each as a whole, I say that Wordsworth
+seems to me to have left a body of poetical work
+superior in power, in interest, in the qualities which give
+enduring freshness, to that which any one of the others has
+left.&rdquo; (&ldquo;Essay on Wordsworth,&rdquo; by Matthew Arnold.)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><br />&ldquo;Perhaps no person can be a poet, or can even enjoy
+poetry, without a certain unsoundness of mind, if anything
+which gives so much pleasure ought to be called unsoundness.
+By poetry we mean not all writing in verse, nor even all
+good writing in verse. Our definition excludes many metrical
+compositions which, on other grounds, deserve the highest
+praise. By poetry, we mean the art of employing words
+in such a manner as to produce an illusion on the imagination,
+the art of doing by means of words what the painter
+does by means of colors. Thus the greatest of the poets has
+described it, in lines universally admired for the vigor and
+felicity of their diction, and still more valuable on account
+of the just notion which they convey of the art in which he
+excelled:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p class="i4">&lsquo;As imagination bodies forth</p>
+<p>The forms of things unknown, the poet&rsquo;s pen</p>
+<p>Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing</p>
+<p>A local habitation and a name.&rsquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>These are the fruits of the &lsquo;fine frenzy&rsquo; which he ascribes to
+the poet,&mdash;a fine frenzy, doubtless, but still a frenzy. Truth,
+indeed, is essential to poetry, but it is the truth of madness.
+The reasonings are just, but the premises are false. After
+the first suppositions have been made, everything ought to
+be consistent; but those first suppositions require a degree
+of credulity which almost amounts to a partial and temporary
+derangement of the intellect. Hence, of all people,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page169" id="page169">169</a>
+children are the most imaginative. They abandon themselves
+without reserve to every illusion. Every image which
+is strongly presented to their mental eye produces in them
+the effect of reality. No man, whatever his sensibility may
+be, is ever affected by Hamlet or Lear as a little girl is
+affected by the story of poor Red Riding Hood. She knows
+it is all false, that wolves cannot speak, that there are no
+wolves in England. Yet in spite of her knowledge she believes;
+she weeps; she trembles; she dares not go into a
+dark room lest she should feel the teeth of the monster at
+her throat. Such is the despotism of the imagination over
+uncultivated minds.&rdquo; (&ldquo;Essay on Milton,&rdquo; by Macaulay.)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Obverse.</span>
+A fourth method of building up a paragraph from a
+topic-sentence consists in telling what it is
+not; that is, giving the obverse. This is very
+effective in argument, and is employed in exposition
+and description. The obverse usually follows a positive
+statement, and again is followed by the affirmative;
+that is, first what it is, then what it is not, and last,
+what it is again. In the following description by
+Ruskin, the method appears and reappears. Notice
+the &ldquo;nots&rdquo; and &ldquo;buts,&rdquo; indicating the change from
+the negative to the positive statement. It would be a
+sacrilege to omit the last paragraph, though it does not
+illustrate this manner of development.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;For all other rivers there is a surface, and an underneath,
+and a vaguely displeasing idea of the bottom. But
+the Rhone flows like one lambent jewel; its surface is nowhere,
+its ethereal self is everywhere, the iridescent rush
+and translucent strength of it blue to the shore, and radiant
+to the depth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fifteen feet thick, not of flowing, but flying water; not
+water, neither&mdash;melted glacier, rather, one should call it;
+the force of the ice is with it, and the wreathing of the
+clouds, the gladness of the sky, and the continuance of
+Time.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page170" id="page170">170</a>
+&ldquo;Waves of clear sea are, indeed, lovely to watch, but they
+are always coming or gone, never in any taken shape to be
+seen for a second. But here was one mighty wave that was
+always itself, and every fluted swirl of it, constant as the
+wreathing of a shell. No wasting away of the fallen foam,
+no pause for gathering of power, no helpless ebb of discouraged
+recoil; but alike through bright day and lulling night,
+the never-pausing plunge, and never-fading flash, and never-hushing
+whisper, and, while the sun was up, the ever-answering
+glow of unearthly aquamarine, ultramarine, violet-blue,
+gentian-blue, peacock-blue, river-of-paradise blue, glass
+of a painted window melted in the sun, and the witch of
+the Alps flinging the spun tresses of it forever from her
+snow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The innocent way, too, in which the river used to stop
+to look into every little corner. Great torrents always seem
+angry, and great rivers are often too sullen; but there is no
+anger, no disdain in the Rhone. It seemed as if the mountain
+stream was in mere bliss at recovering itself again out of
+the lake-sleep, and raced because it rejoiced in racing, fain
+yet to return and stay. There were pieces of wave that
+danced all day, as if Perdita were looking on to learn; there
+were little streams that skipped like lambs and leaped like
+chamois; there were pools that shook the sunshine all through
+them, and were rippled in layers of overlaid ripples, like
+crystal sand; there were currents that twisted the light into
+golden braids, and inlaid the threads with turquoise enamel;
+there were strips of stream that had certainly above the lake
+been mill-stream, and were looking busily for mills to turn
+again; and there were shoots of stream that had once shot
+fearfully into the air, and now sprang up again, laughing,
+that they had only fallen a foot or two;&mdash;and in the midst
+of all the gay glittering and eddied lingering, the noble bearing
+by of the midmost depth, so mighty, yet so terrorless and
+harmless, with its swallows skimming in spite of petrels, and
+the dear old decrepit town as safe in the embracing sweep
+of it as if it were set in a brooch of sapphires.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_35" name="footref_35" href="#footnote_35">35</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page171" id="page171">171</a>
+This extract from Burke&rsquo;s speech is a good example
+of the same method.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;I put this consideration of the present and the growing
+numbers in the front of our deliberation, because, Sir, this
+consideration will make it evident to a blunter discernment
+than yours, that <i>no</i> partial, narrow, contracted, pinched,
+occasional system will be at all suitable to such an object.
+It will show you that it is <i>not</i> to be considered as one of
+those <i>minima</i> which are out of the eye and consideration of
+the law; <i>not</i> a paltry excrescence of the state; <i>not</i> a mean
+dependent, who may be neglected with little damage and
+provoked with little danger. It will prove that some degree
+of care and caution is required in the handling such an object;
+it will show that you ought not, in reason, to trifle with
+so large a mass of the interests and feelings of the human
+race. You could at no time do so without guilt; and be
+assured you will not be able to do it long with impunity.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_36" name="footref_36" href="#footnote_36">36</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Examples.</span>
+A fifth method of expanding a topic is by means of
+illustrations and examples. It is used largely
+in establishing or enforcing a proposition.
+The author selects one example, or perhaps more than
+one, to illustrate his proposition. Note the words that
+may introduce specific instances: <i>for example, for instance,
+to illustrate, a case in point,</i> and so forth.</p>
+
+<p>In the first of the following quotations, Cardinal
+Newman is showing that simply to acquire is not true
+mental enlargement. The paragraph is made up of
+a series of instances. The second paragraph is by
+Macaulay.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The <i>case is the same still more strikingly when</i> the
+persons in question are beyond dispute men of inferior powers
+and deficient education. Perhaps they have been much
+in foreign countries, and they receive, in a passive, otiose,
+unfruitful way, the various facts which are forced upon
+them there. Seafaring men, <i>for example,</i> range from one
+<a class="pgnm" name="page172" id="page172">172</a>
+end of the earth to the other; but the multiplicity of external
+objects which they have encountered forms no symmetrical
+and consistent picture upon their imagination; they see
+the tapestry of human life, as it were, on the wrong side, and
+it tells no story. They sleep, and they rise up, and they find
+themselves, now in Europe, now in Asia; they see visions
+of great cities and wild regions; they are in the marts of
+commerce, or amid the islands of the South; they gaze on
+Pompey&rsquo;s Pillar, or on the Andes; and nothing which meets
+them carries them forward or backward, to any idea beyond
+itself. Nothing has a drift or relation; nothing has a history
+or a promise. Everything stands by itself and comes
+and goes in its turn, like the shifting scenes of a show, which
+leave the spectator where he was. Perhaps you are near
+such a man on a particular occasion, and expect him to be
+shocked or perplexed at something which occurs; but one
+thing is much the same to him as another; or, if he is perplexed,
+it is as not knowing what to say, whether it is right
+to admire, or to ridicule, or to disapprove, while conscious
+that some expression of opinion is expected from him; for
+in fact he has no standard of judgment at all, and no landmarks
+to guide him to a conclusion. Such is mere acquisition,
+and, I repeat, no one would dream of calling it philosophy.&rdquo;
+(&ldquo;Idea of a University,&rdquo; by Cardinal Newman.)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><br />&ldquo;I will give <i>another instance.</i> One of the most instructive,
+interesting, and delightful books in our language is
+Boswell&rsquo;s &lsquo;Life of Johnson.&rsquo; Now it is well known that
+Boswell&rsquo;s eldest son considered this book, considered the
+whole relation of Boswell to Johnson, as a blot in the escutcheon
+of the family. He thought, not perhaps altogether
+without reason, that his father had exhibited himself in a
+ludicrous and degrading light. And thus he became so sore
+and irritable that at last he could not bear to hear the &lsquo;Life
+of Johnson&rsquo; mentioned. Suppose that the law had been
+what my honorable and learned friend wishes to make it.
+Suppose that the copyright of Boswell&rsquo;s &lsquo;Life of Johnson&rsquo;
+had belonged, as it well might, during sixty years, to Boswell&rsquo;s
+eldest son. What would have been the consequence?
+<a class="pgnm" name="page173" id="page173">173</a>
+An unadulterated copy of the finest biographical work in the
+world would have been as scarce as the first edition of Camden&rsquo;s
+&lsquo;Britannia.&rsquo;&ldquo; (Speech, &ldquo;Copyright,&rdquo; by Macaulay.)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Combines Two or More Forms.</span>
+As was said at the beginning, a paragraph is seldom
+made exclusively of one form. One part of
+the typical paragraph is usually developed
+more than any other and gives to the paragraph
+its character and its name. By far the most
+common variety of paragraph is that which combines
+two or more of the other forms. It is not necessary to
+cite examples; they are everywhere. Though combination
+is the commonest method of development, it
+should be guarded. It is a poor paragraph that combines
+the forms indiscriminately. It should follow some
+plan; and the best plan is the one already given in
+the typical paragraph.</p>
+
+<p>All paragraphs, whatever be the special method of development,
+are governed by the three principles which
+have guided in the structure of whole compositions.
+Whether the purpose be to prove or to narrate, to
+enforce a conclusion or to illustrate, if a paragraph is
+to produce its greatest effect, it should have unity,
+it should be well massed, and it should be coherent.</p>
+
+<p>It is not necessary now to define unity in a paragraph;
+the need is rather to notice the offenses
+against it that frequently occur. They are manifestly
+two: too much may be included, and not all
+may be included. The accompanying circumstance
+of the one, not necessarily the cause, however, is often
+a very long paragraph, and of the other a short paragraph.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Unity.</span>
+Violations of the unity of a paragraph most frequently
+result from including more than belongs
+there. The theme has been selected; it
+is narrow and concise. When one begins to write, many
+<a class="pgnm" name="page174" id="page174">174</a>
+things crowd in pell-mell. Impressions, which come
+and go, we hardly know how or why, are the only products
+of most minds. Impressions, not shaped and
+logical thoughts, make up the mixed confusion frequently
+called a theme. The writer puts down enough
+of these impressions to make a paragraph, and then
+goes on to do it again, fancying that so he is really
+paragraphing. Even should he keep within the limits
+of his theme, he cannot in this way paragraph. As
+everything upon a subject does not belong in a theme,
+so everything in a theme may not be introduced indiscriminately
+into any paragraph.</p>
+
+<p>The other danger lies in the short paragraph. It
+does not allow a writer room to say all he has to say
+upon the topic, so it runs over into the next paragraph.
+All of the thought-paragraph should appear in one
+division on the page. This error is not so common as
+the former. Examples of each are to be found on
+pages <a href="#page152">152</a>-<a href="#page157">157</a>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Need of Outline.</span>
+The remedy for this confusion clearly is hard thinking;
+and a great assistance is the outline.
+Before a word is written, think through the
+theme; get clearly the purpose of each paragraph in
+the development of the whole. Then write just what
+the paragraph was intended to include, and no more.
+More will be suggested because the parts of a whole
+theme are all closely related, but that more belongs
+somewhere else. Make a sharp outline, and follow it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Mass.</span>
+A paragraph should be so arranged that the parts
+which arrest the eye will be important.<a class="ftnt" id="footref_37" name="footref_37" href="#footnote_37">37</a> When a
+person glances down a page, his eye rests upon the
+beginning and the end of each paragraph.
+A reader going rapidly through an article to
+get what he wants of it does not read religiously every
+<a class="pgnm" name="page175" id="page175">175</a>
+word; he knows that he will be directed to the contents
+of each paragraph by the first and last sentences. If a
+writer considers his readers, if he desires to arrange his
+paragraph so that it will be most effective, he will have
+at these points such sentences as will accurately indicate
+its contents and the trend of the discussion; and
+he will form these sentences so well that they will deserve
+the attention which is given them by reason of
+their position in the paragraph.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">What begins and what ends a Paragraph?</span>
+What are the words that deserve the distinction of
+opening and closing a paragraph? As in the
+theme, so in a paragraph, the first thing is to
+announce the subject of discussion. When
+the subject is simply announced without giving
+any indication as to the drift of the discussion, the
+conclusion of the discussion is generally stated in the
+last sentence. Burke says, &ldquo;The first thing we have
+to consider with regard to the nature of the object is
+the number of people in the colonies.&rdquo; He concludes
+the paragraph with, &ldquo;Whilst we are discussing any
+given magnitude, they are grown to it. Whilst we
+spend our time in deliberating on the mode of governing
+two millions, we shall find we have millions more
+to manage. Your children do not grow faster from
+infancy to manhood than they spread from families to
+communities, and from villages to nations.&rdquo; In other
+cases the opening sentence states the conclusion at
+which the paragraph will arrive. Then the closing
+sentence may be a repetition of the opening or topic
+sentence; or it may be one of the points used to exemplify
+or establish the proposition which opens the paragraph.
+Again, in a short paragraph the topic need not
+be announced at the beginning; in this case it should be
+given in the concluding sentence. Or, should the topic
+be given in the opening sentence of a short paragraph,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page176" id="page176">176</a>
+it is unnecessary to repeat it at the end. In any case,
+whether the paragraph opens with a simple announcement
+of the topic to be discussed, or with the conclusion
+which the paragraph aims to explain, establish, or
+illustrate, or whether it closes with the conclusion of
+the whole matter, or with one of the main points in
+the development, the sentences at the beginning and
+the end of a paragraph should be strong sentences
+worthy of their distinguished position.</p>
+
+<p>In the first paragraph below, there is a proposition
+in the first sentence and its repetition in the last.
+In the two following, though they close with no general
+statement, the specific assertions used to substantiate
+and illustrate the first sentences are strong and
+carry in themselves the truth of the topic-sentence.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The eloquence of Mr. Adams resembled his general
+character, and formed, indeed, a part of it. It was bold,
+manly, and energetic; and such the crisis required. When
+public bodies are to be addressed on momentous occasions,
+when great interests are at stake, and strong passions excited,
+nothing is valuable in speech farther than as it
+is connected with high intellectual and moral endowments.
+Clearness, force, and earnestness are the qualities which produce
+conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist
+in speech. It cannot be brought from far. Labor and
+learning may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words
+and phrases may be marshaled in every way, but they cannot
+compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject,
+and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense expression,
+the pomp of declamation, all may aspire to it; they cannot
+reach it. It comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking
+of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic
+fires, with spontaneous, original, native force. The
+graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments and studied
+contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men when their
+own lives and the fate of their wives, their children, and
+<a class="pgnm" name="page177" id="page177">177</a>
+their country hang on the decision of the hour. Then words
+have lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory
+contemptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked
+and subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then
+patriotism is eloquent; then self-devotion is eloquent. The
+clear conception, outrunning the deductions of logic, the
+high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking
+on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature,
+and urging the whole man onward, right onward to his
+object&mdash;this, this is eloquence: or rather it is something
+greater and higher than all eloquence; it is action, noble,
+sublime, godlike action.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_38" name="footref_38" href="#footnote_38">38</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><br />&ldquo;The prejudiced man travels, and then everything he sees
+in Catholic countries only serves to make him more thankful
+that his notions are so true; and the more he sees of Popery,
+the more abominable he feels it to be. If there is any sin,
+any evil in a foreign population, though it be found among
+Protestants also, still Popery is clearly the cause of it. If
+great cities are the schools of vice, it is owing to Popery.
+If Sunday is profaned, if there is a carnival, it is the fault
+of the Catholic Church. Then, there are no private houses,
+as in England; families live in staircases; see what it is to
+belong to a Popish country. Why do the Roman laborers
+wheel their barrows so slow in the Forum? why do the Lazzaroni
+of Naples lie so listlessly on the beach? why, but
+because they are under the <i>malaria</i> of a false religion.
+Rage, as is well known, is in the Roman like a falling sickness,
+almost as if his will had no part in it and he had no
+responsibility; see what it is to be a Papist. Bloodletting
+is as frequent and as much a matter of course in the South
+as hair-cutting in England; it is a trick borrowed from the
+convents, when they wish to tame down refractory spirits.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_39" name="footref_39" href="#footnote_39">39</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><br />&ldquo;Excuse me, Sir, if turning from such thoughts I resume
+this comparative view once more. You have seen it on a
+large scale; look at it on a small one. I will point out to
+your attention a particular instance of it in the single province
+<a class="pgnm" name="page178" id="page178">178</a>
+of Pennsylvania. In the year 1704 that province
+called for &pound;11,459 in value of your commodities, native and
+foreign. This was the whole. What did it demand in 1772?
+Why, nearly fifty times as much; for in that year the export
+to Pennsylvania was &pound;507,909, nearly equal to the export to
+all the colonies together in the first period.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_40" name="footref_40" href="#footnote_40">40</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The following illustrates the weakness of closing with
+a specific instance when it does not rise to the level of
+the remainder of a paragraph. The last sentence would
+better be omitted.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;We often hear of the magical influence of poetry. The
+expression in general means nothing; but, applied to the
+writings of Milton, it is most appropriate. His poetry acts
+like an incantation. Its merit lies less in its obvious meaning
+than in its occult power. There would seem, at first
+sight, to be no more in his words than in other words. But
+they are words of enchantment. No sooner are they pronounced
+than the past is present and the distant near. New
+forms of beauty start at once into existence, and all the burial-places
+of memory give up their dead. Change the structure
+of the sentence, substitute one synonym for another, and the
+whole effect is destroyed. The spell loses its power; and he
+who should then hope to conjure with it would find himself
+as much mistaken as Cassim in the Arabian tale, when he
+stood crying, &lsquo;Open Wheat,&rsquo; &lsquo;Open Barley,&rsquo; to the door
+which obeyed no sound but &lsquo;Open Sesame.&rsquo; In the miserable
+failure of Dryden in his attempt to translate into his own
+diction some parts of the &lsquo;Paradise Lost&rsquo; is a remarkable
+instance of this.&rdquo; (&ldquo;Essay on Milton,&rdquo; by Macaulay.)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Length of opening and closing Sentences.</span>
+By examination, one finds that the first sentence of
+a paragraph of exposition and of argument is
+usually a terse statement of the proposition;
+and that after the proposition has been established
+there follows a longer sentence gathering up all
+the points of the discussion into a full, rounded period
+which forms a suitable climax and conclusion of the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page179" id="page179">179</a>
+paragraph. Of Macaulay&rsquo;s &ldquo;Milton&rdquo; one is quite
+inside the truth when he says that of those paragraphs
+containing an opening topic-sentence and its restatement
+as a conclusion, the closing sentence is the longer
+in the ratio of two to one. In Burke&rsquo;s &ldquo;Conciliation,&rdquo;
+the ratio rises as high as four to one. There are,
+however, exceptions to the rule. Paragraphs sometimes
+close with a shorter statement of the proposition, a
+sort of aphorism or epigram. As this kind of sentence
+is fascinating, some books have said that paragraphs
+should close so; that it is like cracking a whip, and
+gives a snap to the paragraph not gained in any other
+way. Even if readers enjoyed having paragraphs close
+in this cracking manner, it must be borne in mind that
+not all conclusions are capable of such a statement,
+and, what is worse, that the tendency to seek for epigrams
+leads to untruth and a degenerated form of
+witticism. Such forced sentences are only half truths,
+or they are a bit of cheap repartee. Such a close is
+effective, if the whole truth can be so expressed; but
+to seek for such sentences is dangerous. The best rule
+is the one already stated; it applies to the long sentence
+and the short sentence alike. It is that a paragraph
+should close with words that deserve distinction.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Proportion.</span>
+The body of a paragraph should have the matter so
+proportioned that the more important points
+shall receive the longer treatment. In a paragraph
+of proof, details, or comparison, that point in
+the proof, that particular, that part of the comparison,
+which for the specific purpose has most significance,
+should have proportionately fuller treatment. It is the
+same principle already noticed in exposition. Indicate
+the relative importance of topics in a paragraph by the
+relative number of words used in their treatment.</p>
+
+<p>For mass in a paragraph, then, keep in mind that
+<a class="pgnm" name="page180" id="page180">180</a>
+the last sentence should contain matter and form
+worthy of the position it occupies; that the position
+of next importance is at the beginning; and that the
+relative importance of the matters in the body of a
+paragraph is pretty correctly indicated by the relative
+length of treatment.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Coherence and Clearness.</span>
+Coherence, the third principle of structure, is the
+most important; and it is the most difficult
+to apply. For one can make a beginning and
+an end, he can select his materials so that
+there is unity, but to make all the parts stick together,
+to arrange the sentences so that one grows naturally
+from the preceding and leads into the next, requires
+nice adjustment of parts, and rewriting many times.
+How essential coherence in a paragraph is, simply to
+make the thought easy to grasp, may be seen by taking
+a paragraph to pieces and mixing up its sentences, and
+at the same time removing all words that bind its
+parts together. The following can hardly be understood
+at all, but in its original condition it is so clear
+that it cannot be misunderstood. If the sentences be
+arranged in the following order, the original paragraph
+will appear: 1, 5, 3, 9, 8, 6, 2, 4, 7, 10.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>1. &ldquo;The first question which obviously suggests itself is
+how these wonderful moral effects are to be wrought under
+the instrumentality of the physical sciences. 2. To know is
+one thing, to do is another; the two things are altogether distinct.
+3. Does Sir Robert Peel mean to say, that whatever
+be the occult reasons for the result, so it is; you have but to
+drench the popular mind with physics, and moral and religious
+advancement follows on the whole, in spite of individual
+failures? 4. A man knows he should get up in the morning,&mdash;he
+lies abed; he knows he should not lose his temper,
+yet he cannot keep it. 5. Can the process be analyzed and
+drawn out, or does it act like a dose or a charm which comes
+<a class="pgnm" name="page181" id="page181">181</a>
+into general use empirically? 6. It is natural and becoming
+to seek for some clear idea of the meaning of so dark an
+oracle. 7. A laboring man knows he should not go to the
+ale-house, and his wife knows she should not filch when she
+goes out charing, but, nevertheless, in these cases, the consciousness
+of a duty is not all one with the performance of
+it. 8. Or rather, does he mean, that, from the nature of
+the case, he who is imbued with science and literature, unless
+adverse influences interfere, cannot but be a better man?
+9. Yet when has the experiment been tried on so large a
+scale as to justify such anticipations? 10. There are, then,
+large families of instances, to say the least, in which men
+may become wiser, without becoming better; what, then, is
+the meaning of this great maxim in the mouth of its promulgators?&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Coherence, so necessary to the easy understanding
+of a paragraph, is gained in three ways: by the order
+in which the sentences are arranged; by the use of
+parallel constructions for parallel ideas; and by the
+use of connectives.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Two Arrangements of Sentences in a Paragraph.</span>
+Material which has been selected with regard to the
+principle of unity is all informed with one idea. Yet
+though one thought runs through it all and unites it,
+the parts do not stand in an equally close relation to
+the conclusion, nor is each part equally related
+to every other part. Had they been,
+the last paragraph quoted would have been as
+well in one order as another. Rather the sentences
+seem to fall into groups of more closely related
+matters; or at times one sentence seems to follow as
+the direct consequence of the preceding sentence.
+With respect to the way in which the sentences contribute
+to the topic of the paragraph, whether the topic
+be announced first or last, sentences may be said to
+contribute directly to the proposition or indirectly. If
+<a class="pgnm" name="page182" id="page182">182</a>
+directly, the paragraph is a collection of sentences, each
+having a common purpose, each having a similar relation
+to the topic, arranged, as it were, side by side,
+and advancing as one body to the conclusion. This
+may be termed an individual arrangement of sentences,
+since as individuals they each contribute to the topic.
+The conclusion derives its force from the combined
+mass of all. If indirectly, the paragraph is a series of
+sentences, each growing out of the one preceding it,
+each receiving a push from the sentence before, and the
+last having the combined force of all. This may be
+styled a serial arrangement of sentences, since in such
+a case each contributes to the topic only as one in a
+chain. The former overcomes by its mass; the latter
+strikes by reason of its velocity. The one advances in
+rank; the other advances in single file.</p>
+
+<p>An illustration of each will help to an understanding
+of this. In the following paragraph from Macaulay&rsquo;s
+essay on Milton, each of the details mentioned
+points directly to &ldquo;those days&rdquo; when the race became
+a &ldquo;byword and a shaking of the head to the nations.&rdquo;
+Their aggregate mass enforces the topic of the paragraph.
+They are all one body equally informed with
+the common principle which is the topic. Notice that
+one sentence is not the source of the next, but that all
+the sentences stand in a similar relation to the conclusion.
+This arrangement is common in description.
+In the second paragraph, from Irving&rsquo;s &ldquo;Legend of
+Sleepy Hollow,&rdquo; each detail contributes to the appearance
+of Ichabod, not through some other sentence, but
+directly.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Then came those days, never to be recalled without a
+blush, the days of servitude without loyalty and sensuality
+without love; of dwarfish talents and gigantic vices; the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page183" id="page183">183</a>
+paradise of cold hearts and narrow minds; the golden age
+of the coward, the bigot, and the slave. The king cringed
+to his rival that he might trample on his people; sank into
+a viceroy of France, and pocketed with complacent infamy
+her degrading insults and her more degrading gold. The
+caresses of harlots and the jests of buffoons regulated the
+policy of the state. The government had just ability enough
+to deceive, and just religion enough to persecute. The principles
+of liberty were the scoff of every grinning courtier,
+and the Anathema Maranatha of every fawning dean. In
+every high place, worship was paid to Charles and James,
+Belial and Moloch; and England propitiated those obscene
+and cruel idols with the blood of her best and bravest children.
+Crime succeeded to crime, and disgrace to disgrace,
+till the race, accursed of God and man, was a second time
+driven forth to wander on the face of the earth, and to be
+a byword and a shaking of the head to the nations.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><br />&ldquo;Ichabod was a suitable figure for such a steed. He rode
+with short stirrups, which brought his knees nearly up to the
+pommel of the saddle; his sharp elbows stuck out like grasshoppers&rsquo;;
+he carried his whip perpendicularly in his hand,
+like a sceptre, and as his horse jogged on, the motion of his
+arms was not unlike the flapping of a pair of wings. A
+small wool hat rested on the top of his nose, for so his scanty
+strip of forehead might be called, and the skirts of his black
+coat fluttered out almost to the horse&rsquo;s tail. Such was the
+appearance of Ichabod and his steed as they shambled out of
+the gate of Hans Van Ripper, and it was altogether such an
+apparition as is seldom to be met with in broad daylight.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The following paragraph in the essay on Milton contains
+an example of the second method of arrangement.
+Each sentence is the result of the one before it. The
+sentences advance in single file. Notice that each sentence
+does not contribute directly to the conclusion, but
+that it acts through the succeeding sentence. The
+phrases from which a succeeding sentence springs are
+<a class="pgnm" name="page184" id="page184">184</a>
+in small capitals; and the phrases which refer back
+are in italics.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Most of the remarks which we have hitherto made on the
+public character of Milton apply to him only as one of <span class="smcap">a
+large body.</span> <span class="smcap">We shall proceed</span> to notice some of the
+peculiarities which distinguished him <i>from his contemporaries.</i>
+<i>And for that purpose</i> it is necessary to take a short
+survey of <span class="smcap">the parties</span> into which the political world was at
+that time divided. We must premise that our observations
+are intended to apply only to <span class="smcap">those who adhered,</span> from
+a sincere preference, to one or to the other side. In days of
+public commotion, <i>every faction,</i> like an Oriental army, is
+attended by a crowd of camp-followers, a useless and heartless
+<span class="smcap">rabble,</span> who prowl round its line of march in the hope
+of picking up something under its protection, but desert it in
+the day of battle, and often join to exterminate it after defeat.
+England, at the time of which we are treating, abounded
+with fickle and <i>selfish politicians,</i> who transferred their support
+to every government as it rose; who kissed the hand of
+the king in 1640, and spat in his face in 1649; who shouted
+with equal glee when Cromwell was inaugurated in Westminster
+Hall, and when he was dug up to be hanged at
+Tyburn; who dined on calves&rsquo; heads or broiled rumps, and
+cut down oak branches or stuck them up, as circumstances
+altered, without the slightest shame or repugnance. <i>These</i>
+we leave out of account. We take our estimate of parties
+from <i>those who</i> really deserve to be called partisans.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>(For other examples of the same arrangement see
+the next quotation, and also a paragraph quoted on
+page <a href="#page222">222</a>.)</p>
+
+<p>Paragraphs are most frequently found to combine
+the two methods. In the following, notice that the
+second sentence grows out of the first, the third from
+the second, and so the serial arrangement is maintained
+until the eighth is reached. Sentences nine,
+ten, eleven, and twelve give body to sentence eight.
+<a class="pgnm" name="page185" id="page185">185</a>
+Then begins again the regular succession. Sentences
+sixteen to twenty are the outgrowth of the phrase
+&ldquo;on his account.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;1. The Puritans were men whose minds had derived a
+peculiar character from the daily contemplation of superior
+beings and eternal interests. 2. Not content with acknowledging
+in general terms an overruling Providence, they
+habitually ascribed every event to the will of the Great Being,
+for whose power nothing was too vast, for whose inspection
+nothing was too minute. 3. To know Him, to serve
+Him, to enjoy Him, was with them the great end of existence.
+4. They rejected with contempt the ceremonious
+homage which other sects substituted for the pure worship of
+the soul. 5. Instead of catching occasional glimpses of the
+Deity through an obscuring veil, they aspired to gaze full on
+the intolerable brightness, and to commune with Him face to
+face. 6. Hence originated their contempt for terrestrial distinctions.
+7. The difference between the greatest and the
+meanest of mankind seemed to vanish when compared with
+the boundless interval which separated the whole race from
+Him on whom their own eyes were constantly fixed. 8. They
+recognized no title to superiority but His favor; and, confident
+of that favor, they despised all the accomplishments and
+all the dignities of the world. 9. If they were unacquainted
+with the works of philosophers and poets, they were deeply
+read in the oracles of God. 10. If their names were not
+found in the registers of heralds, they were recorded in the
+Book of Life. 11. If their steps were not accompanied by
+a splendid train of menials, legions of ministering angels had
+charge over them. 12. Their palaces were houses not made
+with hands; their diadems, crowns of glory which should
+never fade away. 13. On the rich and the eloquent, on
+nobles and priests, they looked down with contempt; for
+they esteemed themselves rich in a more precious treasure,
+and eloquent in a more sublime language, nobles by the right
+of an earlier creation, and priests by the imposition of a
+mightier hand. 14. The very meanest of them was a being
+<a class="pgnm" name="page186" id="page186">186</a>
+to whose fate a mysterious and terrible importance belonged,
+on whose slightest action the spirits of light and darkness
+looked with anxious interest; who had been destined, before
+heaven and earth were created, to enjoy a felicity which
+should continue when heaven and earth should have passed
+away. 15. Events which short-sighted politicians ascribed
+to earthly causes had been ordained on his account. 16. For
+his sake empires had risen, and flourished, and decayed.
+17. For his sake the Almighty had proclaimed His will by
+the pen of the Evangelist and the harp of the prophet.
+18. He had been wrested by no common deliverer from the
+grasp of no common foe. 19. He had been ransomed by the
+sweat of no vulgar agony, by the blood of no earthly sacrifice.
+20. It was for him that the sun had been darkened,
+that the rocks had been rent, that the dead had risen, that
+all nature had shuddered at the sufferings of her expiring
+God.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>This division has been made because by its aid an
+approach can be made toward rules for arrangement.
+In the paragraph quoted on page <a href="#page183">183</a>, the different sentences
+are equally related to the topic. Is there, then,
+no reason why one should be first rather than another?
+Notice the topics of the sentences and the order becomes
+a necessity. King, state policy, government,
+liberty, religion,&mdash;it is an ascending scale. On page
+<a href="#page96">96</a> is a paragraph on the charmed names used by
+Milton.  &ldquo;One,&rdquo; &ldquo;another,&rdquo; &ldquo;a third,&rdquo; &ldquo;a fourth,&rdquo;&mdash;for
+all one can see as to the relation of each to the
+topic, &ldquo;a fourth&rdquo; might as well have been &ldquo;one&rdquo; as
+fourth. But upon reading the paragraph it is evident
+that Macaulay thought the last more important than
+the first. So in the paragraph just quoted about the
+Puritans, when the arrangement of the first eight sentences
+changes in sentences nine through eleven, and
+again in sentences sixteen to twenty, the order is a
+climax. Moreover, those topics are associated which
+<a class="pgnm" name="page187" id="page187">187</a>
+are more closely related in thought. King is more
+closely related to government than to religion, and
+religion is more intimately associated with the idea of
+liberty than with king. The order, then, is the natural
+order of association. From these examples we derive
+the first principle of arrangement. In a paragraph
+where several sentences contribute individually to the
+topic, they must be arranged in the order in which the
+thoughts are associated and follow each other; and,
+when possible, they should take the order of a climax.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Definite References.</span>
+In the paragraph made up of sentences in a series,
+each linked to the sentence before and after,
+the difficulty is in transmitting the force of
+one sentence to the next one undiminished.
+This is done by binding the sentences so closely together
+that one cannot slip on the other. In the
+paragraph about the Puritans, of the second sentence
+the &ldquo;Great Being&rdquo; goes back to &ldquo;superior
+beings&rdquo; of the first; and &ldquo;Him&rdquo; in the next springs
+from &ldquo;Great Being.&rdquo; &ldquo;To know Him, to serve Him,
+to enjoy Him,&rdquo;&mdash;what is it but the &ldquo;pure worship&rdquo;
+of the fourth? while &ldquo;ceremonious homage&rdquo; of the
+fourth is the &ldquo;occasional glimpses of the Deity through
+an obscuring veil&rdquo; of the fifth. One sentence grows
+out of some phrase of the preceding sentence; the sentences
+are firmly locked together by the repetition, a
+little modified, of the thought of a preceding phrase.
+There is no slipping. To get this result there must be
+no question of the thought-sequence in the sentences.
+Each sentence must be a consequence of a preceding
+sentence. And there must be attention to the choice
+and position of the words from which the following
+sentence is to spring. Such words cannot be indefinite,
+mushy words; they must be definite, firm words.
+Moreover, they must not be buried out of sight by a
+<a class="pgnm" name="page188" id="page188">188</a>
+mass of unimportant matters; they must be so placed
+that they are unhindered, free to push forward the
+thought toward its ultimate conclusion. This often requires
+inversion in the sentence. That phrase which is
+the source of the next sentence must be thrown up into
+a prominent position; and it is usually pressed toward
+the end of the sentence, nearer to the sentence which
+is its consequence. In a paragraph quoted on page <a href="#page222">222</a>,
+where this same subject is taken up in connection with
+sentences, there is an excellent illustration of this.
+&ldquo;Slow and obscure,&rdquo; &ldquo;inadequate ideas,&rdquo; &ldquo;small circle,&rdquo;
+and the numerous phrases which repeat the
+thought, though not the words, are firm words binding
+the sentences together indissolubly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Use of Pronouns.</span>
+Not all sentences permit such clear reference as
+this. Still it must be said that where the
+thought is logical and clear, the reference is
+never missed: the binding words are important words
+and they occupy prominent positions. There is, however,
+a whole group of words whose function is to
+make the references sure. They are pronouns. Pronouns
+refer back, and they point forward. Their careful
+use is the commonest method of making sure of
+references, and so of binding sentences together. The
+ones in common use are <i>this, that, the former, the
+latter;</i> the relatives <i>who, which,</i> and <i>that;</i> and the
+personal pronouns <i>he, she, it.</i> To these may be added
+some adverbs: <i>here, there, hence, whence, now, then,
+when,</i> and <i>while.</i> The binding force of these words is
+manifest in every paragraph of composition.</p>
+
+<p>The following paragraph, from Burke&rsquo;s speech on
+&ldquo;Conciliation with the Colonies,&rdquo; illustrates the use of
+pronouns as words referring back, and binding the
+whole into one inseparable unit.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;As to the wealth which the colonies have drawn from the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page189" id="page189">189</a>
+sea by their fisheries, you had all that matter fully opened
+at your bar. You surely thought <i>those</i> acquisitions of value,
+for <i>they</i> seemed even to excite your envy; and yet the spirit
+by which <i>that</i> enterprising employment has been exercised
+ought rather, in my opinion, to have raised your esteem and
+admiration. And pray, Sir, what in the world is equal to
+<i>it?</i> Pass by the other parts, and look at the manner in
+which the people of New England have of late carried on the
+whale fishery. Whilst we follow <i>them</i> among the tumbling
+mountains of ice, and behold <i>them</i> penetrating into the deepest
+frozen recesses of Hudson&rsquo;s Bay and Davis&rsquo;s Straits,
+whilst we are looking for <i>them</i> beneath the arctic circle, we
+hear that <i>they</i> have pierced into the opposite region of polar
+cold, that <i>they</i> are at the antipodes, and engaged under the
+frozen Serpent of the south. Falkland Island, which seemed
+too remote and romantic an object for the grasp of national
+ambition, is but a stage and resting-place in the progress of
+<i>their</i> victorious industry. Nor is the equinoctial heat more
+discouraging to <i>them</i> than the accumulated winter of both the
+poles. We know that whilst <i>some</i> of <i>them</i> draw the line and
+strike the harpoon on the coast of Africa, <i>others</i> run the longitude
+and pursue <i>their</i> gigantic game along the coast of Brazil.
+No sea but what is vexed by <i>their</i> fisheries; no climate
+that is not witness to <i>their</i> toils. Neither the perseverance
+of Holland, nor the activity of France, nor the dexterous and
+firm sagacity of English enterprise ever carried <i>this</i> most
+perilous mode of hardy industry to the extent to which <i>it</i> has
+been pushed by <i>this</i> recent people; a people who are still,
+as it were, but in the gristle, and not yet hardened into the
+bone of manhood. When I contemplate <i>these</i> things; when
+I know that the colonies in general owe little or nothing to
+any care of ours, and that they are not squeezed into this
+happy form by the constraints of watchful and suspicious
+government, but that, through a wise and salutary neglect, a
+generous nature has been suffered to take her own way to
+perfection; when I reflect upon <i>these</i> effects, when I see
+how profitable <i>they</i> have been to us, I feel all the pride of
+<a class="pgnm" name="page190" id="page190">190</a>
+power sink, and all presumption in the wisdom of human
+contrivances melt and die away within me. My rigor relents.
+I pardon something to the spirit of liberty.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Of Conjunctions.</span>
+Another group of words which give coherence to a
+paragraph is conjunctions. They indicate
+the relations between sentences, and they
+point the direction of the new sentence. The common
+relations between sentences indicated by conjunctions
+are co&ouml;rdinative, subordinative, adversative, concessive,
+and illative. Each young writer has usually but one
+word, at the most two words, in his vocabulary to express
+each of these relations. He knows <i>and, but, if,
+although,</i> and <i>therefore.</i> Each person should learn
+from a grammar the whole list, for no class of words
+indicates clear thinking so unmistakably as conjunctions.</p>
+
+<p>Two words of advice should be given regarding the
+use of conjunctions. If the thought all bends one way,
+if this direction is perfectly clear, there is no need of
+conjunctions. It is when the course of the discussion
+is tortuous, when the road is not direct, when the reader
+may lose the way without these guides, that conjunctions
+should be used. On the other hand, conjunctions
+are an annoyance when not needed. Just as guideposts
+along a road where there is no chance to leave
+the direct path are useless, and their recurrence is a
+cause of aggravation, so it is with unnecessary conjunctions.
+They attract attention to themselves, and
+so draw it from the thought. The first caution is, Do
+not use conjunctions unless needed.</p>
+
+<p>In the following, the repetition of <i>and</i> is unnecessary
+and annoying.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Six shillings a week does not keep body and soul together
+very unitedly. They want to get away from each other
+<a class="pgnm" name="page191" id="page191">191</a>
+when there is only such a very slight bond as that between
+them; and one day, I suppose, the pain and the dull monotony
+of it all had stood before her eyes plainer than usual,
+and the mocking spectre had frightened her. She had made
+one last appeal to friends, but, against the chill wall of their
+respectability, the voice of the erring outcast fell unheeded;
+<i>and</i> then she had gone to see her child&mdash;had held it in her
+arms and kissed it, in a weary, dull sort of way, <i>and</i> without
+betraying any particular emotion of any kind, <i>and</i> had
+left it, after putting into its hand a penny box of chocolate
+she had bought it, <i>and</i> afterwards, with her last few shillings,
+had taken a ticket <i>and</i> come down to Goring.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It seemed that the bitterest thoughts of her life must
+have centred about the wooded reaches and the bright
+green meadows around Goring; but women strangely hug
+the knife that stabs them, and, perhaps, amidst the gall,
+there may have mingled also sunny memories of sweetest
+hours, spent upon those shadowed deeps over which the great
+trees bend their branches down so low.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She had wandered about the woods by the river&rsquo;s brink
+all day, <i>and</i> then, when evening fell <i>and</i> the gray twilight
+spread its dusky robe upon the waters, she stretched out her
+arms to the silent river that had known her sorrow and her
+joy. <i>And</i> the old river had taken her into its gentle arms,
+<i>and</i> had laid her weary head upon its bosom, <i>and</i> had
+hushed away the pain.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The other word is: When possible put the conjunction
+that connects two sentences into the body of the
+sentence, rather than at its beginning. In this way its
+binding power is increased. This principle should limit
+the use of <i>and</i> and <i>but</i> at the beginning of a sentence.
+Rarely is <i>and</i> needed in such a place. If the thought
+goes straight forward&mdash;and it must do so if <i>and</i>
+correctly expresses the relation&mdash;there is usually no
+gain in its use. At times when the reader might be
+led to expect some change of direction from some
+<a class="pgnm" name="page192" id="page192">192</a>
+phrase in the preceding sentence, then it would be
+wise to set him right by the use of <i>and.</i> Moreover,
+there are times when co&ouml;rdinate thoughts are so important,
+and the expression of the co&ouml;rdination is so
+important, that a sentence beginning with <i>and</i> is the
+only adequate means of expressing it. However, be
+very sure that there is need for every <i>and</i> that you
+use. The same caution may be given about <i>but.</i> <i>But</i>
+indicates an abrupt turn in the thought. Is such a
+contrast in the thought? If so, is there no other word
+to express the thought? Some persons go so far as to
+say that these words should never begin a sentence.
+This is too pedantic and not true. When co&ouml;rdinative
+and adversative relations are to be expressed,
+however, it is certainly more elegant if some variety
+can be obtained, and the union is closer if the conjunction
+be placed in the body of the sentence. This
+requires the use of other words besides <i>and</i> and <i>but.</i>
+<i>Also, in like manner, besides, too, nevertheless, however,
+after all, for all that,</i> should be as familiar as
+the two overworked words <i>and</i> and <i>but.</i> Look for
+ways to bind sentences in the middle rather than at
+the end. It is more elegant and it is much safer.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Parallel Constructions.</span>
+A third principle of arrangement is the use of parallel
+constructions for parallel thoughts. By
+parallel structure is meant that the principal
+elements of the sentences shall be arranged in
+the same order. If subordinate clauses precede principal
+clauses in one sentence, they shall in the other; if
+they follow in one, they shall follow in the other. If
+an active voice be used in one, it shall be used in the
+other; if the predicate go before the subject in one,
+it shall in the other. The use of parallel structure frequently
+demands repetition of forms and even of identical
+words and phrases. It is very effective in giving
+<a class="pgnm" name="page193" id="page193">193</a>
+clearness to a paragraph and in securing coherence of
+its parts.</p>
+
+<p>In the first of the two illustrations below, read one
+sentence this way and observe the ruin that is wrought.
+&ldquo;The North American colonies made such a struggle
+against the mother country.&rdquo; In the second paragraph,
+change two of the sentences to the passive
+voice. The effect is evident loss in clearness and
+strength.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;All history is full of revolutions, produced by causes
+similar to those which are now operating in England. A
+portion of the community which had been of no account, expands
+and becomes strong. It demands a place in the system,
+suited, not to its former weakness, but to its present
+power. If this is granted, all is well. If this is refused,
+then comes the struggle between the young energy of one
+class and the ancient privileges of another. Such was the
+struggle between the Plebeians and Patricians of Rome.
+Such was the struggle of the Italian allies for admission to
+the full rights of Roman citizens. Such was the struggle of
+our North American colonies against the mother country.
+Such was the struggle which the Third Estate of France
+maintained against the aristocracy of birth. Such was the
+struggle which the Roman Catholics of Ireland maintained
+against the aristocracy of creed. Such is the struggle which
+the free people of color in Jamaica are now maintaining
+against the aristocracy of skin. Such, finally, is the struggle
+which the middle classes in England are maintaining
+against an aristocracy of mere locality, against an aristocracy,
+the principle of which is to invest a hundred drunken
+pot-wallopers in one place, or the owner of a ruined hovel
+in another, with powers which are withheld from cities renowned
+to the furthest ends of the earth for the marvels of
+their wealth and of their industry.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_41" name="footref_41" href="#footnote_41">41</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><br />&ldquo;Man is a being of genius, passion, intellect, conscience,
+power. He exercises these various gifts in various ways, in
+<a class="pgnm" name="page194" id="page194">194</a>
+great deeds, in great thoughts, in heroic acts, in hateful
+crimes. He founds states, he fights battles, he builds cities,
+he ploughs the forest, he subdues the elements, he rules his
+kind. He creates vast ideas, and influences many generations.
+He takes a thousand shapes, and undergoes a thousand
+fortunes. Literature records them all to the life....
+He pours out his fervid soul in poetry; he sways to and fro,
+he soars, he dives, in his restless speculations; his lips drop
+eloquence; he touches the canvas, and it glows with beauty;
+he sweeps the strings, and they thrill with an ecstatic meaning.
+He looks back into himself, and he reads his own
+thoughts, and notes them down; he looks out into the universe,
+and tells over and celebrates the elements and principles
+of which it is the product.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_42" name="footref_42" href="#footnote_42">42</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>(The principles of Mass and Coherence in paragraphs
+are closely allied with these same principles regarding
+sentences. Some further discussion of these important
+matters, as well as more illustrations, will be found
+in the next chapter.)</p>
+
+<p>Good sense must be exercised in the use of parallel
+constructions. Although a short series of sentences
+containing parallel thoughts is common and demands
+this treatment, it is not at all frequent that one has
+such a long series as these paragraphs contain. In
+these paragraphs the parallel is in the thought; it has
+not been searched out. Because one is pleased with
+these effects of parallel construction, he should not be
+led to seek for opportunities where he can force sentences
+into similar shapes. The thoughts must be
+parallel. If the thought is actually parallel, a parallel
+treatment may be adopted with great advantage to
+clearness and force; if it is not parallel, any attempt
+to treat it as such is detected as a shallow trick. To
+search for thoughts to trail along in a series results in
+thinnest bombast. As everywhere else in composition,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page195" id="page195">195</a>
+so here a writer must rely on his good taste and good
+sense.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Summary.</span>
+Whatever may be the special mode of development,
+of whatever form of discourse it is to be a
+part, the three fundamental principles which
+guide in making a paragraph are Unity, Mass, and
+Coherence. The unity of the paragraph is secured by
+referring all of the material to the topic, including
+what contributes to the main thought and excluding
+what has no value. Paragraphs excessively long or
+very short may lead to offenses against unity. Mass
+in a paragraph is gained by placing worthy words in
+the positions of distinction; by treating the more important
+matters at greater length; and, when possible
+without disturbing coherence, by arranging the material
+in a climax. Coherence is secured by keeping together
+matters related in thought; by a wise choice
+and placing of all words which bind sentences together;
+and by the use of parallel constructions for parallel
+ideas. Carefully chosen material, arranged so that
+worthy words occupy the positions of distinction, and
+all so skillfully knit together that every sentence, every
+phrase, every word, takes the reader one step toward
+the conclusion,&mdash;this constitutes a good paragraph.</p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page196" id="page196">196</a></div>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><b>SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS</b></p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />THE OLD MANSE.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 69.)</p>
+
+<p>In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 19,
+what do you think of the selection of material? Does the
+last detail give the finishing touch to the paragraph? Is it
+a real climax?</p>
+
+<p>On page 25 a paragraph begins, &ldquo;Lightly as,&rdquo; etc. In
+the second sentence &ldquo;bound volume&rdquo; goes back to what
+words in the first sentence? &ldquo;he,&rdquo; of the third, to what of
+the second? &ldquo;thus it was&rdquo; to what before?</p>
+
+<p>Now take the paragraph on pages 34 and 35 and trace
+the connection of the sentences, drawing two lines under the
+phrase from which a succeeding sentence springs, and one
+line under words that refer back to a preceding phrase; also
+trace out the dovetailing in the sentences on pages 6 and 7.
+In the paragraph on pages 18 and 19 the development is
+not so. Each sentence emphasizes &ldquo;the sombre aspect of
+external nature.&rdquo; What is the law of their arrangement?
+(See text-book, pages <a href="#page181">181</a>-<a href="#page187">187</a>.)</p>
+
+<p>Find other paragraphs arranged in this way. (See pages
+35, 36.)</p>
+
+<p>What is the topic of the second paragraph?</p>
+
+<p>Can you divide the paragraph filling the middle of page 8?
+Where?</p>
+
+<p>What is the relation between the first sentence and the last
+in the paragraph at the bottom of page 11? Give the words
+that join the sentences of the paragraph together.</p>
+
+<p>In the paragraph beginning on page 13, what is the purpose
+of the first two sentences?</p>
+
+<p>On page 14, does it seem to you that Hawthorne had forgotten
+the Old Manse enough so that it could be called a
+<a class="pgnm" name="page197" id="page197">197</a>
+digression? or do you think that the delightful, rambling
+character of the essay permits it? Can you divide this
+paragraph on pages 14 and 15? Where?</p>
+
+<p>What figure at the bottom of page 15? Is it the custom
+to use a capital letter in such a case? Has the paragraph in
+which the figure occurs unity? Where could you divide it?
+Give the topic of both new paragraphs.</p>
+
+<p>Of the paragraph on pages 16 and 17, what is the relation
+of the last three sentences to the topic?</p>
+
+<p>What comment would you make upon the last sentence of
+the paragraph ending at the top of page 25?</p>
+
+<p>At the opening of the paragraph beginning on page 29, do
+you like the figure? Trace the relation between the first
+and second sentences; between the second and the third.
+Could this paragraph be divided?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />RIP VAN WINKLE AND THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 51.)</p>
+
+<p>In the paragraph on page 11, what is the relation between
+the first and last sentences? Why is the middle of the paragraph
+introduced? Is it effective?</p>
+
+<p>What method of development is adopted in the next paragraph?</p>
+
+<p>Trace out the connection of the paragraphs in the first five
+pages of this essay. What words at the beginning of each
+paragraph are especially helpful in joining the parts?</p>
+
+<p>On page 13 Irving writes, &ldquo;Times grew worse and worse
+for Rip Van Winkle,&rdquo; etc. How many paragraphs are given
+to this topic? Could all of them be put into one? Should
+they? What is the last part of the first sentence of this
+paragraph?</p>
+
+<p>Why are there so few topic sentences in this essay? How
+did Irving know where to paragraph? Give topics of the
+paragraphs on pages 16, 17, 18. In the paragraph beginning
+at the bottom of p. 17, why are the clothes of the man
+mentioned first?</p>
+
+<p>What method of paragraph development is adopted in the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page198" id="page198">198</a>
+paragraph beginning in the middle of page 23? Is the last
+detail important?</p>
+
+<p>From the use on pages 24 and 25, what do you gather as
+to the rule for paragraphing where dialogue is reported?</p>
+
+<p>In the paragraph on page 40, what reason has Irving for
+saying &ldquo;therefore&rdquo;? From what sentence does the last of
+this paragraph arise? Do you think the specific closing of
+the paragraph worthy of the position?</p>
+
+<p>When Irving says on page 41 that he was &ldquo;an odd mixture
+of small shrewdness and simple credulity,&rdquo; did he mean that
+he was shrewd, or that he was not shrewd? Can you find
+anything in the paragraphs to develop the thought that he was
+shrewd? How many paragraphs are given to his simple
+credulity? Why so many?</p>
+
+<p>In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 42, what
+advantage is there in the exclamatory sentences?</p>
+
+<p>Would it be as well to divide the next paragraph into three
+sentences? Give your reasons. As the paragraph stands,
+is the sentence loose or periodic?</p>
+
+<p>In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 45, what
+is the method of development? Why is the chanticleer
+mentioned last?</p>
+
+<p>Are Irving&rsquo;s sentences long? Do they seem long? Why,
+or why not?</p>
+
+<p>What is the relation of the first sentence of the first paragraph
+on page 55 to the last?</p>
+
+<p>What is the topic of the next paragraph? Do you think
+it would be just as well to put the second sentence of this
+paragraph last?</p>
+
+<p>In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 55, what
+method of development has been used? Why is the &ldquo;blue
+jay&rdquo; mentioned last?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 119.)</p>
+
+<p>Do you think the first paragraph too long? Where can
+you divide it? What is the test of the length of a paragraph?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page199" id="page199">199</a>
+At the bottom of page 67, do you think the first sentence
+of the paragraph the topic? or is it the last sentence? Give
+reasons.</p>
+
+<p>Is the detail at the end of the paragraph beginning on the
+middle of page 71 upon the topic of the paragraph? Is it good
+there? How do you know that Usher did not say &ldquo;him&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>Of the paragraph on page 73, what sentence is the topic?</p>
+
+<p>What proportion of the paragraphs have topic sentences?
+Have the others topics? Give them for the paragraphs on
+the first five pages.</p>
+
+<p>What method of paragraph development has Poe adopted
+in the paragraph beginning in the middle of page 81? What
+is the relation between the opening and the close of the paragraph?
+Why is the middle needed?</p>
+
+<p>Do you like the second sentence of the next paragraph?
+What is there disagreeable in it?</p>
+
+<p>As you read along do the paragraphs run into one another?
+Is such a condition good?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />SILAS MARNER.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 83.)</p>
+
+<p>Divide paragraphs on pages 10 and 11. What is the
+topic of each of the new paragraphs?</p>
+
+<p>In the first paragraph of chapter two each sentence grows
+out of the one preceding. Put two lines under the words in
+each sentence which are the source of the next sentence.
+Draw one line under the words in each sentence which refer
+back to the preceding sentence.</p>
+
+<p>In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 94,
+what is the topic sentence? What relation has the last sentence
+to the first? What method of development in the
+paragraph?</p>
+
+<p>Can the paragraphs of exposition usually be divided? Do
+they violate unity? If not, upon what principle can you
+divide them?</p>
+
+<p>What is the tendency in regard to the length of paragraphs
+in recent literature?</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page200" id="page200">200</a></div>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><b>SENTENCES</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Definition and Classification. Simple Sentences.</span>
+A sentence is a group of words expressing a complete
+thought. Sentences have been classified
+as simple, complex, and compound. In reality
+there are but two classes of sentences,&mdash;simple
+and compound. It is not material to the
+construction of a sentence whether a modifier be a
+word, a phrase, or a clause; it still remains an adjective,
+adverb, or noun modifier, and the method in which the
+subject and predicate are developed is the same. By
+means of modifiers, a subject and predicate of but two
+words may grow to the size of a paragraph, and yet
+be a group of words expressing one complete thought.</p>
+
+<p>In the sentence below, the subject and predicate are
+&ldquo;we are free.&rdquo; This does not, however, express
+Burke&rsquo;s complete thought. It is not what he meant.
+Free to do what? How free? When may it be done?
+Why now? What bill? All these introduce modifications
+to the simple assertion, &ldquo;we are free,&rdquo; modifications
+which are essential to the completeness of the
+thought.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;By the return of this bill, which seemed to have taken
+its flight forever, we are at this very instant nearly as free
+to choose a plan for our American government as we were
+on the first day of the session.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Compound Sentences.</span>
+On the other hand, the compound sentence is usually
+said to consist of at least two independent
+clauses; and the very fact of their independence,
+which is only a grammatical independence, to be
+<a class="pgnm" name="page201" id="page201">201</a>
+sure, makes the clauses very nearly independent sentences.
+So near to sentences may the clauses be in
+their independence that some writers would make them
+so. The following group of sentences Kipling certainly
+could have handled in another way. &ldquo;The reason
+for her wandering was simple enough. Coppy, in
+a tone of too hastily assumed authority, had told her
+over night that she must not ride out by the river.
+And she had gone to prove her own spirit and teach
+Coppy a lesson.&rdquo; Certainly the last two sentences could
+be united into a compound sentence, nor would it be
+straining the structure to put all three sentences into
+one. This example is not exceptional. Many similar
+cases may be found in all prose writers; and in Macaulay&rsquo;s
+writings there are certainly occasions when it
+would be better to unite independent sentences. If
+the fundamental ideas of the two clauses bear certain
+definite and evident relations to each other, they should
+stand in one compound sentence. These evident relations
+are: first, an assertion and its repetition in some
+other form; second, an assertion and its contrast; third,
+an assertion and its consequence; and fourth, an assertion
+and an example. If the clauses do not bear one of
+these evident relations to each other, they should receive
+special attention; for they may be two separate,
+independent thoughts requiring for their expression
+two sentences. The following sentences illustrate the
+common relations that may exist between the clauses
+of a compound sentence.</p>
+
+<div style="font-size: 90%">
+<p><i>Repetition.</i> &ldquo;Nothing has a drift or relation; nothing
+has a promise or history.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But the religion most prevalent in our northern colonies
+is a refinement on the principle of resistance; it is the dissidence
+of dissent, and the protestantism of the Protestant
+religion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page202" id="page202">202</a>
+<i>Contrast.</i> &ldquo;If the people approve the way in which these
+authorities are interpreting and using the Constitution, they
+go on; if the people disapprove, they pause, or at least
+slacken their pace.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Every court is equally bound to pronounce, and competent
+to pronounce, on such questions, a State court no less than a
+Federal court; but as all the more important questions are
+carried by appeal to the supreme Federal court, it is practically
+that court whose opinion determines them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><i>Consequence.</i> &ldquo;The British and American line had run
+near it during the war; it had, <i>therefore,</i> been the scene of
+marauding, and infested with refugees, cow-boys, and all
+kinds of border chivalry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><i>Example.</i> &ldquo;He found favor in the eyes of the mothers
+by petting the children, particularly the youngest; and like
+the lion bold, which whilom so magnanimously the lamb did
+hold, he would sit with a child on one knee, and rock a cradle
+with his foot for whole hours together.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>There is another condition which masses many details
+into one compound sentence. If in narration a
+writer wishes to give the impression that many things
+are done in a moment of time, and together form one
+incident, he may group many circumstances, nearly
+independent except for the matter of time, into one
+compound sentence. In description he may present
+groups of details hastily in one sentence, and so give
+the impression of unity. The same thing may be done
+in exposition. Many independent ideas may bear a
+common relation to another idea, either expressed or
+understood; and in order to get them before the reader
+as one whole, the author may group them in a single
+sentence. The examples below illustrate this method
+of sentence development.</p>
+
+<div style="font-size: 90%">
+<p><i>Narration.</i> &ldquo;For a moment the terror of Hans Van
+Ripper&rsquo;s wrath passed across his mind, for it was his Sunday
+saddle; but this was no time for petty fears; the goblin
+<a class="pgnm" name="page203" id="page203">203</a>
+was hard on his haunches; and (unskillful rider that he was!)
+he had much ado to maintain his seat; sometimes slipping on
+one side, sometimes on another, and sometimes jolted on the
+high ridge of his horse&rsquo;s backbone, with a violence that he
+verily feared would cleave him asunder.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_43" name="footref_43" href="#footnote_43">43</a></p>
+
+<p><i>Description.</i> &ldquo;In one corner stood a huge bag of wool,
+ready to be spun; in another, a quantity of linsey-woolsey
+just from the loom; ears of Indian corn, and strings of dried
+apples and peaches, hung in gay festoons along the walls,
+mingled with the gaud of red peppers; and a door left ajar
+gave him a peep into the best parlor, where the claw-footed
+chairs and dark mahogany tables shone like mirrors; andirons,
+with their accompanying shovel and tongs, glistened
+from their covert of asparagus tops; mock oranges and conch
+shells decorated the mantelpiece; strings of various-colored
+birds&rsquo; eggs were suspended above it; a great ostrich egg was
+hung from the centre of the room, and a corner cupboard,
+knowingly left open, displayed immense treasures of old silver
+and well-mended china.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" href="#footnote_43">43</a></p>
+
+<p><i>Exposition.</i> &ldquo;That perfection of the Intellect, which is
+the result of Education, and its <i>beau id&eacute;al,</i> to be imparted to
+individuals in their respective measures, is the clear, calm,
+accurate vision and comprehension of all things, as far as the
+finite mind can embrace them, each in its place, and with its
+own characteristics upon it. It is almost prophetic from its
+knowledge of history; it is almost heart-searching from its
+knowledge of human nature; it has almost supernatural
+charity from its freedom from littleness and prejudice; it
+has almost the repose of faith, because nothing can startle it;
+it has almost the beauty and harmony of heavenly contemplation,
+so intimate is it with the eternal order of things and the
+music of the spheres.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_44" name="footref_44" href="#footnote_44">44</a></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>(Notice the use of the semicolon in the last two
+groups of sentences. The parts of compound sentences
+such as these should be separated by semicolons.)</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Short Sentences.</span>
+Having determined approximately what relations
+<a class="pgnm" name="page204" id="page204">204</a>
+may be grouped in a single sentence, the first question
+for consideration is whether sentences should
+be long or short. This cannot be definitely
+answered. Since they should be concise, the
+short sentence is well suited for definitions. Since
+a proposition should be announced in as few words
+as can be used, without sacrificing brevity to clearness,
+short sentences serve best for this purpose. As
+changes in the direction of the development of a thought
+should be quickly indicated, a short sentence is generally
+used for transition. And as at times when the
+mind is under a stress of strong feeling, or the action
+of a story is rapid, all explanatory matters are cut
+away, the barest statements in shortest sentences serve
+best to express strong emotion and rapid action.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Long Sentences.</span>
+Long sentences have the very opposite uses. To
+amplify a topic, to develop a proposition by
+repetition, by details, by proofs, or by example,
+long sentences are serviceable; by them the finer
+modifications of a thought can be expressed. So, too,
+a summary of a paragraph or a chapter frequently
+employs long sentences to express the whole thought
+with precision and with proper subordination of parts.
+Again, as short sentences best express haste and intensity,
+so long sentences give the feeling of quiet deliberation
+and dignified calm.</p>
+
+<p>Illustrations of definitions, propositions, transitions,
+and exemplifications are to be found everywhere. Slow
+movement expressed by long sentences is well illustrated
+in Irving and Hawthorne. One selection from George
+Meredith, to show the peculiar adaptation of the short
+sentence to express intensity of feeling, is given. Richard
+Feverel has just learned that the wife whom he
+had deserted has borne him a son. Description and
+narration are mingled. The short, nervous sentences
+<a class="pgnm" name="page205" id="page205">205</a>
+express both the vividness of his impressions and the
+intensity of his emotions.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;A pale gray light on the skirts of the flying tempest displayed
+the dawn. Richard was walking hurriedly. The
+green drenched woods lay all about his path, bent thick, and
+the forest drooped glimmeringly. Impelled as a man who
+feels a revelation mounting obscurely to his brain, Richard
+was passing one of those little forest-chapels, hung with votive
+wreaths, where the peasants halt to kneel and pray. Cold,
+still, in the twilight it stood, rain-drops pattering round it.
+He looked within, and saw the Virgin holding her Child.
+He moved not by. But not many steps had he gone before
+the strength went out of him, and he shuddered. What was
+it? He asked not. He was in other hands. Vivid as lightning
+the Spirit of Life illumined him. He felt in his heart
+the cry of his child, his darling&rsquo;s touch. With shut eyes he
+saw them both. They drew him from the depths; they led
+him a blind and tottering man. And as they led him he
+had a sense of purification so sweet he shuddered again and
+again.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Unity.</span>
+In a sentence, as in a theme or a paragraph, the first
+question regarding its structure is what to put
+into it. The germ of a paragraph is usually
+a sentence; of the sentence it is one word or but very
+few words. This kernel of a sentence may be developed
+through the many modifications of the thought; but
+always the additions must be distinctly related to the
+germ words. If this relation of parts to the kernel of
+the sentence be unmistakable, the sentence has unity;
+if there are parts whose connection with the germ of
+the sentence cannot be easily traced, they should be rejected
+as belonging to another sentence. The pith of
+the whole sentence can be stated in a few words, if the
+sentence has unity.</p>
+
+<p>Long sentences should be watched. One thing easily
+suggests another, interesting too, it may be; and when
+<a class="pgnm" name="page206" id="page206">206</a>
+an essay is to be written, anything,&mdash;especially if it
+have so worthy a quality as interest to recommend it,&mdash;anything
+is allowed to go in. Such a sentence as
+the following can be explained on no other principle:
+&ldquo;Just then James came rushing downstairs like mad
+to find the fellow who had punched a hole in the tire of
+his bicycle, which was a Columbia which he got two
+years before at a second-hand store, paying for it in
+work at fifteen cents an hour.&rdquo; Plainly everything
+after &ldquo;bicycle&rdquo; is nothing to the present purpose and
+should be excluded. The following from a description
+of Cologne Cathedral is as bad, in some respects,
+worse; for there is one point where the break is so
+abrupt that a child would detect it. &ldquo;The superintendence
+was intrusted to Mr. Ahlert, whose ideas
+were not well adapted to inspire him for his grand
+task, under his direction much of the former beauty
+and artistical skill was lost sight of, but at all events it
+was a great satisfaction to see the work go on and to
+have the expenses defrayed by the State.&rdquo; In this case
+the writer, beyond doubt, thinks long sentences the
+correct thing. Long sentences are necessary at times;
+but the desire simply to write long sentences or to fill
+up space should never lead one to forget that a sentence
+is the expression of one&mdash;not more&mdash;of one
+complete thought.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, sentences should contain the
+whole of one thought; none of it should run over into
+another sentence. Strange as it may seem, sentences
+are sometimes found like the following: &ldquo;James was
+on the whole a bad boy. But he had some redeeming
+qualities.&rdquo;  &ldquo;The first day at school was all new to
+me. While it was interesting as well.&rdquo; &ldquo;He said
+that he was going. And that I might go with him.&rdquo;
+There is no ground for an explanation of such errors
+<a class="pgnm" name="page207" id="page207">207</a>
+as these except laziness and grossest illiteracy. It is
+by no device so simple as the insertion of a period that
+man can separate what has been joined in thought.
+<i>And</i> and <i>but</i> rarely begin sentences; in nearly all
+cases it will be found that the sentences they purport
+to connect are but the independent clauses of one compound
+sentence. <i>While</i> or any other subordinating
+conjunction introduces a dependent clause; a dependent
+clause is not a sentence; it can never stand alone.</p>
+
+<p>The offenses against the unity of a sentence are
+including too much and including too little. Both are
+the result of carelessness or inability to think. The
+purpose, the kernel, the germ of the sentence, should
+be so clearly in mind that every necessary modification
+of the thought shall be included and every unnecessary
+phrase be excluded. Some further suggestions concerning
+unity are found in the paragraphs treating primarily
+of mass and coherence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Mass.</span>
+As advance is made in the ability to grasp quickly
+the thought of a book, it becomes more and
+more evident that the eye must be taken into
+account when arranging the parts of a composition.
+The eye sees the headings of the chapters; it catches
+the last words of one paragraph and the first words of
+the next; it lights upon the words near the periods;
+so the parts of a composition should be arranged so
+that these points shall contain worthy words. Moreover,
+within the sentence the colon marks the greatest
+independence of the parts; the semicolon comes next;
+and the comma marks the smallest division of thought.
+Following the guidance of the eye, then, the words
+before a period should be the most important; those
+near a colon, a semicolon, and a comma will have a
+descending scale of value. A speaker has no difficulty
+with punctuation; unconsciously he pauses with the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page208" id="page208">208</a>
+thought. So true is this, that one is inclined to say
+that if the writer will read aloud his own composition,
+and punctuate where he pauses in the reading, always
+remembering the rank of the marks of punctuation, he
+will not be far from right. It will be noticed that he
+has paused in the reading after important words, as if
+the thought stayed a moment there for the help of the
+reader. Naturally we pause after important words;
+and conversely, the places of importance in a sentence
+are near the marks of punctuation, increasing from the
+comma to the period.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">End of a Sentence.</span>
+The end of a sentence is more important than the
+beginning; and the difference in value is
+greater than in a paragraph. In a paragraph
+the opening is very important, generally containing
+the topic. In a sentence, however, the beginning
+more often has some phrase of transition, or some
+modifier; while it is the end that contains the gist of
+the sentence. This fact makes it imperative that no
+unworthy matter stand at the end. How important a
+position it is, and how much is expected of the final
+words of a sentence, is evident from the effect of failure
+produced by a sentence that closes with weak words.
+In the following sentences, phrases have been moved
+from their places; the weakness is apparent.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>Abstract liberty is not to be found; and this is true of
+other mere abstractions.</p>
+
+<p>This is a persuasion built upon liberty, and not only favorable
+to it.</p>
+
+<p>I pass, therefore, to their agriculture, another point of
+view.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Of course Burke never wrote such sentences as these.
+However, sentences like them can be found in school
+compositions.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page209" id="page209">209</a>
+&ldquo;Lincoln&rsquo;s character is worthy to be any young man&rsquo;s
+ideal; having in it much to admire.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Euclid Avenue, with its broad lawns, and with Wade
+Park as the fitting climax of its spacious beauty, is the most
+attractive driveway in the United States, which is saying a
+good deal.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Minnesota has many beautiful lakes; Mille Lacs, fringed
+with dark pines; Osakis, with its beach of glistening sand;
+Minnetonka, skirted by a lovely boulevard bordered by cool
+lawns and cosy cottages; and many others not so big.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Such sentences as these are not uncommon. Their
+ruin is wrought by the closing words. Watch for
+trailing relatives, dangling participles, and straggling
+generalities at the end of sentences. The end of a
+sentence is a position of distinction; it should be held
+by words of distinction.</p>
+
+<p>So influential is position in a sentence that by virtue
+of it a word or a clause of equal rank with others can
+be made to take on a certain added authority. By
+observing the end of a sentence, a reader can determine
+what was uppermost in the mind of an author
+careful of these things. In the following sentence as
+it was written by Burke the emphasis is on the duration
+of the time; but by a change of position it is
+put upon the fact. &ldquo;Refined policy ever has been the
+parent of confusion; and ever will be so, as long as the
+world endures.&rdquo; Changing the last clause it reads,
+&ldquo;and, as long as the world endures, ever will be so.&rdquo;
+This is not weak; but the stress is not where Burke
+placed it. The position of the words gives them an importance
+that does not inhere in the words themselves.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Effect of Anti-climax.</span>
+Still, as the tenure of a place of distinction cannot
+save a fool from the reputation of folly, position in a
+sentence cannot redeem empty words from their truly
+insipid character. Indeed, as the imbecility of a shallow
+<a class="pgnm" name="page210" id="page210">210</a>
+pate is made all the more apparent by a position of
+distinction, so is the utter unfitness of certain words for
+their position painfully manifest. This is the secret of
+anti-climax. By reason of its very position
+in a sentence, the last phrase should be distinguished;
+instead the position is held by a
+silly nothing. Disappointing anti-climaxes, like those
+already cited, are frequently made by young writers;
+and they are sometimes met with in the works of the
+best authors. The following sentence is from Newman:
+from the point of view of an ardent churchman,
+it may be a climax; but from the point of view of the
+general reader who considers the whole greater than
+any of its parts, in spite of all the sense preceding the
+final phrase, that is absurd and disappointing nonsense.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;I protest to you, gentlemen, that if I had to choose
+between a so-called university, which dispensed with residence
+and tutorial superintendence, and gave its degrees to
+any person who passed an examination in a wide range of
+subjects, and a university which had no professors and examinations
+at all, but merely brought a number of young men
+together for three or four years, and then sent them away as
+the University of Oxford is said to have done some sixty
+years since, if I were asked which of these methods was the
+better discipline of the intellect,&mdash;mind, I do not say which
+is <i>morally</i> the better, for it is plain that compulsory study
+must be a good and idleness an intolerable mischief,&mdash;but
+if I must determine which of the two courses was the more
+successful in training, moulding, and enlarging the mind,
+which sent out men the more fitted for their secular duties,
+which produced better public men, men of the world, men
+whose names would descend to posterity, I have no hesitation
+in giving the preference to that university which did
+nothing, over that which exacted an acquaintance with every
+science under the sun. And, paradox as this may seem, still
+if results be the test of systems, the influence of the public
+<a class="pgnm" name="page211" id="page211">211</a>
+schools and colleges of England, in the course of the last century,
+at least will bear out one side of the contrast as I have
+drawn it. What could come, on the other hand, of the ideal
+systems of education which have fascinated the imagination
+of this age, could they ever take effect, and whether they
+would not produce a generation frivolous, narrow-minded,
+and resourceless, intellectually considered, is a fair subject
+for debate; but so far is certain, that the universities and
+scholastic establishments, to which I refer, and which did
+little more than bring together first boys and then youths in
+large numbers, these institutions, with miserable deformities
+on the side of morals, with a hollow profession of Christianity,
+and a heathen code of ethics,&mdash;I say, at least, they can
+boast of a succession of heroes and statesmen, of literary men
+and philosophers, of men conspicuous for great natural virtues,
+for habits of business, for knowledge of life, for practical
+judgment, for cultivated tastes, for accomplishments, who
+have made England what it is,&mdash;able to subdue the earth,
+<i>able to domineer over Catholics.</i>&ldquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_45" name="footref_45" href="#footnote_45">45</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Use of Climax.</span>
+From what has been said, it is evident that the parts
+of a sentence, as far as may be, should be arranged
+in a climax. The climax should be
+in the thought, with a corresponding increase in the
+weight of the phrases. If the thoughts increase in importance,
+the words that express them should increase
+in number. The number of words in the treatment
+bears a pretty constant ratio to the importance of the
+subject treated. The paragraph quoted from Newman
+is an excellent illustration of the use of climax,&mdash;until
+it comes to that last phrase. Note in the first sentence
+the repetition of the condition, three times repeated.
+Change the second to the third and see how
+different it is. Then he has &ldquo;public men, men of the
+world, men whose names would descend to posterity,&rdquo;&mdash;a
+steady increase in the thought, and a corresponding
+increase in the length of phrases. The last sentence
+<a class="pgnm" name="page212" id="page212">212</a>
+contains a fine example of climax. &ldquo;Of heroes and
+statesmen, of literary men and philosophers, of men
+conspicuous for great natural virtues, for habits of
+business, for knowledge of life, for practical judgment,
+for cultivated tastes, for accomplishments, who
+have made England what it is,&mdash;able to subdue the
+earth.&rdquo; Climax is the arrangement that produces the
+effect of vigorous strength. In arranging a succession
+of modifiers, so far as possible without breaking some
+other more important principle, a writer will gain in
+force if he seeks for climax.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Loose and Periodic.</span>
+Sentences are divided into two classes: loose and
+periodic. A loose sentence may be broken at
+some point before the end, and up to that
+point be grammatically a complete sentence. An arrangement
+of the parts of a sentence that suspends the
+meaning until the close is called periodic. The periodic
+sentence is generally so massed that the end contains
+words of distinction, and the sentence forms a
+climax. Not all climaxes are periods; but nearly all
+periods are climaxes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Period.</span>
+The philosophy of the periodic sentence has been best
+stated by Herbert Spencer. He starts with
+the axiom that the whole amount of attention
+a reader can give at any moment is limited and fixed.
+A reader must give a part of it to merely acquiring the
+meaning; the remainder of his attention he can give
+to the thought itself. In reading Cicero the pupil has
+to put a large part of his attention upon the vocabulary,
+upon the order and construction of the words; the
+barest fragment of attention he can bestow upon the
+thought of the great orator. So when the reader attacks
+one of Browning&rsquo;s most involved and obscure
+passages, he is kept from the thought by the difficulties
+in the language. As it is the purpose of language
+<a class="pgnm" name="page213" id="page213">213</a>
+to convey thought, and as it is usually the wish of an
+author to be understood, he should use up as little as
+possible of the reader&rsquo;s limited attention for the mere
+acquisition of the thought, and leave the reader as
+much as he can to put upon the meaning. In applying
+this to sentences, the question is, which form of
+sentence demands least effort to get at its meaning:
+the periodic sentence, which suspends the meaning to
+the end; or the loose sentence, which may be broken
+at several points and gives its meaning in installments?
+The old example is as good as any: shall we say as the
+French do, a horse black; or shall we say as the English
+do, a black horse? for in the arrangement of these
+three words there lies the difference between a loose
+and a periodic sentence. Consider the French order
+first. When a person hears the words &ldquo;a horse,&rdquo; he
+at once thinks of the horse he knows best; that is, generally,
+a bay horse. When the word &ldquo;black&rdquo; follows,
+the whole image has to be changed from the bay horse
+he knows to the black horse he has occasionally seen.
+There has been a waste of attention. On the other
+hand, when the words &ldquo;a black&rdquo; are heard, the mind
+constructs no image; it waits until the noun modified
+is spoken. Then the whole image springs up at once;
+it is correct and it needs no remodeling. The following
+sentence illustrates the point. &ldquo;I am wasting time&rdquo;
+is the beginning. It would be difficult to enumerate
+the many thoughts suggested by these words; each
+person has his own idea of wasting time. When the
+rest of the sentence is added, &ldquo;trying to learn my
+geometry lesson,&rdquo; the whole has to be reconstructed.
+On the other hand the periodic statement suspends the
+meaning to the end. There is no place where, without
+additions to the words used, the mind can rest. &ldquo;Trying
+to learn a geometry lesson is for me a waste of
+<a class="pgnm" name="page214" id="page214">214</a>
+time.&rdquo; Theoretically the periodic sentence is better
+than the loose sentence; for it economizes attention.</p>
+
+<p>There is another side to the question, however. If
+the details be many, and if each be long, they would be
+more than the mind could carry without great effort;
+and instead of economy of attention, there is improvident
+waste. The mind will carry a long, carefully
+arranged period at intervals; but a succession of periods
+is sure to result in its absolute refusal to do so any
+longer. There is a limit to the length of a period that
+economizes attention; and there is a limit to the number
+of successive periods which a reader can endure.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Periodic and Loose combined.</span>
+There is another form of sentence, which combines
+the loose and the periodic. It generally
+begins with the periodic form and sustains
+this until it is better to relieve the mind of
+the stress, when the period ends or the loose structure
+begins; and the sentence may as a whole be
+periodic while containing parts that are loose. This
+kind of sentence is a common form for long sentences.
+It gives to prose much of the dignity of the period,
+together with the familiarity of the loose sentence.</p>
+
+<p>The sentence below may be changed, by putting the
+last clause first, to a loose sentence; and by placing it
+after the word &ldquo;subject&rdquo; it becomes mixed.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;By all persons who have written of the subject, for the
+grandeur of its mountains and the deep quiet of its green
+valleys for the leaping torrents of its foaming rivers and
+blue calm of its crag-walled lakes, Switzerland has been
+named &lsquo;the Paradise of Europe.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The following paragraph from Burke contains examples
+of loose, periodic, and mixed sentences:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;To restore order and repose to an empire so great and
+so distracted as, ours, is, merely in the attempt, an undertaking
+<a class="pgnm" name="page215" id="page215">215</a>
+that would ennoble the flights of the highest genius, and
+obtain pardon for the efforts of the meanest understanding.
+Struggling a good while with these thoughts, by degrees I
+felt myself more firm. I derived, at length, some confidence
+from what in other circumstances usually produces
+timidity. I grew less anxious, even from the idea of my
+own insignificance. For, judging of what you are by what
+you ought to be, I persuaded myself that you would not reject
+a reasonable proposition because it had nothing but its
+reason to recommend it. On the other hand, being totally
+destitute of all shadow of influence, natural or adventitious,
+I was very sure that, if my proposition were futile or dangerous&mdash;if
+it were weakly conceived, or improperly timed,&mdash;there
+was nothing exterior to it of power to awe, dazzle,
+or delude you. You will see it just as it is; and you will
+treat it just as it deserves.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_46" name="footref_46" href="#footnote_46">46</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Which shall be used?</span>
+Which shall be used, loose sentences or periodic?
+In literature the loose more frequently occur.
+They are informal and conversational, and
+are especially suited to letter-writing, story-telling,
+and the light essay. The period is formal; it
+has the air of preparation. The oration, the formal
+essay, well-wrought argument,&mdash;forms of literature
+where preparation is expected,&mdash;may use the period
+with good effect. It has a finish, a scholarly refinement,
+not found in the loose sentence; and yet a series
+of periods would be as much out of place in a letter as
+a court regalia at a downtown restaurant. The loose
+sentence is easy, informal, and familiar; the periodic
+is stiff, artificial, and aristocratic. To use none but
+loose sentences gives a composition an air of familiarity
+even to the verge of vulgarity; to employ only periodic
+sentences induces a feeling of stiff artificiality
+bordering on bombast. The fitness of each for its purpose
+is the guide for its use.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page216" id="page216">216</a>
+There is, however, a reason why young persons
+should be encouraged to use periodic sentences. Usually
+they compose short sentences, so there is little
+danger of overburdening the reader&rsquo;s attention. With
+this danger removed, the result of the generous use of
+periodic sentences will be nothing worse than a too
+obvious preparation. The sentences will all be finished
+to a degree, and unquestionably will give a feeling of
+artificiality. However, the attention to sentence-structure
+necessary in order to make it periodic is a thing
+devoutly to be wished at this stage of growth. No
+other fault is so common in sentence-construction as
+carelessness. A theme will be logically outlined, a
+paragraph carefully planned, but a sentence,&mdash;anybody
+standing on one foot can make a sentence.  A
+well-turned sentence is a work of art, and it is never
+made in moments when the writer &ldquo;didn&rsquo;t think.&rdquo;
+The end must be seen at the beginning: else it does
+not end; it plays out. There is no other remedy for
+careless, slipshod sentence-making so effective as the
+construction of many periodic sentences.</p>
+
+<p>Not only will there be care in the arrangement of
+the material, but when all details must be introduced
+before the principal thought, there will be little chance
+of any phrase slipping into the sentence that does not
+in truth belong there. Dangling participles, trailing
+relatives, and straggling generalities can find no chance
+to hang on to a periodic sentence. Every detail must
+be a real and necessary modification of the germ
+thought of the sentence, else it can hardly be forced in.
+Periodic sentences, then, besides insuring a careful
+finish to the work, are also a safeguard against the
+introduction of irrelevant material,&mdash;the commonest
+offense against sentence-unity.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Emphasis by Change of Order.</span>
+Closely connected with the emphasis gained by the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page217" id="page217">217</a>
+periodic arrangement of the parts of a sentence is
+the emphasis gained by forcing words out
+of their natural order. In a sentence the
+points which arrest the eye and the attention
+are the beginning and the end. However, if the subject
+stands first and the words of the predicate in their
+natural order, there is no more emphasis upon them
+than these important elements of a sentence ordinarily
+deserve. To emphasize either it is necessary to force
+it out of its natural position. &ldquo;George next went to
+Boston,&rdquo; is the natural order of this sentence. Supposing,
+however, that a writer wished to emphasize the
+fact that it was George who went next, not James or
+Fred, he could do it by forcing the word &ldquo;George&rdquo;
+from its present natural position to a position unnatural.
+He could write, &ldquo;It was George who next went
+to Boston,&rdquo; or, &ldquo;The next to go to Boston was George.&rdquo;
+Forcing the subject toward the position usually occupied
+by the predicate emphasizes the subject. This is
+similar to the emphasis given by the period. &ldquo;It was
+George&rdquo; is so far periodic, followed by the loose
+structure; and the last arrangement is quite periodic.
+Every device for throwing the subject back into the
+sentence makes the sentence up to the point where
+the subject is introduced periodic; this arrangement
+throws the emphasis forward to the word that closes
+the period.</p>
+
+<p>Other parts of a sentence may be emphasized by
+being placed out of their natural order. In the natural
+order, adjectives and adverbs precede the words they
+modify; conditional and concessive clauses precede
+the clauses they modify; an object follows a verb;
+and prepositional phrases and adjective clauses follow
+the words they modify. These rules are general.
+Moving a part of a sentence from this general order
+<a class="pgnm" name="page218" id="page218">218</a>
+usually emphasizes it. &ldquo;George went to Boston next&rdquo;
+emphasizes a little the time; but &ldquo;Next George went
+to Boston&rdquo; places great emphasis on the time. So
+&ldquo;It was to Boston that George went next&rdquo; emphasizes
+the place. &ldquo;Went&rdquo; cannot be so dealt with. It
+seems irrevocably fixed that in a prose declarative sentence
+the verb shall never stand first. It is not allowed
+by good use.</p>
+
+<p>The rearrangement of the following sentence illustrates
+the emphasis given by putting words out of their
+natural order:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>The strong and swarthy sailors of the Patria slowly
+rowed the party to the shore.</p>
+
+<p>The sailors of the Patria, strong and swarthy, slowly
+rowed the party to the shore.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the strong and swarthy sailors of the Patria rowed
+the party to the shore.</p>
+
+<p>Of the steamer Patria, the sailors, strong and swarthy,
+rowed the party to the shore.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>To show the arrangement of clauses the following
+will be sufficient:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>He cannot make advancement, even if he studies hard.</p>
+
+<p>Even if he studies hard, he cannot make advancement.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your Irish pensioners would starve, if they had no other
+fund to live on than the taxes granted by English authority.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>If they had no other fund to live on than the taxes granted
+by English authority, your Irish pensioners would starve.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The latter arrangement emphasizes the conclusion
+much more than the former; at the same time it subordinates
+the condition. Burke wished the emphasis
+to be upon the condition; he placed it after the conclusion.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Subdue Unimportant Elements.</span>
+Emphasis is gained by placing words in important
+positions in a sentence by arranging the parts to
+<a class="pgnm" name="page219" id="page219">219</a>
+form a climax; by the use of the period; by forcing
+words out of their natural order. It is also
+gained by the subdual of parts not important.
+This emphasis is a matter of relative intensity.
+The beauty and strength of any artistic product
+depend as much upon the subdual of the accessories
+as upon the intensifying of the necessaries. In
+order to get the emphasis upon certain phrases, it is
+necessary to subordinate other phrases. In the talk
+of a child every thought phrases itself as a simple sentence.
+Not until it grows to youth does the child
+recognize that there is a difference in values, and adopt
+means for expressing it. To grasp firmly the principal
+idea and then subdue all other ideas is an elegant way
+of emphasizing.</p>
+
+<p>The subdual of parts is accomplished by reducing
+to subordinate clauses, to phrases, to words, some of
+the ideas which in a child&rsquo;s talk would be expressed in
+sentences. A thought of barely enough importance to
+be mentioned should be squeezed into a word. If it
+deserves more notice, perhaps a prepositional phrase
+will express it. A participial phrase will often serve
+for a clause or a sentence. A subordinate clause may
+be needed if the thought is of great importance. And
+last, if it deserves such a distinction, the thought may
+demand an independent clause or a sentence for itself.
+If the following sentence be broken into bits as a child
+would tell it, the nice effects of emphasis which Irving
+has given it are ruined:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;When the dance was at an end, Ichabod was attracted
+to a knot of the sager folks, who, with old Van Tassel, sat
+smoking at one end of the piazza, gossiping over former
+times, and drawing out long stories about the war.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_47" name="footref_47" href="#footnote_47">47</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Put into simple sentences, it would be like this: The
+<a class="pgnm" name="page220" id="page220">220</a>
+dance was at an end. Ichabod was attracted to a knot
+of folks. The folks were older. They sat at the end
+of the piazza. Old Van Tassel was with them. They
+were smoking, etc.</p>
+
+<p>In such sentences, nothing is emphatic; it is all
+alike. In Irving&rsquo;s sentences, where ideas are reduced
+to clause, phrase, even a word, there is no question
+about what is important and what is unimportant. He
+has secured an exquisite emphasis by a discriminating
+subdual of subordinate ideas.</p>
+
+<p>This brings up the sentences by Kipling already
+quoted on page <a href="#page201">201</a>. The author has used three independent
+sentences. They can be written as one, thus:
+The reason of her wandering was simple enough; for
+Coppy, in a tone of too-hastily-assumed authority, had
+told her over night that she must not ride out by the
+river, and she had gone to prove her own spirit and
+teach Coppy a lesson.</p>
+
+<p>There is a reason, however, why Kipling wished that
+last sentence to stand alone. Subordinated as it is
+here rewritten, it does not half express the spiteful
+independence she assumed to teach Coppy a lesson.
+It needs the independent construction. Just as surely
+as Kipling is right in putting the reasons into two
+sharp, independent sentences, is Irving right when he
+puts the reason in the following sentence into a subordinate
+clause. It is not important enough to deserve
+a sentence all by itself.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;He was, moreover, esteemed by the women as a man of
+great erudition, for he had read several books quite through,
+and was a perfect master of Cotton Mather&rsquo;s &lsquo;History of
+New England Witchcraft,&rsquo; in which, by the way, he most
+firmly and potently believed.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>In the following sentence the effect of subordination
+is unmistakable:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page221" id="page221">221</a>
+&ldquo;He had a name in the village for brutally misusing the
+ass; yet it is certain that he shed a tear <i>which</i> made a clean
+mark down one cheek.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Now read it again:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;He had a name in the village for brutally misusing the
+ass; yet it is certain that he shed a tear, <i>and the tear</i> made
+a clean mark down one cheek.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The last clause has burst away from its former submission,
+and in its independence has made the most
+important announcement of the sentence,&mdash;the witty
+climax. Emphasis is, to a large degree, a matter of
+position, but position cannot emancipate any clause
+from the thralldom of subordination. To emphasize
+one idea, subordinate ancillary ideas; make them take
+their proper rank in the sentence. Reduce them to a
+clause or to a phrase; and if a word justly expresses
+the relative importance of the thought, reduce its expression
+to a single word.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">The Dynamic Point of a Sentence.</span>
+In the chapter on paragraphs it was said that one
+sentence is often the source of the succeeding
+sentence; that such a sentence seemed to be
+charged like a Leyden jar, and to discharge
+its whole power through a single word or phrase; and
+further, that this word or phrase should be left free to
+act,&mdash;it should be uncovered. How a sentence can
+be arranged so that this word or phrase shall have the
+prominence it deserves, and can unhindered transmit
+the undiminished force of one sentence to the next, has
+now been explained. First, such words can be made
+dynamic by placing them at the beginning or the end
+of a sentence; second, by placing them near the major
+marks of punctuation; third, by forcing them from
+their natural order; and fourth, by the subdual of the
+other parts of the sentence. The greatest care in
+<a class="pgnm" name="page222" id="page222">222</a>
+massing sentences so that none of their power be lost
+in transmission is one of the secrets of the literature
+that carries the reader irresistibly forward. Sometimes
+he may be annoyed by the repetition of phrases;
+but he cannot get away; he must go forward. In the
+paragraph below, quoted from Matthew Arnold, every
+phrase that is the point from which the next sentence
+springs is in a position where it can act untrammeled.
+Through it the whole force of the sentence passes:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;It will be said that it is a very subtle and indirect action
+which I am thus prescribing for criticism, and that, by embracing
+in this manner the Indian virtue of detachment and
+abandoning the sphere of practical life, it condemns itself as
+a slow and obscure work. Slow and obscure it may be, but
+it is the only proper work of criticism. The mass of mankind
+will never have any ardent zeal for seeing things as
+they are; very inadequate ideas will satisfy them. On these
+inadequate ideas reposes, and must repose, the general practice
+of the world. That is as much as saying that whoever
+sets himself to see things as they are will find himself one of
+a very small circle; but it is only by this small circle resolutely
+doing its own work that adequate ideas will ever get
+current at all. The rush and uproar of practical life will
+always have a dizzying and attracting effect upon the most
+collected spectator, and tend to draw him into its vortex;
+most of all will this be the case where that life is so powerful
+as it is in England. But it is only by remaining collected,
+and refusing to lend himself to the point of view of
+the practical man, that the critic can do the practical man
+any service; and it is only by the greatest sincerity in pursuing
+his own course, and by at last convincing even the
+practical man of his sincerity, that he can escape misunderstandings
+which perpetually threaten him.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_48" name="footref_48" href="#footnote_48">48</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Good Use.</span>
+Good use has been mentioned. In massing the parts
+of a sentence for the purpose of emphasizing some idea,
+a writer has not entire freedom. Good use, which is the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page223" id="page223">223</a>
+use of acknowledged masters, decides what may be
+done. There are certain arrangements of
+words to which we are accustomed; and the
+disregard of them leads to obscurity or downright contrariety
+in the thought. &ldquo;Brutus stabbed C&aelig;sar&rdquo; is
+the common order; &ldquo;Brutus C&aelig;sar stabbed,&rdquo; or
+&ldquo;Stabbed Brutus C&aelig;sar,&rdquo; is obscure; while &ldquo;C&aelig;sar
+stabbed Brutus&rdquo; is the very opposite of the truth.
+Those who have studied Latin know that as far as understanding
+the sentence is concerned, it would make
+no difference in which order the three Latin words
+should be arranged; though it would make a mighty
+difference in the emphasis. In Latin the case endings
+determine the construction of the words. In an inflected
+language the words may be massed almost to
+suit the writer; in an uninflected language, within
+certain limits the order determines the relation between
+groups of words. Though for emphasis it might be
+advisable to have the object first, for the sake of clearness
+in a short sentence the object cannot stand first.
+The primary consideration in making any piece of
+literature is that it may be understood. To be understood,
+the sentence must be arranged in the order to
+which we are accustomed. The order to which we are
+accustomed has been determined by good use.</p>
+
+<p>The variety in the arrangement of the parts of a
+sentence that has been sanctioned by good usage is
+great, yet there are limits. Grammar is based upon
+the usage of the best writers. Any offense against the
+grammar of our language is a sin against good use.
+Browning may use constructions so erratic that the
+ordinary reader does not know what he is reading
+about; Carlyle may forge a new word rather than take
+the trouble to find one that other people have used.
+But the young writer, at least, is far safer while keeping
+within the limits of good use.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Clearness gained by Coherence.</span>
+<a class="pgnm" name="page224" id="page224">224</a>
+Coherence in a sentence is that principle of structure
+by which its parts are best arranged to
+stick together. The parts of a sentence containing
+related ideas should be so associated
+that there can be no mistake regarding the reference
+or the modification. Such a sentence as the following
+cannot be understood; the reference is obscure.
+&ldquo;James told him that he did not see what he was to
+do in the matter.&rdquo; If the reader were sure of the first
+&ldquo;he,&rdquo; he could not come nearer than a guess at the
+reference of the second &ldquo;he.&rdquo; The third personal
+pronoun&mdash;he, she, it&mdash;in all its cases is especially
+uncertain in its references.</p>
+
+<p>The first sentence below is from an English grammar.
+The second is from a recently published biography.
+Both are obscure in the reference of the pronouns.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;When &lsquo;self&rsquo; is added to a pronoun of the First and
+Second person, it is preceded by the Possessive case. But
+when it is added to a pronoun of the Third person, it is preceded
+by a pronoun in the Objective case.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;I am reminded of Swinburne&rsquo;s view of Providence when
+he said that he never saw an old gentleman give a sixpence
+to a beggar, but he was straightway run over by a &rsquo;bus.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The relative pronoun is also uncertain in its references.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>Some Southerners were among the ship&rsquo;s passengers, of
+whom a few had served in the Rebellion. (Obscure reference.)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>Red lights were displayed in a peculiar succession, which
+warned of impending storm. (No antecedent.)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>To make the reference of pronouns, personal and
+relative, distinct, the antecedent must be made prominent;
+sometimes the only way out of the difficulty is a
+repetition of the antecedent. And the pronoun should
+stand near the word to which it refers. Keep associated
+ideas together.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page225" id="page225">225</a>
+Like pronouns in the uncertainty of their reference
+are participles. Either the subject is not expressed, or
+it is uncertain.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>Hastening up the steps, the door opened. (None.)</p>
+
+<p>Coming from the spring, with a pail of water in either
+hand, he saw her for the first time. (Uncertain.)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Adverbs are sometimes placed so that they make a
+sentence ridiculous; and frequently their meaning is
+lost by being separated from the words they modify.
+&ldquo;Only&rdquo; is a word to be watched. Like adverbs are
+correlative conjunctions. They are frequently so
+placed that they do not join the elements they were
+intended to unite.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>He seized the young girl as she rose from the water
+almost roughly.</p>
+
+<p>I think I hardly shall.</p>
+
+<p>I only went as far as the gate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who shall say, of us who know only of rest and peace
+by toil and strife?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He not only learned algebra readily but also Latin.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Phrases and clauses may lose their reference by
+being removed from the words they modify.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>Toiling up the hill, he arrived at Hotel Bellevue through
+a drizzling rain.</p>
+
+<p>Addison rose to a post which dukes, the heads of the
+great houses of Talbot, Russell, and Bentinck, have thought
+it an honor to fill without high birth, and with little property.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fred was liked well; but he had the habit of that class
+that cannot get the English Language in the right order
+when a little excited.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>All the classes of errors which have been exemplified
+here are due to the infringement of one rule:
+things that belong together in thought should stand
+<a class="pgnm" name="page226" id="page226">226</a>
+together in composition. Nothing should be allowed
+to come between a pronoun, an adjective, an adverb, a
+correlative, a phrase, or a clause, and the word it modifies.
+Sometimes other modifiers have to be taken into
+account: where more than one word or phrase modifies
+the same word, a trial will have to be made to
+arrange them so that there shall be no obscurity or
+absurdity. Keep related ideas together; keep unrelated
+ideas apart.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Parallel Construction.</span>
+The second principle which helps to make the relation
+of parts clear is parallel construction.
+It has already been explained in paragraphs.
+In sentences the commonest errors are in linking
+an infinitive with a gerund, a participle with a verb,
+an active with a passive voice, a phrase with a clause.
+The result is sentences like the following:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>You cannot persuade him to go and into buying what he
+does not want.</p>
+
+<p>Thus he spoke, and turning to the door.</p>
+
+<p>The king began to force the collection of duties, and an
+army was sent by him to execute his wishes.</p>
+
+<p>He was resolved to use patience and that he would often
+exercise charity.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Such sentences are offensive to the ear; and were
+they as long as the ones below, they would not be
+clear.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;You cannot persuade them <i>to burn</i> their books of curious
+science; <i>to banish</i> their lawyers from their courts of laws; or
+<i>to quench</i> the lights of their assemblies by refusing to choose
+those persons who are best read in their privileges.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For though rebellion is declared, it <i>is</i> not <i>proceeded
+against</i> as such, nor <i>have</i> any steps <i>been taken</i> towards the
+apprehension or conviction of any individual offender, either
+on our late or our former Address; but modes of public
+coercion <i>have been adopted,</i> and such as have much more
+<a class="pgnm" name="page227" id="page227">227</a>
+resemblance to a sort of qualified hostility towards an independent
+power than the punishment of rebellious subjects.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My Resolutions therefore mean <span class="smcap">to establish</span> the equity
+and justice of a taxation of America by grant and not by
+imposition; <span class="smcap">to mark</span> the legal competency of the colony
+Assemblies for the support of their government in peace,
+and for public aids in time of war; <span class="smcap">to acknowledge</span> <i>that
+this legal competency has had</i> a dutiful and beneficial exercise;
+and <i>that experience has shown</i> the benefit of their
+grants, and the futility of Parliamentary taxation as a
+method of supply.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_49" name="footref_49" href="#footnote_49">49</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>In the second sentence Burke has used a passive
+voice when it would certainly be more elegant to
+change to the active. &ldquo;Is proceeded against&rdquo; is
+surely awkward, but for uniformity and resulting
+clearness he has retained the passive. In the last sentence
+the infinitives &ldquo;to establish,&rdquo; &ldquo;to mark,&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;to acknowledge&rdquo; are in the same construction; they
+are objects of &ldquo;mean.&rdquo; Then comes a change of form
+to show that the clauses &ldquo;that this legal competency
+has had,&rdquo; etc., and &ldquo;that experience has shown,&rdquo; etc.,
+are in a like relation to the infinitive &ldquo;to acknowledge.&rdquo;
+Though the last clause by reason of the punctuation
+looks correlative with the others, it is not related
+as object to the verb &ldquo;mean,&rdquo; as the others are,
+but it is the object of &ldquo;to acknowledge.&rdquo; There could
+hardly be a better example of the value of parallel
+constructions for the purpose of avoiding confusion,
+and linking together parts that are related.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Balanced Sentences.</span>
+Parallel constructions are used in balanced sentences.
+In balanced sentences one part is
+balanced against another,&mdash;a noun and a
+noun, an adjective and an adjective, phrase and phrase.
+Balanced sentences are especially suited to express antithesis,
+the figure of speech where two ideas are sharply
+<a class="pgnm" name="page228" id="page228">228</a>
+opposed to each other. In the following from Newman,
+the balancing is admirable: &ldquo;Inebriated with
+the cup of insanity, and flung upon the stream of
+recklessness, she dashes down the cataract of nonsense
+and whirls amid the pools of confusion.&rdquo; This
+is not antithesis, however; but the following from
+Macaulay is: &ldquo;She seems to have written about the
+Elizabethan age, because she had read much about it;
+she seems, on the other hand, to have read a little
+about the age of Addison, because she had determined
+to write about it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The danger in the use of balanced sentences is
+excess. Macaulay is very fond of brilliant contrasts.
+<i>But</i> is a very common word with him. In some cases
+the reader feels that for the sake of the figure he has
+forced the truth. Balanced sentences are palpably
+artificial, and should be used but sparingly.</p>
+
+<p>There is, however, but little danger of overdoing the
+parallel construction where there is no antithesis. The
+parts of succeeding sentences do not resemble each
+other so much in thought that there is great danger
+of resulting monotony in its expression. However,
+should the difficulty arise, the monotony may be
+broken up by a trifling variation. Macaulay has done
+this well in the sentences quoted on page <a href="#page186">186</a>, beginning
+with the words, &ldquo;For his sake empires had risen, and
+flourished, and decayed,&rdquo; and continuing to the end of
+the paragraph.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Use of Connectives.</span>
+The third method of securing coherence in a sentence
+is by the use of connectives. The
+skillful use of prepositions and conjunctions
+indicates a master of words. The use of
+connectives has been discussed when treating of emphasis
+secured by subdual of unimportant details. Such
+parts are connected, and in a very definite way. The
+<a class="pgnm" name="page229" id="page229">229</a>
+relations are evident. Two examples will illustrate.
+The first group of sentences are the fragments of but
+one of Irving&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>He did not look to the right or left. He did not notice
+the scene. The scene was of rural wealth. He had often
+gloated on this scene. He went straight to the stable. He
+kicked and cuffed his steed several times, and so forth.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Now note the value of prepositions in giving these
+separate sentences coherence.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Without looking to the right or left to notice the scene
+of rural wealth, on which he had so often gloated, he went
+straight to the stable, and with several hearty cuffs and
+kicks roused his steed most unceremoniously from the comfortable
+quarters in which he was soundly sleeping, dreaming
+of mountains of corn and oats, and whole valleys of
+timothy and clover.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The next also is from Irving, and shows the skillful
+use of conjunctions to point out unerringly the relation
+of the clauses in a sentence.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;What seemed particularly odd to Rip was that, though
+these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they
+maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence,
+and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he
+had ever witnessed.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Coherence, the principle of structure that surely
+holds the parts of a sentence together, is of greater
+importance than Mass. Upon Coherence depends the
+meaning of a sentence; upon Mass the force with which
+the meaning is expressed. That the meaning may be
+clear, it is necessary that the relation of the parts shall
+be perfectly evident. This lucidity is gained by placing
+related parts near together, and conversely, by
+separating unrelated ideas; by using parallel constructions
+<a class="pgnm" name="page230" id="page230">230</a>
+for parallel thoughts; and by indicating
+relations by the correct use of prepositions and conjunctions.</p>
+
+<p>To summarize, sentences are the elements of discourse.
+The ability of a sentence to effect with certainty
+its purpose depends upon Unity, Mass, and
+Coherence. A sentence must contain all that is
+needed to express the whole thought, but it must contain
+no more. A sentence must be arranged so that
+its important parts shall be prominent. Position and
+proportion are the means of emphasis in a sentence.
+By placing the important words near the major marks
+of punctuation, by arranging the parts in a climax or
+a period, by forcing words out of the natural order,
+and by subduing unimportant details, a sentence is
+massed to give the important elements their relative
+emphasis. Last, the parts of a sentence should be
+arranged so that their relations shall be clear and
+unmistakable. Proximity of related parts, parallel
+construction for parallel ideas, and connectives are
+the surest means of securing Coherence in a sentence.</p>
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page231" id="page231">231</a></div>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br /><b>SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS</b></p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />SILAS MARNER.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 83.)</p>
+
+<p>On page 18 put together the sentence beginning &ldquo;Every
+man&rsquo;s work,&rdquo; etc., with the next. What connective and
+what punctuation will you use? What is the difference in
+effect? What one of the relations of a compound sentence
+does the second part bear to the first?</p>
+
+<p>On page 26 could you make two sentences of the sentence
+beginning, &ldquo;Raveloe lay low among the bushy trees&rdquo;?
+Would it be as well? Would it be better?</p>
+
+<p>On page 35 do the three parts of the compound sentence
+beginning, &ldquo;He would have liked,&rdquo; etc., belong to one sentence?
+Which one?</p>
+
+<p>Is it right to say, &ldquo;He would have liked to spring,&rdquo; or
+would it be better to say, &ldquo;He would have liked to have
+sprung&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>Do you think colons are used too frequently in Silas
+Marner? Compare their use with their use in Hawthorne&rsquo;s
+Stories and Irving&rsquo;s Sketches.</p>
+
+<p>In the sentence beginning, &ldquo;Let him live,&rdquo; etc., at the
+bottom of page 94, is &ldquo;a possible state of mind in some possible
+person not yet forthcoming,&rdquo; a climax or an anti-climax?
+Why?</p>
+
+<p>At the bottom of page 183 why was it necessary to crowd
+so much into one sentence?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />MACAULAY&rsquo;S ESSAY ON MILTON.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 103.)</p>
+
+<p>Re-write the sentence on page 33 beginning, &ldquo;Of all
+poets,&rdquo; etc., making it loose. Is it better or worse?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page232" id="page232">232</a>
+Why does &ldquo;here&rdquo; stand first in the next sentence?</p>
+
+<p>What poets with whom you are familiar have philosophized
+too much?</p>
+
+<p>Is the first sentence of the paragraph beginning in the
+middle of page 36 periodic or loose?</p>
+
+<p>How many periodic sentences in this paragraph?</p>
+
+<p>In the paragraph on pages 37 and 38 trace the relation
+of the succeeding sentences.</p>
+
+<p>At the bottom of page 45 what is the reason for putting
+first in the sentence, &ldquo;of those principles&rdquo;? What do you
+think of the massing of the whole sentence? What has
+been made emphatic?</p>
+
+<p>Note the last two sentences at the end of the paragraph
+on page 58. Is their arrangement effective? Change one.
+What is the effect? (See also the middle of page 64.)</p>
+
+<p>On page 60 why did he not say, &ldquo;She grovels like a
+beast, she hisses like a serpent, she stings like a scorpion&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>What arrangement of clauses in the first sentence in the
+paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 66? Does it
+add clearness?</p>
+
+<p>In the same paragraph find a balanced sentence.</p>
+
+<p>What advantage is there in the short sentences on page
+68?</p>
+
+<p>In the first sentence of the paragraph, beginning on page
+71, read one of the clauses, &ldquo;by whom king, church, and
+aristocracy were trampled down.&rdquo; What is the effect of the
+change?</p>
+
+<p>Is the parallel construction in the last sentence beginning
+on page 77 good? Is it good in the last sentence of this
+paragraph?</p>
+
+<p>In the next paragraph, why is Macaulay&rsquo;s way better
+than this: &ldquo;He was neither Puritan, free thinker, nor royalist&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>When a sentence is introduced by a participial phrase or
+a dependent clause it is in part or wholly periodic. Does
+Macaulay frequently use this introduction? What is the
+effect upon his style?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page233" id="page233">233</a>
+Can you find examples of sentences beginning with a loose
+structure, and having within them examples of the periodic
+structure?</p>
+
+<p>In the paragraph filling pages 79 and 80 there are many
+examples of periodic and parallel structure. Contrast this
+paragraph with some of Lamb&rsquo;s paragraphs.</p>
+
+<p>What is the effect of position upon the phrase, &ldquo;Even in
+his hands,&rdquo; on page 67?</p>
+
+<p>When Macaulay inverts the order of a sentence does he
+usually do it for emphasis or to secure coherence?</p>
+
+<p>Does he use many pronouns and conjunctions?</p>
+
+<p>Does he repeat words?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />BURKE&rsquo;S SPEECH ON CONCILIATION WITH THE COLONIES.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 100.)</p>
+
+<p>How many sentences in the first paragraph are periodic?</p>
+
+<p>What kind of sentences in paragraph 10?</p>
+
+<p>What is the effect of this paragraph?</p>
+
+<p>Notice the arrangement of loose and periodic clauses in
+the last sentence in paragraph 12. Make this sentence entirely
+loose.</p>
+
+<p>In the long sentence in paragraph 25 do the he&rsquo;s and
+him&rsquo;s all refer to the same person?</p>
+
+<p>What would you say of Burke&rsquo;s use of pronouns?</p>
+
+<p>Find examples of balanced sentences in this oration.</p>
+
+<p>Are you ever astray regarding Burke&rsquo;s meaning?</p>
+
+<p>What has he done to gain clearness?</p>
+
+<p>For what purpose does he frequently use questions?</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><br />WEBSTER&rsquo;S BUNKER HILL ORATION.<br />
+(Riverside Literature Series, No. 56.)</p>
+
+<p>What relation has the second sentence of paragraph 1 to
+the first?</p>
+
+<p>Is the last sentence in paragraph 3 clear? How has he
+made it so?</p>
+
+<p>Compare this sentence with the one beginning at the bottom
+of page 12.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page234" id="page234">234</a>
+In the last sentence of paragraph 6 where does loose structure
+change to the periodic?</p>
+
+<p>In paragraph 7 why would it be a blemish to write, &ldquo;That
+we may keep alive similar sentiments&rdquo;?</p>
+
+<p>Why does he repeat &ldquo;We wish&rdquo; so many times? Why
+did he not substitute synonyms?</p>
+
+<p>In paragraph 18 why has he used the word &ldquo;interest&rdquo;
+more than once? If the thought is to be repeated, why not
+some other word?</p>
+
+<p>In the eighth sentence of paragraph 21 is the structure
+periodic or loose?</p>
+
+<p>Reverse the order of clauses in the last sentence of paragraph
+28. What is the effect?</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page235" id="page235">235</a></div>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><b>WORDS</b></p>
+
+<p>A word is the sign of an idea. Whether the idea
+be an object, a quality, an action, simple existence, or
+a relation, if it be communicated to another, it must
+have some sign; in language these signs are words.
+Infinitely varied are the ideas man has to express.
+Each day, each moment, has its new combination of
+circumstances; yet by the common person the effect of
+the novel situation is described as &ldquo;horrid&rdquo; or &ldquo;awful&rdquo;
+or &ldquo;perfectly lovely.&rdquo; Three adjectives to describe all
+creation! No wonder that people are constantly misunderstood;
+that others do not get their ideas. How
+can they? Do the best the master can, the thought will
+not pass from him to his reader without considerable
+deflection. He cannot say exactly what he would. His
+words do not hold the same meaning for him as for
+others. &ldquo;Mother&rdquo; to him is a dear woman with a gentle
+voice, always dressed in black, sitting by the window
+of home; to another she is a shrieking termagant, whose
+phrases are punctuated by blows. There is not a word
+that means exactly the same to two persons; yet with
+words men must express their thoughts, their feelings,
+their hopes, their purposes,&mdash;always changing, ever
+new,&mdash;and for all this shall they use but a few score of
+words? Words are the last, least elements of language;
+without these least elements, these atoms of language,
+no sentence, however simple, can be made; by means of
+them, the master drives mobs to frenzy or soothes the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page236" id="page236">236</a>
+pain of eternal loss. The calm and peace which Emerson
+knew, we know; the perpetual benediction of past
+years which Wordsworth felt, all may feel. These
+thoughts masters have expressed in words, but not in
+three words. Thousands are not enough accurately to
+transfer their visions of this changing universe from
+them to us. Ideas infinite in their variety demand for
+their expression all the means which our language has
+placed at the disposal of the master. For this true
+expression the whole dictionary with its thousands of
+words is all too small.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Need of a Large Vocabulary.</span>
+Whoever hopes to be understood must acquire a full,
+rich vocabulary. However clearly he may
+think, however much he may feel, until he
+has words, the thought, the emotion, must remain
+his alone. To get a vocabulary, then, is a person&rsquo;s
+business. He who has it can command him
+who has it not. Not in literature alone, but in business,&mdash;in
+medicine, in law, behind the accountant&rsquo;s
+desk or the salesman&rsquo;s counter,&mdash;he is master who
+can say what he means so that the person to whom he
+speaks must know just what he means. Now it is a
+singular truth that when we read any great author, the
+words which we do not understand are remarkably few.
+Even in Shakespeare there are not many; and the
+few are unknown by reason of a constantly changing
+vocabulary. It was probably true then, as it would
+certainly be to-day, that the large majority of audiences
+lost not a word of his fifteen thousand, while they themselves
+used less than eight hundred. We know what
+others say; yet we say nothing ourselves. What a
+vocabulary one could accumulate, if from six to eighteen
+he added only two words a day! Twelve years,
+and each year more than seven hundred words! It
+does not look a difficult task. Children do more, and
+<a class="pgnm" name="page237" id="page237">237</a>
+never realize the superiority of their achievement. Nine
+thousand words at eighteen! Shakespeare alone used
+more. Macaulay needed scarcely six thousand.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Dictionary.</span>
+How shall a vocabulary be accumulated? One
+method is by the use of a dictionary; and
+many persons find it a source of great pleasure.
+The genealogy and biography of words are as
+fascinating to a devoted philologist as stamps to a philatelist
+or cathedrals to an architect. &ldquo;Canteen&rdquo; is
+quite an unassuming little word. Yet imperious C&aelig;sar
+knew it in its childhood. The Roman camp was laid
+out like a small city, with regular streets and avenues.
+On one of these streets called the &ldquo;Via Quintana&rdquo; all
+the supplies were kept. When the word passed into
+the Italian, it became &ldquo;cantina;&rdquo; and cantinas may be
+found among all nations who have drawn their language
+from the Latin. There is this difference, however:
+that whereas eatables were to be had in the Roman
+quintana, only drinkables can be found in the Italian
+cantina. When the English adopted the word, the
+middle meaning, a place where wines are stored, a
+wine-cellar, came to be a small flask especially fitted
+for the rough usage of a soldier&rsquo;s life, in which a necessary
+supply of some sort of liquid may be carried. So
+the name of a street has become the much-berated canteen
+of the sutler and the much needed canteen of the
+soldier. The dictionary is full of such fascinating biographies.
+Still its fascination is not the reason why
+most people study the dictionary: it is because such a
+study is necessary for the person who hopes for an accurate
+knowledge of the words he reads. It is not impossible
+to know &ldquo;pretty nearly what it means&rdquo; from
+the context; but no master uses words without knowing
+exactly what they mean. Certainty of meaning
+precedes frequency of use; and this necessary confidence
+<a class="pgnm" name="page238" id="page238">238</a>
+is gained from a study of the dictionary. In a
+general way we know all the words of Macaulay&rsquo;s vocabulary;
+but the average man uses only eight hundred
+of them. His knowledge of words is no more than an
+indistinct, mumbling knowledge. To lift each word
+out of its context, to make it a distinct, living entity,
+capable of serving, the definition must be studied.
+Then the student knows just what service the word is
+fitted for, and finds a pleasure in being competent to
+command that service. The dictionary is a necessity
+to the person who hopes to use words.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Study of Literature.</span>
+Yet the knowledge of words that the student derives
+from the dictionary is not sufficient.
+When one hears an educated foreigner speak,
+he detects little errors in his use of words,&mdash;errors
+which are not the fault of definition, but errors in the
+idiomatic use of words. This use cannot be learned
+from a dictionary, where words are studied individually,
+but only by studying them in combination with other
+words where the influence of one word upon another
+may be noted. There is little difference in the size of
+a pile of stones, whether we say a great pile of stones
+or a large pile of stones; but a great man is of much
+more consequence than a large man. A dictionary
+could hardly have told a foreigner this. A man may
+pursue or chase a robber, as the author wishes; but he
+may not chase a course. Prepositions are especially
+liable to be misused, and their correct use comes from
+a study of literature, not of the dictionary. The nice
+and discriminating refinements in the use of words
+are learned by careful reading. When a phrase is met,
+such as &ldquo;the steep and solitary eastern heaven,&rdquo; where
+each word has been born to a new beauty; or this,
+&ldquo;And the sweet city with her dreaming spires,&rdquo; where
+the adjectives &ldquo;sweet&rdquo; and &ldquo;dreaming&rdquo; have a richer
+<a class="pgnm" name="page239" id="page239">239</a>
+content, they should be regarded with great care and
+greeted with even more delight than words entirely
+new. How to read that we may gain this complete
+mastery of words, Mr. Ruskin has best told us in
+&ldquo;Sesame and Lilies.&rdquo; Every person should know &ldquo;Of
+Kings&rsquo; Treasuries&rdquo; by reading and re-reading. Literature,
+the way masters have used words, will furnish
+a knowledge of the nicer discriminations in their use.</p>
+
+<p>The dictionary and literature are the sources of
+a full and refined vocabulary. But the vocabulary
+which may be perfectly understood is not entirely
+in one&rsquo;s possession until it is used. Seek the first
+opportunity to use the newly acquired word. It will
+be hard to utter it; you will feel an effort in getting it
+out. Only once, however; after that it rises as easily
+as any old familiar word. Because the companion with
+whom you speak is always &ldquo;just as mad as&rdquo; she can
+be, is no reason why you may not at times be vexed,
+annoyed, aggravated, exasperated, or angry. Men are
+not always either &ldquo;perfectly lovely&rdquo; or &ldquo;awful;&rdquo;
+neither are all ladies &ldquo;jewels.&rdquo; There are degrees of
+villainy and nobility; and all jewels have not the same
+lustre. Know what you want to say, and find the one
+word that will exactly say it. This costs work, it is
+true; but what is there worth having which has not
+cost some one work? Do the work; search for the
+word; then use it. In this way a vocabulary becomes
+a real possession.</p>
+
+<p>The words which a person may use are generally
+described as reputable, national, and present. Words
+must be reputable; that is, sanctioned by the authority
+of the creators of English literature. They must be
+national; words that are the property of the mass of
+the people, not of a clique or a district. And they
+must be of the present; Chaucer&rsquo;s vocabulary, though
+<a class="pgnm" name="page240" id="page240">240</a>
+it be the source of English, will not satisfy the conditions
+of to-day.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Vulgarisms are not reputable.</span>
+First, words must be of reputable use. No person
+would consider vulgarisms reputable. When
+a person says &ldquo;I hain&rsquo;t got none,&rdquo; he has
+reached about the acme of vulgarisms, the
+language of the illiterate. Grammar has been disregarded;
+a word has been used which is not a word;
+and another word has no reason for its appearance in
+the sentence. Yet sometimes this expression is heard;
+seldom seen written. It is always set down to the
+account of an illiterate home; for no one can reach a
+high school without knowing its grammatical errors.
+The unerring use of <i>don&rsquo;t, me, I, lie, lay, set,</i> and <i>sit,</i>
+is not so assured that the list can be omitted. Adjectives
+are used for adverbs; &ldquo;real good&rdquo; is not yet forgotten.
+Nouns are called upon to do the work of
+verbs. This is the language of the illiterate, and it
+should be avoided; for vulgarisms are not reputable.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Slang is not reputable.</span>
+Neither is slang reputable. He would be a prude
+who would not recognize that slang is sometimes
+right to the point; and that many of
+our strongest idioms were originally slang.
+Still, although many phrases which to-day are called
+slang were at one time reputable, the fact of their
+respectable birth cannot save them from the slight
+imputation that now they are slang. Notwithstanding
+the fact that we owe some of our strongest idioms
+to slang, the free use of slang always vulgarizes. It
+generally is called upon to supply a deficiency either
+in thought or in the power of expression. People too
+lazy to think, too indolent to read, with little to say,
+and but a few slang phrases to say it with, may be
+allowed to practice this vulgarity; but cultured persons
+in cultured conversation will eschew all acquaintance
+<a class="pgnm" name="page241" id="page241">241</a>
+with it. To find it in the serious composition of
+educated persons always raises a question of their refinement.
+It is the stock in trade of the lazy and the
+uncultured. It is used to divert attention from poverty
+of thought and a threadbare vocabulary. It is
+unnecessary for the complete expression of thought by
+the scholar and man of refinement.</p>
+
+<p>It is a real misfortune that many good words have
+been tarnished by the handling of the illiterate. &ldquo;Awful,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;horrid,&rdquo; and &ldquo;lovely&rdquo; are good words; but they
+have been sullied by common use. So common have
+they become that they approach slang. They may be
+rescued from that charge in each person&rsquo;s writing, if
+he shows by accurate use of them that he is master of
+their secret strength.</p>
+
+<p>Milton wrote in &ldquo;Paradise Lost:&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;No! let us rather choose,</p>
+<p>Armed with Hell-flames and fury, all at once</p>
+<p>O&rsquo;er Heav&rsquo;n&rsquo;s high towers to force resistless way,</p>
+<p>Turning our tortures into <i>horrid</i> arms</p>
+<p>Against the Torturer.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Lord Lytton makes Richelieu exclaim:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;Look where she stands! Around her form I draw</p>
+<p>The <i>awful</i> circle of our solemn church.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>And in the New Testament we read:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever
+things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever
+things are pure, whatsoever things are <i>lovely,</i> whatsoever
+things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if
+there be any praise, think on these things.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>There is no question here of the words; they have
+all the freshness and vigor of their youth. Do not
+hesitate to use such words exactly. When the thought
+calls for them, they say with certainty what can be
+expressed only doubtfully by other words.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Words must be national. Provincialisms.</span>
+<a class="pgnm" name="page242" id="page242">242</a>
+Second, words must be of national use. They cannot
+be words confined to a locality. When
+Morris talks of a house that has been &ldquo;gammoned,&rdquo;
+he deprives a large number of readers
+of his meaning. &ldquo;Gums&rdquo; and &ldquo;brasses&rdquo;
+may be good in certain districts of England, but in
+literature they should not be used, for they would not
+generally be understood. For the same reason much
+of the common conversation of the South is foreign to
+a native of New York. Whoever employs the language
+of a locality limits his circle of readers to that
+locality. To write for all he must use the language of
+all; he must avoid provincialisms.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Technical and Bookish Words.</span>
+Like words that are used by a small region are words
+which are understood by a clique of persons.
+Scholars are inclined to use a scholarly vocabulary.
+The biologist has one; the chemist
+another; the philosopher a third. This technical vocabulary
+may be a necessity at times; but when a specialist
+addresses the public, his words must be the
+words which an average cultured man can understand.
+Such words can be found if the writer will look for
+them; if he does not, his work can scarcely be called
+literature. Technical words and bookish terms are not
+words of national use.</p>
+
+<p>The following by Josiah Royce illustrates how clearly
+a most abstruse topic can be handled by a man willing
+to take the trouble:<a class="ftnt" id="footref_50" name="footref_50" href="#footnote_50">50</a>&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;If you ask what sort of thing this substance is, the first
+answer is, that it is something eternal; and that means, not
+that it lasts a good while, but that no possible temporal view
+of it could exhaust its nature. All things that happen result
+from the one substance. This surely means that what happens
+now and what happened millions of years ago are, for
+the substance, equally present and necessary results. To illustrate
+<a class="pgnm" name="page243" id="page243">243</a>
+once more in my own way: A spider creeping back and
+forth across a circle could, if she were geometrically disposed,
+measure out in temporal succession first this diameter,
+and then that. Crawling first over one diameter, she would
+say, &lsquo;I now find this so long.&rsquo; Afterwards examining another
+diameter, she would say, &lsquo;It has now happened that
+what I have just measured proves to be precisely as long as
+what I measured some time since, and no longer.&rsquo; The toil
+of such a spider might last many hours, and be full of such
+successive measurements, each marked by a spun thread of
+web. But the true circle itself within which the web was
+spun, the circle in actual space as the geometer knows it,
+would its nature be thus a series of events, a mere succession
+of spun threads? No, the true circle would be timeless, a
+truth founded in the nature of space, outlasting, preceding,
+determining all the weary web-spinning of this time-worn
+spider. Even so we, spinning our web of experience in all
+its dreary complications in the midst of the eternal nature
+of the world-embracing substance, imagine that our lives
+somehow contain true novelty, discover for the substance
+what it never knew before, invent new forms of being.
+We fancy our past wholly past, and our future wholly unmade.
+We think that where we have yet spun no web, there
+is nothing, and that what we long ago spun has vanished,
+broken by the winds of time into nothingness. It is not so.
+For the eternal substance there is no before and after; all
+truth is truth. &lsquo;Far and forgot to me is near,&rsquo; it says. In
+the unvarying precision of its mathematical universe, all is
+eternally written.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p class="i4">&lsquo;Not all your piety nor wit</p>
+<p>Can lure it back to cancel half a line,</p>
+<p>Nor all your tears wash out one word of it.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Foreign Words.</span>
+Words and phrases from a foreign language should
+be used only as a last resort. <i>Bon mot, sine
+qua non,</i> and <i>dolce far niente</i> are all very apt,
+and to a person like Mr. Lowell, who was intimately
+<a class="pgnm" name="page244" id="page244">244</a>
+acquainted with many languages, they may come as
+soon as their English equivalents. In the case of such
+a person, the reason why they should not be used is
+that the reader cannot understand them. But when a
+young smatterer uses them to advertise his calling acquaintance
+with a language, he is but proclaiming his
+own lack of good taste. In his composition they are
+as ineffective to make it respectable as a large diamond
+on a gamester&rsquo;s finger to make him an honored
+gentleman. Use the English language when writing
+for English-speaking people. It has the fullest, richest
+vocabulary in the world. It will not be found
+unequal to the task of expressing your thoughts.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Words in Present Use.</span>
+Third, words should be in present use. Words may
+be so new that people do not know them;
+they may have passed out of use after years
+of good service. Of new words, but little can
+be said. The language constantly changes. New discoveries
+and inventions demand new words. What ones
+will be more than temporary cannot be prophesied.
+&ldquo;Blizzard&rdquo; and &ldquo;mugwump&rdquo; were new but a short
+time ago: the latter is dying from disuse, the former
+has come to stay. In this uncertainty one thing can
+be said, however. No word which has not secured
+recognition should be used by a young person, if by
+reputable words already in the language he can express
+his meaning. And just as he should not be the first to
+take up an untried word, so the young writer should
+not be the last to drop a dead one. There is at present
+a sort of fad for old English. A large number of
+words that have been resting quietly in their graves
+for centuries have been called forth. Some may
+enjoy a second life; most of them will feel only the
+weakness of a second obsolescence. &ldquo;Foreword&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;inwit&rdquo; were good once; but &ldquo;preface&rdquo; and &ldquo;conscience&rdquo;
+<a class="pgnm" name="page245" id="page245">245</a>
+mean as much and have the advantage of
+being alive. To be understood use the words of the
+present.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Words in their Present Meaning.</span>
+Use words in their present signification. Not only
+has language cast out many words; it has
+changed many others so that they are hardly
+recognized. When Chaucer wrote,<br /><br /></p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;Ther may no man Mercury mortify</p>
+<p>But hit be with his brother knowleching,&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p class="noind">&ldquo;mortify&rdquo; meant to make dead, to kill. To-day a
+lady may say she was mortified to death; but that is
+hyperbole. In &ldquo;Paradise Lost&rdquo; Satan may</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;Through the palpable obscure find out</p>
+<p>His uncouth way.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p class="noind">But a person to-day is not justified in using &ldquo;uncouth&rdquo;
+for &ldquo;unknown.&rdquo; The works of Shakespeare
+and Milton abound in words whose life has been prolonged
+to the present, but whose signification has been
+changed. The writer who seeks to use words with
+these old meanings is standing in his own light. Such
+use always attracts attention to the words themselves,
+and by so much subtracts attention from the thought.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Words of Latin and Saxon Origin.</span>
+Words that are in good use have been divided into
+two classes, as they have been drawn from
+two sources. Some differences between Anglo-Saxon
+and Latin words are marked.
+Saxon words are generally short; Latin words long.
+The first are the words of home and are concerned
+with the necessities of life; the second are the words
+of the court and the adornments of polite society. The
+former made the foundation of our language and gave
+to it its idiomatic strength; the latter came later, and
+added to the strength of the language its grace and
+refinement.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page246" id="page246">246</a>
+In our speech there can be no doubt that short words
+are used when the purpose is to be understood quickly,
+even harshly, while the longer words are frequently employed
+for saying unpleasant things pleasantly. Euphemism,
+the choice of words not harsh for harsh ideas,
+has its uses. It is not always wrong to say, &ldquo;He was
+taken away&rdquo; for &ldquo;He was killed.&rdquo; But when the plain
+truth is to be spoken, when, as in most composition,
+the object is to be understood, the words should be
+chosen which exactly express the thought, be those
+words Latin or Saxon. For any one to say, &ldquo;Was
+launched into eternity&rdquo; for &ldquo;Was hanged,&rdquo; or &ldquo;When
+the fatal noose was adjusted about the neck of the unfortunate
+victim of his own unbridled passions&rdquo; for
+&ldquo;When the halter was put around his neck,&rdquo; is a useless
+parade of vocabulary.<a class="ftnt" id="footref_51" name="footref_51" href="#footnote_51">51</a> One knows that such
+phrases are made by a writer who is ignorant of the
+value of words, or by a penny-a-liner, willing to sacrifice
+every effect of language to the immediate needs of
+his purse. Such writing has no power. The words
+are dictated by too low a motive to have any force in
+them. Let a writer go straight to the point as
+directly as the hindrances of language will allow. Even
+then his expression will lag behind his thought.</p>
+
+<p>This does not mean that one is to use Saxon words
+always. It means that one shall use the words that
+say exactly what is to be said, so that the reader can
+get the exact thought with the least outlay of attention
+to the words. Latin words are as common as Saxon
+words. To search out a Saxon word because it is
+Saxon and short is as reprehensible as to use the indirection
+of Latin words where directness is wanted.
+Latin words have a place; they express the finer distinctions
+and gradations of thought. In the discussion
+<a class="pgnm" name="page247" id="page247">247</a>
+of any question requiring nice precision of statement
+Latin words are necessary. In the following from
+Newman, it would be difficult, perhaps impossible, to
+substitute words of Anglo-Saxon origin for the words
+of Latin origin, and could it be done, the passage would
+not then have the clearness it now has from his use of
+common words, though they be Latin:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;I mean then by the Supreme Being, one who is simply
+self-dependent, and the only Being who is such; moreover,
+that He is without beginning or Eternal, and the only Eternal;
+that in consequence He has lived a whole eternity by
+Himself; and hence that He is all-sufficient, sufficient for his
+own blessedness, and all-blessed, and ever-blessed. Further,
+I mean a Being who, having these prerogatives, has the
+Supreme Good, or rather is the Supreme Good, or has all the
+attributes of good in infinite intenseness; all wisdom, all
+truth, all justice, all love, all holiness, all beautifulness; who
+is omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent; ineffably one, absolutely
+perfect; and such that what we do not know of Him
+is far more wonderful than what we do and can.&rdquo;<a class="ftnt" id="footref_52" name="footref_52" href="#footnote_52">52</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Latin words, moreover, have a fullness of sound
+which gives them an added weight and dignity. One
+would hesitate long before changing one of Milton&rsquo;s
+big-sounding phrases, even if he were not compelled to
+sacrifice the metre. In Webster&rsquo;s orations there is a
+dignity, a sublimity, gained by the use of full-mouthed
+polysyllables. Supposing he had said at the beginning
+of his eulogy of Adams and Jefferson, &ldquo;This is a new
+sight&rdquo; instead of &ldquo;This is an unaccustomed spectacle,&rdquo;
+the whole effect of dignified utterance commensurate
+with the occasion would have been lost. The oration
+abounds in examples of reverberating cadences. Milton&rsquo;s
+sentences are a stately procession of gorgeous
+words: the dignified pomp of the advance is occasioned
+<a class="pgnm" name="page248" id="page248">248</a>
+by the wealth of essential beauty and historical
+association in the individual words:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p class="i3">&ldquo;That proud honor claimed</p>
+<p>Azazel as his right, a Cherube tall:</p>
+<p>Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurl&rsquo;d</p>
+<p>Th&rsquo; imperial ensign, which, full high advanc&rsquo;t</p>
+<p>Shon like a meteor streaming to the wind,</p>
+<p>With gemms and golden lustre rich emblaz&rsquo;d</p>
+<p>Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while</p>
+<p>Sonorous metall blowing martial sounds:</p>
+<p>At which the universal host up-sent</p>
+<p>A shout that tore Hell&rsquo;s concave, and beyond</p>
+<p>Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.</p>
+<p>All in a moment through the gloom were seen</p>
+<p>Ten thousand banners rise into the air,</p>
+<p>With orient colours waving; with them rose</p>
+<p>A forrest huge of spears; and thronging helms</p>
+<p>Appear&rsquo;d, and serried shields in thick array</p>
+<p>Of depth immeasurable.&rdquo; (&ldquo;Paradise Lost.&rdquo;)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The choice of words does not depend on whether
+they are of Latin or of Saxon origin. In use it will
+be found that short words, like short sentences, give
+more directness and force to the composition; while
+long words have a dignified elegance and refinement
+of discrimination not the property of monosyllables.
+No one should think, however, that short words cause
+the force or long words cause the dignity. These
+qualities belong to the thought; the completeness of
+its expression is approached by a choice in words.
+Choose words for their fitness to say what you think,
+or feel, or purpose, having no regard for their origin.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">General and specific.</span>
+Words are also classified as general and specific.
+By a general word is meant a word common
+to or denoting a large number of ideas. By
+specific is meant a word that denotes or specifies a
+<a class="pgnm" name="page249" id="page249">249</a>
+single idea. &ldquo;Man,&rdquo; &ldquo;move,&rdquo; &ldquo;bad,&rdquo; are general
+and denote a large number of ideas; while &ldquo;Whittier,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;glide,&rdquo; &ldquo;thieving,&rdquo; are specific, denoting but
+one man, one movement, one kind of badness. &ldquo;Man&rdquo;
+denotes the whole human race, while it implies a feeling,
+thinking, speaking, willing animal. &ldquo;Whittier&rdquo;
+denotes but a single person, but beside all the common
+qualities implied by the, word &ldquo;man,&rdquo; &ldquo;Whittier&rdquo;
+suggests, among other things, a homely face, serious
+and kind, a poet, and an anti-slavery worker.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Use Words that suggest most.</span>
+As a principle in composition, it may be said that
+the more a word or phrase can be made to
+imply or suggest, while at the same time
+expressing all that the writer wishes to say,
+the more valuable does that word or phrase become.
+Yet it should be remembered that words may be so
+specific that they do not include all that the author
+wishes to include. For instance, if instead of &ldquo;Blessed
+are the peacemakers,&rdquo; the beatitude should be made
+to read &ldquo;Blessed are the Quakers,&rdquo; though this organized
+body of persons labor for the blessings of peace,
+yet the meaning would be restricted by the limited denotation
+of the term. It does not include enough. So
+in almost all of Emerson&rsquo;s writing, it would not be
+possible to express his entire thought with more specific
+words. Therefore regard must always be had for
+the thought,&mdash;that it may be expressed in its perfect
+fullness and entirety. Keeping this full expression in
+view, those words are strongest, truest, richest, which
+suggest most. To say of a person that he is a bad
+man is one thing; that he is a traitor is quite another;
+but when one writes that he is a veritable Judas, words
+fail to keep pace with suggestions, and reason yields
+to emotion. Specific words, if they denote the whole
+idea, are as much better than general terms as their
+suggestion exceeds the suggestion of general terms.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Synecdoche, Metonymy.</span>
+<a class="pgnm" name="page250" id="page250">250</a>
+Much of the force of figures of speech is derived
+from the suggestive quality of the specific
+words employed. When a man calls another
+a dog, he has used a metaphor. He has availed himself
+of a term that gathers up all the snarling qualities
+of the worst of the dog species. The figure has high
+suggestive power. Synecdoche, too, that figure of
+speech in which a part is used for the whole or the
+whole for a part, employs a term of higher suggestive
+power for one of lower connoting force. &ldquo;All
+hands took hold&rdquo; is better than &ldquo;All persons went to
+work.&rdquo; Metonymy is the substitution of the name of
+one thing for that of another to which the former bears
+a known and close relation. The most common of
+these known and close relations are those of cause and
+its effects, of container and the thing contained, and of
+sign and the thing signified. &ldquo;He has read Shakespeare,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;He was addicted to the use of the bottle,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;All patriots fight for the flag,&rdquo; are examples of metonymy.
+All these figures depend in large degree for
+their power upon the greater suggestiveness of specific
+words; and their use gives to composition an efficiency
+and directness commensurate with the greater connoting
+value of the specific words.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Care in Choice of Specific Words.</span>
+A writer should keep in mind the fact that the
+same word may mean widely different things
+to two persons. For this reason the specific
+word that appeals to him most may be of no
+value in addressing others. &ldquo;Free silver&rdquo; means to
+one set of men the withdrawal of money from investment,
+consequent stagnation in business, followed by
+the closing of factories and penury among laborers.
+To others it means three dollars a day for unskilled
+labor, fire, clothes, and something to eat. Again, if
+one wished to present the horrors of devastating disease,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page251" id="page251">251</a>
+in the South he would mention yellow fever, in
+the North smallpox; but to a lady who saw six little
+brothers and sisters dead from it in one week, three
+carried to the graveyard on the hillside one chill November
+morning, all the terrors of contagious disease
+are suggested by the word &ldquo;diphtheria.&rdquo; Words are
+weighted with our experiences. They are laden with
+what we have lived into them. As persons have different
+experiences, each word carries to each person a
+different meaning. The wise writer chooses those
+specific words which suggest most to the men he addresses,&mdash;in
+general, to the average man.</p>
+
+<p>There are many words that carry some of the same
+suggestions to all. These words are connected with
+the common things of life: such words as &ldquo;home,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;death,&rdquo; &ldquo;mother,&rdquo; and the many more that have
+been with all people from childhood. They are simple
+little words crowded with experiences. Such words
+carry a weight of suggestion not found in strange new
+words. It is for this reason that simple language goes
+straight to the heart; it is so loaded with life. Of two
+expressions that convey the thought with equal accuracy,
+always choose the simpler.</p>
+
+<p>The following poems&mdash;one by Tennyson,<a class="ftnt" id="footref_53" name="footref_53" href="#footnote_53">53</a> steeped
+in pain, perfect in its phrasing; the other by Kipling,
+rising to a conception of a true artist&rsquo;s work, never
+before so simply expressed&mdash;are both written in
+home words, little words, but words all know, words
+that carry to all a common meaning:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean:</p>
+<p>Tears from the depth of some divine despair</p>
+<p>Rise in the heart and gather to the eyes,</p>
+<p>In looking on the happy autumn fields,</p>
+<p>And thinking of the days that are no more.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page252" id="page252">252</a>
+&ldquo;Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail</p>
+<p>That brings our friends up from the underworld;</p>
+<p>Sad as the last which reddens over one</p>
+<p>That sinks with all we love below the verge;</p>
+<p>So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! sad and strange as in dark summer dawns</p>
+<p>The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds</p>
+<p>To dying ears, when unto dying eyes</p>
+<p>The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;</p>
+<p>So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;Dear as remembered kisses after death,</p>
+<p>And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned</p>
+<p>On lips that are for others; deep as love,</p>
+<p>Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;</p>
+<p>O Death in Life, the days that are no more!&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote class="poem" style="margin-right: 0;">
+<h4 style="margin-top: 2em;">L&rsquo;ENVOI.<a class="ftnt" id="footref_54" name="footref_54" href="#footnote_54">54</a></h4>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;When Earth&rsquo;s last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried,</p>
+<p>When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died,</p>
+<p>We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it&mdash;lie down for an &aelig;on or two,</p>
+<p>Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall put us to work anew!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;And those that were good shall be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair;</p>
+<p>They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets&rsquo; hair;</p>
+<p>They shall find real saints to draw from&mdash;Magdalene, Peter, and Paul;</p>
+<p>They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page253" id="page253">253</a>
+&ldquo;And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame;</p>
+<p>And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame;</p>
+<p>But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,</p>
+<p>Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They Are!&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Avoid Hackneyed Phrases.</span>
+Much like general terms, which mean something or
+nothing, are expressions that have become
+trite and hackneyed. At some time they
+were accurate phrases, saying just what was
+needed. By being used for all sorts of purposes, they
+have lost the original thought of which they were the
+accurate expression. They have no freshness. The
+sounding phrases repeated in the pulpit, or the equally
+empty phrases of the scientist, however good they were
+at their inception, are, in the writing of many persons,
+but theological and scientific cant relied upon by ignorant
+people to cover up the vacuity of their thought.
+One&rsquo;s own expression, even though it be not so elegant
+and graceful, is better than any worn-out, hackneyed
+phrase. Think for yourself; then say what you have
+thought in the best language you can find yourself.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">&ldquo;Fine Writing.&rdquo;</span>
+&ldquo;Fine writing,&rdquo; the subjection of noble words to
+ignoble service, is to be avoided. Mr. Micawber
+was addicted to this pomposity of
+language; and Dickens, by the creation of this character,
+has done literature a real service, by showing
+how absurd it is, how valueless for anything more than
+humor. &ldquo;&lsquo;Under the impression,&rsquo; said Mr. Micawber,
+&lsquo;that your peregrinations in this metropolis have not
+as yet been extensive, and that you might have some
+difficulty in penetrating the arcana of the Modern
+Babylon in the direction of the City Road&mdash;in short,&rsquo;
+<a class="pgnm" name="page254" id="page254">254</a>
+said Mr. Micawber, in another burst of confidence,
+&lsquo;that you might lose yourself&mdash;I shall be happy to
+call this evening, and install you in the knowledge of
+the nearest way.&rsquo;&rdquo; Here are great words in profusion
+to dress out a little thought. &ldquo;Fine writing&rdquo;
+is as much out of taste as over-dressing. When the
+thought calls for noble expression, then all one&rsquo;s energies
+should be bent to finding noble phrases; but for
+common things common expressions are the only ones
+in good taste.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">In Prose avoid Poetical Words.</span>
+Much like &ldquo;fine writing&rdquo; is the use of poetical
+words in prose. <i>Enow, erstwhile, besprent,
+methinks, agone,</i> and <i>thine</i> are examples of
+a large class of words which, though in
+perfectly good taste in poetry, are in extremely poor
+taste in prose. They are out of place; and so attract
+attention to themselves, not to the thought they express.
+When writing prose, avoid poetical words.</p>
+
+<p>All of this comes at last to one rule: be exact, be
+accurate in the choice of words. Not a word that half
+expresses the thought, not even one that is pretty near,
+but the only word that exactly expresses the meaning,
+that word must be used. It is not a question of long
+or short, of Latin or Saxon, of general or specific; it
+is a question of accuracy or inaccuracy, the whole or a
+part, the whole or too much, of just right or about
+right. No one would entirely misunderstand the following
+sentence; and just as certainly no one would
+derive from these words the impression the author had
+when he wrote it. He has phrased it as follows:
+&ldquo;Another direction in which free education is most
+valuable to society, is the way in which it removes the
+gulf affixed between the rich and poor.&rdquo; The boy
+wanted the opening sentence to sound big, and forgot
+that the first use of words is accurately to express the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page255" id="page255">255</a>
+thought. In this sentence are the commonest errors
+in the choice of words. &ldquo;Most valuable&rdquo; says more
+than truth; &ldquo;direction&rdquo; says less than truth; and
+&ldquo;affixed&rdquo; does not say anything. Had the boy studied
+the dictionary, had he been familiar with the Bible, had
+he carefully considered the figure he introduced with
+the word &ldquo;gulf,&rdquo; he would not have written this incongruous
+sentence; he would not have been inaccurate.
+Spare no pains in your effort to be exact. Search
+through the words of your own vocabulary; if these
+fall short, find others in the dictionary. Get the word
+that exactly expresses the thought. Let no fine-sounding
+or high-born word trick you into saying what
+you do not mean. Be master of your words; never let
+fine expressions enslave you. In a word, be accurate.</p>
+
+<p>Such painstaking labor has its reward not alone in
+the increased power of expression; there is also a corresponding
+growth in the ability to observe accurately
+and to think clearly. No man can write such descriptions
+as Ruskin and Stevenson have written without
+seeing accurately; nor can a man speak with the definite
+certainty of Burke without thinking clearly. The
+desire to be accurate in expression drives a writer to be
+accurate in thinking. To think is the highest that
+man can hope from education. Anything that contributes
+to this highest attainment should be undertaken
+with joy. Whether planning a story or constructing
+an argument; whether excluding irrelevant matter or
+including what contributes to the perfection of the
+whole; whether massing the material so that all the
+parts shall receive their due emphasis; whether relating
+the parts so that the thought advances steadily and
+there can be no misunderstanding,&mdash;in all this the student
+will find arduous labor. Yet after all this is done,&mdash;when
+the theme, the paragraphs, and the sentences
+<a class="pgnm" name="page256" id="page256">256</a>
+contain exactly what is needed, are properly massed, and
+are set in perfect order,&mdash;then comes the long labor
+of revision, which does not stop until the exact word
+is hunted out. For upon words, at last, we are dependent
+for the expression of our observation and thought.
+He is most entirely master of his thoughts who can
+accurately express them: clearly, that he cannot be
+misunderstood; forcefully, that he will not be unread;
+and elegantly, that he give the reader joy. And this
+mastery he evinces in a finely discriminating choice of
+words.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page257" id="page257">257</a></div>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER X</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><b>FIGURES OF SPEECH</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Figurative Language.</span>
+There is a generally accepted division of language
+into literal and figurative. Language that
+is literal uses words in their accepted and
+accurate meaning. Figurative language employs words
+with meanings not strictly literal, but varying from
+their ordinary definitions.</p>
+
+<p>Much of our language is figurative. When a person
+says, &ldquo;He is a bright boy,&rdquo; he has used the word
+&ldquo;bright&rdquo; in a sense that is not literal; the use is figurative.
+In the following there is hardly a sentence that
+has not some variation from literal language.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Down by the river there is, as yet, little sign of spring.
+Its bed is all choked with last year&rsquo;s reeds, trampled about
+like a manger. Yet its running seems to have caught a happier
+note, and here and there along its banks flash silvery
+wands of palm. Right down among the shabby burnt-out
+underwood moves the sordid figure of a man. His hat is
+battered, and he wears no collar. I don&rsquo;t like staring at his
+face, for he has been unfortunate. Yet a glimpse tells me
+that he is far down the hill of life, old and drink-corroded at
+fifty.&rdquo; (Le Gallienne.)</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>In the second sentence there are at least three figurative
+expressions. &ldquo;Bed,&rdquo; &ldquo;choked,&rdquo; and &ldquo;trampled
+like a manger&rdquo; are not literal. So, too, in the next
+sentence there are two beautiful variations from literal
+expression. Going on through the selection the reader
+will find frequently some happy change from literalness,&mdash;sometimes
+just a word, sometimes a phrase.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page258" id="page258">258</a>
+Figurative language is of great value. It adds
+clearness to our speech; it gives it more force; or it
+imparts to literature beauty. The last use is the most
+common; indeed, it is so common that sometimes the
+other uses are overlooked. However, when such a
+sentence as the following is read, the comparison is of
+value in giving <i>clearness</i> to the thought, although it
+does not state the literal truth.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;In the early history of our planet, the moon was flung
+off into space, as mud is thrown from a turning wagon
+wheel.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>Force</i> is often gained by the use of figurative language.
+The following is a good illustration:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Neither the perseverance of Holland, nor the activity
+of France, nor the dextrous and firm sagacity of English enterprise,
+ever carried this most perilous mode of hardy industry
+to the extent to which it has been pushed by these
+people [Americans]; a people who are still, as it were, but
+in the gristle, and not yet hardened into the bone of manhood.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The next is an illustration of a figure used for
+<i>beauty:&mdash;</i></p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,</p>
+<p>Having some business, do entreat her eyes</p>
+<p>To twinkle in their spheres till they return.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>A figure of speech is any use of words with a sense
+varying from their literal definition, to secure clearness,
+force, or beauty of expression.</i></p>
+
+<p>Figures add so much to the attractiveness of literature,
+that every one would like to use them. Yet figures
+should never be sought for. When they come of
+themselves, when they insist on being used, and are a
+part of the thought itself, and seem to be its only adequate
+<a class="pgnm" name="page259" id="page259">259</a>
+expression, then they should be used. In most
+cases figures are ornaments of literature; it must be
+remembered that ornament is always secondary, and
+that no ornament is good unless it is in entire harmony
+with the thing it is to beautify. (See Preface, p. viii.)</p>
+
+<p>When a figure suggests itself, it must be so clearly
+seen that there can be no mixing of images. Some
+people are determined to use figures, and they force
+them into every possible place. The result is that
+there is often a confusion of comparisons. The following
+is bad: &ldquo;His name went resounding in golden letters
+through the corridors of time.&rdquo; Just how a name
+could resound &ldquo;in golden letters&rdquo; is a difficult question.
+Longfellow used the last phrase beautifully:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;Not from the grand old masters,</p>
+<p>Not from the bards sublime,</p>
+<p>Whose distant footsteps echo</p>
+<p>Through the corridors of time.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Of the two hundred or more figures of speech which
+have been named and defined, only a few need be mentioned
+here. And the purpose is not that you shall
+use them more, but that you may recognize them when
+you meet them in literature.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Figures based upon Likeness.</span>
+There is a large group of figures of speech based
+upon likeness. One thing is so much like
+another that it is spoken of as like it, or, more
+frequently, one is said to be the other. Yet
+if the things compared are very much alike, there is
+no figure. To say that a cat is like a panther is not
+considered figurative. It is when in objects essentially
+different we detect and name some likeness that we
+say there is a figure of speech. There is at first thought
+no likeness between hope and a nurse; yet were it not
+for hope most persons would die. Thackeray was right
+when he said that &ldquo;Hope is the nurse of life.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page260" id="page260">260</a>
+The principal figures based upon likeness are metaphor,
+epithet, personification, apostrophe, allegory, and
+simile.</p>
+
+<p><i>A metaphor is an implied comparison between
+things essentially different, but having some common
+quality.</i> Metaphor is by far the most common figure of
+speech; indeed, so common is it that figurative language
+is often called metaphorical.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Tombs are the clothes of the dead; a grave is but a
+plain suit, and a rich monument is one embroidered.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p class="i5">&ldquo;Let me choose;</p>
+<p>For as I am, I live upon the rack.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Only a little removed from metaphor is epithet.
+<i>An epithet is a word, generally a descriptive adjective
+or a noun, used, not to give information, but to impart
+strength or ornament to diction.</i> It is like a shortened
+metaphor. It is very often found in impassioned prose
+or verse. Notice that in each epithet there is a comparison;
+that the figure is based on likeness.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p class="i5">&ldquo;Here are sever&rsquo;d lips</p>
+<p>Parted with <i>sugar</i> breath.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Base <i>dog!</i> why shouldst thou stand here?&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>Personification is a figure that ascribes to inanimate
+things, abstract ideas, and the lower animals the
+attributes of human beings.</i> It is plain that there
+must be some resemblance of the lower to the higher,
+else this figure could not be used. Personification, like
+the epithet, is a modification of the metaphor. Indeed,
+in every personification there is also a metaphor.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees</p>
+<p>And they did make no noise.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;But ever heaves and moans the restless Deep.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page261" id="page261">261</a>
+<i>Apostrophe is an address to the dead as if living;
+to abstract ideas or inanimate objects as if they were
+persons.</i> It is a variety of personification.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;O Caledonia! stern and wild,</p>
+<p>Meet nurse for a poetic child!&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;Wee, modest, crimson-tipp&egrave;d flower,</p>
+<p>Thou&rsquo;s met me in an evil hour;</p>
+<p>For I maun crush amang the stoure</p>
+<p class="i6">Thy slender stem.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>Allegory is a narrative in which material things
+and circumstances are used to illustrate and enforce
+high spiritual truths.</i> It is a continued personification.
+Bunyan&rsquo;s &ldquo;Pilgrim&rsquo;s Progress&rdquo; and Spenser&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Faerie Queene&rdquo; are good examples of allegory.</p>
+
+<p>All these figures are varieties of metaphor. In them
+there is always an implied, not an expressed, comparison.</p>
+
+<p><i>A simile is an expressed comparison between unlike
+things that have some common quality.</i> This comparison
+is usually indicated by <i>like</i> or <i>as.</i></p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Ilbrahim was like a domesticated sunbeam, brightening
+moody countenances, and chasing away the gloom from the
+dark corners of the cottage.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>(Does this figure change to another in its course?)</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;How far that little candle throws its beams!</p>
+<p>So shines a good deed in a naughty world.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Of retired Dutch valleys, Irving wrote:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;They are like those little nooks of still water which border
+a rapid stream; where we may see the straw and bubble
+riding quietly at anchor, or slowly revolving in their mimic
+harbor, undisturbed by the rush of the passing current.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote" style="width: 7em;">
+Figures based upon Sentence Structure.</span>
+There are a number of figures that express emotion
+<a class="pgnm" name="page262" id="page262">262</a>
+by simply changing the normal order of the sentence.
+Among these are inversion, exclamation, interrogation,
+climax, and irony.<br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><i>Inversion is a figure intended to give
+emphasis to the thought by a change from the natural
+order of the words in a sentence.</i></p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Thine</i> be the glory!&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Few</i> were the words they said.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;He saved others; <i>himself</i> he cannot save.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>Exclamation is an expression of strong emotion in
+abrupt, inverted, or elliptical phrases.</i> It is among
+sentences what the interjection is among words.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;How far that little candle throws its beams!&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>Interrogation is a figure in which a question is
+asked, not to get an answer, but for the sake of
+emphasis.</i></p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Do men gather grapes from thorns, or figs from thistles?&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;Fear ye foes who kill for hire?</p>
+<p>Will ye to your homes retire?&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Am I a coward?&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>Climax is a figure in which the intensity of the
+thought and emotion gradually increases with the
+successive groups of words or phrases.</i> (See p. <a href="#page211">211</a>.)</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Your children do not grow faster from infancy to manhood
+than they [the American colonists] spread from families
+to communities, from villages to nations.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>Irony is a figure in which one thing is said and
+the opposite is meant.</i></p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;And Job answered and said, No doubt but ye are the
+people, and wisdom shall die with you.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;O Jew, an upright judge, a learned judge!&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page263" id="page263">263</a>
+Four other figures should be mentioned: metonymy,
+synecdoche, allusion, and hyperbole.</p>
+
+<p><i>Metonymy calls one thing by the name of another
+which is closely related to the first.</i> The most common
+relations are cause and effect, container and thing contained,
+and sign and the thing signified.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;From the cradle to the grave is but a day.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;I did dream of money-bags to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>Synecdoche is that figure of speech in which a part
+is put for the whole, or the whole for a part.</i></p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Fifty sail came into harbor.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The redcoats are marching.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>Allusion is a reference to something in history or
+literature with which every one is supposed to be acquainted.</i></p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>Men still sigh for the flesh pots of Egypt; still worship
+the golden calf.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>There is no &ldquo;Open Sesame&rdquo; to the treasures of learning;
+they must be acquired by hard study.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Milton and Shakespeare are full of allusions to the
+classic literature of Greece and Rome.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hyperbole is an exaggerated statement made for
+effect.</i></p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders,
+long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his
+sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his
+whole frame most loosely hung together.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw</p>
+<p>Millions of acres on us, till our ground,</p>
+<p>Singeing his pate against the burning zone,</p>
+<p>Make Ossa like a wart!&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Exercises in Figures.</span>
+<a class="pgnm" name="page264" id="page264">264</a>
+Name the following figures. Of those that are based
+upon likeness, tell in what the similarity consists.
+In many of the selections more than
+one figure will be found.<a class="ftnt" id="footref_55" name="footref_55" href="#footnote_55">55</a></p>
+
+<ol>
+<li>&ldquo;The long, hard winter of his youth had ended; the
+spring-time of his manhood was turning green like the woods.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li>A pig came up to a horse and said, &ldquo;Your feet are
+crooked, and your hair is worth nothing.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;The words of his mouth were smoother than butter,
+but war was in his heart; his words were softer than oil, but
+they were drawn swords.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;The lily maid of Astolat.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;O Truth! O Freedom! how are ye still born</p>
+<p>In the rude stable, in the manger nursed!&rdquo;</p></li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;The birch, most shy and ladylike of trees,</p>
+<p>Her poverty, as best she may, retrieves,</p>
+<p>And hints at her foregone gentilities</p>
+<p>With some saved relics of her wealth of leaves.&rdquo;</p></li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;O friend, never strike sail to a fear! Come into port
+grandly, or sail with God the seas!&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Primroses smile and daisies cannot frown.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;How deeply and warmly and spotlessly Earth&rsquo;s nakedness
+is clothed!&mdash;the &lsquo;wool&rsquo; of the Psalmist nearly two
+feet deep. And as far as warmth and protection are concerned,
+there is a good deal of the virtue of wool in such a
+snow-fall. It is a veritable fleece, beneath which the shivering
+earth (&lsquo;the frozen hills ached with pain,&rsquo; says one of our
+young poets) is restored to warmth.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;We can win no laurels in a war for independence.
+Earlier and worthier hands have gathered them all. Nor
+are there places for us by the side of Solon and Alfred and
+other founders of States. Our fathers have filled them.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li><p><a class="pgnm" name="page265" id="page265">265</a>
+&ldquo;I put on righteousness, and it clothed me; my judgment
+was as a robe and diadem.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was father to the poor; and the cause which I knew
+not I searched out.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I brake the jaws of the wicked, and plucked the
+spoil out of his teeth.&rdquo;</p></li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;His head and his heart were so well combined that
+he could not avoid becoming a power in his community.&rdquo;</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p>Spenser, writing of honor, says:&mdash;</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li value="13"><div class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;In woods, in waves, in wars, she wonts to dwell,</p>
+<p>And will be found with peril and with pain;</p>
+<p>Nor can the man that moulds an idle cell</p>
+<p>Unto her happy mansion attain:</p>
+<p>Before her gate high God did Sweat ordain,</p>
+<p>And wakeful watches ever to abide;</p>
+<p>But easy is the way and passage plain</p>
+<p>To pleasure&rsquo;s palace: it may soon be spied,</p>
+<p>And day and night her doors to all stand open wide.&rdquo;</p>
+</div></li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Over the vast green sea of the wilderness, the moon
+swung her silvery lamp.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;The peace of the golden sunshine was supreme. Even
+a tiny cloudlet anchored in the limitless sky would not sail
+to-day.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;A short way further along, I come across a boy gathering
+palm. He is a town boy, and has come all the way from
+Whitechapel thus early. He has already gathered a great
+bundle&mdash;worth five shillings to him, he says. This same
+palm will to-morrow be distributed over London, and those
+who buy sprigs of it by the Bank will know nothing of the
+blue-eyed boy who gathered it, and the murmuring river by
+which it grew. And the lad, once more lost in some squalid
+court, will be a sort of Sir John Mandeville to his companions&mdash;a
+Sir John Mandeville of the fields, with their water-rats,
+their birds&rsquo; eggs, and many other wonders. And one
+can imagine him saying, &lsquo;And the sparrows there fly right
+<a class="pgnm" name="page266" id="page266">266</a>
+up into the sun, and sing like angels.&rsquo; But he won&rsquo;t get his
+comrades to believe <i>that.</i>&ldquo;</li>
+
+<li class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;We wandered to the Pine Forest</p>
+<p class="i1">That skirts the Ocean&rsquo;s foam;</p>
+<p>The lightest wind was in its nest,</p>
+<p class="i1">The tempest in its home.</p>
+<p>The whispering waves were half asleep,</p>
+<p class="i1">The clouds were gone to play,</p>
+<p>And on the bosom of the deep</p>
+<p class="i1">The smile of heaven lay;</p>
+<p>It seemed as if the hour were one</p>
+<p class="i1">Sent from beyond the skies</p>
+<p>Which scattered from above the sun</p>
+<p class="i1">The light of Paradise.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;We paused amid the pines that stood</p>
+<p class="i1">The giants of the waste,</p>
+<p>Tortured by storms to shapes as rude</p>
+<p class="i1">As serpents interlaced,&mdash;</p>
+<p>And soothed by every azure breath</p>
+<p class="i1">That under heaven is blown,</p>
+<p>To harmonies and hues beneath,</p>
+<p class="i1">As tender as its own:</p>
+<p>Now all the tree-tops lay asleep</p>
+<p class="i1">Like green waves on the sea,</p>
+<p>As still as in the silent deep</p>
+<p class="i1">The ocean woods may be.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;When a bee brings pollen into the hive, he advances
+to the cell in which it is to be deposited and kicks it off as one
+might his overalls or rubber boots, making one foot help the
+other; then he walks off without ever looking behind him;
+another bee, one of the indoor hands, comes along and rams
+it down with his head and packs it in the cell as the dairy-maid
+packs butter into a firkin.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;For thy desires</p>
+<p>Are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous.&rdquo;</p></li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason!
+<a class="pgnm" name="page267" id="page267">267</a>
+how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express
+and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension
+how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon
+of animals!&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;And in her cheeks the vermeil red did shew</p>
+<p>Like roses in a bed of lilies shed.&rdquo;</p></li>
+
+<li>He betrayed his friend with a Judas kiss.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;A true poet is not one whom they can hire by money
+and flattery to be a minister of their pleasures, their writer
+of occasional verses, their purveyor of table wit; he cannot
+be their menial, he cannot even be their partisan. At the
+peril of both parties let no such union be attempted. Will a
+Courser of the Sun work softly in the harness of a Dray-horse?
+His hoofs are of fire, and his path is through the
+heavens, bringing light to all lands; will he lumber on mud
+highways, dragging ale for earthly appetites from door to
+door?&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;Hath a dog money? is it possible</p>
+<p>A cur can lend three thousand ducats?&rdquo;</p></li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;Kind hearts are more than coronets,</p>
+<p>And simple faith than Norman blood.&rdquo;</p></li>
+
+<li>They sleep together,&mdash;the gray and the blue.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Have not the Indians been kindly and justly treated?
+Have not the temporal things&mdash;the vain baubles and filthy
+lucre of this world&mdash;which were apt to engage their worldly
+and selfish thoughts, been benevolently taken from them?
+And have they not, instead thereof, been taught to set their
+affections on things above?&rdquo; (Quoted from Meiklejohn&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;The Art of Writing English.&rdquo;)</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine,</p>
+<p>And they fell on Sir Launfal as snows on the brine,</p>
+<p>That mingle their softness and quiet in one</p>
+<p>With the shaggy unrest they float down upon.&rdquo;</p></li>
+
+<li>Too much red tape caused a great amount of suffering
+in the beginning of the war.</li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p><a class="pgnm" name="page268" id="page268">268</a>
+&ldquo;Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll!</p>
+<p>Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain.&rdquo;</p></li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;The old Mountain has thrown a stone at us for fear
+we should forget him. He sometimes nods his head, and
+threatens to come down.&rdquo;</li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;But pleasures are like poppies spread:</p>
+<p>You seize the flow&rsquo;r, its bloom is shed;</p>
+<p>Or like the snow falls in the river,</p>
+<p>A moment white&mdash;then melts for ever;</p>
+<p>Or like the borealis race,</p>
+<p>That flit ere you can point their place;</p>
+<p>Or like the rainbow&rsquo;s lovely form</p>
+<p>Evanishing amid the storm.&rdquo;</p>
+</li>
+</ol>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page269" id="page269">269</a></div>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><b>VERSE FORMS<a class="ftnt" id="footref_56" name="footref_56" href="#footnote_56">56</a></b></p>
+
+<p>No pupil has passed through the graded schools
+without being told that he should not sing verses,
+though no one is inclined to sing prose. One can
+scarcely help singing verse, and one cannot well sing
+prose.</p>
+
+<p>What is there about the form that leads a person to
+sing verses of poetry? For example, when a person
+reads the first lines of &ldquo;The Lady of the Lake,&rdquo; he
+falls naturally into a sing-song which can be represented
+by musical notation as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;The&nbsp;</td><td>stag&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>at&nbsp;</td><td>eve&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>had&nbsp;</td><td>drunk&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>his&nbsp;</td><td>fill,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Where&nbsp;</td><td>danced&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>the&nbsp;</td><td>moon&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>on&nbsp;</td><td>Mon</td>
+    <td>an&rsquo;s&nbsp;</td><td>rill,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>And&nbsp;</td><td>deep&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>his&nbsp;</td><td>mid</td>
+    <td>night&nbsp;</td><td>lair&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>had&nbsp;</td><td>made</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>In&nbsp;</td><td>lone&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>Glen</td><td>art</td>
+    <td>ney&rsquo;s&nbsp;</td><td>ha</td>
+    <td>zel&nbsp;</td><td>shade.&rdquo;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The second, fourth, sixth, and eighth syllables in
+each of these lines are naturally accented in reading,
+while the other syllables are read without stress. The
+eight syllables of each line fall naturally into groups
+<a class="pgnm" name="page270" id="page270">270</a>
+of two, an unaccented syllable followed by an accented
+syllable, just as in the musical notation given, an
+unaccented eighth note is followed by an accented
+quarter.</p>
+
+<p>In &ldquo;Hiawatha&rdquo; the accented syllable comes first,
+and the unaccented follows it.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;By&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>shores&nbsp;</td><td>of&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>Git</td><td>chee&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>Gu</td><td>mee,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>By&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>shin</td><td>ing&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>Big-</td><td>Sea-</td>
+    <td>Wa</td><td>ter,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Stood&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>wig</td><td>wam&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>of&nbsp;</td><td>No</td>
+    <td>ko</td><td>mis,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Daugh</td><td>ter&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>of&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>Moon,&nbsp;</td><td>No</td>
+    <td>ko</td><td>mis.&rdquo;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>So, too, there are groups in which there are three
+syllables. The accent may fall on any one of the three.
+In the following stanza from &ldquo;The Bridge of Sighs,&rdquo;
+the accent falls on the first syllable of each group.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;Touch&nbsp;</td><td>her&nbsp;</td><td>not&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>scorn</td><td>ful</td><td>ly;</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Think&nbsp;</td><td>of&nbsp;</td><td>her&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>mourn</td><td>ful</td><td>ly,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Gent</td><td>ly&nbsp;</td><td>and&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>hu</td><td>man</td><td>ly,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Not&nbsp;</td><td>of&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>stains&nbsp;</td><td>of&nbsp;</td><td>her;</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>All&nbsp;</td><td>that&nbsp;</td><td>re</td>
+    <td>mains&nbsp;</td><td>of&nbsp;</td><td>her</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><a class="pgnm" name="page271" id="page271">271</a>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Now&nbsp;</td><td>is&nbsp;</td><td>pure&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>wo</td><td>man</td><td>ly.&rdquo;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The accent may be upon the second syllable of the
+group. This is not common. The following is from
+&ldquo;The Three Fishers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;Three&nbsp;</td><td>fish</td><td>ers&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>went&nbsp;</td><td>sail</td><td>ing&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>out&nbsp;</td><td>in</td><td>to&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>the&nbsp;</td><td>West,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Out&nbsp;</td><td>in</td><td>to&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>the&nbsp;</td><td>West&nbsp;</td><td>as&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>the&nbsp;</td><td>sun&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>went&nbsp;</td><td>down;</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Each&nbsp;</td><td>thought&nbsp;</td><td>on&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>the&nbsp;</td><td>wo</td><td>man&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>that&nbsp;</td><td>loved&nbsp;</td><td>him&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>the&nbsp;</td><td>best;</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">[<img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />]</td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>[And]&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td><td>child</td><td>ren&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>stood&nbsp;</td><td>watch</td><td>ing&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>them&nbsp;</td><td>out&nbsp;</td><td>of&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>the&nbsp;</td><td>town.&rdquo;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Or the accent may be upon the last syllable of the
+group. This form is very common. It is found in the
+poem entitled &ldquo;Annabel Lee.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;It&nbsp;</td><td>was&nbsp;</td><td>man</td>
+    <td>y&nbsp;</td><td>and&nbsp;</td><td>man</td>
+    <td>y&nbsp;</td><td>a&nbsp;</td><td>year&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>a</td><td>go,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="i3">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>In&nbsp;</td><td>a&nbsp;</td><td>king</td>
+    <td>dom&nbsp;</td><td>by&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>the&nbsp;</td><td>sea,</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>That&nbsp;</td><td>a&nbsp;</td><td>maid</td>
+    <td>en&nbsp;</td><td>there&nbsp;</td><td>lived&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>whom&nbsp;</td><td>you&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>may&nbsp;</td><td>know</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="i3">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>By&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td><td>name&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>of&nbsp;</td><td>An</td>
+    <td>na</td><td>bel&nbsp;</td><td>Lee;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>And&nbsp;</td><td>this&nbsp;</td><td>maid</td>
+    <td>en&nbsp;</td><td>she&nbsp;</td><td>lived&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>with&nbsp;</td><td>no&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>oth</td><td>er&nbsp;</td><td>thought</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="i3">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><a class="pgnm" name="page272" id="page272">272</a>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Than&nbsp;</td><td>to&nbsp;</td><td>love&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>and&nbsp;</td><td>be&nbsp;</td><td>loved&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>by&nbsp;</td><td>me.&rdquo;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Poetic Feet.</span>
+If all these verses be observed carefully, it will be
+seen that in each group of syllables there is one accented
+syllable combined with one or two unaccented.
+Such a group of syllables is called a foot.
+The foot is the basis of the verse; and from
+the prevailing kind of foot that is found in any verse,
+the verse derives its name.</p>
+
+<p><i>A foot is a group of syllables composed of one accented
+syllable combined with one or more unaccented.</i>
+It will be noticed further that if musical notation be
+used, all of these forms are but variations of the one
+form, represented by the standard measure 3/8. They
+are:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<table style="border-collapse: collapse;">
+    <tr style="vertical-align: middle">
+        <td>
+            <table class="rthm" style="display: inline-table;">
+                <tr>
+                    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td>
+                    <td class="rbord">^</td>
+                </tr>
+                <tr>
+                    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />&nbsp;</td>
+                    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" />&nbsp;</td>
+                </tr>
+            </table>
+</td>
+        <td>;&nbsp;</td>
+
+        <td>
+            <table class="rthm" style="display: inline-table;">
+                <tr>
+                    <td class="lbord">^</td>
+                    <td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td>
+                </tr>
+                <tr>
+                    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" />&nbsp;</td>
+                    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />&nbsp;</td>
+                </tr>
+            </table>
+</td>
+        <td>;&nbsp;</td>
+
+        <td>
+            <table class="rthm" style="display: inline-table;">
+                <tr>
+                    <td class="lbord">^</td>
+                    <td>&nbsp;</td>
+                    <td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td>
+                </tr>
+                <tr>
+                    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />&nbsp;</td>
+                    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />&nbsp;</td>
+                    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />&nbsp;</td>
+                </tr>
+            </table>
+</td>
+        <td>;&nbsp;</td>
+
+        <td>
+            <table class="rthm" style="display: inline-table;">
+                <tr>
+                    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td>
+                    <td>^</td>
+                    <td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td>
+                </tr>
+                <tr>
+                    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />&nbsp;</td>
+                    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />&nbsp;</td>
+                    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />&nbsp;</td>
+                </tr>
+            </table>
+</td>
+        <td>; and&nbsp;</td>
+
+        <td>
+            <table class="rthm" style="display: inline-table;">
+                <tr>
+                    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td>
+                    <td>&nbsp;</td>
+                    <td class="rbord">^</td>
+                </tr>
+                <tr>
+                    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />&nbsp;</td>
+                    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />&nbsp;</td>
+                    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />&nbsp;</td>
+                </tr>
+            </table>
+</td>
+        <td>.</td>
+    </tr>
+</table>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p class="noind">Accordingly there are five forms of poetic feet made of
+this musical rhythm. Of these, four are in common use.</p>
+
+<p><i>An Iambus is a two-syllable foot accented on the
+last syllable. Verse made of this kind of feet is called
+iambic.</i> It is the most common form found in English
+poetry. Example:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The stag at eve had drunk his fill.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>A Trochee is a two-syllable foot accented on the first
+syllable. Verse made of this kind of feet is called
+trochaic.</i> Example:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Stood the wigwam of Nokomis.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>A Dactyl is a three-syllable foot accented on the
+first syllable. Such verse is called dactylic.</i> Example:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Touch her not scornfully.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page273" id="page273">273</a>
+<i>An Amphibrach is a three-syllable foot accented on
+the middle syllable.</i> It is uncommon. Example:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Three fishers went sailing out into the West.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>An Anapest is a three-syllable foot accented on the
+last syllable.</i> Example:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;It was many and many a year ago.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>A Spondee is a very uncommon foot in English. It
+consists of two long syllables accented about equally.
+It occurs as an occasional foot in a four-syllable rhythm.
+No English poem is entirely spondaic. The four-syllable
+foot and the spondee are so uncommon that
+there is little use in the pupil&rsquo;s knowing more than that
+there are such things. The example below is quoted
+from Lanier&rsquo;s &ldquo;The Science of English Verse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;Ah, the&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>au</td><td>tumn&nbsp;</td><td>days&nbsp;</td><td>fade&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>out,&nbsp;</td><td>and&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>nights&nbsp;</td><td>grow&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>chill</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm" style="margin-bottom: 0;">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>And we</td>
+    <td>walk&nbsp;</td><td>no&nbsp;</td><td>more&nbsp;</td><td>to</td>
+    <td>ge</td><td>ther&nbsp;</td><td>as&nbsp;</td><td>we&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>used&nbsp;</td><td>of&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>yore</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>When the rose was new in blossom and the sun was on the hill,</p>
+<p>And the eves were sweetly vocal with the happy whippoorwill,</p>
+<p>And the land-breeze piped its sweetest by the ocean shore.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Kinds of Metre.</span><i>A verse is a single line of poetry.</i> It
+may contain from one foot to eight feet.<br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><i>A line made of one foot is called monometer.</i> It is
+never used throughout a poem, except as a joke, but
+it sometimes occurs as an occasional verse in a poem
+that is made of longer lines. The two lines which follow
+are from the song of &ldquo;Winter&rdquo; in Shakespeare&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Love&rsquo;s Labour&rsquo;s Lost.&rdquo; The last is monometer.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page274" id="page274">274</a>
+&ldquo;Then nightly sings the staring owl</p>
+<p class="i5">Tu-whit.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>A line containing two feet is called dimeter.</i> It
+also is uncommon; but it does sometimes make up a
+whole poem; as, &ldquo;The Bridge of Sighs,&rdquo; already mentioned.
+Another example is:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m&nbsp;</td><td>wear</td>
+    <td>ing&nbsp;</td><td>awa&rsquo;,&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>Jean,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Like&nbsp;</td><td>snaw&nbsp;</td><td>when&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>it&rsquo;s&nbsp;</td><td>thaw,&nbsp;</td><td>Jean,&nbsp;</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="i1">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>I&rsquo;m&nbsp;</td><td>wear</td>
+    <td>ing&nbsp;</td><td>awa&rsquo;</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>To&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td><td>land&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>o&rsquo;&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td><td>leal.&rdquo;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>It is frequently met as an occasional line in a poem.
+Wordsworth&rsquo;s &ldquo;Daisy&rdquo; shows it.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;Bright <i>Flower!</i> for by that name at last,</p>
+<p>When all my reveries are past,</p>
+<p>I call thee, and to that cleave fast,</p>
+<p class="i5">Sweet, silent creature!</p>
+<p>That breath&rsquo;st with me in sun and air,</p>
+<p>Do thou, as thou art wont, repair</p>
+<p>My heart with gladness, and a share</p>
+<p class="i5">Of thy meek nature!&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>A line containing three feet is called trimeter.</i> Example:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;The&nbsp;</td><td>snow&nbsp;</td><td>had&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>be</td><td>gun&nbsp;</td><td>in&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>the&nbsp;</td><td>gloam</td><td>ing,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="i2">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>And&nbsp;</td><td>bus</td>
+    <td>ily&nbsp;</td><td>all&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>the&nbsp;</td><td>night</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Had&nbsp;</td><td>been&nbsp;</td><td>heap</td>
+    <td>ing&nbsp;</td><td>field&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>and&nbsp;</td><td>high</td><td>way</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="i2">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>With&nbsp;</td><td>a&nbsp;</td><td>si</td>
+    <td>lence&nbsp;</td><td>deep&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>and&nbsp;</td><td>white.&rdquo;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>A line containing four feet is called tetrameter.</i>
+&ldquo;Marmion&rdquo; is written in tetrameters. See the extract
+on p. <a href="#page276">276</a>.</p>
+
+<p><i>A line containing five feet is called pentameter.</i>
+This line is very common in English poetry. It gives
+<a class="pgnm" name="page275" id="page275">275</a>
+room enough for the poet to say something, and is not
+so long that it breaks down with its own weight.
+Shakespeare&rsquo;s Plays, Milton&rsquo;s &ldquo;Paradise Lost,&rdquo; Tennyson&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Idylls of the King,&rdquo;&mdash;indeed, most of the
+great, serious work of the master-poets has been done
+in this verse.</p>
+
+<p><i>A line containing six feet is called hexameter.</i>
+This is the form adopted in the Iliad and the Odyssey
+of the Greeks, and the &AElig;neid of the Romans; it has
+been used sometimes by English writers in treating
+dignified subjects. &ldquo;The Courtship of Miles Standish&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;Evangeline&rdquo; are written in hexameter.</p>
+
+<p>Verses of seven and eight feet are rare; they are
+called heptameter and octameter, respectively. The
+heptameter is usually divided into a tetrameter and a
+trimeter; the octameter, into two tetrameters. Poe&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Raven&rdquo; and Tennyson&rsquo;s &ldquo;Locksley Hall&rdquo; are in
+octameters, and Bryant&rsquo;s &ldquo;The Death of the Flowers&rdquo;
+is in heptameters.</p>
+
+<p>A verse is named from its prevailing kind of foot
+and the number of feet. For example, &ldquo;The Merchant
+of Venice&rdquo; is in iambic pentameter, and &ldquo;The
+Courtship of Miles Standish&rdquo; is in dactylic hexameter.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Stanzas.</span>
+A stanza is a group of verses, but these verses are
+not necessarily of the same length. Monometer, dimeter,
+and trimeter are not often used for a
+whole stanza; but they are frequently found
+in a stanza, introducing variety into it. A stanza
+made up of tetrameter alternating with trimeter is
+very common. The stanzas from &ldquo;Annabel Lee&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;The Village Blacksmith,&rdquo; found on pages <a href="#page278">278</a>
+and <a href="#page279">279</a>, are excellent examples.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Scansion.</span>
+<i>Scansion is the separation of a verse of poetry into
+its component feet.</i> Poetry was originally sung or
+<a class="pgnm" name="page276" id="page276">276</a>
+chanted by bards and troubadours. The accompaniment
+was a simple strumming on a harp of
+very few strings, and was hardly more than
+the beating of time. The chanting must have been
+much like the sing-song that some people fall into
+when reading verses now. The first thing in scanning
+a line of poetry is to drop into its rhythm,&mdash;to let it
+sing itself. When the regular accent is felt, the lines
+can easily be separated into their metrical feet. Read
+these lines from &ldquo;Marmion,&rdquo; and mark only the accented
+syllables.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;And&nbsp;</td><td>there&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>she&nbsp;</td><td>stood&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>so&nbsp;</td><td>calm&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>and&nbsp;</td><td>pale,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm" style="margin-bottom: 0;">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>That&nbsp;</td><td>but&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>her&nbsp;</td><td>breath</td>
+    <td>ing&nbsp;</td><td>did&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>not&nbsp;</td><td>fail,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>And motion slight of eyes and head,</p>
+<p>And of her bosom, warranted</p>
+<p>That neither sense nor pulse she lacks,</p>
+<p>You might have thought a form of wax</p>
+<p>Wrought to the very life was there;</p>
+<p>So still she was, so pale, so fair.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The marked verses have an accented syllable preceded
+by an unaccented syllable. Such a foot is iambic.
+There are four feet in each verse; so the poem
+is written in iambic tetrameter. In the same way, one
+decides that &ldquo;The Song of Hiawatha&rdquo; is written in
+trochaic tetrameter.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Variations in Metres.</span>
+In music the bar or measure is not always filled
+with exactly the same kind of notes arranged in the
+same order. If the signature reads 3/8, the
+measure may be filled by any notes that added
+together equal three eighth notes. It may be a quarter
+and an eighth, an eighth and a quarter, a dotted
+quarter, or three eighth notes. So, in poetry the
+verses are not always as regular as in &ldquo;Marmion&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;Hiawatha,&rdquo; although poetry is more regular than
+<a class="pgnm" name="page277" id="page277">277</a>
+music and there are usually few variations of metre
+in any one poem. A knowledge of the most common
+forms of variation is necessary to correct scansion.</p>
+
+<p>The commonest variation in verse is the substitution
+of three eighths for the quarter and the eighth, or the
+eighth and the quarter. And the very opposite of this
+often occurs; that is, the substitution of the two-syllable
+foot for the three-syllable foot. The following, from
+&ldquo;The Burial of Sir John Moore,&rdquo; illustrates what is
+done. Notice, however, that the beat is quite regular,
+and the lines lilt along as if there were no change.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;Not&nbsp;</td><td>a&nbsp;</td><td>drum&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>was&nbsp;</td><td>heard,&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>not&nbsp;</td><td>a&nbsp;</td><td>fun</td>
+    <td>er</td><td>al&nbsp;</td><td>note,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="i1">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord">[<img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />]</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>As&nbsp;</td><td>his&nbsp;</td><td>corse&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>to&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td><td>ram</td>
+    <td>part&nbsp;</td><td>we&nbsp;</td><td>hur</td><td>[ried];</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Not&nbsp;</td><td>a&nbsp;</td><td>sol</td>
+    <td>dier&nbsp;</td><td>dis</td><td>charged&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>his&nbsp;</td><td>fare</td>
+    <td>well&nbsp;</td><td>shot</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="i1">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord">[<img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" />]</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>O&rsquo;er&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td><td>grave&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>where&nbsp;</td><td>our&nbsp;</td><td>he</td>
+<td>ro&nbsp;</td><td>we&nbsp;</td><td>bur</td><td>[ied].&rdquo;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p class="noind">In reading this the first time, a person is not likely to
+notice that there are three feet in it containing but two
+syllables. The rhythm is perfectly smooth, and cannot
+be called irregular. The accent remains on the last
+syllable of the foot.</p>
+
+<p>In the following selection from &ldquo;Evangeline,&rdquo;
+trochees are substituted for dactyls, yet there is no
+break in the rhythm. It does not seem in the least
+irregular.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<div class="i4">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;Be</td>
+    <td>hind&nbsp;</td><td>them&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>fol</td><td>lowed&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>watch-</td><td>dog,</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<table class="rthm" style="margin-bottom: 0;">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><a class="pgnm" name="page278" id="page278">278</a>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Pa</td><td>tient,&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>full&nbsp;</td><td>of&nbsp;</td><td>im</td>
+    <td>port</td><td>ance,&nbsp;</td><td>and&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>grand&nbsp;</td><td>in&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>pride&nbsp;</td><td>of&nbsp;</td><td>his&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>in</td><td>stinct,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and superbly</p>
+<p>Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the stragglers.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>These examples are enough to illustrate the fact that
+one kind of foot may be substituted for another and
+not make the rhythm feel irregular. So long as the
+accent is not changed from the first syllable to the
+last, or from the last to the first, there is no jar in
+the flow of the lines. <i>The trochee and the dactyl are
+interchangeable; and the iambus and the anapest
+are interchangeable.</i></p>
+
+<p>We may take a step further. There are many times
+when some sudden change of thought, some strong
+emotion forces a poet to break the smooth rhythm,
+that the verses may harmonize with his feeling. Such
+a variation is like an exclamation or a dash thrown
+into prose. The following is taken from &ldquo;Annabel
+Lee.&rdquo; The regular foot has the accent on the last
+syllable. It is anapestic, in tetrameters and trimeters.
+But note the shudder in the third line when the accent
+is changed on the word &ldquo;chilling.&rdquo; The music and the
+thought are in perfect harmony.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;And this was the reason that, long ago,</p>
+<p class="i1">In this kingdom by the sea,</p>
+
+<table class="rthm" style="margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0;">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>A&nbsp;</td><td>wind&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>blew&nbsp;</td><td>out&nbsp;</td><td>of&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>a&nbsp;</td><td>cloud,&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>chil</td><td>ling</td></tr>
+</table>
+<p class="i1">My beautiful Annabel Lee;</p>
+<p>So that her highborn kinsman came</p>
+<p class="i1">And bore her away from me</p>
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page279" id="page279">279</a>
+To shut her up in a sepulchre</p>
+<p class="i1">In this kingdom by the sea.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Another beautiful example is found in the last stanza
+of the same poem. It is in the first two feet of the
+fifth line. Here the regular accent has yielded to an
+accent on the middle syllable and there are two amphibrachs.
+Notice, too, how it is almost impossible to
+tell in the next foot whether the accent goes upon the
+second or upon the third syllable. It is hovering between
+the form of the first two feet and the anapest of
+the last foot.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams</p>
+<p class="i2">Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;</p>
+<p>And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes</p>
+<p class="i2">Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;</p>
+<table class="rthm" style="margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0;">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+<td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>And&nbsp;</td><td>so,&nbsp;</td><td>all&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>the&nbsp;</td><td>night-</td><td>tide,&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>I&nbsp;</td><td>lie&nbsp;</td><td>down&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>by&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td><td>side</td></tr>
+</table>
+<p>Of my darling&mdash;my darling&mdash;my life and my bride,</p>
+<p class="i2">In her sepulchre there by the sea</p>
+<p class="i2">In her tomb by the sounding sea.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>As has already been said, the iambus is the common
+foot of English verse. It is made of a short and a
+long syllable. At the beginning of a poem an unaccented
+syllable seems weak; and so very frequently
+the first foot of a poem is trochaic; often the first
+two or three feet are of this kind. At such a place
+the irregularity does not strike one. The following is
+an illustration:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;Un</td><td>der&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>a&nbsp;</td><td>spread</td>
+    <td>ing&nbsp;</td><td>chest</td>
+    <td>nut&nbsp;</td><td>tree</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="i1">
+<table class="rthm" style="margin-bottom: 0;">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>The&nbsp;</td><td>vil</td>
+    <td>lage&nbsp;</td><td>smith</td>
+    <td>y&nbsp;</td><td>stands;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page280" id="page280">280</a>
+The smith, a mighty man is he,</p>
+<p class="i1">With large and sinewy hands;</p>
+<p>And the muscles of his brawny arms</p>
+<p class="i1">Are strong as iron bands.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>In this stanza the prevailing foot is iambic, but the
+first foot is trochaic. In the following beautiful lines
+by Ben Jonson, there is the same thing:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<table class="rthm" style="margin-bottom: 0;">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;Drink&nbsp;</td><td>to&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>me&nbsp;</td><td>on</td>
+    <td>ly&nbsp;</td><td>with&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>thine&nbsp;</td><td>eyes</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="i1">And I will pledge with mine;</p>
+<p>Or leave a kiss but in the cup</p>
+<p class="i1">And I&rsquo;ll not look for wine.</p>
+<p>The thirst that from the soul doth rise</p>
+<p class="i1">Doth ask a drink divine;</p>
+<p>But might I of Jove&rsquo;s nectar sup,</p>
+<p class="i1">I would not change for thine.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>A similar substitution may occur in any other verse
+of the stanza; but we feel the change more than when
+it is found in the first verse. The second stanza of
+Jonson&rsquo;s song furnishes an example of the substitution
+of a trochee for an iambus:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;I sent thee late a rosy wreath,</p>
+<div class="i1">
+<table class="rthm" style="margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0;">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Not&nbsp;</td><td>so&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>much&nbsp;</td><td>hon</td>
+    <td>or</td><td>ing&nbsp;</td><td>thee</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+<p>As giving it a hope that there</p>
+<p class="i1">It could not withered be,</p>
+<p>But thou thereon didst only breathe</p>
+<p class="i1">And sent&rsquo;st it back to me;</p>
+<p>Since when it grows and smells, I swear,</p>
+<p class="i1">Not of itself, but thee.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Of all the great poets, but few have been such masters
+<a class="pgnm" name="page281" id="page281">281</a>
+of the art of making musical verse as Spenser.
+The following stanza is from &ldquo;The Faerie Queene;&rdquo;
+and the delicate changes from one foot to another are
+so skillfully made that one has to look twice before he
+finds them.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;A&nbsp;</td><td>lit</td>
+    <td>tle&nbsp;</td><td>low</td>
+    <td>ly&nbsp;</td><td>her</td>
+    <td>mit</td><td>age&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>it&nbsp;</td><td>was,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Down&nbsp;</td><td>in&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>a&nbsp;</td><td>dale,&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>hard&nbsp;</td><td>by&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>a&nbsp;</td><td>for</td>
+    <td>est&rsquo;s&nbsp;</td><td>side,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Far&nbsp;</td><td>from&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>res</td><td>ort&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>of&nbsp;</td><td>peo</td>
+    <td>ple&nbsp;</td><td>that&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>did&nbsp;</td><td>pass</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>In&nbsp;</td><td>trav</td>
+    <td>el&nbsp;</td><td>to&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>and&nbsp;</td><td>fro;&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>a&nbsp;</td><td>lit</td>
+    <td>tle&nbsp;</td><td>wide</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>There&nbsp;</td><td>was&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>a&nbsp;</td><td>ho</td>
+    <td>ly&nbsp;</td><td>chap</td>
+    <td>el&nbsp;</td><td>ed</td>
+    <td>i</td><td>fied,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Where</td><td>in&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>a&nbsp;</td><td>her</td>
+    <td>mit&nbsp;</td><td>du</td>
+    <td>ly&nbsp;</td><td>wont&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>to&nbsp;</td><td>say</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>His&nbsp;</td><td>ho</td>
+    <td>ly&nbsp;</td><td>things&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>each&nbsp;</td><td>morn&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>and&nbsp;</td><td>ev</td>
+    <td>en</td><td>tide;</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>There</td><td>by&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>a&nbsp;</td><td>crys</td>
+    <td>tal&nbsp;</td><td>stream&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>did&nbsp;</td><td>gent</td>
+    <td>ly&nbsp;</td><td>play,</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td>^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Which&nbsp;</td><td>from&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>a&nbsp;</td><td>sac</td>
+    <td>red&nbsp;</td><td>foun</td>
+    <td>tain&nbsp;</td><td>wel</td>
+    <td>l&eacute;d&nbsp;</td><td>forth&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>al</td><td>way.&rdquo;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">First and Last Foot.</span>
+From the lines on &ldquo;The Burial of Sir John Moore,&rdquo;
+another fact about metres may be derived. The second
+and fourth lines apparently have one too
+many syllables. <i>This may occur when the
+accent is upon the last syllable of the foot;</i> that is,
+when the foot is an iambus or an anapest.</p>
+
+<p>Again, the last foot of each line may be one syllable
+short. <i>This may occur when the accent is on the first
+syllable of a foot;</i> that is, when the foot is trochaic
+or dactylic. The scheme is like this:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;Tell&nbsp;</td><td>me&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>not&nbsp;</td><td>in&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>mourn</td><td>ful&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>num</td><td>bers</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="i1">
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8rest.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth rest"/>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Life&nbsp;</td><td>is&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>but&nbsp;</td><td>an&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>emp</td><td>ty&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>dream.&rdquo;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p class="noind"><a class="pgnm" name="page282" id="page282">282</a>
+The last foot of a verse of poetry, then, may have more
+or fewer syllables than the regular number; still the
+foot takes up the regular time and cannot be deemed
+unrhythmical.</p>
+
+<p>The first foot of a line, too, may contain an extra
+syllable; a good example has been given in the lines
+on page <a href="#page273">273</a>, beginning,&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, the autumn days fade out, and the nights grow chill.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p class="noind">And the first foot of a line may lack a syllable, as in
+the first line of &ldquo;Break, Break, Break,&rdquo; by Tennyson.</p>
+
+<p>In a line like the following, it is sometimes difficult
+to tell whether the syllable is omitted from the first or
+the last foot. If from the first, the verse is iambic,
+and is scanned like this:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8rest.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth rest"/></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>&ldquo;Proud&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>and&nbsp;</td><td>low</td>
+    <td>ly,&nbsp;</td><td>beg</td>
+    <td>gar&nbsp;</td><td>and&nbsp;</td><td>lord.&rdquo;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p class="noind">If the last foot is not full, the line is trochaic.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="lbord">^</td><td class="rbord">&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/8rest.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth rest"/>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&ldquo;Proud&nbsp;</td><td>and&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>low</td><td>ly,&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>beg</td><td>gar&nbsp;</td><td>and&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>lord.&rdquo;&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p class="noind">Now if the whole of &ldquo;London Bridge,&rdquo; from which this
+line is quoted, be read, there will be found several lines
+that are trochaic beyond question; and the last line of
+the chorus is iambic. The majority of trochaic lines
+leads us to decide that the verse is trochaic. From
+this example one learns to appreciate how nearly alike
+are trochaic and iambic verses. Both are composed of
+alternating accented and unaccented syllables; and the
+kind of metre depends upon which comes first in the
+foot. In Blake&rsquo;s &ldquo;Tiger, Tiger,&rdquo; there is not a line
+that clearly shows what kind of verse the poet used.
+If the unaccented syllable is supplied at the beginning
+the poem is iambic; if at the end, it is trochaic.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page283" id="page283">283</a>
+&ldquo;Tiger, Tiger, burning bright</p>
+<p>In the forests of the night,</p>
+<p>What immortal hand or eye</p>
+<p>Framed thy fearful symmetry?&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Silences may occur in the middle of a verse of
+poetry as well as at the beginning or the end. In the
+following nursery rhyme it is clear that the prevailing
+foot is anapestic, though several feet are iambic, and
+in the first two lines and the last line a single syllable
+makes a foot. Silences are introduced here as rests
+are in music.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8rest.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth rest"/></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8rest.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth rest"/></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8rest.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth rest"/></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>&ldquo;Three&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>blind&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>mice!</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8rest.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth rest"/></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8rest.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth rest"/></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>See&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>how&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>they&nbsp;</td><td>run!</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Hur</td><td>rah,&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>hur</td><td>rah&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>for&nbsp;</td><td>the&nbsp;</td><td>farm</td>
+    <td>er&rsquo;s&nbsp;</td><td>wife!</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>She&nbsp;</td><td>cut&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>off&nbsp;</td><td>their&nbsp;</td><td>tails&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>with&nbsp;</td><td>a&nbsp;</td><td>carv</td>
+    <td>ing&nbsp;</td><td>knife!</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td>^</td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td><td class="rbord">^</td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>Did&nbsp;</td><td>you&nbsp;</td><td>ev</td>
+    <td>er&nbsp;</td><td>see&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>such&nbsp;</td><td>a&nbsp;</td><td>sight&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>in&nbsp;</td><td>your&nbsp;</td><td>life</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<table class="rthm">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord"><img src="images/8note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth note" /></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8rest.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth rest"/></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8rest.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth rest"/></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>As&nbsp;</td><td>three&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>blind&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>mice!&rdquo;</td></tr>
+</table>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p class="noind">Like this is the scansion of Tennyson&rsquo;s &ldquo;Break, Break,
+Break.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<div class="i1">
+<table class="rthm" style="margin-bottom: 0;">
+<tr>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8rest.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth rest"/></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8rest.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth rest"/></td>
+    <td><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td>
+    <td class="lbord">&nbsp;<img src="images/8rest.bmp" class="h1m" alt="eighth rest"/></td>
+    <td class="rbord"><img src="images/4note.bmp" class="h1m" alt="quarter note" /></td></tr>
+<tr>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>&ldquo;Break,&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>break,&nbsp;</td>
+    <td>&nbsp;</td><td>break!</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<p>On thy cold gray stones, O sea!</p>
+<p>And I would that my tongue could utter</p>
+<p>The thoughts that arise in me.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>In scanning, then, it is necessary&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page284" id="page284">284</a>
+<i>First.</i> To determine by reading a number of verses
+the kind of foot that predominates, and to make this
+the basis of the metrical scheme.</p>
+
+<p><i>Second.</i> To remember that one kind of foot may be
+substituted for another, at the will of the poet, introducing
+into the poem a delicate variety of rhythm.</p>
+
+<p><i>Third.</i> To keep in mind that the first foot of a
+verse and the last foot may have more or fewer syllables
+than the regular foot of the poem.</p>
+
+<p><i>Fourth.</i> That silences, like rests in music, may be
+introduced into a verse and give to it a perfect smoothness
+of rhythm.</p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Kinds of Poetry.</span>
+It is a difficult thing to give a definition of poetry.
+Many have done so, yet no one has been fortunate
+enough to have his definition go without criticism.
+In general, it may be said that poetry
+deals with serious subjects, that it appeals to the feelings
+rather than to the reason, that it employs beautiful
+language, and that it is written in some metrical
+form.</p>
+
+<p>Poetry has been divided into three great classes:
+narrative, lyric, and dramatic.</p>
+
+<p>Narrative poetry deals with events, real or imaginary.
+It includes, among other varieties, the epic, the metrical
+romance, the tale, and the ballad.</p>
+
+<p><i>The epic is a narrative poem of elevated character
+telling generally of the exploits of heroes.</i> The
+&ldquo;Iliad&rdquo; of the Greeks, the &ldquo;&AElig;neid&rdquo; of the Romans,
+the &ldquo;Nibelungen Lied&rdquo; of the Germans, &ldquo;Beowulf&rdquo;
+of the Anglo-Saxons, and &ldquo;Paradise Lost&rdquo; are good
+examples of the epic.</p>
+
+<p><i>The metrical romance is any fictitious narrative of
+heroic, marvelous, or supernatural incidents derived
+from history or legend, and told at considerable length.</i>
+&ldquo;The Idylls of the King&rdquo; are romances.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page285" id="page285">285</a>
+The tale is but little different from the romance. It
+leaves the field of legend and occupies the place in
+poetry that a story or a novel does in prose. &ldquo;Marmion&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;Enoch Arden&rdquo; are tales.</p>
+
+<p><i>A ballad is a short narrative poem, generally rehearsing
+but one incident.</i> It is usually vigorous in
+style, and gives but little thought to elegance. &ldquo;Sir
+Patrick Spens,&rdquo; &ldquo;The Battle of Otterburne,&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;Chevy Chase&rdquo; are examples.</p>
+
+<p>Lyric poetry finds its source in the author&rsquo;s feelings
+and emotions. In this it differs from narrative poems,
+which find their material in external events and circumstances.
+Epic poetry is written in a grand style,
+generally in pentameter, or hexameter; while the lyric
+adopts any verse that suits the emotion. The principal
+classes of lyric poetry are the song, the ode, the
+elegy, and the sonnet.</p>
+
+<p><i>The song is a short poem intended to be sung.</i> It
+has great variety of metres and is generally divided
+into stanzas. &ldquo;Sweet and Low,&rdquo; &ldquo;Ye Banks and
+Braes o&rsquo; Bonnie Doon,&rdquo; &ldquo;John Anderson, My Jo,
+John,&rdquo; are songs.</p>
+
+<p><i>An ode is a lyric expressing exalted emotion; it
+usually has a complex and irregular metrical form.</i>
+Collins&rsquo;s &ldquo;The Passions,&rdquo; Wordsworth&rsquo;s &ldquo;Intimations
+of Immortality,&rdquo; and Lowell&rsquo;s &ldquo;Commemoration Ode,&rdquo;
+are well known.</p>
+
+<p><i>An elegy is a serious poem pervaded by a feeling of
+melancholy.</i> It is generally written to commemorate
+the death of some friend. Milton&rsquo;s &ldquo;Lycidas&rdquo; and
+Gray&rsquo;s &ldquo;Elegy in a Country Churchyard&rdquo; are examples
+of this form of lyric.</p>
+
+<p><i>A sonnet is a lyric that deals with a single
+thought, idea, or sentiment in a fixed metrical form.
+The sonnet always contains fourteen lines.</i> It has,
+<a class="pgnm" name="page286" id="page286">286</a>
+too, a very definite rhyme scheme. Some of the best
+English sonnets have been written by Shakespeare,
+Wordsworth, and Mrs. Browning.</p>
+
+<p>Dramatic poetry presents a course of human events,
+and is generally designed to be spoken on the stage.
+Because such poetry presents human character in
+action, the term &ldquo;dramatic&rdquo; has come to be applied to
+any poetry having this quality. Many of Browning&rsquo;s
+poems are dramatic in this sense. In the first sense of
+the word, dramatic poetry includes tragedy and comedy.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tragedy is a drama in which the diction is dignified,
+the movement impressive, and the ending unhappy.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Comedy is a drama of a light and amusing character,
+with a happy conclusion to its plot.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="sidenote">Exercises in Metres.</span>
+Enough of each poem is given below so that the
+kind of metre can be determined. Always name the
+verse form and write the verse scheme.
+Some hard work will be necessary to work out
+the irregular lines, but it is only by work on these that
+any ability in scanning can be gained. Always read
+a stanza two or three times to get the swing of the
+rhythm. Remember the silences, and the substitutions
+that may be made.</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;I stood on the bridge at midnight</p>
+<p>As the clocks were striking the hour,</p>
+<p>And the moon rose over the city,</p>
+<p>Behind the dark church tower.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;Among the long black rafters</p>
+<p>The wavering shadows lay,</p>
+<p>And the current that came from the ocean</p>
+<p>Seemed to lift and bear them away.&rdquo;</p>
+</div></li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;All things are new;&mdash;the buds, the leaves,</p>
+<p>That gild the elm-tree&rsquo;s nodding crest,</p>
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page287" id="page287">287</a>
+And even the nest beneath the eaves;&mdash;</p>
+<p>There are no birds in last year&rsquo;s nest!&rdquo;</p>
+</li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Brought in the wood from out of doors,</p>
+<p>Littered the stalls, and from the mows</p>
+<p>Raked down the herd&rsquo;s-grass for the cows;</p>
+<p>Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;</p>
+<p>And, sharply clashing horn on horn,</p>
+<p>Impatient down the stanchion rows</p>
+<p>The cattle shake their walnut bows;</p>
+<p>While, peering from his early perch</p>
+<p>Upon the scaffold&rsquo;s pole of birch,</p>
+<p>The cock his crested helmet bent</p>
+<p>And down his querulous challenge sent.&rdquo;</p>
+</li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;You know, we French stormed Ratisbon:</p>
+<p>A mile or so away,</p>
+<p>On a little mound, Napoleon</p>
+<p>Stood on our storming day;</p>
+<p>With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,</p>
+<p>Legs wide, arms locked behind,</p>
+<p>As if to balance the prone brow</p>
+<p>Oppressive with its mind.&rdquo;</p>
+</li>
+
+<li class="poem">
+<div class="stanza"><p>&ldquo;Come, read to me some poem,</p>
+<p>Some simple and heartfelt lay,</p>
+<p>That shall soothe this restless feeling,</p>
+<p>And banish the thoughts of day.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>&ldquo;Not from the grand old masters,</p>
+<p>Not from the bards sublime,</p>
+<p>Whose distant footsteps echo</p>
+<p>Through the corridors of Time.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>&ldquo;For, like strains of martial music,</p>
+<p>Their mighty thoughts suggest</p>
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page288" id="page288">288</a>
+Life&rsquo;s endless toil and endeavor;</p>
+<p>And to-night I long for rest.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>&ldquo;Read from some humbler poet</p>
+<p>Whose songs gushed from his heart,</p>
+<p>As showers from the clouds of summer,</p>
+<p>Or tears from the eyelids start;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>&ldquo;Who through long days of labor,</p>
+<p>And nights devoid of ease,</p>
+<p>Still heard in his soul the music</p>
+<p>Of the wonderful melodies.&rdquo;</p>
+</div></li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;Hickory, dickery, dock,</p>
+<p>The mouse ran up the clock;</p>
+<p>The clock struck one,</p>
+<p>And the mouse ran down;</p>
+<p>Hickory, dickery, dock.&rdquo;</p>
+</li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;Two brothers had the maiden, and she thought,</p>
+<p>Within herself: &lsquo;I would I were like them;</p>
+<p>For then I might go forth alone, to trace</p>
+<p>The mighty rivers downward to the sea,</p>
+<p>And upward to the brooks that, through the year,</p>
+<p>Prattle to the cool valleys. I would know</p>
+<p>What races drink their waters; how their chiefs</p>
+<p>Bear rule, and how men worship there, and how</p>
+<p>They build, and to what quaint device they frame,</p>
+<p>Where sea and river meet, their stately ships;</p>
+<p>What flowers are in their gardens, and what trees</p>
+<p>Bear fruit within their orchards; in what garb</p>
+<p>Their bowmen meet on holidays, and how</p>
+<p>Their maidens bind the waist and braid the hair.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p>(In this quotation we have blank verse; that is, verse
+that does not rhyme. It is iambic pentameter,&mdash;the most
+common verse in great English poetry. What poems are
+you familiar with that use this verse-form?)</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li value="8" class="poem">
+<div class="stanza"><a class="pgnm" name="page289" id="page289">289</a>
+<p>&ldquo;A wet sheet and a flowing sea,</p>
+<p>A wind that follows fast</p>
+<p>And fills the rustling sails</p>
+<p>And bends the gallant mast;</p>
+<p>And bends the gallant mast, my boys,</p>
+<p>While like the eagle free</p>
+<p>Away the good ship flies, and leaves</p>
+<p>Old England on the lee.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>&ldquo;O for a soft and gentle wind;</p>
+<p>I heard a fair one cry;</p>
+<p>But give to me the snoring breeze</p>
+<p>And white waves heaving high;</p>
+<p>And white waves heaving high, my lads,</p>
+<p>The good ship tight and free&mdash;</p>
+<p>The world of waters is our home,</p>
+<p>And merry men are we.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s tempest in yon horned moon,</p>
+<p>And lightning in yon cloud;</p>
+<p>But hark the music, mariners!</p>
+<p>The wind is piping loud;</p>
+<p>The wind is piping loud, my boys,</p>
+<p>The lightning flashes free&mdash;</p>
+<p>While the hollow oak our palace is,</p>
+<p>Our heritage the sea.&rdquo;</p>
+</div></li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,</p>
+<p>Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,</p>
+<p>While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,</p>
+<p>As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door&mdash;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;&rsquo;T is some visitor,&rsquo; I muttered, &lsquo;tapping at my chamber door&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i5">Only this, and nothing more.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+</li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p><a class="pgnm" name="page290" id="page290">290</a>
+&ldquo;Somewhat back from the village street</p>
+<p>Stands the old-fashioned country-seat,</p>
+<p>Across its antique portico</p>
+<p>Tall poplar trees their shadows throw;</p>
+<p>And from its station in the hall</p>
+<p>An ancient timepiece says to all,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i3">&lsquo;Forever&mdash;never!</p>
+<p class="i3">Never&mdash;forever!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+</li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;Listen, my children, and you shall hear</p>
+<p>Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,</p>
+<p>On the eighteenth of April, in seventy-five;</p>
+<p>Hardly a man is now alive</p>
+<p>Who remembers that famous day and year.&rdquo;</p>
+</li>
+
+<li class="poem">
+<div class="stanza"><p>&ldquo;Sweet and low, sweet and low,</p>
+<p>Wind of the western sea,</p>
+<p>Low, low, breathe and blow,</p>
+<p>Wind of the western sea!</p>
+<p>Over the rolling waters go,</p>
+<p>Come from the dying moon, and blow,</p>
+<p>Blow him again to me;</p>
+<p>While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza"><p>&ldquo;Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,</p>
+<p>Father will come to thee soon;</p>
+<p>Rest, rest, on mother&rsquo;s breast,</p>
+<p>Father will come to thee soon;</p>
+<p>Father will come to his babe in the nest&mdash;</p>
+<p>Silver sails all out of the west</p>
+<p>Under the silver moon:</p>
+<p>Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.&rdquo;</p>
+</div></li>
+
+<li class="poem"><p>&ldquo;See what a lovely shell,</p>
+<p>Small and pure as a pearl,</p>
+<p>Lying close to my foot,</p>
+<p>Frail, but a work divine,</p>
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page291" id="page291">291</a>
+Made so fairily well</p>
+<p>With delicate spire and whorl,</p>
+<p>How exquisitely minute,</p>
+<p>A miracle of design!&rdquo;</p>
+</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p>(If the pupils have Palgrave&rsquo;s &ldquo;Golden Treasury of Songs
+and Lyrics,&rdquo; they have a great fund of excellent material
+illustrating all varieties of metrical variation. There are
+very few pieces of literature that illustrate so many varieties
+of metre as Wordsworth&rsquo;s &ldquo;Ode on the Intimations of Immortality.&rdquo;)</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page292" id="page292">292</a><br />
+<a class="pgnm" name="page293" id="page293">293</a></div>
+
+<h3>APPENDIX</h3>
+
+<p class="ctr"><a name="appendixA" id="appendixA" /><b>A. SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS.</b></p>
+
+<p>The Course of Study on pages <a href="#pagexx">xx</a>-<a href="#pagexxvi">xxvi</a> contemplates five
+days a week for the study of English. The text which is to
+be the subject of the term&rsquo;s work should first be studied
+for a few weeks. After it has been mastered, three days of
+each week should be given to literature and two to composition.
+In practice I have found it best to have the study of
+literature occupy three consecutive days,&mdash;for example,
+Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. This arrangement
+leaves Monday and Friday for composition. Friday is used
+for the study of the text-book and for general criticism and
+suggestion. On Monday the compositions should be written
+in the classroom. To have them so written is, at least during
+the first year, distinctly better. The first draft of the composition
+should be brought to class ready for amendment
+and copying. During the writing the teacher should be
+among the pupils offering assistance, and insisting upon good
+penmanship. Care at the beginning will form a habit of
+neatness, and keep the penmanship up to a high standard.</p>
+
+<p>The arrangement suggested is only one plan. This
+works well. Many others may be adopted. But no plan
+should be accepted which makes the number of essays fewer
+than one a week; nor should the number of days given to
+literature be smaller than three a week.</p>
+
+<p>During the second year, if the instructor thinks it can be
+done without loss, the compositions may be written outside
+of school hours and brought to class on a definite day. A
+pupil should not be allowed to put off the writing of a composition
+any more than a lesson in geometry. On Monday
+of each week a composition should be handed in; irregularity
+only makes the work displeasing and leads to shirking.
+Writing out of school gives more time for criticism and
+<a class="pgnm" name="page294" id="page294">294</a>
+study of composition, and during the second year this extra
+time is much needed.</p>
+
+<p>By the third year the pupils certainly can do the work
+out of school. As the compositions increase in length, more
+time will be necessary for their preparation. The teacher
+should, however, know exactly what progress has been made
+each week; and by individual criticisms and by wise suggestions
+she should help the pupil to meet the difficulties of
+his special case.</p>
+
+<p>In order that the instructor may have time for individual
+criticism, she should have two periods each day vacant in
+which to meet pupils for consultation. To make this clear,
+suppose that a teacher of English has one hundred pupils in
+her classes. She should have no more, for one hundred
+essays a week are enough for any person to correct. If
+there be six recitation periods daily, place twenty-five pupils
+in each of four sections for the study of literature, composition,
+and general criticism. This leaves two periods each
+day to meet individuals, giving ten pupils for each period.
+These should come on scheduled days, with the same regularity
+as for class recitation. The pupil&rsquo;s work should have
+been handed in on the second day before he comes up for
+consultation, in order that the teacher may be competent to
+give criticisms of any value. The inspiration of the first
+reading cannot be depended upon to suggest any help, nor is
+there time for such a reading during the recitation.</p>
+
+<p>There will be need of class recitation in argument. Ten
+days or two weeks are all that is necessary for text-book
+work. This should be done before pupils read the &ldquo;Conciliation.&rdquo;
+In the reading constantly keep before the pupils
+the methods of the author.</p>
+
+<p>Every teacher should be able to do what she asks of the
+pupils. No person would dare to offer herself as a teacher
+of Latin or algebra until she could write all the translations
+of the one and solve all the problems of the other. Yet there
+are persons who have the audacity to offer their services as
+teachers of English, when they cannot write a letter correctly,
+to say nothing of a more formal piece of composition.
+<a class="pgnm" name="page295" id="page295">295</a>
+If an instructor in physics, who had asked his pupils to solve
+a problem in electricity, should say to each unfortunate person
+as he handed in his solution, &ldquo;No, that isn&rsquo;t right;
+you&rsquo;ll have to try again,&rdquo; without offering any help or suggestion,
+and should continue this discouraging process until
+some bright pupil worked it out, or perhaps some one guessed
+it, we should say that such a person was no instructor at all.
+We might go so far as to question his intellectual competency.
+We certainly should think him quite deserving of
+dismissal. Still many teachers of English do nothing more
+than say, &ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t right. Make it so.&rdquo; If the teacher
+does not know how to do the thing she asks the pupils to do,
+she should not be teaching. And even when she can do it,
+she will often benefit herself and the pupils by actually writing
+the composition. In this way not only does she gain
+command of her own powers of expression, but she finds out
+the difficulties with which the pupils have to contend. Every
+teacher of English composition should be able to do some
+creditable work in English; and every teacher of English
+should put this talent into actual use.</p>
+
+<p>Numerous examples of correct paragraphs, well-made sentences,
+and apt words have not been included in the text.
+They have been omitted because they can be found in the
+literature study. It is better for pupils to find these for
+themselves. It will put them in the way of reading with the
+senses always alert for something good; and all good paragraphs
+and sentences lose something of their beautiful adaptation
+when torn from the place of their birth and growth.</p>
+
+<p>So, too, there are no long lists of errors. One hundred
+pupils in a term make enough to fill a volume. When a
+teacher knows that Sentences is to be her next subject she
+should begin three months in advance to get a good collection
+of specimens. These should be classified so that they
+may be most usable. By the time the class comes to the
+study of Sentences some new, live material will be on hand
+for illustration.</p>
+
+<p>In the pupils&rsquo; exercises each week those errors should be
+singled out and dwelt upon which are the special subject of
+<a class="pgnm" name="page296" id="page296">296</a>
+text-book work. If the pupils are studying Coherence in
+sentence structure, select all violations of this principle in
+the week&rsquo;s exercises, and by means of them nail that one
+principle down instead of trying to lay down the whole set
+of principles given in the chapter on Sentences. Alongside
+of this collection of mistakes in Coherence of sentences show
+the pupils the best examples of tight-jointed sentences to be
+found in the literature they are studying. Point out how
+these sentences have been made to hold together, and how
+their own shambling creations can be corrected.</p>
+
+<p>Some teachers will fear the amount of literature required.
+It may seem large, especially in the first two years. It certainly
+would be quite impossible to read aloud in class all of
+this. However, that is not intended. There would be but
+sorry progress either in the course of study or in the power
+to analyze literature if the class time were taken up with
+oral reading of narration and description. The whole of a
+short story or one or two chapters of a novel are not too
+much for a lesson. The discussion of the meaning and the
+method of the author should take up the largest part of the
+time. Then such portions should be read aloud as are
+especially suited to an exercise in oral reading. In this way
+the apparently large list will be easily covered within the time.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, there is distinct gain in reading much. If only
+three or four pages be given for a lesson, the study of literature
+degenerates into a study of words. A study of words
+is necessary, but it is only a part of the study of literature.
+Such a method of study gives the pupil no sense of values.
+He does not get out into the wide spaces of the author&rsquo;s
+thought, but is eternally hedged about by the dwarfing barriers
+of etymology and grammar.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><a name="appendixB" id="appendixB" /><b>B. THE FORM OF A COMPOSITION.</b></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The Margin.</span> It is the custom to leave a margin of
+about an inch at the left side of the page. In this margin
+the corrections should be written, not in the composition.
+There should be no margin at the right. The device of
+<a class="pgnm" name="page297" id="page297">297</a>
+writing incomplete lines, or of making each sentence a paragraph,
+is sometimes adopted by young persons in the hope
+of deceiving the teacher as to the length of the composition.
+Remember that pages do not count for literature any more
+than yards of hideous advertising boards count as art. Write
+a full page with a straight-lined margin at the left.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Indention.</span> To designate the beginning of a new
+paragraph, it is customary to have the first line begin an
+inch farther in than the other lines. This indention of the
+margin and the incomplete line at the end mark the visible
+limits of the paragraph.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The Heading.</span> The heading or title of the composition
+should be written about an inch and a half from the top of
+the page, and well placed in the middle from left to right.
+There should be a blank line between the title and the beginning
+of the composition. Some persons prefer, in addition
+to the title, the name of the writer and the date of writing,&mdash;an
+unnecessary addition, it seems to me. If they are
+to appear, the name should be at the left and the date at the
+right, both on one line. The title will be on the next line
+below.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<table width="100%" style="margin-bottom: 0;" summary="Author/date of sample composition">
+    <tr>
+        <td><p class="script">Jay Phillips.</p></td>
+        <td><p class="script" style="text-align: right;">Jan. 27, 1900.</p></td>
+    </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="ctr script" style="margin-top: 0;">The Circus-Man&rsquo;s Story.</p>
+
+<p class="script">&ldquo;There was once an old man whom
+they called a wizard, and who lived in a
+great cave by the sea and raised dragons.
+Now when I was a very little boy, I had
+read a great deal about this old man and
+felt as if he were quite a friend of mine.
+I had planned for a long time to pay
+him a visit, although I had not decided
+<a class="pgnm" name="page298" id="page298">298</a>
+just when I should start. But the day
+Jim White&rsquo;s father brought him that
+camel, I was crazy to be after my
+dragon at once.</p>
+
+<p class="script">&ldquo;When bedtime came, I had made all
+my plans; and scarcely had Nurse turned
+her back when I was on my way. It
+was really very far, but I traveled so
+swiftly that I arrived in a remarkably
+short time at the wizard&rsquo;s house. When
+I rapped, he opened the door and asked
+me in.</p>
+
+<p class="script">&ldquo;&lsquo;I came to see if you had any dragons
+left,&rsquo; I told him. &lsquo;I should like a very
+good, gentle dragon,&rsquo; I added, &lsquo;that would
+not scare Nurse; and if it is isn&rsquo;t too much
+trouble, I should want one that I could
+ride.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The Indorsement.</span> When the composition is finished,
+it should be folded but once up and down the middle of the
+page. The indorsement upon the back is generally written
+toward the edges of the leaves, not toward the folded edge.
+I prefer the other way, however; and for this reason. If
+in a bunch of essays a teacher is searching for a particular
+one, she generally holds them in the left hand and with the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page299" id="page299">299</a>
+fingers of the right lifts one essay after another. Indorsing
+toward the folded edge insures lifting a whole essay every
+time; while if the edges of the leaves be toward the right
+hand, too many or too few may be lifted.</p>
+
+<p>The indorsement should contain: first, the name of the
+writer; second, the term and period of his recitation; third,
+the title of the essay; and fourth, the date. In describing
+the class and period, it is well to use a Roman numeral for
+the term, counting two terms in each year, and an Arabic
+numeral to denote the period of his recitation.</p>
+
+<div class="ctr"><img src="images/composition.gif" alt="Sample composition"/></div>
+
+<p><a class="pgnm" name="page300" id="page300">300</a>
+<span class="smcap">Penmanship.</span> The penmanship should be neat and legible.
+Not all persons can write elegantly; but all can write
+so that their work can be easily read, and all can make
+a clean page. Scribbling is due to carelessness. A scribbled
+page points to a scribbling mind; clean-cut handwriting,
+perhaps not Spencerian, but a clear, legible handwriting
+is not only an indication of clear-cut thinking but a
+means and promoter of accurate thought. Moreover, as a
+business proposition, one cannot afford to become a slovenly
+penman. Every composition should be a lesson in penmanship,
+and by so much improve one&rsquo;s chances in the business
+world. And last, the teacher who has to read and correct
+the compositions of from one hundred to two hundred persons
+each week demands some consideration. No one but
+a teacher knows the drudgery of this work; it can be much
+lightened if each pupil writes so that the composition can be
+read without difficulty. By doing this, the pupil is sure of
+better criticism; for the teacher can give all her attention
+to the composition, none being demanded for the penmanship.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><a name="appendixC" id="appendixC" /><b>C. MARKS FOR CORRECTION OF COMPOSITIONS.</b></p>
+
+<p>In correcting compositions certain abbreviations will save
+a teacher much time. Some of the common ones are given
+below. Underscore the element that needs correcting, and
+put the abbreviation in the margin. In case the whole paragraph
+needs remodeling, draw a line at its side and note the
+correction in the margin.</p>
+
+<table class="topalign" summary="Marks for correction of compositions">
+<tr><td>Cap.</td><td>Use a capital letter.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>l. c.</td><td>Use a small letter.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>D.</td><td>See the dictionary for the correct use of the word.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Sp.</td><td>Spelling.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Gr.</td><td>A mistake in grammatical use of language.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Cnst.</td><td>The construction of the sentence is awkward or unidiomatic.</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a class="pgnm" name="page301" id="page301">301</a>
+        Cl.</td><td>Not clear. The remedy may be suggested by reference to certain pages of the text.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>W.</td><td>Weak. As above, point out the trouble by a page reference.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Rep.</td><td>Repetition is monotonous; or it may be necessary for clearness.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>p.</td><td>Punctuation.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Cond.</td><td>Condense.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Exp.</td><td>Expand.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Tr.</td><td>Transpose.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>?</td><td>Some fault not designated. It is well to use page reference.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>&para;</td><td>Make a new paragraph.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>No &para;</td><td>Unite into one paragraph.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>&delta;</td><td>Cut out.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>^</td><td>There is something omitted.</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p>In addition to the above very common corrections, many
+others should be made. Instead of abbreviations, it will be
+better to refer the pupil to the page of the book which treats
+of the special fault. For instance, if there be an unexpected
+change of construction, underscore it, and write in the margin
+&ldquo;<a href="#page226">226</a>;&rdquo; on this page is found &ldquo;parallel construction&rdquo;
+of sentences. It may be well to use the letters U., C., and
+M., in connection with the page numbers to indicate that the
+fault is in the unity, coherence, or mass of the element to be
+corrected. The constant reference to the fuller statement of
+the principles violated will serve to fix them in the mind.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><a name="appendixD" id="appendixD" /><b>D. PUNCTUATION.</b></p>
+
+<p>Punctuation seeks to do for written composition what
+inflections and pauses accomplish in vocal expression. It
+makes clear what kind of an expression the whole sentence
+is: whether declarative, exclamatory, or interrogative. And
+it assists in indicating the relations of the different parts
+within a sentence. While there is practically uniformity in
+the method of punctuation at the end of a sentence, within a
+<a class="pgnm" name="page302" id="page302">302</a>
+sentence punctuation shows much variety of method. Where
+one person uses a comma, another inserts a semicolon; and
+where one finds a semicolon sufficient, another requires a
+colon. It should be remembered that the parts of a sentence
+have not equal rank; and that the difference in rank should,
+as far as possible, be indicated by the marks of punctuation.
+Keeping in mind, also, the fact that the internal marks of
+punctuation,&mdash;the colon, the semicolon, and the comma,&mdash;have
+a rank in the order mentioned, from the greatest to the
+least, a writer will use the stronger marks when the rank of
+the parts of a sentence demands them, and the weaker marks
+to separate the lesser elements of the sentence. The sentences
+below illustrate the variety which may be practiced,
+and the use of punctuation to show the relation and rank of
+the elements of a sentence.</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li>Internal punctuation is largely a matter of taste but
+there are definite rules for final punctuation.</li>
+
+<li>Internal punctuation is largely a matter of taste; there
+are, however, definite rules for final punctuation.</li>
+
+<li>Internal punctuation, the purpose of which is to group
+phrases and clauses which belong together and to separate
+those which do not belong together, and to indicate the relative
+rank of the parts separated, is, to a great extent, a matter
+of taste: on the other hand, there are definite rules for
+final punctuation, the object of which is to separate sentences,
+and also to assist in telling what kind of a sentence precedes
+it; that is, whether it be declarative, interrogative, or exclamatory.</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p>Looking at the first sentence, we find two elements of
+equal rank separated by a comma. Some authors would
+prefer no punctuation at all in a sentence as short as this.
+Again, if one wished to make the two elements very independent,
+he would use a semicolon. There would be but
+little difference in meaning between no punctuation and a
+comma; but there is a wide difference in meaning between
+no punctuation and a semicolon. The independence caused
+by the use of the semicolon is felt in the second sentence,
+where the words are the same except one. In this sentence
+<a class="pgnm" name="page303" id="page303">303</a>
+a colon might be used; and one might go so far as to make
+two sentences of it. Notice that in these two sentences the
+question is how independent you wish the elements to be, and
+it is also a question of taste. In the third sentence, there
+are elements of different rank. To indicate the rank, punctuation
+of different value must be introduced. The two independent
+elements are separated by a colon. A semicolon
+might be used, if a semicolon were not used within the second
+independent element. This renders the greater mark necessary.
+Look at the commas in the first independent element.
+The assertion is that &ldquo;internal punctuation is a matter of
+taste.&rdquo; This is too sweeping. It is modified by an explanatory
+phrase, &ldquo;to a large extent;&rdquo; and this phrase is inclosed
+by commas. Moreover, the long clause indicating the purpose
+of internal punctuation is inclosed by commas. The
+use of a semicolon in the second part falls under the third
+rule for the semicolon. If one should substitute for this
+semicolon a comma and a dash, he could use a semicolon instead
+of a colon for separating the two main divisions of the
+sentence. However, the method in which they are first
+punctuated is in accord with the rules generally accepted.
+The simplest of these rules are given below but one must
+never be surprised to find a piece of literature in which the
+internal punctuation is at variance with these rules.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr">CAPITAL LETTERS.</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li>A capital letter begins every new sentence.</li>
+
+<li>A capital letter begins every line of poetry.</li>
+
+<li>All names of Deity begin with a capital letter.</li>
+
+<li>All proper names begin with capital letters.</li>
+
+<li>All adjectives derived from proper nouns begin with
+capital letters.</li>
+
+<li>The first word of every direct quotation begins with a
+capital letter.</li>
+
+<li>Most abbreviations use capital letters.</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p class="ctr">COMMAS.</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li value="8"><p>A series of words or a series of phrases, performing
+<a class="pgnm" name="page304" id="page304">304</a>
+similar functions in a sentence, are separated from each
+other by commas, unless all the connectives are expressed.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p class="i3">&ldquo;Her voice was ever soft,</p>
+<p>Gentle, and low,&mdash;an excellent thing in woman.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p class="i9">&ldquo;Good my lord,</p>
+<p>You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I</p>
+<p>Return those duties back as are right fit,</p>
+<p>Obey you, love you, and most honor you.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>But, &ldquo;shining and tall and fair and straight,&rdquo; because all the connectives
+are expressed.</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>Words out of their natural order are separated from
+the rest of the sentence by commas.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;To the unlearned, punctuation is a matter of chance.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>Words and phrases, either explanatory or slightly
+parenthetical, are separated from the rest of the sentence
+by commas.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p class="i6">&ldquo;Then poor Cordelia!</p>
+<p>And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love &rsquo;s</p>
+<p>More richer than my tongue.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>However when phrases and clauses are quite parenthetic,
+they are separated from the remainder of the sentence by
+parentheses, or by commas and dashes. The comma and
+dash is more common, and generally indicates a lesser independence
+of the inclosed element.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Then Miss Gunns smiled stiffly, and thought what a pity it was that
+these rich country people, who could afford to buy such good clothes
+(really Miss Nancy&rsquo;s lace and silk were very costly), should be brought
+up in utter ignorance and vulgarity.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>The nominative of direct address, and phrases in the
+nominative absolute construction are cut off by commas.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p class="i9">&ldquo;Goneril,</p>
+<p>Our eldest born, speak first.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The ridges being taken, the troops advanced a thousand yards.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>Appositive words and phrases are separated from the
+remainder of the sentence by commas.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;In the early years of this century, such a linen weaver, named Silas
+Marner, worked at his vocation, in a stone cottage that stood among the
+nutty hedgerows near the village of Raveloe, and not far from the edge
+of a deserted stone-pit.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p><a class="pgnm" name="page305" id="page305">305</a>
+When words are omitted, the omission is indicated by
+the use of a comma.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p class="i3">&ldquo;Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;</p>
+<p>Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despis&rsquo;d!&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>A comma is used before a short and informal quotation.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;In the bitterness of his wounded spirit, he said to himself, &lsquo;<i>She</i>
+will cast me off too.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>A comma is used to separate the independent clauses
+of a compound sentence sufficiently involved to necessitate
+some mark of punctuation, and yet not involved enough to
+require marks of different ranks.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;But about the Christmas of the fifteenth year a second great change
+came over Marner&rsquo;s life, and his history became blent in a singular
+manner with the life of his neighbors.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>Small groups of more closely related words are inclosed
+by commas to indicate their near relation and to
+separate them from words they might otherwise be thought
+to modify.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;In this strange world, made a hopeless riddle to him, he might, if
+he had had a less intense nature, have sat weaving, weaving&mdash;looking
+towards the end of his pattern, or towards the end of his web, till he forgot
+the riddle, and everything else but his immediate sensations; but
+the money had come to mark off his weaving into periods, and the
+money not only grew, but it remained with him.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p class="ctr">SEMICOLONS.</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li value="17"><p>A semicolon is used to separate the parts of a compound
+sentence if they are involved, or contain commas. It
+is also used to give independence to the members of a compound
+sentence when not very complex.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The meadow was searched in vain; and he got over the stile into
+the next field, looking with dying hope towards a small pond which
+was now reduced to its summer shallowness, so as to leave a wide margin
+of good adhesive mud.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;As for the child, he would see that it was cared for; he would never
+forsake it; he would do everything but own it.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>Semicolons are used to separate a series of clauses in
+<a class="pgnm" name="page306" id="page306">306</a>
+much the same way as commas are used to separate a series
+of words.</p>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;I love you more than words can wield the matter;</p>
+<p>Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty;</p>
+<p>Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;</p>
+<p>No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor;</p>
+<p>As much as child e&rsquo;er loved, or father found;</p>
+<p>A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;</p>
+<p>Beyond all manner of so much I love thee.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li>A semicolon is generally used to introduce a clause of
+repetition, a clause stating the obverse, and a clause stating an
+inference.</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p>(Many examples of the last two rules will be found in the
+discussion of compound sentences on pages <a href="#page202">202</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>.)</p>
+
+<p class="ctr">COLONS.</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li value="20"><p>A colon is used to introduce a formal quotation. It
+is frequently followed by a dash.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Under date of November 28, 1860, she wrote to a friend:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;I am engaged now in writing a story&mdash;the idea of which came to
+me after our arrival in this house, and which has thrust itself between
+me and the other book I was meditating. It is Silas Manner, the
+Weaver of Raveloe.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On the last day of the same year she wrote: &lsquo;I am writing a story
+which came across my other plans by a sudden inspiration, etc.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>A colon is used to introduce a series of particulars,
+either appositional or explanatory, which the reader has been
+led to expect by the first clause of the sentence. These particulars
+are separated from each other by semicolons.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The study of the principles of composition should include the following
+subjects: a study of words as to their origin and meaning; a
+study of the structure of the sentence and of the larger elements of
+discourse&mdash;in other words, of concrete logic; a study of the principles
+of effective literary composition, as illustrated in the various divisions
+of literature; and also a study of the &aelig;sthetics of literature.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;What John Morley once said of literature as a whole is even more
+accurate when applied to fiction alone: its purpose is &lsquo;to bring sunshine
+into our hearts and to drive moonshine out of our heads.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>A colon is used to separate the major parts of a very
+<a class="pgnm" name="page307" id="page307">307</a>
+complex and involved sentence, if the major parts, or either
+of them, contain within themselves semicolons.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;For four years he had thought of Nancy Lammeter, and wooed her
+with a tacit patient worship, as the woman who made him think of the
+future with joy: she would be his wife, and would make home lovely
+to him, as his father&rsquo;s home had never been; and it would be easy,
+when she was always near, to shake off those foolish habits that were
+no pleasures, but only a feverish way of annulling vacancy.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>A colon is sometimes used to mark a strong independence
+in the parts of a compound sentence.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t want to give Godfrey that pleasure: he preferred that
+Master Godfrey should be vexed.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p class="ctr">THE DASH.</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li value="24"><p>A dash is frequently used with a colon to introduce a
+formal quotation. The quotation then begins a new paragraph.</p>
+
+<p>(Example under colon.)</p>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>A dash is used alone or with a comma to inclose a
+phrase or clause which is parenthetic or explanatory.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;But as for being ugly, look at me, child, in this silver-colored silk&mdash;I
+told you how it &rsquo;ud be&mdash;I look as yallow as a daffadil.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>(Example under comma.)</p>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>A dash is used to denote a sudden turn of the thought.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve no opinion of the men, Miss Gunn&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know what <i>you</i>
+have.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;It does make her look funny, though&mdash;partly like a short-necked
+bottle wi&rsquo; a long quill in it.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p>A dash is frequently used when the composition should
+be interrupted to indicate the intensity of the emotion.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;No&mdash;no&mdash;I can&rsquo;t part with it, I can&rsquo;t let it go,&rsquo; said Silas
+abruptly. &lsquo;It&rsquo;s come to me&mdash;I&rsquo;ve a right to keep it.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote class="poem">
+<p>&ldquo;And my poor fool is hang&rsquo;d! No, no, no life!</p>
+<p>Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,</p>
+<p>And thou no breath at all? Thou&rsquo;lt come no more,</p>
+<p>Never, never, never, never, never!&mdash;</p>
+<p>Pray you, undo this button:&mdash;thank you, sir.&mdash;</p>
+<p>Do you see this? Look on her,&mdash;look,&mdash;her lips,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Look there, look there!&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li><p><a class="pgnm" name="page308" id="page308">308</a>
+A dash is sometimes used alone before an appositive
+phrase or clause.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;For the first time he determined to try the coal-hole&mdash;a small
+closet near the hearth.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p class="ctr">PERIOD, EXCLAMATION POINT, INTERROGATION MARK.</p>
+
+<ol>
+<li value="29">A period closes every declarative sentence.</li>
+
+<li>A period is used after abbreviations.</li>
+
+<li>An exclamation point follows an expression of strong
+emotion.</li>
+
+<li>An interrogation mark follows a direct question.</li>
+
+<li><p>An interrogation mark is sometimes used in the body
+of a sentence, when the writer wishes to make the assertion
+forceful and uses a rhetorical question for the purpose.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The shepherd&rsquo;s dog barked fiercely when one of these alien-looking
+men appeared on the upland, dark against the early winter sunset;
+for what dog likes a figure bent under a heavy bag?&mdash;and these pale
+men rarely stirred abroad without that mysterious burden.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+</li>
+
+<li>Quotation marks inclose every quotation of the exact
+words of another. When one quotation is made within
+another, the inner or secondary quotation is inclosed with
+single marks, the main or outer quotation is included within
+the double marks.</li>
+</ol>
+
+<p>(Examples of both may be found above.)</p>
+
+<p class="ctr">SUGGESTIONS FOR TEACHING PUNCTUATION.</p>
+
+<p>At the time the pupils are studying the rules for punctuation
+they are reading Hawthorne or some other author equally
+careful of his punctuation. In his writing they will find
+numerous examples of the rules for punctuation. Let them
+take five rules for the comma, finding all the examples in
+five pages of text. In the same way furnish semicolons,
+colons, and dashes. When the rules have all been learned,
+they should be able to give the reason for every mark they
+find in literature. Next place upon the board paragraphs
+not punctuated, and have the pupils punctuate them. Remember
+that there is not absolute uniformity in the use of
+<a class="pgnm" name="page309" id="page309">309</a>
+the comma, semicolon, and colon; though in each author
+there is a general adherence to the principles he adopts.
+Punctuation should be consistent. Insist that the pupil
+punctuate his written work consistently.</p>
+
+<p class="ctr"><a name="appendixE" id="appendixE" /><b>E. SUPPLEMENTARY LIST OF LITERATURE.<a class="ftnt" id="footref_57" name="footref_57" href="#footnote_57">57</a></b></p>
+
+<table class="topalign" summary="Supplementary list of literature">
+<tr><td class="smcap">Hawthorne</td><td>A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Tennyson</td><td>Enoch Arden.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Longfellow</td><td>Tales of a Wayside Inn.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Whittier</td><td>The Tent on the Beach.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Macaulay</td><td>Lays of Ancient Rome.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Dickens</td><td>A Christmas Carol.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Kipling</td><td>Wee Willie Winkie, and Other Stories.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Kipling</td><td>The Jungle Books.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Hawthorne</td><td>Twice-Told Tales.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Hawthorne</td><td>Mosses from an Old Manse.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Dickens</td><td>The Cricket on the Hearth.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Brown</td><td>Rab and his Friends.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Ouida</td><td>A Dog of Flanders.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Hale</td><td>The Man without a Country.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Defoe</td><td>Robinson Crusoe.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Poe</td><td>The Gold-Bug.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Scott</td><td>Marmion.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Scott</td><td>The Lady of the Lake.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Browning</td><td>Herv&eacute; Riel, an Incident of the French Camp, and other Narrative Poems.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Franklin</td><td>Autobiography.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Cooper</td><td>The Last of the Mohicans.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Longfellow</td><td>Evangeline.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Longfellow</td><td>Miles Standish.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Davis</td><td>Gallegher, and Other Stories.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Maupassant</td><td>Number Thirteen.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Miss&nbsp;Wilkins</td><td>Short Stories.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Miss&nbsp;Jewett</td><td>Short Stories.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Pope</td><td>The Iliad.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Aldrich</td><td>Marjorie Daw.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Lowell</td><td>The Vision of Sir Launfal, and Other Poems.</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a class="pgnm" name="page310" id="page310">310</a>
+  <span class="smcap">Irving</span></td><td>Tales of a Traveller.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Irving</td><td>The Sketch Book.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Poe</td><td>The Fall of the House of Usher.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Whittier</td><td>Snow-Bound.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Burroughs</td><td>Sharp Eyes; Birds and Bees; Pepacton.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Goldsmith</td><td>The Deserted Village.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Scott</td><td>Ivanhoe.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Dickens</td><td>David Copperfield.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Shakespeare</td><td>Julius C&aelig;sar.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Shakespeare</td><td>The Merchant of Venice.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Irving</td><td>Rip Van Winkle.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Irving</td><td>The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Bryant</td><td>Selected Poems.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Gray</td><td>An Elegy in a Country Churchyard.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Tennyson</td><td>The Princess; Idylls of the King.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Dickens</td><td>The Pickwick Papers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Burns</td><td>Selected Poems.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Dryden</td><td>Alexander&rsquo;s Feast.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Byron</td><td>Childe Harold.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">George&nbsp;Eliot</td><td>Silas Marner.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Coleridge</td><td>The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Macaulay</td><td>Essay on Milton.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Ruskin</td><td>Sesame and Lilies.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Emerson</td><td>Friendship; Self-Reliance; Fortune of the Republic; The American Scholar.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Arnold</td><td>On the Study of Poetry; Wordsworth and Keats.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Lowell</td><td>Emerson, the Lecturer; Milton; Books and Libraries.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Holmes</td><td>The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Addison</td><td>The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Wordsworth</td><td>Intimations of Immortality, and Other Poems.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Keats</td><td>Selected Poems.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Shelley</td><td>Selected Poems.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Shakespeare</td><td>Macbeth.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Shakespeare</td><td>A Midsummer Night&rsquo;s Dream.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Shakespeare</td><td>As You Like It.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Webster</td><td>Bunker Hill Monument Oration; Adams and Jefferson.</td></tr>
+<tr><td><a class="pgnm" name="page311" id="page311">311</a>
+  <span class="smcap">Goldsmith</span></td><td>The Vicar of Wakefield.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Milton</td><td>L&rsquo;Allegro; Il Penseroso; Comus; Lycidas.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">De&nbsp;Quincey</td><td>Confessions of an English Opium Eater, and Other Papers.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">John&nbsp;Henry&nbsp;Newman</td><td>Selected Essays.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Thackeray</td><td>Henry Esmond.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Stevenson</td><td>Virginibus Puerisque.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Stevenson</td><td>Memories and Portraits.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Schurz</td><td>Abraham Lincoln.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">George&nbsp;William&nbsp;Curtis&nbsp;</td><td>Selected Addresses.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Charles Lamb</td><td>Essays of Elia.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Stevenson</td><td>Travels with a Donkey.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Stevenson</td><td>An Inland Voyage.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Burke</td><td>Conciliation with the Colonies.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Lincoln</td><td>Cooper Union Address; Gettysburg Speech.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Chaucer</td><td>Prologue, and Two Canterbury Tales.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Milton</td><td>Paradise Lost, and Sonnets.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Carlyle</td><td>Essay on Burns.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Tennyson</td><td>In Memoriam, and Lyrics.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Browning</td><td>Rabbi Ben Ezra; Saul; A Grammarian&rsquo;s Funeral.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Thoreau</td><td>Walden.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Austen</td><td>Pride and Prejudice.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">George&nbsp;Eliot</td><td>Romola.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Shakespeare</td><td>King Lear.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Shakespeare</td><td>Hamlet.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Macaulay</td><td>Essay on Johnson.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Thackeray</td><td>Vanity Fair.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Lowell</td><td>Democracy; Lincoln.</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="smcap">Stevenson</td><td>Lantern Bearers; A Humble Remonstrance; Gossip about Romance.</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div><a class="pgnm" name="page312" id="page312">312</a><br />
+<a class="pgnm" name="page313" id="page313">313</a></div>
+
+<h3>INDEX</h3>
+
+<table border="2" class="ctr" summary="Links to the sections of the index">
+    <tr>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexA">&nbsp;A&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexB">&nbsp;B&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexC">&nbsp;C&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexD">&nbsp;D&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexE">&nbsp;E&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexF">&nbsp;F&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexG">&nbsp;G&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexH">&nbsp;H&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexI">&nbsp;I&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexJ">&nbsp;J&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexK">&nbsp;K&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexL">&nbsp;L&nbsp;</a></td>
+    </tr>
+    <tr>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexM">&nbsp;M&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexN">&nbsp;N&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexO">&nbsp;O&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexP">&nbsp;P&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexQ">&nbsp;Q&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexR">&nbsp;R&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexS">&nbsp;S&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexT">&nbsp;T&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexU">&nbsp;U&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexV">&nbsp;V&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr"><a href="#indexW">&nbsp;W&nbsp;</a></td>
+        <td class="ctr">&nbsp;</td>
+    </tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="index">
+
+<a name="indexA" id="indexA"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Abstract vs. concrete, <a href="#page89">89</a>, <a href="#page90">90</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Adams and Jefferson,&rdquo; Webster&rsquo;s, quotation from, <a href="#page176">176</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Adjectives, <a href="#page78">78</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Alice in Wonderland,&rdquo; a story without facts, <a href="#page25">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Allegory, <a href="#page261">261</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Allusion, <a href="#page263">263</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Amphibrach, <a href="#page273">273</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Analogy, use of, <a href="#page137">137</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Anapest, defined, <a href="#page273">273</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>interchangeable with iambus, <a href="#page278">278</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;And,&rdquo; use of, <a href="#page192">192</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Andersen, Hans Christian, his &ldquo;Tannenbaum,&rdquo; <a href="#page12">12</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Anecdotes in exposition, <a href="#page97">97</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Annabel Lee,&rdquo; quotations from, <a href="#page271">271</a>, <a href="#page278">278</a>, <a href="#page279">279</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Anti-climax, <a href="#page210">210</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Antithesis, <a href="#page227">227</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Apologia,&rdquo; Newman&rsquo;s, quotation from, <a href="#page160">160</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Apostrophe, <a href="#page261">261</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Argument, <a href="#page4">4</a>, <a href="#page128">128</a>-<a href="#page137">137</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>from cause, <a href="#page133">133</a>;</li>
+    <li>sign, <a href="#page133">133</a>-<a href="#page137">137</a>;</li>
+    <li>example, <a href="#page137">137</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Arnold, Matthew, quotation from, <a href="#page159">159</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation to illustrate repetition, <a href="#page167">167</a>;</li>
+    <li>to illustrate sentence structure, <a href="#page222">222</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Arrangement, in narration, <a href="#page29">29</a>-<a href="#page32">32</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>description, <a href="#page74">74</a>, <a href="#page75">75</a>;</li>
+    <li>exposition, <a href="#page108">108</a>-<a href="#page114">114</a>;</li>
+    <li>argument, <a href="#page138">138</a>-<a href="#page141">141</a>;</li>
+    <li>sentence, <a href="#page222">222</a>, <a href="#page223">223</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Association of ideas, <a href="#page103">103</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Autumn Effect, An,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page17">17</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexB" id="indexB"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>&ldquo;Baa, Baa, Black Sheep,&rdquo; its purpose, <a href="#page7">7</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>beginning, <a href="#page29">29</a>;</li>
+    <li>length of sentences in, <a href="#page33">33</a>;</li>
+    <li>time for the action, <a href="#page36">36</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Balanced sentences, <a href="#page227">227</a>, <a href="#page228">228</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ballad, defined, <a href="#page285">285</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Barbara Frietchie,&rdquo; a narrative poem, <a href="#page4">4</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bates, Arlo, quoted, <a href="#page35">35</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Beauty, gained by use of figurative language, <a href="#page258">258</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Beginning of a story, <a href="#page29">29</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bellamy, Edward, his &ldquo;Looking Backward,&rdquo; <a href="#page7">7</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Biglow Papers,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page51">51</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Birthmark,&rdquo; Hawthorne&rsquo;s, <a href="#page24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Blake, William, &ldquo;Tiger, Tiger,&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page282">282</a>, <a href="#page283">283</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Bonnie Brier Bush, Beside the,&rdquo; <a href="#page25">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Bookish words, <a href="#page242">242</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Break, Break, Break,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page283">283</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Bridge of Sighs, The,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Brief in argument, <a href="#page138">138</a>, <a href="#page139">139</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Browning, Robert, vivid narration of, <a href="#page23">23</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Burial of Sir John Moore, The,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page277">277</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Burke, Edmund, quotation from his speech on &ldquo;Conciliation with the Colonies,&rdquo; <a href="#page116">116</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>that speech analyzed, <a href="#page142">142</a>-<a href="#page147">147</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotations to illustrate paragraph structure, <a href="#page171">171</a>, <a href="#page175">175</a>, <a href="#page177">177</a>, <a href="#page188">188</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotations to show sentence structure, <a href="#page200">200</a>, <a href="#page209">209</a>, <a href="#page214">214</a>, <a href="#page226">226</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Burroughs, John, his knowledge of his field, <a href="#page9">9</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotations from, <a href="#page158">158</a>, <a href="#page160">160</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; use of, <a href="#page192">192</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexC" id="indexC"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Capital letters, <a href="#page303">303</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cause and effect, <a href="#page133">133</a>-<a href="#page136">136</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Characters, number of, <a href="#page35">35</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Chaucer, Geoffrey, quotation from, <a href="#page245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Choice of subject, <a href="#page8">8</a>-<a href="#page12">12</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Choice of words, <a href="#page78">78</a>-<a href="#page80">80</a>, <a href="#page239">239</a>-<a href="#page255">255</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Cinderella,&rdquo; <a href="#page12">12</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Clearness and coherence, <a href="#page180">180</a>-<a href="#page193">193</a>, <a href="#page224">224</a>, <a href="#page225">225</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Clearness gained by use of figurative language, <a href="#page258">258</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Climax, <a href="#page139">139</a>-<a href="#page141">141</a>, <a href="#page211">211</a>, <a href="#page218">218</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>defined, <a href="#page262">262</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Coherence, <a href="#page20">20</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>in narration, <a href="#page31">31</a>, <a href="#page32">32</a>;</li>
+    <li>in description, <a href="#page74">74</a>, <a href="#page75">75</a>;</li>
+    <li>in exposition, <a href="#page116">116</a>-<a href="#page118">118</a>;</li>
+    <li>in paragraphs, <a href="#page180">180</a>-<a href="#page193">193</a>;</li>
+    <li>in sentences, <a href="#page224">224</a>, <a href="#page225">225</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Colons, <a href="#page306">306</a>, <a href="#page307">307</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Comedy, <a href="#page286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Commas, <a href="#page303">303</a>, <a href="#page304">304</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Comparisons, use of, <a href="#page77">77</a>, <a href="#page98">98</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>paragraph of, <a href="#page165">165</a>;</li>
+    <li>confusion of, <a href="#page259">259</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Composition, <a href="#page1">1</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>oral and written, <a href="#page2">2</a>;</li>
+    <li>conventions of, <a href="#page2">2</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Conciliation with the Colonies,&rdquo; Burke&rsquo;s speech on, quoted, <a href="#page116">116</a>, <a href="#page171">171</a>, <a href="#page175">175</a>, <a href="#page177">177</a>, <a href="#page188">188</a>, <a href="#page214">214</a>, <a href="#page226">226</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>analyzed, <a href="#page142">142</a>-<a href="#page147">147</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li><a class="pgnm" name="page314" id="page314">314</a>
+Conclusion of a story, <a href="#page23">23</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Concrete facts, use of, <a href="#page89">89</a>, <a href="#page90">90</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Conjunctions, use of, <a href="#page190">190</a>, <a href="#page191">191</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Connectives in sentences, <a href="#page228">228</a>, <a href="#page229">229</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Consistency, <a href="#page25">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Cooke, Josiah P., his essay on &ldquo;Fire,&rdquo; <a href="#page8">8</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Copyright,&rdquo; quotations from Macaulay&rsquo;s speech on, <a href="#page159">159</a>, <a href="#page172">172</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Correction, marks for, <a href="#page300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Curtis, George William, quoted, <a href="#page111">111</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexD" id="indexD"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Dactyl, defined, <a href="#page272">272</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>interchangeable with trochee, <a href="#page278">278</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Daisy, The,&rdquo; Wordsworth&rsquo;s quotation from, <a href="#page274">274</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Darkness and Dawn,&rdquo; <a href="#page8">8</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dash, <a href="#page307">307</a>, <a href="#page308">308</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;David Copperfield,&rdquo; description quoted from, <a href="#page65">65</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;David Harum,&rdquo; its construction criticised, <a href="#page22">22</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Davis, Richard Harding, small number of characters in his books, <a href="#page35">35</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>simple plot in his &ldquo;Gallegher,&rdquo; <a href="#page36">36</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Deduction, <a href="#page129">129</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Definition, a, <a href="#page91">91</a>-<a href="#page94">94</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Description, <a href="#page4">4</a>, <a href="#page49">49</a>-<a href="#page80">80</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>an aid to narration, <a href="#page34">34</a>;</li>
+    <li>and exposition, <a href="#page91">91</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Description and painting, <a href="#page50">50</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Details, in narration, <a href="#page22">22</a>-<a href="#page25">25</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>paragraph of, <a href="#page163">163</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Dickens, Charles, his &ldquo;Nicholas Nickleby&rdquo; as an exposition, <a href="#page5">5</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>description from his &ldquo;David Copperfield&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page65">65</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotations from Mr. Micawber&rsquo;s conversation, <a href="#page253">253</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Dictionary, use of, <a href="#page237">237</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Differentia, <a href="#page92">92</a>, <a href="#page93">93</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Digression, <a href="#page22">22</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dimeter, <a href="#page274">274</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Discourse, forms of, <a href="#page3">3</a>-<a href="#page7">7</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Discussions and Arguments,&rdquo; Newman&rsquo;s, quotation from, <a href="#page97">97</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dramatic poetry, <a href="#page286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Dynamic point of sentence, <a href="#page221">221</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexE" id="indexE"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Elegy, the, <a href="#page285">285</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Eliot, George, her &ldquo;Silas Marner,&rdquo; <a href="#page13">13</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation from, <a href="#page152">152</a>-<a href="#page156">156</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Emerson, Ralph Waldo, primarily an essayist, <a href="#page9">9</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Emotional statement, <a href="#page115">115</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Emphasis, how secured, <a href="#page110">110</a>-<a href="#page112">112</a>, <a href="#page115">115</a>, <a href="#page116">116</a>, <a href="#page217">217</a>-<a href="#page219">219</a>.</li>
+
+<li>End of a paragraph, <a href="#page175">175</a>-<a href="#page179">179</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>of a sentence, <a href="#page208">208</a>-<a href="#page212">212</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;English Composition,&rdquo; Wendell&rsquo;s, quotation from, <a href="#page94">94</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Enthymeme, <a href="#page130">130</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Enumeration <i>vs.</i> suggestion, <a href="#page52">52</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Enumerative description, <a href="#page54">54</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Epic, the, <a href="#page284">284</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Epithet, <a href="#page260">260</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Evangeline,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page277">277</a>, <a href="#page278">278</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Events, order of, <a href="#page29">29</a>, <a href="#page30">30</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Everett, Edward, description from, quoted, <a href="#page71">71</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Examples, paragraph of, <a href="#page171">171</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Exclamation, <a href="#page262">262</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Exclamation point, <a href="#page308">308</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Exclusion of details, <a href="#page22">22</a>, <a href="#page23">23</a>, <a href="#page26">26</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Exposition, <a href="#page4">4</a>, <a href="#page89">89</a>-<a href="#page120">120</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>and description, <a href="#page91">91</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexF" id="indexF"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Facts in stories, <a href="#page25">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Faerie Queene, The,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Fall of the House of Usher, The,&rdquo; descriptions in, <a href="#page34">34</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation from, <a href="#page69">69</a>, <a href="#page71">71</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Familiar images, <a href="#page76">76</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Farrar, Canon, as a writer of sermons, <a href="#page8">8</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Feathertop,&rdquo; <a href="#page13">13</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Figurative language, <a href="#page257">257</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>value of, <a href="#page258">258</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Figures of speech, <a href="#page77">77</a>, <a href="#page250">250</a>, <a href="#page257">257</a>-<a href="#page268">268</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fine writing, <a href="#page253">253</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;First Snow-Fall, The,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page274">274</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Fiske, John, his &ldquo;History of the United States,&rdquo; <a href="#page25">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Foot, a, in poetry, <a href="#page272">272</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>one kind may be substituted for another, <a href="#page277">277</a>-<a href="#page281">281</a>;</li>
+    <li>first and last foot of a verse may be irregular, <a href="#page281">281</a>, <a href="#page282">282</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Force, gained by use of figurative language, <a href="#page258">258</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Foreign words, <a href="#page243">243</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Francis I. quoted, <a href="#page113">113</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Function of Criticism at the Present Time,&rdquo; Arnold&rsquo;s, quotation from, <a href="#page222">222</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexG" id="indexG"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>&ldquo;Gallegher,&rdquo; simple plot of, <a href="#page36">36</a>.</li>
+
+<li>General terms, <a href="#page89">89</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a>-<a href="#page252">252</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Genung, J. F., on paragraph structure, <a href="#page162">162</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Genus and differentia, <a href="#page92">92</a>, <a href="#page93">93</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Gold Bug,&rdquo; length of sentences in, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Good usage, <a href="#page222">222</a>, <a href="#page223">223</a>, <a href="#page239">239</a>-<a href="#page245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Grant, U. S., his &ldquo;Memoirs&rdquo; have no plot, <a href="#page16">16</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexH" id="indexH"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Hackneyed phrases, <a href="#page253">253</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Haggard, Rider, <a href="#page12">12</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hawthorne, Nathaniel, a story writer, <a href="#page9">9</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>his &ldquo;Feathertop,&rdquo; <a href="#page13">13</a>;</li>
+    <li>his descriptions in &ldquo;The Marble Faun,&rdquo; <a href="#page34">34</a>;</li>
+    <li>quoted, <a href="#page50">50</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotations from, about &ldquo;The Old Manse,&rdquo; <a href="#page58">58</a>, <a href="#page59">59</a>;</li>
+    <li>descriptions from his &ldquo;House of the Seven Gables&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page66">66</a>;</li>
+    <li>from &ldquo;The Old Apple Dealer,&rdquo; <a href="#page67">67</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Heading of essay, <a href="#page297">297</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Heptameter, <a href="#page275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Herv&eacute; Riel&rdquo; as a piece of narrative, <a href="#page23">23</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hexameter, <a href="#page275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Hiawatha,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Historical Sketches,&rdquo; Newman&rsquo;s, quotation from, <a href="#page52">52</a>-<a href="#page54">54</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Hood, Thomas, &ldquo;The Bridge of Sighs&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page270">270</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;House of the Seven Gables,&rdquo; descriptions quoted from, <a href="#page66">66</a>.</li>
+
+<li><a class="pgnm" name="page315" id="page315">315</a>
+Hugo, Victor, his description of Waterloo quoted, <a href="#page67">67</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Huxley, Thomas, example of his use of comparison, <a href="#page98">98</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation from, to illustrate paragraph structure, <a href="#page161">161</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Hyperbole, <a href="#page263">263</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexI" id="indexI"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Iambus, defined, <a href="#page272">272</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>the common foot of English verse, <a href="#page272">272</a>, <a href="#page279">279</a>;</li>
+    <li>interchangeable with anapest, <a href="#page278">278</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Idea of a University,&rdquo; quotations from, <a href="#page95">95</a>, <a href="#page171">171</a>, <a href="#page193">193</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page210">210</a>, <a href="#page247">247</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Illustrations, their value, <a href="#page97">97</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Impressions de Th&eacute;&acirc;tre,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page63">63</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Incident of a French Camp, An,&rdquo; as an example of a short story, <a href="#page23">23</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Incident, the main, <a href="#page20">20</a>, <a href="#page21">21</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Incidents, order of, <a href="#page29">29</a>, <a href="#page30">30</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Inclusion of material, <a href="#page24">24</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Indention of paragraph, <a href="#page297">297</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Individual arrangement of paragraph, <a href="#page181">181</a>-<a href="#page188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Individuality of author, <a href="#page8">8</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Indorsement of essay, <a href="#page298">298</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Induction, <a href="#page128">128</a>, <a href="#page132">132</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Interest, <a href="#page11">11</a>, <a href="#page12">12</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Interrogation, <a href="#page262">262</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Interrogation point, <a href="#page308">308</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Introduction of story, <a href="#page23">23</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Inversion, <a href="#page262">262</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Irony, <a href="#page262">262</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Irrelevant matter, <a href="#page22">22</a>, <a href="#page23">23</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Irving, Washington, as a story writer in the third person, <a href="#page27">27</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>description from, quoted, <a href="#page54">54</a>;</li>
+    <li>short characterization quoted, <a href="#page70">70</a>;</li>
+    <li>description of a coachman quoted, <a href="#page75">75</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotations to illustrate paragraph structure, <a href="#page164">164</a>, <a href="#page183">183</a>;</li>
+    <li>to illustrate sentence construction, <a href="#page202">202</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page219">219</a>, <a href="#page220">220</a>, <a href="#page229">229</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexJ" id="indexJ"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Jonson, Ben, quotation from, <a href="#page280">280</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Jungle Books,&rdquo; <a href="#page12">12</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation from, <a href="#page78">78</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexK" id="indexK"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>&ldquo;Kidnapped,&rdquo; quotations from, <a href="#page15">15</a>, <a href="#page165">165</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>its unity, <a href="#page27">27</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;King Lear,&rdquo; its plot, <a href="#page16">16</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation from, <a href="#page60">60</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Kingsley, Charles, &ldquo;The Three Fishers&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Kipling, Rudyard, his &ldquo;Baa, Baa, Black Sheep,&rdquo; <a href="#page7">7</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>his &ldquo;Jungle Books,&rdquo; <a href="#page12">12</a>;</li>
+    <li>his use of climax, <a href="#page21">21</a>;</li>
+    <li>as a story-teller, <a href="#page22">22</a>, <a href="#page27">27</a>;</li>
+    <li>small number of characters in his stories, <a href="#page35">35</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotation from his &ldquo;Light that Failed,&rdquo; <a href="#page60">60</a>;</li>
+    <li>description quoted from his &ldquo;Jungle Books,&rdquo; <a href="#page78">78</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotation to illustrate sentence construction, <a href="#page201">201</a>;</li>
+    <li>his &ldquo;L&rsquo;Envoi&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page252">252</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexL" id="indexL"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>&ldquo;Lady of the Lake, The,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page269">269</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Language <i>vs.</i> painting, <a href="#page49">49</a>-<a href="#page52">52</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lanier, Sidney, &ldquo;The Science of English Verse,&rdquo; cited, <a href="#page269">269</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quoted, <a href="#page273">273</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Latin words, <a href="#page245">245</a>-<a href="#page248">248</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Le Gallienne, Richard, his essay on pigs, <a href="#page10">10</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quoted, <a href="#page257">257</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Legend of Sleepy Hollow, The,&rdquo; <a href="#page27">27</a>, <a href="#page29">29</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>description in, <a href="#page34">34</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotation from to show paragraph structure, <a href="#page163">163</a>, <a href="#page183">183</a>;</li>
+    <li>to show sentence structure, <a href="#page202">202</a>, <a href="#page219">219</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Lema&icirc;tre, Jules, criticism of Zola quoted, <a href="#page63">63</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Length, of a description, <a href="#page63">63</a>, <a href="#page64">64</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>of a paragraph, <a href="#page151">151</a>-<a href="#page156">156</a>;</li>
+    <li>of a sentence, <a href="#page178">178</a>, <a href="#page179">179</a>, <a href="#page204">204</a>, <a href="#page205">205</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;L&rsquo;Envoi&rdquo; to &ldquo;The Seven Seas,&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page252">252</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Les Mis&eacute;rables,&rdquo; its intricate plot, <a href="#page16">16</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation from, <a href="#page67">67</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Light that Failed, The,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page60">60</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Little Dorrit,&rdquo; large number of characters in, <a href="#page35">35</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Little Red Riding Hood,&rdquo; <a href="#page12">12</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Logical definition, <a href="#page91">91</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;London Bridge,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page282">282</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, &ldquo;Hiawatha&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page270">270</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>&ldquo;Evangeline&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page277">277</a>, <a href="#page278">278</a>;</li>
+    <li>&ldquo;The Village Blacksmith&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page279">279</a>, <a href="#page280">280</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Looking Backward,&rdquo; as a novel with a purpose, <a href="#page7">7</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Loose sentences, <a href="#page212">212</a>, <a href="#page214">214</a>, <a href="#page215">215</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lovelace, Richard, quoted, <a href="#page112">112</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lowell, James Russell, his &ldquo;Sir Launfal,&rdquo; <a href="#page13">13</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation from &ldquo;Biglow Papers,&rdquo; <a href="#page51">51</a>;</li>
+    <li>from a &ldquo;Song,&rdquo; <a href="#page52">52</a>;</li>
+    <li>from &ldquo;To W. L. Garrison,&rdquo; <a href="#page89">89</a>;</li>
+    <li>from &ldquo;The First Snow-Fall,&rdquo; <a href="#page274">274</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Lyric poetry, <a href="#page285">285</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Lytton, Lord, quotation from, <a href="#page241">241</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexM" id="indexM"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Macaulay, Lord, quotation on Milton from, <a href="#page96">96</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation to illustrate comparison, <a href="#page98">98</a>;</li>
+    <li>his essay on &ldquo;Milton&rdquo; analyzed, <a href="#page106">106</a>;</li>
+    <li>last sentence of that essay quoted, <a href="#page111">111</a>;</li>
+    <li>that essay as an example of proportion in treatment, <a href="#page114">114</a>;</li>
+    <li>his denunciation of Charles I. quoted, <a href="#page115">115</a>;</li>
+    <li>further quotations from his &ldquo;Milton,&rdquo; <a href="#page117">117</a>;</li>
+    <li>his speeches on &ldquo;Copyright&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Reform Bill&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page159">159</a>, <a href="#page172">172</a>, <a href="#page193">193</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotations from the &ldquo;Milton&rdquo; to illustrate paragraph structure, <a href="#page164">164</a>, <a href="#page166">166</a>, <a href="#page168">168</a>, <a href="#page178">178</a>, <a href="#page182">182</a>, <a href="#page184">184</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Macbeth,&rdquo; <a href="#page13">13</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Maclaren, Ian, <a href="#page25">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Main incident, <a href="#page20">20</a>-<a href="#page26">26</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Major term, <a href="#page129">129</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Marble Faun, The,&rdquo; description in, <a href="#page34">34</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Margin of composition, <a href="#page296">296</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Marmion,&rdquo; <a href="#page27">27</a>, <a href="#page29">29</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quoted, <a href="#page276">276</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Mass, <a href="#page20">20</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>in description, <a href="#page64">64</a>-<a href="#page75">75</a>;</li>
+    <li>in exposition, <a href="#page108">108</a>-<a href="#page114">114</a>;</li>
+    <li>in paragraphs, <a href="#page174">174</a>-<a href="#page178">178</a>;</li>
+    <li>in sentences, <a href="#page207">207</a>-<a href="#page212">212</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Masson, David, <a href="#page104">104</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Maupassant, Guy de, quotation from his
+<a class="pgnm" name="page316" id="page316">316</a>
+&ldquo;Pierre et Jean,&rdquo; <a href="#page56">56</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>from his &ldquo;Odd Number,&rdquo; <a href="#page156">156</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Meredith, George, quotation from, to illustrate paragraph structure, <a href="#page161">161</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>sentence structure, <a href="#page205">205</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Metaphor, <a href="#page77">77</a>, <a href="#page260">260</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Metonymy, <a href="#page250">250</a>, <a href="#page263">263</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Metre, kinds of, <a href="#page273">273</a>-<a href="#page275">275</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>variations in, <a href="#page276">276</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Metrical romance, the, <a href="#page284">284</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Middle term, <a href="#page130">130</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Milton,&rdquo; Macaulay&rsquo;s essay on, quotations from, <a href="#page96">96</a>, <a href="#page98">98</a>, <a href="#page111">111</a>, <a href="#page115">115</a>, <a href="#page117">117</a>, <a href="#page119">119</a>, <a href="#page164">164</a>, <a href="#page166">166</a>-<a href="#page168">168</a>, <a href="#page178">178</a>, <a href="#page184">184</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>analyzed, <a href="#page106">106</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Milton, John, quotations from, <a href="#page241">241</a>, <a href="#page245">245</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Minor term, <a href="#page129">129</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Monometer, <a href="#page273">273</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Mood in description, <a href="#page59">59</a>-<a href="#page62">62</a>, <a href="#page67">67</a>-<a href="#page69">69</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Mosses from an Old Manse,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page50">50</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Movement of story, <a href="#page32">32</a>, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexN" id="indexN"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Narration, <a href="#page4">4</a>, <a href="#page13">13</a>-<a href="#page37">37</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Narrative poetry, <a href="#page284">284</a>.</li>
+
+<li>National usage, <a href="#page242">242</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;New Testament,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page241">241</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Newman, Cardinal, quotation from, about Athens, <a href="#page52">52</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation on theology, <a href="#page95">95</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotation to illustrate the use of specific instances in exposition, <a href="#page97">97</a>;</li>
+    <li>to illustrate paragraph structure, <a href="#page160">160</a>, <a href="#page171">171</a>, <a href="#page177">177</a>, <a href="#page193">193</a>;</li>
+    <li>to show sentence construction, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page210">210</a>;</li>
+    <li>to show use of words, <a href="#page247">247</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Nicholas Nickleby,&rdquo; as an exposition of school abuses, <a href="#page5">5</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Nouns, <a href="#page78">78</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Number of characters, <a href="#page35">35</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexO" id="indexO"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Observation, its value, <a href="#page55">55</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Obverse statement, <a href="#page95">95</a>, <a href="#page96">96</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>paragraph of, <a href="#page169">169</a>-<a href="#page171">171</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Octameter, <a href="#page275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Odd Number, The,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page156">156</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ode, defined, <a href="#page285">285</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;&OElig;none,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page51">51</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Old Apple Dealer, The,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page67">67</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Omniscience of an author, <a href="#page27">27</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Order of events in stories, <a href="#page29">29</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>of words in sentences, <a href="#page217">217</a>-<a href="#page219">219</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Outline, use of, <a href="#page32">32</a>, <a href="#page109">109</a>, <a href="#page110">110</a>, <a href="#page138">138</a>, <a href="#page139">139</a>, <a href="#page174">174</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexP" id="indexP"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Palmer, Professor G. H., quotations from, on composition writing, <a href="#page101">101</a>, <a href="#page112">112</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Paradise Lost,&rdquo; quotations from, <a href="#page241">241</a>, <a href="#page245">245</a>, <a href="#page248">248</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Paragraphs, <a href="#page151">151</a>-<a href="#page195">195</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Parallel construction, <a href="#page192">192</a>-<a href="#page194">194</a>, <a href="#page226">226</a>, <a href="#page227">227</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Particulars in exposition, <a href="#page96">96</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>paragraph of, <a href="#page163">163</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Penmanship, <a href="#page300">300</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pentameter, <a href="#page274">274</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Pepacton,&rdquo; <a href="#page9">9</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotations from, <a href="#page158">158</a>, <a href="#page160">160</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Period, <a href="#page308">308</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Periodic sentences, <a href="#page212">212</a>-<a href="#page216">216</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Personification, <a href="#page77">77</a>, <a href="#page260">260</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Persuasion, <a href="#page4">4</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Philippians iv. <a href="#page8">8</a>, <a href="#page241">241</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Physical Basis of Life,&rdquo; Huxley&rsquo;s, quotations from, <a href="#page98">98</a>, <a href="#page161">161</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Pierre et Jean,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page55">55</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Pilgrim&rsquo;s Progress,&rdquo; <a href="#page13">13</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Place of a story, <a href="#page29">29</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Plot, <a href="#page15">15</a>-<a href="#page20">20</a>, <a href="#page36">36</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Poe, Edgar Allan, his sentences, <a href="#page33">33</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>his use of description in &ldquo;The Fall of the House of Usher,&rdquo; <a href="#page34">34</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotations from that work, <a href="#page68">68</a>, <a href="#page71">71</a>;</li>
+    <li>&ldquo;Annabel Lee&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page271">271</a>, <a href="#page278">278</a>, <a href="#page279">279</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Poetic feet, <a href="#page272">272</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Poetical words, <a href="#page254">254</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Poetry, kinds of, <a href="#page284">284</a>-<a href="#page286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Point of view, <a href="#page56">56</a>-<a href="#page59">59</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>change of, <a href="#page58">58</a>;</li>
+    <li>mental, <a href="#page59">59</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Position of words in sentences, <a href="#page217">217</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Pr&aelig;terita,&rdquo; Ruskin&rsquo;s, quotations from, <a href="#page169">169</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Premises, <a href="#page129">129</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>false, <a href="#page131">131</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Present Position of Catholics in England,&rdquo; Newman&rsquo;s, quotation from, <a href="#page177">177</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Present usage of words, <a href="#page244">244</a>, <a href="#page245">245</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Prince Otto,&rdquo; quotations from, <a href="#page72">72</a>, <a href="#page73">73</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Princess, The,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page251">251</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Pronouns, use of, <a href="#page188">188</a>, <a href="#page189">189</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Proportion in description, <a href="#page73">73</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>in exposition, <a href="#page104">104</a>-<a href="#page108">108</a>, <a href="#page114">114</a>;</li>
+    <li>in paragraphs, <a href="#page179">179</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Prose Fancies,&rdquo; <a href="#page10">10</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Provincialisms, <a href="#page242">242</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Purpose, of an author, <a href="#page6">6</a>, <a href="#page7">7</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>in description, <a href="#page59">59</a>-<a href="#page62">62</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexQ" id="indexQ"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Quotation marks, <a href="#page308">308</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Quo Vadis,&rdquo; <a href="#page7">7</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexR" id="indexR"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Rapidity of movement, <a href="#page32">32</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Reform Bill,&rdquo; quotation from Macaulay&rsquo;s speech on, <a href="#page193">193</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Refutation in argument, <a href="#page141">141</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Repetition, its value, <a href="#page94">94</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>paragraph of, <a href="#page167">167</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Reputable words, <a href="#page239">239</a>-<a href="#page241">241</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Richard Feverel,&rdquo; quotations from, <a href="#page161">161</a>, <a href="#page205">205</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Richelieu,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page241">241</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Robinson Crusoe,&rdquo; has little plot, <a href="#page16">16</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Royce, Josiah, quotation from, <a href="#page242">242</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Ruskin, John, <a href="#page49">49</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation to illustrate building up a paragraph, <a href="#page169">169</a>;</li>
+    <li>his &ldquo;Sesame and Lilies,&rdquo; <a href="#page239">239</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexS" id="indexS"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Saxon words, <a href="#page245">245</a>-<a href="#page248">248</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Scale of treatment, <a href="#page104">104</a>-<a href="#page108">108</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Scansion, <a href="#page275">275</a>-<a href="#page284">284</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>requisites for scanning, <a href="#page283">283</a>, <a href="#page284">284</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Science of English Verse, The,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page273">273</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Scott, Sir Walter, as a story-teller in the
+<a class="pgnm" name="page317" id="page317">317</a>
+third person, <a href="#page27">27</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>his dull introductory chapters, <a href="#page31">31</a>;</li>
+    <li>&ldquo;The Lady of the Lake&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page269">269</a>;</li>
+    <li>&ldquo;Marmion&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page276">276</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Selection of material in narration, <a href="#page21">21</a>-<a href="#page28">28</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>in description, <a href="#page56">56</a>-<a href="#page62">62</a>;</li>
+    <li>in exposition, <a href="#page102">102</a>-<a href="#page104">104</a>;</li>
+    <li>in argument, <a href="#page138">138</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Self-Cultivation in English,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page101">101</a>, <a href="#page112">112</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Semicolons, <a href="#page202">202</a>, <a href="#page203">203</a>, <a href="#page305">305</a>, <a href="#page306">306</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sentences, <a href="#page200">200</a>-<a href="#page230">230</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>simple and compound, <a href="#page200">200</a>, <a href="#page201">201</a>;</li>
+    <li>long or short, <a href="#page204">204</a>, <a href="#page205">205</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Sequence of events, <a href="#page29">29</a>, <a href="#page30">30</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Serial arrangement of paragraph, <a href="#page181">181</a>-<a href="#page188">188</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Sesame and Lilies,&rdquo; <a href="#page239">239</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sienkiewicz, Henry, his &ldquo;Quo Vadis,&rdquo; <a href="#page7">7</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Silas Marner,&rdquo; written for a purpose, <a href="#page13">13</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>example of a plot, <a href="#page20">20</a>;</li>
+    <li>time consumed in the story, <a href="#page36">36</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotation to show paragraph length, <a href="#page152">152</a>-<a href="#page156">156</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Simile, <a href="#page77">77</a>, <a href="#page261">261</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sing-song, natural tendency toward, <a href="#page269">269</a>, <a href="#page276">276</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Slang, <a href="#page240">240</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Slowness of movement, <a href="#page33">33</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Snow-Bound,&rdquo; narrative or descriptive?, <a href="#page4">4</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Song defined, <a href="#page285">285</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Sonnet defined, <a href="#page285">285</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Specific words, <a href="#page248">248</a>-<a href="#page252">252</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Spencer, Herbert, on the philosophy of the periodic sentence, <a href="#page212">212</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Spenser, Edmund, &ldquo;The Faerie Queene&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page281">281</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Spirit of Modern Philosophy,&rdquo; Royce&rsquo;s, quotation from, <a href="#page242">242</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Spondee, <a href="#page273">273</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Stanza, <a href="#page275">275</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Stedman, E. C., an authority on literature, <a href="#page9">9</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Stevenson, Robert Louis, his &ldquo;Treasure Island&rdquo; and &ldquo;Travels with a Donkey&rdquo; as narratives, <a href="#page4">4</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation from &ldquo;Kidnapped,&rdquo; <a href="#page15">15</a>;</li>
+    <li>his &ldquo;An Autumn Effect&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page17">17</a>;</li>
+    <li>unity in his stories, <a href="#page27">27</a>;</li>
+    <li>descriptions from, quoted, <a href="#page62">62</a>, <a href="#page72">72</a>;</li>
+    <li>examples of personification from, <a href="#page77">77</a>;</li>
+    <li>his unusual use of words, <a href="#page79">79</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotation to show paragraph structure, <a href="#page165">165</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Subdual of subordinate parts, <a href="#page219">219</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Subject, <a href="#page8">8</a>-<a href="#page12">12</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>common, <a href="#page11">11</a>;</li>
+    <li>interesting, <a href="#page11">11</a>;</li>
+    <li>in exposition, <a href="#page99">99</a>, <a href="#page100">100</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Suggestion <i>vs.</i> enumeration, <a href="#page52">52</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Suggestions to teachers, <a href="#page257">257</a>-<a href="#page260">260</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Suggestive description, <a href="#page55">55</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Summary, a, <a href="#page119">119</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Superlatives, <a href="#page80">80</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Syllogism, <a href="#page129">129</a>-<a href="#page132">132</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Synecdoche, <a href="#page250">250</a>, <a href="#page263">263</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexT" id="indexT"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>&ldquo;Tannenbaum,&rdquo; <a href="#page12">12</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Technical words, <a href="#page242">242</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tennyson, Lord, quotations from, <a href="#page51">51</a>, <a href="#page251">251</a>, <a href="#page283">283</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Terms of syllogism, <a href="#page129">129</a>, <a href="#page130">130</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Testimony, <a href="#page136">136</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Tetrameter, <a href="#page274">274</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Thackeray, W. M., quotation from, <a href="#page157">157</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Theme in exposition, <a href="#page100">100</a>, <a href="#page101">101</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Three Fishers, The,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page271">271</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Tiger, Tiger,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page283">283</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Time of story, <a href="#page35">35</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Title in exposition, <a href="#page102">102</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;To W. L. Garrison,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page89">89</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Topic-sentence, <a href="#page157">157</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>its position, <a href="#page157">157</a>-<a href="#page161">161</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Tragedy, <a href="#page286">286</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Transitions, <a href="#page118">118</a>, <a href="#page119">119</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Travels with a Donkey,&rdquo; narrative or descriptive? <a href="#page4">4</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>absence of plot, <a href="#page17">17</a>;</li>
+    <li>quotations from, <a href="#page62">62</a>, <a href="#page65">65</a>, <a href="#page157">157</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Treasure Island,&rdquo; a narrative, <a href="#page4">4</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>plot simple, <a href="#page16">16</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Trimeter, <a href="#page274">274</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Trochee, defined, <a href="#page272">272</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>interchangeable with dactyl, <a href="#page278">278</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Type-form of paragraph, <a href="#page162">162</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexU" id="indexU"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>&ldquo;Ugly Duckling, The,&rdquo; <a href="#page25">25</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Undistributed middle, <a href="#page131">131</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Unity, <a href="#page20">20</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>in narration, <a href="#page21">21</a>, <a href="#page22">22</a>;</li>
+    <li>in description, <a href="#page56">56</a>-<a href="#page64">64</a>;</li>
+    <li>in exposition, <a href="#page102">102</a>, <a href="#page103">103</a>;</li>
+    <li>in argument, <a href="#page138">138</a>;</li>
+    <li>in paragraphs, <a href="#page173">173</a>;</li>
+    <li>in sentences, <a href="#page205">205</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Uses of Astronomy, The,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page72">72</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexV" id="indexV"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>Value of observation, <a href="#page55">55</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Vanity Fair,&rdquo; example of a plot, <a href="#page19">19</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation from, <a href="#page157">157</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Variations in metre, <a href="#page276">276</a>-<a href="#page284">284</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Verbs in description, <a href="#page79">79</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Verne, Jules, <a href="#page12">12</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Verse, a, definition of, <a href="#page273">273</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>how named, <a href="#page275">275</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Verse forms, <a href="#page269">269</a>-<a href="#page291">291</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Village Blacksmith, The,&rdquo; quotation from, <a href="#page279">279</a>, <a href="#page280">280</a>.</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Vision of Sir Launfal, The,&rdquo; <a href="#page13">13</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>quotation from, <a href="#page67">67</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>Vocabulary, need of, <a href="#page236">236</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Vulgarisms, <a href="#page240">240</a>.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<a name="indexW" id="indexW"></a>
+<ul>
+<li>&ldquo;Wake Robin,&rdquo; <a href="#page9">9</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Webster, Daniel, quotation from, to illustrate paragraph structure, <a href="#page176">176</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>his use of words, <a href="#page247">247</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Wee Willie Winkie,&rdquo; its climax, <a href="#page21">21</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Wendell, Barrett, quotation on printed words from, <a href="#page94">94</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Whittier, John G., his &ldquo;Barbara Frietchie&rdquo; and &ldquo;Snow-Bound&rdquo; as narratives, <a href="#page4">4</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Wilkins, Miss, small number of characters in her books, <a href="#page35">35</a>.</li>
+
+<li><a class="pgnm" name="page318" id="page318">318</a>
+Wolfe, Charles, &ldquo;The Burial of Sir John Moore&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page277">277</a>.</li>
+
+<li>Words, <a href="#page235">235</a>-<a href="#page256">256</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>choice of, <a href="#page78">78</a>, <a href="#page79">79</a>, <a href="#page80">80</a>, <a href="#page254">254</a>-<a href="#page260">260</a>;</li>
+    <li>reputable, <a href="#page240">240</a>, <a href="#page241">241</a>;</li>
+    <li>national, <a href="#page242">242</a>;</li>
+    <li>in present use, <a href="#page244">244</a>, <a href="#page245">245</a>;</li>
+    <li>Latin and Saxon, <a href="#page245">245</a>-<a href="#page248">248</a>;</li>
+    <li>general and specific, <a href="#page248">248</a>-<a href="#page252">252</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+
+<li>&ldquo;Wordsworth,&rdquo; Arnold&rsquo;s essay on, quotations from, <a href="#page158">158</a>, <a href="#page167">167</a>;
+    <ul>
+    <li>&ldquo;The Daisy&rdquo; quoted, <a href="#page274">274</a>.</li>
+    </ul>
+</li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+<div class="ftnt">
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<ol>
+<li><p><a id="footnote_1" name="footnote_1"></a>See pp. 13, 14, of the Report of Committee on College Entrance
+Requirements. <a href="#footref_1">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_2" name="footnote_2"></a>See the first essay in <i>Prose Fancies.</i> <a href="#footref_2">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_3" name="footnote_3"></a>Unless otherwise stated, all page references are to the Riverside
+Literature Series. <a href="#footref_3">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_4" name="footnote_4"></a><i>Biglow Papers,</i> No. X. <a href="#footref_4">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_5" name="footnote_5"></a>Tennyson&rsquo;s <i>&OElig;none.</i> <a href="#footref_5">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_6" name="footnote_6"></a><i>Historical Sketches,</i> by Cardinal Newman. <a href="#footref_6">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_7" name="footnote_7"></a><i>Pierre et Jean,</i> by Maupassant. Quoted from Bates&rsquo;s <i>Talks on
+Writing English.</i> <a href="#footref_7">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_8" name="footnote_8"></a><i>Impressions de Th&eacute;&acirc;tre,</i> by Jules Lema&icirc;tre. <a href="#footref_8">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_9" name="footnote_9"></a><i>The Marble Faun,</i> by Nathaniel Hawthorne. <a href="#footref_9">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_10" name="footnote_10"></a><i>Travels with a Donkey,</i> by R. L. Stevenson. <a href="#footref_10">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_11" name="footnote_11"></a><i>Les Mis&eacute;rables,</i> by Victor Hugo. <a href="#footref_11">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_12" name="footnote_12"></a><i>The Stage Coach,</i> in Irving&rsquo;s <i>Sketch Book.</i> <a href="#footref_12">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_13" name="footnote_13"></a><i>The Jungle Book,</i> by Rudyard Kipling. <a href="#footref_13">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_14" name="footnote_14"></a><i>To W. L. Garrison,</i> by J. R. Lowell. <a href="#footref_14">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_15" name="footnote_15"></a><i>Idea of a University,</i> by Cardinal Newman. <a href="#footref_15">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_16" name="footnote_16"></a><i>Essay on Milton,</i> by Lord Macaulay. <a href="#footref_16">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_17" name="footnote_17"></a><i>Discussions and Arguments.</i> <a href="#footref_17">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_18" name="footnote_18"></a><i>Essay on Milton.</i> <a href="#footref_18">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_19" name="footnote_19"></a><i>The Physical Basis of Life,</i> by T. H. Huxley. <a href="#footref_19">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_20" name="footnote_20"></a><i>Self-Cultivation in English,</i> by Professor G. H. Palmer. <a href="#footref_20">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_21" name="footnote_21"></a>Speech on <i>Conciliation with the Colonies,</i> by Burke. <a href="#footref_21">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_22" name="footnote_22"></a>A text-book on Logic, such as Jevons&rsquo;s, should be used to illustrate
+the kinds of argument more fully. <a href="#footref_22">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_23" name="footnote_23"></a><i>Silas Marner,</i> by George Eliot. <a href="#footref_24">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_24" name="footnote_24"></a><i>The Odd Number,</i> by Guy de Maupassant. <a href="#footref_24">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_25" name="footnote_25"></a><i>Vanity Fair,</i> by W. M. Thackeray. <a href="#footref_25">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_26" name="footnote_26"></a><i>Idyl of the Honey-Bee,</i> from Burroughs&rsquo;s <i>Pepacton.</i> <a href="#footref_26">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_27" name="footnote_27"></a><i>Essay on Wordsworth,</i> by Matthew Arnold. <a href="#footref_27">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_28" name="footnote_28"></a>Speech on <i>Copyright,</i> by Lord Macaulay. <a href="#footref_28">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_29" name="footnote_29"></a><i>Idyl of the Honey-Bee,</i> from Burroughs&rsquo;s <i>Pepacton.</i> <a href="#footref_29">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_30" name="footnote_30"></a><i>The Physical Basis of Life,</i> by T. H. Huxley. <a href="#footref_30">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_31" name="footnote_31"></a>See Scott and Denney&rsquo;s <i>Composition-Rhetoric.</i> <a href="#footref_31">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_32" name="footnote_32"></a><i>Legend of Sleepy Hollow,</i> by W. Irving. <a href="#footref_32">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_33" name="footnote_33"></a><i>Essay on Milton,</i> by Lord Macaulay. <a href="#footref_33">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_34" name="footnote_34"></a><i>Kidnapped,</i> by R. L. Stevenson. <a href="#footref_34">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_35" name="footnote_35"></a><i>Pr&aelig;terita,</i> by John Ruskin. <a href="#footref_35">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_36" name="footnote_36"></a>Speech on <i>Conciliation with the Colonies,</i> by Burke. <a href="#footref_36">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_37" name="footnote_37"></a>Barrett Wendell&rsquo;s <i>English Composition.</i> <a href="#footref_37">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_38" name="footnote_38"></a>Oration on <i>Adams and Jefferson,</i> by Daniel Webster. <a href="#footref_38">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_39" name="footnote_39"></a><i>Present Position of Catholics in England,</i> by Cardinal Newman. <a href="#footref_39">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_40" name="footnote_40"></a>Speech on <i>Conciliation with the Colonies,</i> by Burke. <a href="#footref_40">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_41" name="footnote_41"></a>Speech on the <i>Reform Bill of 1832,</i> by Lord Macaulay. <a href="#footref_41">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_42" name="footnote_42"></a><i>Idea of a University,</i> by Cardinal Newman. <a href="#footref_42">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_43" name="footnote_43"></a><i>Legend of Sleepy Hollow,</i> by W. Irving. <a href="#footref_43">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_44" name="footnote_44"></a><i>Idea of a University,</i> by Cardinal Newman. <a href="#footref_44">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_45" name="footnote_45"></a><i>Idea of a University,</i> by Cardinal Newman. <a href="#footref_45">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_46" name="footnote_46"></a><i>Speech on Conciliation with the Colonies,</i> by Burke. <a href="#footref_46">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_47" name="footnote_47"></a><i>Legend of Sleepy Hollow,</i> by W. Irving. <a href="#footref_47">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_48" name="footnote_48"></a><i>Function of Criticism at the Present Time,</i> by Matthew Arnold. <a href="#footref_48">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_49" name="footnote_49"></a><i>Speech on Conciliation with the Colonies,</i> by Burke. <a href="#footref_49">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_50" name="footnote_50"></a><i>The Spirit of Modern Philosophy,</i> by Josiah Royce. <a href="#footref_50">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_51" name="footnote_51"></a>See Lowell&rsquo;s <i>Biglow Papers,</i> Introduction to Second Series. <a href="#footref_51">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_52" name="footnote_52"></a><i>Idea of a University,</i> by Cardinal Newman. <a href="#footref_52">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_53" name="footnote_53"></a>From <i>The Princess: a Medley,</i> Part IV. <a href="#footref_53">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_54" name="footnote_54"></a>From <i>The Seven Seas,</i> published by D. Appleton &amp; Co., New
+York. Copyright, 1896, by Rudyard Kipling. <a href="#footref_54">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_55" name="footnote_55"></a>In any piece of literature there are many figures. The following
+should be used only to make pupils familiar with varieties of figures.
+They will find many more in the literature they read. <a href="#footref_55">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_56" name="footnote_56"></a>The treatment of this subject is based upon Lanier&rsquo;s <i>The Science
+of English Verse.</i> <a href="#footref_56">(Back)</a></p></li>
+
+<li><p><a id="footnote_57" name="footnote_57"></a>See p. <a href="#pagexix">xix</a>. <a href="#footref_57">(Back)</a></p></li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH: COMPOSITION AND LITERATURE***</p>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of English: Composition and Literature, by W.
+F. (William Franklin) Webster
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: English: Composition and Literature
+
+
+Author: W. F. (William Franklin) Webster
+
+
+
+Release Date: February 16, 2009  [eBook #28097]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH: COMPOSITION AND
+LITERATURE***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Carl Hudkins, Fred Robinson, and the Project Gutenberg
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
+
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+
+
+
+
+
+ENGLISH: COMPOSITION AND LITERATURE
+
+by
+
+W. F. WEBSTER
+
+Principal of the East High School
+Minneapolis, Minnesota
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Houghton Mifflin Company
+Boston: 4 Park Street; New York: 85 Fifth Avenue
+Chicago: 378-388 Wabash Avenue
+
+The Riverside Press Cambridge
+
+Copyright, 1900 and 1902, by W. F. Webster
+All Rights Reserved
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+In July, 1898, I presented at the National Educational Association,
+convened in Washington, a Course of Study in English. At Los Angeles,
+in 1899, the Association indorsed the principles[1] of this course,
+and made it the basis of the Course in English for High Schools. At
+the request of friends, I have prepared this short text-book,
+outlining the method of carrying forward the course, and emphasizing
+the principles necessary for the intelligent communication of ideas.
+
+It has not been the purpose to write a rhetoric. The many fine
+distinctions and divisions, the rarefied examples of very beautiful
+forms of language which a young pupil cannot possibly reproduce, or
+even appreciate, have been omitted. To teach the methods of simple,
+direct, and accurate expression has been the purpose; and this is all
+that can be expected of a high school course in English.
+
+The teaching of composition differs from the teaching of Latin or
+mathematics in this point: whereas pupils can be compelled to solve a
+definite number of problems or to read a given number of lines, it is
+not possible to compel expression of the full thought. The full
+thought is made of an intellectual and an emotional element. Whatever
+is intellectual may be compelled by dint of sheer purpose; whatever is
+emotional must spring undriven by outside authority, and uncompelled
+by inside determination. A boy saws a cord of wood because he has been
+commanded by his father; but he cannot laugh or cry because directed
+to do so by the same authority. There must be the conditions which
+call forth smiles or tears. So there must be the conditions which call
+forth the full expression of thought, both what is intellectual and
+what is emotional. This means that the subject shall be one of which
+the writer knows something, and in which he is interested; that the
+demands in the composition shall not be made a discouragement; and
+that the teacher shall be competent and enthusiastic, inspiring in
+each pupil a desire to say truly and adequately the best he thinks and
+feels.
+
+These conditions cannot be realized while working with dead fragments
+of language; but they are realized while constructing living wholes of
+composition. It is not two decades ago when the pupil in drawing was
+compelled to make straight lines until he made them all crooked. The
+pupil in manual training began by drawing intersecting lines on two
+sides of a board; then he drove nails into the intersections on one
+side, hoping that they would hit the corresponding points on the
+other. Now no single line or exercise is an end in itself; it
+contributes to some whole. Under the old method the pupil did not care
+or try to draw a straight line, or to drive a nail straight; but now,
+in order that he may realize the idea that lies in his mind, he does
+care and he does try: so lines are drawn better and nails are driven
+straighter than before. In all training that combines intellect and
+hand, the principle has been recognized that the best work is done
+when the pupil's interest has been enlisted by making each exercise
+contribute directly to the construction of some whole. Only in the
+range of the spiritual are we twenty years behind time, trying to get
+the best construction by compulsion. It is quite time that we
+recognized that the best work in composition can be done, not while
+the pupil is correcting errors in the use of language which he never
+dreamed of, nor while he is writing ten similes or ten periodic
+sentences, but when both intellect and feeling combine and work
+together to produce some whole. Then into the construction of this
+whole the pupil will throw all his strength, using the most apt
+comparisons, choosing the best words, framing adequate sentences, in
+order that the outward form may worthily present to others what to
+himself has appeared worthy of expression.
+
+There are some persons who say that other languages are taught by the
+word and sentence method; then why not English? These persons overlook
+the fact that we are leaving that method as rapidly as possible, and
+adopting a more rational method which at once uses a language to
+communicate thought. And they overlook another fact of even greater
+importance: the pupil entering the high school is by no means a
+beginner in English. He has been using the language ten or twelve
+years, and has a fluency of expression in English which he cannot
+attain in German throughout a high school and college course. The
+conditions under which a pupil begins the study of German in a high
+school and the study of English composition are entirely dissimilar;
+and a conclusion based upon a fancied analogy is worthless.
+
+It is preferable, then, to practice the construction of wholes rather
+than the making of exercises; and it is best at the beginning to study
+the different kinds of wholes, one at a time, rather than all
+together. No one would attempt to teach elimination by addition and
+subtraction, by comparison and by substitution, all together; nor
+would an instructor take up heat, light, and electricity together. In
+algebra, or physics, certain great principles underlie the whole
+subject; and these appear and reappear as the study progresses through
+its allied parts. Still the best results are obtained by taking up
+these several divisions of the whole one after another. And in English
+the most certain and definite results are secured by studying the
+forms of discourse separately, learning the method of applying to each
+the great principles that underlie all composition.
+
+If the forms of discourse are to be studied one after another, which
+shall be taken up first? In general, all composition may be separated
+into two divisions: composition which deals with things, including
+narration and description; and composition which deals with ideas,
+comprising exposition and argument. It needs no argument to justify
+the position that an essay which deals with things seen and heard is
+easier for a beginner to construct than an essay which deals with
+ideas invisible and unheard. Whether narration or description should
+precede appears yet to be undetermined; for many text-books treat one
+first, and perhaps as many the other. I have thought it wiser to begin
+with the short story, because it is easier to gain free, spontaneous
+expression with narration than with description. To write a whole page
+of description is a task for a master, and very few attempt it; but
+for the uninitiated amateur about three sentences of description mark
+the limit of his ability to see and describe. To get started, to gain
+confidence in one's ability to say something, to acquire freedom and
+spontaneity of expression,--this is the first step in the practice of
+composition. Afterward, when the pupil has discovered that he really
+has something to say,--enough indeed to cover three or four pages of
+his tablet paper,--then it may be time to begin the study of
+description, and to acquire more careful and accurate forms of
+expression. Spontaneity should be acquired first,--crude and unformed
+it may be, but spontaneity first; and this spontaneity is best gained
+while studying narration.
+
+There can be but little question about the order of the other forms.
+Description, still dealing with the concrete, offers an admirable
+opportunity for shaping and forming the spontaneous expression gained
+in narration. Following description, in order of difficulty, come
+exposition and argument.
+
+I should be quite misunderstood, did any one gather from this that
+during the time in which wholes are being studied, no attention is to
+be given to parts; that is, to paragraphs, sentences, and words. All
+things cannot be learned at once and thoroughly; there must be some
+order of succession. In the beginning the primary object to be aimed
+at is the construction of wholes; yet during their construction, parts
+can also be incidentally studied. During this time many errors which
+annoy and exasperate must be passed over with but a word, in order
+that the weight of the criticism may be concentrated on the point then
+under consideration. As a pupil advances, he is more and more
+competent to appreciate and to form good paragraphs and well-turned
+sentences, and to single out from the multitude of verbal signs the
+word that exactly presents his thought. The appreciation and the use
+of the stronger as well as the finer and more delicate forms of
+language come only with much reading and writing; and to demand
+everything at the very beginning is little less than sheer madness.
+
+Moreover there never comes a time when the construction of a
+paragraph, the shaping of a phrase, or the choice of a word becomes an
+end in itself. Paragraphs, sentences, and words are well chosen when
+they serve best the whole composition. He who becomes enamored of one
+form of paragraph, who always uses periodic sentences, who chooses
+only common words, has not yet recognized that the beauty of a phrase
+or a word is determined by its fitness, and that it is most beautiful
+because it exactly suits the place it fills. The graceful sweep of a
+line by Praxiteles or the glorious radiancy of a color by Angelico is
+most beautiful in the place it took from the master's hand. So
+Lowell's wealth of figurative language and Stevenson's unerring choice
+of delicate words are most beautiful, not when torn from their
+original setting to serve as examples in rhetorics, but when
+fulfilling their part in a well-planned whole. And it is only as the
+beauties of literature are born of the thought that they ever succeed.
+No one can say to himself, "I will now make a good simile," and
+straightway fulfill his promise. If, however, the thought of a writer
+takes fire, and instead of the cold, unimpassioned phraseology of the
+logician, glowing images crowd up, and phrases tipped with fire, then
+figurative language best suits the thought,--indeed, it is the
+thought. But imagery upon compulsion,--never. So that at no time
+should one attempt to mould fine phrases for the sake of the phrases
+themselves, but he should spare no pains with them when they spring
+from the whole, when they harmonize with the whole, and when they give
+to the whole added beauty and strength.
+
+It is quite unnecessary at this day to urge the study of literature.
+It is in the course of study for every secondary school. Yet a word
+may be said of the value of this study to the practice of composition.
+There are two classes of artists: geniuses and men of talent. Of
+geniuses in literature, one can count the names on his fingers; most
+authors are simply men of talent. Talent learns to do by doing, and by
+observing how others have done. When Brunelleschi left Rome for
+Florence, he had closely observed and had drawn every arch of the
+stupendous architecture in that ancient city; and so he was adjudged
+by his fellow citizens to be the only man competent to lift the dome
+of their Duomo. His observation discovered the secret of Rome's
+architectural grandeur; and the slow accumulation of such secrets
+marks the development of every art and science. Milton had his method
+of writing prose, Macaulay his, and Arnold his,--all different and all
+excellent. And just as the architect stands before the cathedrals of
+Cologne, Milan, and Salisbury to learn the secret of each; as the
+painter searches out the secret of Raphael, Murillo, and Rembrandt; so
+the author analyzes the masterpieces of literature to discover the
+secret of Irving, of Eliot, and of Burke. Not that an author is to be
+a servile imitator of any man's manner; but that, having knowledge of
+all the secrets of composition, he shall so be enabled to set forth
+for others his own thought in all the beauty and perfection in which
+he himself conceives it.
+
+One thing further. A landscape painter would not make a primary study
+of Angelo's anatomical drawings; a composer of lyric forms of music
+would not study Sousa's marches; nor would a person writing a story
+look for much assistance in the arguments of Burke. The most direct
+benefit is derived from studying the very thing one wishes to know
+about, not from studying something else. That the literature may give
+the greatest possible assistance to the composition, the course has
+been so arranged that narration shall be taught by Hawthorne and
+Irving, description by Ruskin and Stevenson, exposition by Macaulay
+and Newman, and argument by Webster and Burke. Literature, arranged in
+this manner, is not only a stimulus to renewed effort, by showing what
+others have done; it is also the most skillful instructor in the art
+of composition, by showing how others have done.
+
+It would be quite impossible for any one at the present time to write
+a text-book in English that would not repeat what has already been
+said by many others. Nor have I tried to. My purpose has been rather
+to select from the whole literature of the subject just those
+principles which every author of a book on composition or rhetoric has
+thought essential, and to omit minor matters and all those about which
+there is a difference of opinion. This limits the contents to topics
+already familiar to every teacher. It also makes it necessary to
+repeat what has been written before many times. Certain books,
+however, have treated special divisions of the whole subject in a
+thorough and exhaustive manner. There is nothing new to say of Unity,
+Mass, and Coherence; Mr. Wendell said all concerning these in his book
+entitled "English Composition." So in paragraph development, Scott and
+Denney hold the field. Other books which I have frequently used in the
+classroom are "Talks on Writing English," by Arlo Bates, and Genung's
+"Practical Rhetoric." These books I have found very helpful in
+teaching, and I have drawn upon them often while writing this
+text-book.
+
+If the field has been covered, then why write a book at all? The
+answer is that the principles which are here treated have not been put
+into one book. They may be found in several. These essentials I have
+repeated many times with the hope that they will be fixed by this
+frequent repetition. The purpose has been to focus the attention upon
+these, to apply them in the construction of the different forms of
+discourse, paragraphs, and sentences, and to repeat them until it is
+impossible for a student to forget them. If the book fulfils this
+purpose, it was worth writing.
+
+Acknowledgments are due to Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons for their
+kind permission to use the selections from the writings of Robert
+Louis Stevenson contained in this book; also, to Messrs. D. Appleton &
+Co., The Century Co., and Doubleday & McClure Co. for selections from
+the writings of Rudyard Kipling.
+
+                                   W. F. WEBSTER.
+
+MINNEAPOLIS, 1900.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+   Chapter I.--Forms of Discourse
+
+      Composition                                       1
+      English Composition                               1
+      Composition, Written and Oral                     2
+      Conventions of Composition                        2
+      Five Forms of Discourse                           3
+      Definitions                                       4
+      Difficulty in distinguishing                      4
+      Purpose of the Author                             6
+
+   Chapter II.--Choice of Subject
+
+      Form and Material                                 8
+      Author's Individuality                            8
+      Knowledge of Subject                              9
+      Common Subjects                                  10
+      Interest                                         11
+      The Familiar                                     11
+      Human Life                                       12
+      The Strange                                      12
+
+   Chapter III.--Narration
+
+      Material of Narration                            13
+      In Action                                        14
+      The Commonest Form of Discourse                  14
+      Language as a Means of Expression                15
+      Without Plot                                     15
+      Plot                                             16
+      Unity, Mass, and Coherence                       20
+      Main Incident                                    20
+      Its Importance                                   21
+      Unity                                            21
+      Introductions and Conclusions                    23
+      Tedious Enumerations                             23
+      What to include                                  24
+      Consistency                                      25
+      An Actor as the Story-teller                     26
+      The Omniscience of an Author                     27
+      The Climax                                       28
+      Who? Where? When? Why?                           29
+      In what Order?                                   29
+      An Outline                                       32
+      Movement                                         32
+      Rapidity                                         32
+      Slowness                                         33
+      Description and Narration                        34
+      Characters few, Time short                       35
+      Simple Plot                                      36
+      Suggestive Questions and Exercises               38
+
+   Chapter IV.--Description
+
+      Difficulties of Language for making Pictures     49
+      Painting and Sculpture                           50
+      Advantages of Language                           50
+      Enumeration and Suggestion                       52
+      Enumerative Description                          54
+      Suggestive Description                           55
+      Value of Observation                             55
+      The Point of View                                56
+      Moving Point of View                             58
+      The Point of View should be stated               58
+      Mental Point of View                             59
+      Length of Descriptions                           63
+      Arrangement of Details in Description            64
+      The End of a Description                         70
+      Proportion                                       73
+      Arrangement must be natural                      74
+      Use Familiar Images                              75
+      Simile, Metaphor, Personification                77
+      Choice of Words. Adjectives and Nouns            78
+      Use of Verbs                                     79
+      Suggestive Questions and Exercises               81
+
+   Chapter V.--Exposition
+
+      General Terms difficult                          89
+      Definition                                       91
+      Exposition and Description distinguished         91
+      Logical Definition                               91
+      Genus and Differentia                            92
+      Requisites of a Good Definition                  93
+      How do Men explain? First, by Repetition         94
+      Second, by telling the obverse                   95
+      Third, by Details                                96
+      Fourth, by Illustrations                         97
+      Fifth, by Comparisons                            98
+      The Subject                                      99
+      The Subject should allow Concrete Treatment     100
+      The Theme                                       100
+      The Title                                       102
+      Selection of Material                           102
+      Scale of Treatment                              104
+      Arrangement                                     108
+      Use Cards for Subdivisions                      108
+      An Outline                                      109
+      Mass the End                                    110
+      The Beginning                                   112
+      Proportion in Treatment                         114
+      Emphasis of Emotion                             115
+      Phrases indicating Emphasis                     116
+      Coherence                                       116
+      Transition Phrases                              118
+      Summary and Transition                          119
+      Suggestive Questions and Exercises              121
+
+   Chapter VI.--Argument
+
+      Induction and Deduction                         129
+      Syllogism Premises                              129
+      Terms                                           129
+      Enthymeme                                       130
+      Definition of Terms                             130
+      Undistributed Middle                            131
+      False Premises                                  131
+      Method of Induction                             132
+      Arguments from Cause                            133
+      Arguments from Sign                             134
+      Sequence and Cause                              135
+      Arguments from Example                          137
+      Selection of Material                           138
+      Plan called The Brief                           138
+      Climax                                          139
+      Inductive precedes Deductive                    140
+      Cause precedes Sign                             140
+      Example follows Sign                            141
+      Refutation                                      141
+      Analysis of Burke's Oration                     142
+      Suggestive Questions                            148
+
+   Chapter VII.--Paragraphs
+
+      Definition                                      151
+      Long and Short Paragraphs                       151
+      Topic Sentence                                  157
+      No Topic Sentence                               161
+      The Plan                                        162
+      Kinds of Paragraphs                             163
+      Details                                         163
+      Comparisons                                     165
+      Repetition                                      167
+      Obverse                                         169
+      Examples                                        171
+      Combines Two or More Forms                      173
+      Unity                                           173
+      Need of Outline                                 174
+      Mass                                            174
+      What begins and what ends a Paragraph?          175
+      Length of opening and closing Sentences         178
+      Proportion                                      179
+      Coherence and Clearness                         180
+      Two Arrangements of Sentences in a Paragraph    181
+      Definite References                             187
+      Use of Pronouns                                 188
+      Of Conjunctions                                 190
+      Parallel Constructions                          192
+      Summary                                         195
+      Suggestive Questions                            196
+
+   Chapter VIII.--Sentences
+
+      Definition and Classification. Simple Sentences 200
+      Compound Sentences                              200
+      Short Sentences                                 204
+      Long Sentences                                  204
+      Unity                                           205
+      Mass                                            207
+      End of a Sentence                               208
+      Effect of Anti-climax                           210
+      Use of Climax                                   211
+      Loose and Periodic                              212
+      The Period                                      212
+      Periodic and Loose combined                     214
+      Which shall be used?                            215
+      Emphasis by Change of Order                     217
+      Subdue Unimportant Elements                     219
+      The Dynamic Point of a Sentence                 221
+      Good Use                                        223
+      Clearness gained by Coherence                   224
+      Parallel Construction                           226
+      Balanced Sentences                              227
+      Use of Connectives                              228
+      Suggestive Questions                            231
+
+   Chapter IX.--Words
+
+      Need of a Large Vocabulary                      236
+      Dictionary                                      237
+      Study of Literature                             238
+      Vulgarisms are not reputable                    240
+      Slang is not reputable                          240
+      Words must be National. Provincialisms          242
+      Technical and Bookish Words                     242
+      Foreign Words                                   243
+      Words in Present Use                            244
+      Words in their Present Meaning                  245
+      Words of Latin and Saxon Origin                 245
+      General and Specific                            248
+      Use Words that suggest most                     249
+      Synecdoche, Metonymy                            250
+      Care in Choice of Specific Words                250
+      Avoid Hackneyed Phrases                         253
+      "Fine Writing"                                  253
+      In Prose avoid Poetical Words                   254
+
+   Chapter X.--Figures of Speech
+
+      Figurative Language                             257
+      Figures based upon Likeness                     259
+        Metaphor                                      260
+        Epithet                                       260
+        Personification                               260
+        Apostrophe                                    261
+        Allegory                                      261
+        Simile                                        261
+      Figures based upon Sentence Structure           262
+        Inversion                                     262
+        Exclamation                                   262
+        Interrogation                                 262
+        Climax                                        262
+        Irony                                         262
+      Metonymy                                        263
+      Synecdoche                                      263
+      Allusion                                        263
+      Hyperbole                                       263
+      Exercises in Figures                            264
+
+   Chapter XI.--Verse Forms
+
+      Singing Verse                                   269
+      Poetic Feet                                     272
+      Kinds of Metre                                  273
+      Stanzas                                         275
+      Scansion                                        276
+      Variations in Metres                            276
+      First and Last Foot                             281
+      Kinds of Poetry                                 284
+      Exercises in Metres                             286
+
+   APPENDIX
+
+      A. Suggestions to Teachers                      293
+      B. The Form of a Composition                    296
+      C. Marks for Correction of Compositions         300
+      D. Punctuation                                  301
+      E. Supplementary List of Literature             309
+
+
+
+
+A COURSE OF STUDY
+
+IN LITERATURE AND COMPOSITION
+
+
+The Course of Study which follows is presented, not because it is
+better than many others which might be made. For the purposes of this
+book it was necessary that some course be adopted as the basis of the
+text. The principles which guided in arranging this course I believe
+are sound; but the preferences of teachers and the peculiarities of
+environment will often make it wise to use other selections from
+literature. Of this a large "supplementary list" is given at the back
+of the book.
+
+It is now a generally accepted truth that the study of English should
+continue through the four years of a high-school course. The division
+of time that seems best is to take Narration and Description in the
+first year. In connection with Description, Figures of Speech should
+be studied. The next year, Exposition and Paragraphs form the major
+part of the work. This may be pleasantly broken by a study of Poetry,
+following the outline in the chapter on Verse Forms. In the third
+year, while the work in literature is mainly the Novel and the Drama,
+Sentences and Words should be studied in composition, with a review of
+the chapters on Narration and Description. Towards the close of the
+year, Exposition should be reviewed and the study of Argument taken
+up. The fourth year should be devoted to the study of such College
+Requirements as have not been taken in the course, and to the study of
+the History of English Literature as given in some good text book.
+
+In some instances, it will be found impossible to give so much time to
+the study of English. In such cases, the amount of literature to be
+studied should be decreased, and the work in the text book should be
+more rapidly done. The sequence of the parts should remain the same,
+but the time should be modified to suit the needs of any special
+environment.
+
+
+                              NARRATION.
+
+                             Composition.
+
+                        _To give Spontaneity._
+
+  I. External Form of Composition (p. 296).
+ II. Marks for the Correction of Compositions (p. 300).
+III. Simple Rules for Punctuation (pp. 301-309).
+ IV. Forms of Discourse. Definitions (pp. 1-7).
+  V. Choice of Subject (pp. 8-12).
+ VI. Study of Narration (pp. 13-48).
+       a. Definition and General Discussion.
+       b. Narration without Plot.
+            Interest the Essential Feature.
+       c. Narration with Plot.
+            1. Selection of Main Incident of first Importance.
+                    It gives to the story
+               Unity,
+                        ridding it of
+                 Long Introductions and Conclusions,
+                 Tedious Enumerations, and
+                 Irrelevant Details.
+            2. Arrangement of Material.
+                 Close of Story contains Main Incident.
+                 Opening of Story contains Characters, Place, and Time.
+                 Incidents generally follow in Order of Time.
+            3. Movement.
+            4. Use of Description in Narration.
+            5. Some General Considerations.
+
+                             Literature.
+
+The Great Stone Face, The Gentle Boy, The Gray Champion, Roger
+  Malvin's Burial, and other Stories. _Hawthorne._
+
+Tales of a Wayside Inn. _Longfellow._
+
+The Gold Bug. _Poe._
+
+Marmion, or The Lady of the Lake. _Scott._
+
+A Christmas Carol, or The Cricket on the Hearth. _Dickens._
+
+The Vision of Sir Launfal, and other Narrative Poems. _Lowell._
+
+An Incident of the French Camp, Herve Riel, The Pied Piper, How they
+  brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix. _Browning._
+
+  Meaning of the Author, calling for
+    A Study of Words.
+    Outline of Story.
+    Turning Points in the Story.
+    Central Idea, or Purpose of the Story.
+
+  Method of the Author.
+    Is there a Main Incident?
+    Do all other Incidents converge to it?
+    Is the Order a Sequence of Time alone?
+    Is the Interest centred in Characters or Plot?
+
+  Style of the Author.
+    Compare the Works of the Author.
+
+
+                             DESCRIPTION.
+
+                             Composition.
+
+           _To secure Accuracy of Expression_ (pp. 49-88).
+
+  I. Definition and General Discussion.
+       Difficulties in Language as a Means of Picturing.
+       Value of Observation.
+ II. Structure of Whole.
+       a. To secure Unity.
+            Select a Point of View.
+       b. To secure Coherence.
+            Arrange Details in Natural Order.
+       c. To secure Emphasis.
+            Arrange and proportion Treatment to effect your Purpose.
+III. Paragraph Structure.
+       Definition.
+       Length of Paragraphs.
+       Development of Paragraphs.
+ IV. Words.
+       Specific rather than General.
+       Adjectives, Nouns, and Verbs.
+  V. Figures Of Speech (pp. 257-268).
+       Based on Likeness.
+       Based on Sentence Structure.
+       Miscellaneous Figures.
+
+                             Literature.
+
+The Old Manse, The Old Apple Dealer. _Hawthorne._
+
+An Indian-Summer Reverie, The Dandelion, The Birch, The Oak, and other
+  Descriptive Poems. _Lowell._
+
+The Fall of the House of Usher. _Poe._
+
+The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Selections from the Sketch Book. _Irving._
+
+Selections from Childe Harold. _Byron._
+
+The Deserted Village. _Goldsmith._
+
+Julius Caesar. _Shakespeare._
+
+Poems selected from Palgrave's Golden Treasury.
+
+  Meaning of the Author (as under Narration).
+
+  Method of the Author.
+    Does the Author keep his Point of View?
+    Are the Details arranged in a Natural Order?
+    Has any Detail a Supreme Importance?
+    Are the Details treated in Proper Proportion?
+    Has the Whole a Unity of Effect? Do you see the Picture
+      distinctly?
+    For what Purpose has the Author used Description?
+    Does the Author employ Figures?
+
+  Style of the Author.
+
+
+                 EXPOSITION, PARAGRAPHS, VERSE FORMS.
+
+                             Composition.
+
+       _To encourage Logical Thinking and Adequate Expression_
+                            (pp. 89-127).
+
+                            _Exposition._
+
+  I. Definition and General Considerations.
+ II. Exposition of Terms. Definition.
+III. Exposition of Propositions.
+       a. Clear Statement of the Proposition in a "Key Sentence."
+               This will limit
+       b. The Discussion.
+            1. What shall be included?
+            2. What shall be excluded?
+            3. How shall Important Matters be emphasized?
+                 Mass and Proportion.
+                 Expansion and Condensation.
+                      To effect these ends use an
+            4. Outline.
+
+                     _Paragraphs_ (pp. 151-199).
+
+  I. Definition.
+ II. Length of Paragraphs.
+III. Development of Paragraphs.
+ IV. Principles of Structure.
+       Unity.
+       Mass.
+       Coherence.
+
+                     _Verse Forms_ (pp. 269-291).
+
+Poetry Defined.
+Kinds of Feet.
+Number of Feet in a Verse.
+Substitutions and Rests.
+Kinds of Poetry.
+
+                             Literature.
+
+Essay on Milton. _Macaulay._
+
+Essay on Addison. _Macaulay._
+
+Commemoration Ode. _Lowell._
+
+The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. _Coleridge._
+
+Intimations of Immortality, and other Poems. _Wordsworth._
+
+Selections from Palgrave's Golden Treasury.
+
+The Bunker Hill Oration, or Adams and Jefferson. _Webster._
+
+Sesame and Lilies. _Ruskin._
+
+  Meaning of the Author.
+    Outline showing the Main Thesis with the Dependence
+    of Subordinate Propositions.
+
+  Method of the Author.
+    Does he hold to his Point and so gain Unity
+    Does he arrange his Material so as to secure Emphasis?
+    Does one Paragraph grow out of another?
+    Does each Paragraph treat a Single Topic?
+    Are the Sentences dovetailed together?
+    Does the Author use Figures?
+    Are the Figures Effective?
+    Are his Words General or Specific?
+
+  Style of the Author.
+    Is it Clear?
+    Has it Force?
+    Is the Diction Elegant?
+    How has he gained these Ends?
+
+
+                     SENTENCES, WORDS, ARGUMENT.
+
+                             Composition.
+
+                      _Sentences_ (pp. 200-234).
+
+  I. Definition and Classification.
+ II. Principles of Structure.
+       a. Unity.
+       b. Mass.
+            1. Prominent Positions in a Sentence.
+            2. Periodic Sentences.
+            3. Loose Sentences.
+       c. Coherence.
+            1. Parallel Constructions.
+            2. Connectives.
+
+                        _Words_ (pp. 235-256).
+
+Reputable Words.
+Latin or Saxon Words.
+General or Specific.
+Figures of Speech.
+The One Rule for the Use of Words.
+
+                _Narration and Description Reviewed._
+
+                        _Exposition Reviewed._
+
+                             Literature.
+
+                      _Argument_ (pp. 128-150).
+
+  I. Kinds of Argument.
+ II. Order of Arguments.
+III. Refutation.
+
+Sir Roger de Coverley Papers. _Addison._
+
+The Vicar of Wakefield. _Goldsmith._
+
+Silas Marner. _Eliot._
+
+Ivanhoe. _Scott._
+
+Macbeth, The Merchant of Venice, A Midsummer Night's Dream.
+  _Shakespeare._
+
+Conciliation with the Colonies. _Burke._
+
+
+                             COMPOSITION.
+
+In the last year of the course, the compositions should be such as
+will test the maturer powers of the pupil. They should be written
+under the careful supervision of the teacher. They should be of all
+forms of discourse, and the subjects should be drawn from the subjects
+of study in the high school, especially from the literature.
+
+
+                             LITERATURE.
+
+                       _Difficult Selections._
+
+L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas. _Milton._
+
+Paradise Lost. Two Books. _Milton._
+
+Essay on Burns. _Carlyle._
+
+In Memoriam, The Princess, and other Poems. _Tennyson._
+
+Selections. _Browning._
+
+Selections. _Emerson._
+
+A History of English Literature
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               ENGLISH:
+
+                      COMPOSITION AND LITERATURE
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER I
+
+                          FORMS OF DISCOURSE
+
+
+  Composition.
+
+Composition, from the Latin words _con,_ meaning together, and
+_ponere,_ meaning to place, signifies a placing together, a grouping
+or arrangement of objects or of ideas. This arrangement is generally
+made so that it will produce a desired result. Speaking accurately,
+the putting together is the composition. Much of the desired result is
+gained by care in the selection of materials. Placing together a
+well-worn book, a lamp, and a pair of heavy bowed spectacles makes a
+suggestive picture. The selection and grouping of these objects is
+spoken of as the composition of the picture. So in music, an author
+composes, when he groups certain musical tones and phrases so that
+they produce a desired effect. In literature, too, composition is,
+strictly speaking, the selection and arrangement of materials, whether
+the incidents of a story or the details of a description, to fulfill a
+definite purpose.
+
+  English Composition.
+
+In practice, however, English composition has come to include more
+than the selection and arrangement of the materials,--incidents,
+objects, or ideas, as the case may be; the term has been extended to
+include the means by which the speaker or writer seeks to convey this
+impression to other persons. As a painter must understand drawing, the
+value of lights and shades, and the mixing of colors before he can
+successfully reproduce for others the idea he has to express, so the
+artist in literature needs a knowledge of elementary grammar and of
+the simpler usages of language in order clearly to represent to others
+the idea which lies in his own mind. As commonly understood, then,
+_English composition_ may be defined as _the art of selecting,
+arranging, and communicating ideas by means of the English language._
+
+  Composition, Written and Oral.
+
+The term "English composition" is now generally understood to mean
+written composition, and not oral composition. At first thought they
+seem to be the same thing. So far as the selection and arrangement of
+matter is concerned, they are the same. Moreover, both use words, and
+both employ sentences; but here the likeness ends. If sentences should
+be put upon paper exactly as they were spoken, in most instances they
+would not convey to a reader the same thought they conveyed to a
+listener. It is much more exacting to express the truth one wishes to
+convey, by silent, featureless symbols than by that wonderful organ of
+communication, the human voice. Now, if to the human voice be added
+eyes, features, gestures, and pose, we easily understand the great
+advantage a speaker has over a writer.
+
+  Conventions of Composition.
+
+Moreover, there are imposed upon a writer certain established rules
+which he must follow. He must spell words correctly, and he must use
+correctly marks of punctuation. These things need not annoy a speaker;
+yet they are conditions which must be obeyed by a writer. A man who
+eats with a knife may succeed in getting his food to his mouth, yet
+certain conventions exclude such a person from polite society. So in
+composition, it is possible for a person to make himself understood,
+though he write "alright" instead of "all right," and never use a
+semicolon; still, such a person could hardly be considered a highly
+cultured writer. To express one's thoughts correctly and with
+refinement requires absolute obedience to the common conventions of
+good literature.
+
+The study of composition includes, first, the careful selection of
+materials and their effective arrangement; and second, a knowledge of
+the established conventions of literature: of spelling; of the common
+uses of the marks of punctuation,--period, question mark, exclamation
+point, colon, semicolon, comma; of the common idioms of our language;
+and of the elements of its grammar. From the beginning of the high
+school course, the essay, the paragraph, the sentence, the word, are
+to be studied with special attention to the effective use of each in
+adequately communicating ideas.
+
+  Five Forms of Discourse.
+
+All written composition may be arranged in two classes, or groups. The
+first group will include all composition that deals with actual
+happenings and real things; the second, all that deals with abstract
+thoughts and spiritual ideas. The first will include narration and
+description; the second, exposition, argument, and persuasion. All
+literature, then, may be separated into five classes,--narration,
+description, exposition, argument, and persuasion.
+
+Narration tells what things do; description tells how things look.
+Narration deals with occurrences; description deals with appearances.
+Exposition defines a term, or explains a proposition; argument proves
+the truth or falsity of a proposition; persuasion urges to action upon
+a proposition. Exposition explains; argument convinces; persuasion
+arouses. These are the broad lines of distinction which separate the
+five forms of discourse.
+
+  Definitions.
+
+_Narration is that form of discourse which recounts events in a
+sequence._ It includes stories, novels, romances, biographies, some
+books of travel, and some histories.
+
+_Description is that form of discourse which aims to present a
+picture._ It seldom occurs alone, but it is usually found in
+combination with the other forms of discourse.
+
+_Exposition is that form of discourse which seeks to explain a term or
+a proposition._ Text-books, books of information, theses, most
+histories, many magazine articles, and newspaper leaders are of this
+class of literature.
+
+_Argument is that form of discourse which has for its object the proof
+of the truth or falsity of a proposition._
+
+_Persuasion is that form of discourse the purpose of which is to
+influence the will._
+
+  Difficulty in distinguishing.
+
+Though these definitions seem to set apart the great classes of
+literature, and to insure against any danger of confusion, it is not
+always easy to place individual pieces of literature in one of these
+divisions. Whittier's "Barbara Frietchie" and Stevenson's "Treasure
+Island" are narrative beyond any question; but what about "Snow-Bound"
+and "Travels with a Donkey" by the same authors? Are they narration or
+description? In them the narrative and descriptive portions are so
+nearly equal that one hesitates to set them down to either class; the
+reader is constantly called from beautiful pictures to delightful
+stories. The narrative can easily be separated from the descriptive
+portions; but when this has been done, has it been decided whether the
+whole piece is narration or description?
+
+When a person takes up the other forms of discourse, the difficulty
+becomes still greater. Description and narration are frequently used
+in exposition. If a boy should be asked to explain the working of a
+steam engine, he would, in all likelihood, begin with a description of
+an engine. If his purpose was to explain how an engine works, and was
+not to tell how an engine looks, the whole composition would be
+exposition. So, too, it is often the easiest way to explain what one
+means by telling a story. The expression of such thoughts would be
+exposition, although it might contain a number of stories and
+descriptions.
+
+Narration and description may be found in a piece of exposition; and
+all three may be employed in argument. If a person should wish to
+prove the dangers of intemperance, he might enforce his proof by a
+story, or by a description of the condition of the nervous system
+after a drunken revel. And one does not need to do more than explain
+the results of intemperance to a sensible man to prove to him that he
+should avoid all excesses. The explanation alone is argument enough
+for such a person. Still, is such an explanation exposition or
+argument? If the man cared nothing about convincing another that there
+are dangers in intemperance, did not wish to prove that the end of
+intemperance is death and dishonor, the composition is as much
+exposition as the explanation of a steam engine. If, on the other
+hand, he explained these results in order to convince another that he
+should avoid intemperance, then the piece is argument.
+
+Persuasion introduces a new element into composition; for, while
+exposition and argument are directed to a man's reason, persuasion is
+addressed to the emotions and the will. Its purpose is to arouse to
+action. One can readily imagine that a simple explanation of the evils
+of intemperance might be quite enough to convince a man that its
+dangers are truly great,--so great that he would determine to fight
+these evils with all his strength. In such a case explanation alone
+has convinced him; and it has aroused him to do something. Is the
+piece exposition, or argument, or persuasion? Here, as before, the
+answer is found in the purpose of the author. If he intended only to
+explain, the piece is exposition; if to convince, it is argument; if
+to arouse to action, it belongs to the literature of persuasion.
+
+It must now be plain that few pieces of literature are purely one form
+of discourse. The forms are mingled in most of our literature. Hardly
+a story can be found that does not contain some descriptions; and a
+description of any considerable length is sure to contain some
+narrative portions. So, too, narration and description are often found
+in exposition, argument, and persuasion; and these last three forms
+are frequently combined.
+
+  Purpose of the Author.
+
+It must also be evident that the whole piece of literature will best
+be classified by discovering the purpose of the author. If his purpose
+is simply to tell a good story, his work is narration; if the purpose
+is merely to place a picture before the reader's mind, it is
+description; if to explain conditions and nothing more, it is
+exposition; if to prove to the reason the truth or falsity of a
+proposition, it is argument; while, if the writer addresses himself to
+the emotions and the will, no matter whether he tells anecdotes or
+paints lurid pictures, explains conditions or convinces of the dangers
+of the present course,--if he does all these to urge the reader to do
+something, the composition belongs to the literature of persuasion.
+The five forms of discourse are most easily distinguished by
+discovering the purpose of the author.
+
+One addition should be made. Few novels are written in which there is
+nothing more than a story. Nearly all contain some teaching; and it is
+a safe conclusion that the authors have taught "on purpose." In "Baa,
+Baa, Black Sheep," Kipling has shown the imperative necessity of a
+"real, live, lovely mamma;" in "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," Irving
+has placed before us a charming picture of rural life in a dreamy
+Dutch village on the Hudson; and in his "Christmas Carol," Dickens
+shows plainly that happiness is not bought and sold even in London,
+and that the only happy man is he who shares with another's need. Yet
+all of these, and the hundreds of their kind, whatever the purpose of
+the authors when writing them, belong to the "story" or "novel" class.
+The purpose _in telling_ the story is secondary to the purpose _to
+tell_ a story. They are to be classified as narration.
+
+English composition, then, is a study of the selection and arrangement
+of ideas, and of the methods of using the English language to
+communicate them. All composition is divided into five great classes.
+These classes have broad lines of distinction, which are most easily
+applied by determining the purpose of the author.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II
+
+                          CHOICE OF SUBJECT
+
+
+  Form and Material.
+
+From the considerations in the preceding chapter may be derived
+several principles regarding the choice of subject. If the composition
+is to be narrative, it should be upon a subject that readily lends
+itself to narrative form. One can tell a story about "A Day's Hunt" or
+"What We did Hallowe'en;" but it would try one's powers of imagination
+to write a story of "A Tree" or "A Chair." The latter subjects do not
+lend themselves to narration, but they may be described. Josiah P.
+Cooke has written a brilliant exposition of "Fire" in "The New
+Chemistry;" yet a young person would be foolish to take "Fire" as a
+subject for exposition, though he might easily write a good
+description of "How the Fire looked from My Window," or narrate "How a
+Fireman rescued My Sister." So in all work in composition, _select a
+subject that readily lends itself to the form of discourse demanded;
+or, conversely, select the form of discourse suitable for presenting
+most effectively your material._
+
+  Author's Individuality.
+
+If an author is writing for other purposes than for conscious
+practice, he should choose the form of discourse in which he can best
+work, and to which he can best shape his material. Some men tell
+stories well; others are debaters; while yet others are wonderfully
+gifted with eloquence. Emerson understood life thoroughly. He knew
+man's feelings, his motives, his hopes, his strength, his weakness;
+yet one cannot imagine Emerson shaping this material into a novel. But
+just a little way down the road lived a wizard who could transmute the
+commonest events of this workaday world to the most beautiful shapes;
+no one wishes that Hawthorne had written essays. The second principle
+guiding in the choice of a subject is this: _Select a subject which is
+suited to your peculiar ability as an author._
+
+  Knowledge of Subject.
+
+The form, then, should suit the matter; and it should be the form in
+which the author can work. There is a third principle that should
+guide in the choice of a subject. _It should be a subject of which the
+author knows something._ Pupils often exclaim, "What can I write
+about!" as if they were expected to find something new to write. An
+exercise in composition has not for its object the proclaiming of any
+new and unheard-of thing; it is an exercise in the expression of
+things already known. Even when the subject is known, the treatment
+offers difficulties enough. It is not true that what is thoroughly
+understood is easily explained. Many excellent scholars have written
+very poor text-books because they had not learned the art of
+expression. A necessary antecedent of all good composition is a full
+and accurate knowledge of the subject; and even when one knows all
+about it, the clear expression of the thought will be difficult
+enough.
+
+To demand accurate knowledge of the subject before an author begins
+work upon it narrows the field from which themes may be drawn.
+Burroughs is an authority on all the tenants of our groves;
+"Wake-Robin," "Pepacton," and his other books all show a master's
+certain hand. So Stedman is an authority in matters relating to
+literature. But Burroughs and Stedman alike would find difficulty in
+writing an essay on "Electricity in the Treatment of Nervous
+Diseases." They do not know about it. A boy in school probably knows
+something of fishing; of this he can write. A girl can tell of "The
+Last Parlor Concert." Both could write very entertainingly of their
+"First Algebra Recitation;" neither could write a convincing essay on
+"The Advantages of Free Trade."
+
+  Common Subjects.
+
+This will seem to limit the list of subjects to the commonplace. The
+fact is that in a composition exercise the purpose is not to startle
+the world with some new thing; it is to learn the art of expression.
+And here in the region of common things, things thoroughly understood,
+every bit of effort can be given to the manner of expression. The
+truth is, it does not require much art to make a book containing new
+and interesting material popular; the matter in the book carries it in
+spite of poor composition. Popular it may be, but popularity is not
+immortality. Columns of poorly written articles upon "Dewey" and "The
+Philippines" have been eagerly read by thousands of Americans; it
+would require a literary artist of great power to write a one-column
+article on "Pigs" so that it would be eagerly read by thousands. Real
+art in composition is much more manifest when an author takes a common
+subject and treats it in such a way that it glows with new life.
+Richard Le Gallienne has written about a drove of pigs so beautifully
+that one forgets all the traditions about these common animals.[2]
+Choose common subjects, then,--subjects that allow every particle of
+your strength to go into the manner of saying what you already know.
+
+The requirement that the subject shall be common does not mean that
+the subject shall be trivial. "Sliding to First," "How Billy won the
+Game," with all of this class of subjects, at once put the writer into
+a trifling, careless attitude toward his work. The subjects themselves
+seem to call forth a cheap, slangy vocabulary and the vulgar phrases
+of sporting life. An equally common subject could be selected which
+would call forth serious, earnest effort. If a boy knew nothing except
+about ball games, it would be advisable for him to write upon this
+subject. Such a condition is hardly possible in a high school. _Choose
+common subjects, but subjects that call for earnest thinking and
+dignified expression._
+
+  Interest.
+
+Interest is another consideration in the choice of a subject. It
+applies equally to writer and reader. _Choose subjects that are
+interesting._ Not only must an author know about the subject; he must
+be interested in it. A pupil may have accurate knowledge of the uses
+of a semicolon; but he would not be likely to succeed in a paragraph
+about semicolons, largely because he is not much interested in
+semicolons. This matter of interest is so important that it is well to
+know what things all persons, authors and readers alike, are
+interested in. What, then, is generally interesting?
+
+  The Familiar.
+
+First, _the familiar is interesting._ When reading a newspaper each
+one instinctively turns to the local column, or glances down the
+general news columns to see if there is anything from his home town.
+To a former resident, Jim Benson's fence in Annandale is more
+interesting than the bronze doors of the Congressional Library in
+Washington. For the same reason a physician lights upon "a new cure
+for consumption," a lawyer devours Supreme Court decisions, while the
+dealer in silks is absorbed in the process of making silk without the
+aid of the silkworm. Each is interested in that which to him is most
+familiar.
+
+  Human Life.
+
+Second, _human life in all its phases is interesting._ The account of
+a fire or of a railroad accident takes on a new interest when, in
+addition to the loss of property, there has been a loss of life. War
+is horribly fascinating, not so much because there is a wanton
+destruction of property, as because it involves the slaughter of men.
+Stories about trees and animals are usually failures, unless handled
+by artists who breathe into them the life of man. Andersen's
+"Tannenbaum" and Kipling's "Jungle Books" are intensely interesting
+because in them trees and animals feel and act just as men do.
+
+  The Strange.
+
+Third, _the romantic, the unique, and the impossible are interesting._
+A new discovery, a new invention, a people of which little is
+known,--anything new is interesting. The stories of Rider Haggard and
+Jules Verne have been popular because they deal with things which eye
+hath not seen. This peculiar trait of man allows him to relish a good
+fish story, or the latest news from the sea-serpent. Just for the same
+reason, children love to hear of Little Red Riding Hood and
+Cinderella. Children and their parents are equally interested in those
+things which are entirely outside of their own experience.
+
+These, then, are the general conditions which govern the choice of a
+subject. It shall easily lend itself to the form of discourse chosen;
+it shall be suited to the peculiar ability of the author; it shall be
+thoroughly understood by the author,--common, but not trivial; it
+shall be interesting to both reader and author.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                             CHAPTER III
+
+                              NARRATION
+
+
+  Material of Narration.
+
+Narration has been defined as the form of discourse which recounts
+events in a sequence. It includes not only letters, journals, memoirs,
+biographies, and many histories, but, in addition, that great body of
+literature which people generally include in the comprehensive term of
+"stories."
+
+If this body of literature be examined, it will be found that it deals
+with things as opposed to ideas; incidents as opposed to propositions.
+Sometimes, it is true, the author of a story is in reality dealing
+with ideas. In the fable about "The Hare and the Tortoise," the
+tortoise stands for the idea of slow, steady plodding; while the hare
+is the representative of quick wits which depend on their ability to
+show a brilliant burst of speed when called upon. The fable teaches
+better than an essay can that the dullness which perseveres will
+arrive at success sooner than brilliancy of mind which wastes its time
+in doing nothing to the purpose. Andersen's "Ugly Duckling," Ruskin's
+"King of the Golden River," and Lowell's "Sir Launfal" stand for deep
+spiritual ideas, which we understand better for this method of
+presentation. In an allegory like "Pilgrim's Progress," the passions
+and emotions, the sins and weaknesses of men are treated as if they
+were real persons. Ideas are represented by living, breathing persons;
+and we may say that all such narratives deal, not with ideas, but, for
+want of a better word, with things.
+
+  In Action.
+
+Not only does narration deal with things, but with things doing
+something. Things inactive might be written of, but this would be
+description. It is necessary in narration that the things be in an
+active mood; that something be doing. "John struck James," then, is a
+narrative sentence; it tells that John has been doing something.
+Still, this one sentence would not ordinarily be accepted as
+narration. For narration there must be a series, a sequence of
+individual actions. _Recounting events in a sequence is narration._
+
+  The Commonest Form of Discourse.
+
+Narration is the most popular form of discourse. Between one fourth
+and one third of all books published are stories; and more than one
+half of the books issued by public libraries belong to the narrative
+class. Such a computation does not include the large number of stories
+read in our papers and magazines. In addition to being the most
+popular form of discourse, it is the most natural. It is the first
+form of connected discourse of the child; it is the form employed by
+the uncultured in giving his impressions; it is the form most used in
+conversation. Moreover, narration is the first form found in great
+literatures: the Iliad and the Odyssey, the songs of the troubadours
+in France, and the minnesingers in Germany, the chronicles and ballads
+of England,--all are narrative.
+
+  Language as a Means of Expression.
+
+Narration is especially suited to the conditions imposed by language.
+Men do not think in single words, but in groups of words,--phrases,
+clauses, and sentences. In hearing, too, men do not consider the
+individual words; the mind waits until a group of words, a phrase, or
+a simple sentence perhaps,--which expresses a unit of thought, has
+been uttered. In narration these groups of words follow in a sequence
+exactly as the actions which they represent do. Take this rather lurid
+bit from Stevenson:--
+
+     "He dropped his cutlass as he jumped, and when he felt the
+     pistol, whipped straight round and laid hold of me, roaring
+     out an oath; and at the same time either my courage came
+     again, or I grew so much afraid as came to the same thing;
+     for I gave a shriek and shot him in the midst of the body."
+     ("Kidnapped.")
+
+Each phrase or clause here is a unit of thought, and each follows the
+others in the same order as the events they tell of occurred. On the
+other hand, when one attempts description, and exposition too in many
+cases, he realizes the great difficulties imposed by the language
+itself; for in these forms of discourse the author not infrequently
+wishes to put the whole picture before the reader at once, or to set
+out several propositions at the same time, as belonging to one general
+truth. In order that the reader may get the complete picture or the
+complete thought, he must hold in mind often a whole paragraph before
+he unites it into the one conception the author intended. In narration
+one action is completed; it can be dropped. Then another follows,
+which can also be dropped. They need not be held in mind until the
+paragraph is finished. Narration is exactly suited to the means of its
+communication. The events which are recorded, and the sentences which
+record them, both follow in a sequence.
+
+  Without Plot.
+
+The sequence of events in narration may be a simple sequence of time,
+in which case the narrative is without plot. This is the form of
+narration employed in newspapers in giving the events of the day. It
+is used in journals, memoirs, biographies, and many elementary
+histories. It makes little demand upon an author further than that he
+shall say clearly something that is interesting. Interesting it must
+be, if the author wishes it to be read; readers will not stay over
+dull material. Newspapers and magazines look out for interesting
+material, and it is for the matter in them that they are read. So
+memoirs and biographies are read, not to find out what happens at
+last,--that is known,--but to pick up information concerning an
+interesting subject.
+
+  Plot.
+
+Or the sequence may be a more subtle and binding relation of cause and
+effect. This is the sequence employed in stories. One thing happens
+because another thing has happened. Generally the sequence of time and
+the sequence of cause and effect correspond; for effects come after
+causes. When, however, more than one cause is introduced, or when some
+cause is at work which the author hides until he can most
+advantageously produce it, or when an effect is held back for purposes
+of creating interest, the events may not be related exactly in the
+order in which they occurred. When any sequence is introduced in
+addition to the simple sequence of time, or when the time sequence is
+disturbed for the purpose of heightening interest, there is an
+arrangement of the parts which is generally termed plot.
+
+Plot is a term difficult to define. We feel, however, that Grant's
+"Memoirs" have no plot, and we feel just as sure that "King Lear" has
+a plot. So, too, we say that "Robinson Crusoe" has little, almost no
+plot; that the plot is simple in "Treasure Island," and that "Les
+Miserables" has an intricate plot. A plot seems to demand more than a
+mere succession of events. _Any arrangement of the parts of a
+narrative so that the reader's interest is aroused concerning the
+result of the series of events detailed is a plot._
+
+It often occurs that a book which, as a whole, is without a plot,
+contains incidents which have a plot. In "Travels with a Donkey," by
+Stevenson, no one cares for the plot of the whole book,--in fact there
+is none; yet the reader is interested in the purchase of the "neat and
+high bred" Modestine up to the "last interview with Father Adam in a
+billiard-room at the witching hour of dawn, when I administered the
+brandy." This incident has a plot. The following is a paragraph from
+"An Autumn Effect" by Mr. Stevenson. The simple events are perfectly
+ordered, and there is a delightful surprise at the end. This paragraph
+has a plot. Yet the thirty pages of "An Autumn Effect" could not be
+said to have a plot.
+
+     "Bidding good-morning to my fellow-traveler, I left the road
+     and struck across country. It was rather a revelation to
+     pass from between the hedgerows and find quite a bustle on
+     the other side, a great coming and going of school-children
+     upon by-paths, and, in every second field, lusty horses and
+     stout country-folk a-ploughing. The way I followed took me
+     through many fields thus occupied, and through many strips
+     of plantation, and then over a little space of smooth turf,
+     very pleasant to the feet, set with tall fir-trees and
+     clamorous with rooks, making ready for the winter, and so
+     back again into the quiet road. I was now not far from the
+     end of my day's journey. A few hundred yards farther, and,
+     passing through a gap in the hedge, I began to go down hill
+     through a pretty extensive tract of young beeches. I was
+     soon in shadow myself, but the afternoon sun still colored
+     the upmost boughs of the wood, and made a fire over my head
+     in the autumnal foliage. A little faint vapor lay among the
+     slim tree-stems in the bottom of the hollow; and from
+     farther up I heard from time to time an outburst of gross
+     laughter, as though clowns were making merry in the bush.
+     There was something about the atmosphere that brought all
+     sights and sounds home to one with a singular purity, so
+     that I felt as if my senses had been washed with water.
+     After I had crossed the little zone of mist, the path began
+     to remount the hill; and just as I, mounting along with it,
+     had got back again from the head downwards, into the thin
+     golden sunshine, I saw in front of me a donkey tied to a
+     tree. Now, I have a certain liking for donkeys, principally,
+     I believe, because of the delightful things that Sterne has
+     written of them. But this was not after the pattern of the
+     ass at Lyons. He was of a white color, that seemed to fit
+     him rather for rare festal occasions than for constant
+     drudgery. Besides, he was very small, and of the daintiest
+     proportions you can imagine in a donkey. And so, sure
+     enough, you had only to look at him to see he had never
+     worked. There was something too roguish and wanton in his
+     face, a look too like that of a schoolboy or a street Arab,
+     to have survived much cudgeling. It was plain that these
+     feet had kicked off sportive children oftener than they had
+     plodded with freight through miry lanes. He was altogether a
+     fine-weather, holiday sort of a donkey; and though he was
+     just then somewhat solemnized and rueful, he still gave
+     proof of the levity of his disposition by impudently wagging
+     his ears at me as I drew near. I say he was somewhat
+     solemnized just then; for with the admirable instinct of all
+     men and animals under restraint, he had so wound and wound
+     the halter about the tree that he could go neither back nor
+     forwards, nor so much as put his head down to browse. There
+     he stood, poor rogue, part puzzled, part angry, part, I
+     believe, amused. He had not given up hope, and dully
+     revolved the problem in his head, giving ever and again
+     another jerk at the few inches of free rope that still
+     remained unwound. A humorous sort of sympathy for the
+     creature took hold upon me. I went up, and, not without some
+     trouble on my part, and much distrust and resistance on the
+     part of Neddy, got him forced backwards until the whole
+     length of the halter was set loose, and he was once more as
+     free a donkey as I dared to make him. I was pleased (as
+     people are) with this friendly action to a fellow-creature
+     in tribulation, and glanced back over my shoulder to see how
+     he was profiting by his freedom. The brute was looking after
+     me; and no sooner did he catch my eye than he put up his
+     long white face into the air, pulled an impudent mouth at
+     me, and began to bray derisively. If ever any one person
+     made a grimace at another, that donkey made a grimace at me.
+     The hardened ingratitude of his behavior, and the
+     impertinence that inspired his whole face as he curled up
+     his lip, and showed his teeth and began to bray, so tickled
+     me and was so much in keeping with what I had imagined to
+     myself of his character, that I could not find it in my
+     heart to be angry, and burst into a peal of hearty laughter.
+     This seemed to strike the ass as a repartee, so he brayed at
+     me again by way of rejoinder; and we went on for awhile,
+     braying and laughing, until I began to grow a-weary of it,
+     and shouting a derisive farewell, turned to pursue my way.
+     In so doing--it was like going suddenly into cold water--I
+     found myself face to face with a prim, little old maid. She
+     was all in a flutter, the poor old dear! She had concluded
+     beyond question that this must be a lunatic who stood
+     laughing aloud at a white donkey in the placid beech-woods.
+     I was sure, by her face, that she had already recommended
+     her spirit most religiously to Heaven, and prepared herself
+     for the worst. And so, to reassure her, I uncovered and
+     besought her, after a very staid fashion, to put me on my
+     way to Great Missenden. Her voice trembled a little, to be
+     sure, but I think her mind was set at rest; and she told me,
+     very explicitly, to follow the path until I came to the end
+     of the wood, and then I should see the village below me in
+     the bottom of the valley. And, with mutual courtesies, the
+     little old maid and I went on our respective ways."
+
+Books of travel, memoirs, and biographies, as whole books, are
+generally without any arrangement serious enough to be termed a plot;
+yet a large part of the interest in such books would be lost were the
+incidents there collected not well told, with a conscious attempt to
+set them out in the very best fashion; indeed, if each incident did
+not have a plot. In "Vanity Fair" with its six hundred pages, in
+"Silas Marner" with its two hundred pages, in the short stories of our
+best magazines, in the spicy little anecdotes in the "Youth's
+Companion,"--in the least bit of a good story as well as the
+three-volume novel, the authors have used the means best suited to
+retain the interest to the end. They have constructed plots.
+
+  Unity, Mass, and Coherence.
+
+In the construction of any piece of composition there are three
+principles of primary importance: they are Unity, which is concerned
+with the material itself; and Mass and Coherence, which are concerned
+with the arrangement of the material. A composition has unity when all
+the material has been so sifted and selected that each part
+contributes its share to the central thought of the whole. Whether of
+a sentence, a paragraph, or a whole composition, all those parts must
+be excluded which do not bring something of value to the whole; and
+everything must be included which is necessary to give a clear
+understanding of the whole. Mass, the second principle of structure,
+demands that those parts of a composition, paragraph, or sentence
+which are of most importance shall be so placed that they will arrest
+the attention. By coherence is meant that principle of structure
+which, in sentences, paragraphs, and whole compositions, places those
+parts related in thought near together, and keeps separate those parts
+which are separated in thought.
+
+  Main Incident.
+
+For the construction of a story that will retain the reader's interest
+to the end, for the selection of such material as will contribute to a
+central thought, for the arrangement of this material so that the most
+important matter shall occupy the most important position in the
+theme, one simple rule is of value. It is this: _First choose the main
+incident_ towards which all the other incidents converge, and for the
+accomplishment of which the preceding incidents are necessary. A few
+pages will be given to the application of this rule, and to the
+results of its application.
+
+  Its Importance.
+
+There should be in each story, however slight the plot, some incident
+that is more important than the others, and toward which all the
+others converge. A reader is disappointed if, after reading a story
+through, he finds that there is no worthy ending, that all the
+preparation was made for no purpose. If, in "Wee Willie Winkie,"
+Kipling had stopped just before Miss Allardyce started across the
+river, it would have been a poor story. It would have had no ending.
+It is because a story gets somewhere that we like it. Yet not just
+somewhere; it must arrive at a place worthy of all the preparation
+that has preceded. A very common fault with the compositions of young
+persons is that they begin big and end little. It is not infrequent
+that the first paragraph promises well; the second is not quite so
+good; and the rest gradually fall off until the end is worthless. The
+order should be changed. Have the first paragraph promise well, make
+the second better, and the last best of all. The main incident should
+be more important than each incident that precedes it. Get the main
+incident in mind before beginning; be sure it is the main incident;
+then bend all your energies to make it the most important incident
+toward which all the other incidents converge.
+
+  Unity.
+
+The choice of a main incident will determine what incidents to
+exclude. The world is full of incidents--enough to make volumes more
+than we now have. A phonograph and a camera could gather enough any
+day at a busy corner in a city to fill a volume; yet these pictures
+and these bits of conversation, interesting as each in itself might
+be, would not be a unit,--not one story, but many. Few persons,
+indeed, would write anything so disjointed as the report made by this
+phonograph; yet good writers are often led astray by the brilliancy of
+their own ideas. They have so many good stories on hand which they
+would like to tell, that they force some of them into their present
+story, and so spoil two stories. In the very popular "David Harum," it
+would puzzle any one to know why the author has introduced the ladies
+from the city and the musical party at the lake. The episode is good
+enough in itself; but in this story it has not a shadow of excuse.
+There is a phrase of Kipling's that should ring in every
+story-teller's ears. Not once only, but a number of times, this prince
+of modern story-tellers catches himself--almost too late
+sometimes--and writes, "But that is another story." One incident calls
+up another; paragraph follows paragraph naturally. It is easy enough
+to look back and trace the road by which the writer arrived at his
+present position; yet it would be very hard to tell why he came
+hither, or to see how the journey up to this point will at all put him
+toward his destination. He has digressed; he has left the road. And he
+must get back to the road. By this digression he has wasted just as
+much time as it has taken to come from the direct road to this point
+added to the time it will take to go back. Do not digress; tell one
+story at a time; let no incident into your story which cannot answer
+the question, "Why are you here?" by "I help;" keep your eye on the
+main incident; things which do not unquestionably contribute something
+to the main incident should be excluded.
+
+  Introductions and Conclusions.
+
+The choice of the main incident towards which all other incidents
+converge will rid compositions of worthless introductions and trailing
+conclusions. A story should get under way at once; and any
+explanations at the beginning, the introduction of long descriptions
+or tedious paragraphs of "fine writing," will be headed off if the
+pupil keeps constantly in mind that it must all lead directly toward
+the main incident. Again, if everything converges to the main
+incident, when that has been told the story is finished. After that
+there must be no explanations, no moralizing, nothing. When the story
+has been told it is a good rule to stop.
+
+An excellent example of a short story well told is "An Incident of the
+French Camp," by Robert Browning. Only the absolutely necessary has
+been introduced. The incidents flash before the reader. Nothing can be
+said after the last line. "Herve Riel" is a vivid piece of narrative
+too. Such an exhibition of manliness appeals to all. Was it necessary
+to attach the last stanza? If this poem needed it, why not the other?
+If the story has no moral in it, no man can tie it on; if there is
+one, the reader should be accounted intelligent enough to find it
+without any help.
+
+  Tedious Enumerations.
+
+Making all the incidents converge to one main incident will avoid
+tiresome enumerations of inconsequential events, which frequently fill
+the compositions of young pupils. Such essays generally start with "a
+bright, clear morning," and "a party of four of us." After recounting
+a dozen events of no consequence whatever, "we came home to a late
+supper, well repaid for our day's outing." These compositions may be
+quite correct in the choice of words, sentences, and paragraphs, and
+with it all be flat. There is nothing to them; they get the reader
+nowhere. Pick out one of the many incidents. Work it up. Turn back to
+the paragraph from Stevenson and notice how little there is to it when
+reduced to bare outline. He has worked it up so that it is good.
+Always remember that a short anecdote well told is worth pages of
+aimless enumeration.
+
+  What to include.
+
+The selection of the main incident will guide in determining what to
+include; for every detail must be included that is necessary to make
+the main incident possible. A young pupil wrote of a party in the
+woods. The girls had found pleasant seats in a car and were chatting
+about their friends, when they felt a sudden lurch, and soon one of
+the party was besmeared by slippery, sticky whites of eggs. Now, if
+eggs were in the habit of clinging to the roofs of cars and breaking
+at unfortunate moments, there would be no need of any explanation; but
+as the cook forgot to boil the eggs and the girl had put them up into
+the rack herself, some of this should have been told. Enough at least
+should be told to make the main incident a possibility. Stories are
+full of surprises, but they can be understood easily from the
+preceding incidents; or else the new element is one that happens
+frequently, and of itself is nothing new. In the paragraph from
+Stevenson, the entrance of the "prim, little old maid" is a surprise,
+but it is a very common thing for ladies to walk upon a public
+highway. Any surprise must be natural,--the result of causes at work
+in the story, or of circumstances which are always occurring and by
+themselves no surprises. If the story be a tangled web of incidents
+culminating in some horror, as the death of the beautiful young wife
+in Hawthorne's "Birthmark," all the events must be told that are
+necessary to carry the reader from the first time he beholds her
+beauty until he sees her again, her life ebbing away as the fairy hand
+fades from her cheek. In "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep" it would be
+impossible to pass directly from the sweet boy of the first chapter to
+the little liar of the last; something must be told of those miserable
+days that intervene, and their telling effect on the little fellow. So
+a reader could not harmonize his idea of old Scrooge gained in the
+first chapter with generous Mr. Scrooge of the last without the
+intermediate chapters. Keeping the main incident in mind, include all
+that is necessary to make it possible.
+
+  Consistency.
+
+This same rule more than any other will make a story consistent. If
+incidents are chosen with relation to the one main incident, they will
+all have a common quality; they can scarcely be inconsistent. It is
+much more essential that a story be consistent than that it be a fact.
+Indeed, facts are not necessary in stories, and they are dangerous.
+Ian Maclaren says that the only part of his stories that has been
+severely criticised is a drowning episode, which was a fact, and the
+only one he ever used. Yet to those who have read "The Bonnie Brier
+Bush," the old doctor is as well known as any person who lives across
+the street; he is real to us, though he never lived. "Old Scrooge" and
+"Brom Bones" are better known than John Adams is. A good character or
+a good story need not be drawn from facts. Indeed, in literature as in
+actual life, facts are stubborn things, and will not accommodate
+themselves to new surroundings. Make the story consistent; be not too
+careful about the facts.
+
+A story may be good and be entirely contrary to all known facts. "The
+Ugly Duckling" is as true as Fiske's "History of the United States,"
+and every whit as consistent. "Alice in Wonderland" is an excellent
+story; yet it contains no facts. The introduction of a single fact
+would ruin the story; for between the realm of fact and the region of
+fancy is a great gulf fixed, and no man has successfully crossed it.
+Whatever conditions of life and action are assumed in one part of a
+story must be continued throughout. If walruses talk and hens are
+reasonable in one part of the story, to reduce them to every-day
+animals would be ruinous. Consistency, that the parts stand together,
+that the story seem probable,--this is more essential than facts. And
+to gain this consistency the surest rule is to test the material by
+its relation to the main incident.
+
+The choice of the main incident, then, will determine to a great
+degree what to exclude and what to include; it will assist in ridding
+compositions of countless enumerations, aimless wanderings, and flat
+endings; it will help the writer to get started, and insure a stop
+when the story is told; and it will give to the story the quality most
+essential for its success, consistency.
+
+  An Actor as the Storyteller.
+
+There is yet another condition that enters into the selection of
+materials: it makes a difference who tells the story. If the story be
+told in the first person, that is, if one of the actors tell the
+story, he cannot be supposed to know all that the other persons do
+when out of sight and hearing, nor can he know what they think. To
+take an illustration from a pupil's essay. A girl took her baby sister
+out upon the lake in a rowboat. A violent storm arose, lashing the
+lake into a fury. The oars were wrenched from her hands. Helpless on
+the water, how was she to be saved? Here the essayist recited an
+infinite amount of detail about the distress at home, giving the
+conversation and the actions. These things she could not have known in
+the character she had assumed at the beginning, that of the chief
+actor. All of that should have been excluded. When Stevenson tells of
+the fight in the round house, though he knew what those old salts were
+doing outside, matters of great interest to the reader, he does not
+let David say anything except what he could see or hear, and a very
+little of what he "learned afterwards." Stevenson knew well who was
+telling the story; David is too good a story-teller to tell what he
+could not know. In the pupil's essay and in "Kidnapped," all such
+matters would have a direct bearing on the main incident; they could
+be included without destroying the unity of the story. But they cannot
+be included when the story is told by one of the actors.
+
+  The Omniscience of an Author.
+
+Many stories, probably most stories, are told in the third person. In
+this case the author assumes the position of an omniscient power who
+knows everything that is done, said, or thought by the characters in
+his story. Not only what happens in the next room, but what is thought
+at the other side of the world, is comprehended in his omniscience.
+This is the position assumed by Irving in "The Legend of Sleepy
+Hollow," by Kipling in the series of stories included with "Wee Willie
+Winkie," by Scott in "Marmion," and by most great novelists.
+Omniscience is, however, a dangerous prerogative for a young person.
+The power is so great that the person who has but recently come into
+possession of it becomes dizzy with it and uncertain in his movements.
+A young person knows what he would do under certain conditions; but to
+be able to know what some other person would do and think under a
+certain set of circumstances requires a sure knowledge of character,
+and the capability of assuming entirely different and unaccustomed
+points of view. It is much safer for the beginner to take the point of
+view of one of the actors, and tell the story in the first person.
+Then when the grasp has become sure from this standpoint, he may
+assume the more difficult role of the omniscient third person.
+
+To sum up what has been said about the selection of materials: only
+those materials should be admitted to a story which contribute to its
+main incident, which are consistent with one another, and which could
+have been known by the narrator.
+
+  The Climax.
+
+When the materials for a story have been selected, the next
+consideration is their arrangement. If the materials have been
+selected to contribute to the main incident and converge toward it, it
+will follow that _the main incident_ will come last in the story; it
+_will be the climax_ towards which the several parts of the story are
+directed. Moreover, it should be last, in order to retain the interest
+of the reader up to that time. This is in accordance with the demands
+of the second great principle of structure, Mass. An essay is well
+massed if the parts are so arranged that things of importance will
+arrest the attention. In literature to be read, to arrest the
+attention is almost equivalent to catching the eye. The positions that
+catch the eye, whether in sentence, paragraph, or essay, are the
+beginning and the end. Were it not for another element which enters
+into the calculation, these positions would be of nearly equal
+importance. Since, however, the mind retains the most vivid impression
+of the thing it received last, the impression of the end of the
+sentence, paragraph, or essay is stronger than the impression made by
+its beginning. The climax of a story should come at the end, both
+because it is the result of preceding incidents, and because by this
+position it receives the additional emphasis due to its position.
+
+  Who? Where? When? Why?
+
+The beginning is the position of second importance. What, then, shall
+stand in this place? A story resembles a puzzle. The solution of the
+puzzle is given at the end; the thing of next importance is the
+conditions of the puzzle. In "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep" the story
+culminates in the surprise of a devoted mother when she discovers that
+her boy is a secretive little liar, who now deserves to be called
+"Black Sheep." This is the end; what was the beginning,--the
+conditions necessary to bring about this deplorable result? First,
+they were _the persons;_ second, _the place;_ third, _the time._ In
+many stories there is introduced the reason for telling the story.
+These conditions, answering the questions Who? Where? When? and Why?
+are all, or some of them, introduced at the beginning of any
+narrative, and as soon as it can be done, they ought all to be given.
+In a short essay, they are in the first paragraph; in a novel, in the
+first chapters. In "Marmion" the time, the place, and the principal
+character are introduced into the first canto. So Irving begins "The
+Legend of Sleepy Hollow" with the place and time, then follow the
+characters. In all stories the beginning is occupied in giving the
+conditions of the story; that is, the principal characters, the time,
+and the place.
+
+  In what Order?
+
+Having the end and the beginning clearly in mind, the next question is
+how best to get from one to the other. Shall the incidents be arranged
+in order of time? or shall other considerations govern? If it be any
+narrative of the journal form, whether a diary or a biography, the
+chronological arrangement will direct the sequence of events. Again,
+if it be a simple story with a single series of events, the time order
+will prevail. If, however, it be a narrative which contains several
+series of events, as a history or a novel, it may be wise, even
+necessary, to deviate from the time sequence. It would have been
+unwise for Scott to hold strictly to the order of time in "Marmion;"
+after introducing the principal character, giving the time and the
+setting, it was necessary for him to bring in another element of the
+plot, Constance, and to go backward in time to pick up this thread of
+the story. The really essential order in any narrative is the order of
+cause and effect. As causes precede effects, the causal order and the
+time order generally coincide. In a single series of events, that is,
+where one cause alone produces an effect, which in turn becomes the
+cause of another effect, the time order is the causal order. In a
+novel, or a short story frequently, where there are more than one
+series of incidents contributing to and converging towards the main
+incident, these causes must all be introduced before the effect, and
+may break the chronological order of the story. In "Roger Malvin's
+Burial," it would be impossible to tell what the stricken father was
+doing and what the joyous mother was thinking at the same time.
+Hawthorne must leave one and go to the other until they meet in their
+awful desolation. The only rule that can be given is, introduce causes
+before effects. In all stories, short or long, this will result in an
+approximation to the order of time; in a simple story it will
+invariably give a time sequence.
+
+There is one exception to this rule which should be noted. It is
+necessary at the very beginning to have some incident that will arrest
+the attention. This does not mean that persons, place, and time shall
+not come first. They shall come first, but they shall be so introduced
+as to make an interesting opening to the story. The novels of some
+decades ago did not sufficiently recognize the principle. One can
+frequently hear it said of Scott's stories, "I can't get started with
+them; they are too dry." The introductory chapters are often
+uninteresting. So much history is introduced, so much scenery is
+described before the author sets out his characters; and all this is
+done before he begins the story. Novelists of to-day realize that they
+must interest the reader at the beginning; when they have caught him,
+they are quite certain that he will bear with them while they bring up
+the other divisions of the story, which now have become interesting
+because they throw light on what has already been told. Even more than
+novelists, dramatists recognize this principle. When the curtain rises
+on the first act, something interesting is going on. The action
+frequently begins far along in the time covered by the story; then by
+cleverly arranged conversation all circumstances before the time of
+the opening that are necessary to the development of the plot are
+introduced. The audience receives these minor yet essential details
+with no impatience, since they explain in part a situation already
+interesting. The time order may be broken in order to introduce at the
+beginning of the story some interesting situation which will
+immediately engage the reader's attention.
+
+In arranging the materials of a story, the main considerations are
+Mass and Coherence. Mass demands important matters at the beginning
+and at the end of a story. Coherence demands that events closely
+related shall stand close together: that an effect shall immediately
+follow its cause. Beginning with some interesting situation that will
+also introduce the principal characters, the time, and the setting,
+the story follows in the main the order of time, and concludes with
+the main incident.
+
+  An Outline.
+
+One practical suggestion will assist in arranging the parts of a
+story. Use an outline. It will guard against the omission of any
+detail that may afterward be found necessary, and against the
+necessity of offering the apology, inexcusable in prepared work, of
+"forgetting to say;" it will help the writer to see the best
+arrangement of the parts, to know that causes have preceded effects.
+The outline in narration should not be too much in detail, nor should
+it be followed if, as the story progresses, new light comes and the
+writer sees a better way to proceed. The writer should be above the
+outline, not its slave; but the outline is a most valuable servant of
+the writer.
+
+  Movement.
+
+_Movement is an essential quality of narrative;_ a story must advance.
+This does not mean that the story shall always go at the same rate,
+though it does mean that it shall always go. If a story always had the
+rapidity and intensity of a climax, it would be intolerable. Music
+that is all rushing climaxes is unbearable; a picture must not be a
+glare of high lights. The quiet passages in music, the grays and low
+tones in the background of the picture, the slow chapters in a story,
+are as necessary as their opposites; indeed, climaxes are dependent on
+contrasts in order to be climaxes.
+
+  Rapidity.
+
+The question of movement resolves itself into these two: how is
+rapidity of movement obtained, and how can the writer delay the
+movement. Rapidity is gained by the omission of all unnecessary
+details, and the use of the shortest, tersest sentences to express the
+absolutely essential. Dependent clauses disappear; either the
+sentences are simple, just one sharp statement, or they are made of
+coordinate clauses with no connectives. Every weight that could clog
+the story is thrown away, and it runs with the swiftness of the
+thought. At such a time it would be a waste of good material to
+introduce beautiful descriptions or profound philosophy. Such things
+would be skipped by the reader. Everything must clear the way for the
+story.
+
+  Slowness.
+
+What has been said of rapidity will indicate the answer to the second
+question. Slowness of movement is obtained by introducing long
+descriptions, analyses of characters, and information regarding the
+history or customs of the time. Sentences become long and involved;
+dependent clauses abound; connective words and phrases are frequent.
+Needless details may be introduced until the story becomes wearisome;
+it has almost no movement.
+
+Very closely connected with what has been said above is another fact
+concerning movement. Strip the sentences as you may, there are still
+the verbs remaining. Verbs and derivatives from verbs are the words
+which denote action. If other classes of words be taken out, the ratio
+of verbs to the other words in the sentence is larger. Shorter
+sentences and an increased ratio of verbs mark the passages in which
+the movement is more rapid. In "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep" the sentences
+average twenty-five words in the slower parts; in the intenser
+paragraphs the sentences have an average of fifteen words. Poe's
+"Gold-Bug" changes from thirty-eight to twenty-one. Again, Stevenson's
+essays have a verb to eight words, while the fight at the round house
+has a verb to about five and a half words. One of Kipling's stories
+starts in with a verb to eight and a half words, and the climax has a
+verb in every four words. These figures mean that as the sentences are
+shortened, adjectives, adverbs, phrases, connectives, disappear.
+Everything not absolutely necessary is thrown away when the passage is
+to express rapid movement.
+
+No person should think that, by eliminating all dependent clauses,
+cutting away all unnecessary matters, and putting in a verb to every
+four words, he can gain intensity of expression. These are only
+accompanying circumstances. Climaxes are in the thought. When the
+thought moves rapidly, when things are being done with a rush, when
+the climax has been reached, then the writer will find that he can
+approach the movement of the thought most nearly by using these means.
+
+  Description and Narration.
+
+_A valuable accessory to narration is description;_ in truth,
+description for its own sake is not frequently found. The story must
+be somewhere; and it is more real when we know in what kind of a place
+it occurs. Still it is not wise to do as Scott so often has
+done,--give chapters of description at the beginning of the story.
+Rather the setting should be scattered through the story so that it is
+hardly perceptible. At no time should the reader halt and realize that
+he is being treated to a description. Even in the beautiful
+descriptions by Stevenson quoted in the next chapter, the work is so
+intimately blended with the story that the reader unfortunately might
+pass over it. A large part of the pleasure derived from the best
+stories is supplied by good descriptions, giving a vivid picture of
+the setting of the story.
+
+Description has another use in narration beside giving the setting of
+the story; it is often used to accent the mood of the action. In "The
+Fall of the House of Usher" by Poe, much of the gloomy foreboding is
+caused by the weird descriptions. Hawthorne understood well the
+harmony between man's feelings and his surroundings. The Sylvan Dance
+in "The Marble Faun" is wonderfully handled. Irving, in "The Legend of
+Sleepy Hollow," throws about the story a "witching influence," and
+long before the Headless Horseman appears, the reader is quite sure
+that the region abounds in "ghosts and goblins," dwelling in its
+"haunted fields, and haunted brooks, and haunted bridges, and haunted
+houses." The danger in the use of description for this purpose is in
+overdoing it. The fact is, as Arlo Bates says, "the villains no longer
+steal through smiling gardens whose snowy lilies, all abloom, and
+sending up perfume like incense from censers of silver, seem to rebuke
+the wicked." Yet when handled as Stevenson and Irving handled it,
+description assists in accenting the mood of the action.
+
+  Characters few, Time short.
+
+_The number of characters should be few_ and the time of the action
+short. Pupils are not able to handle a large number of persons. There
+is, however, a stronger reason for it than incapacity. A young person
+would have great trouble in remembering the large number of persons
+introduced into "Little Dorrit." Many of them would always remain
+entire strangers. Such a scattering of attention is unfavorable to a
+story. To focus the interest upon a few, to have the action centred in
+these few, increases the movement and intensity of the narrative. The
+writers of short stories in France (perhaps the best story-tellers of
+the present), Kipling, Davis, Miss Wilkins, and some others of our
+best authors, find few characters all that are necessary, and they
+gain in intensity by limiting the number of characters.
+
+For the same reason _the time should be short._ If all the incidents
+chosen are crowded into a short period of time, the action must be
+more rapid. The reader does not like to know five years have elapsed
+between one event and the next, even if the story-teller does not try
+to fill up the interim with matters of no consequence to the
+narrative. One exception must be made to this rule. In stories whose
+purpose is to portray a change of character, a long time is necessary;
+for the transformation is not usually the result of a day's
+experience, but a gradual process of years. "Silas Marner" and "Baa,
+Baa, Black Sheep" demand time to make naturally the great changes
+recounted. In general, however, the time should be short.
+
+  Simple Plot.
+
+Moreover, _the plot should be simple._ This is not saying that the
+plot should be evident. No one is quite satisfied if he knows just how
+the story will turn out. There are, however, so many conditions in a
+story that the accentuation of one or the subordination of another may
+bring about something quite unexpected, yet perfectly natural.
+Complicated plots have had their day; simple plots are now in vogue.
+They are as natural as life, and quite as unfathomable. In Davis's
+"Gallegher" there is nothing complicated; one thing follows another in
+a perfectly natural way; yet there are many questions in the reader's
+mind as to how the little rascal will turn out, and whether he will
+accomplish his mission. Much more cleverness is shown by the
+sleight-of-hand trickster, who, unassisted and in the open, with no
+accessories, dupes his staring assembly, than by him who, on the
+stage, with the aid of mirrors, lights, machines, and a crowd of
+assistants, manages to deceive your eyes. A story that by its frank
+simplicity takes the reader into its confidence, and brings him to a
+conclusion that is so natural that it should have been foreseen from
+the beginning, has a good plot. The conclusion of a story must be
+natural,--the result of the causes at work in the story. It must be an
+expected surprise. If it cannot be accounted for by the causes at work
+in the story, the construction is faulty. In the world of fiction
+there is not the liberty one experiences in the world of fact. There
+things unexpected and unexplainable occur. But the story-teller has no
+such privilege. Truth is stranger than fiction dare be. A simple,
+natural story, with few characters and covering but a short period of
+time, has three elements of success.
+
+Paragraph structure, sentence structure, and choice of words are taken
+up in subsequent chapters. Of paragraphs it may be wise to say that
+there will be as many as there are divisions in the outline; and
+sometimes, by reason of the length of topic, a subdivision may be
+necessary. The paragraph most common in narration is the paragraph of
+details, the first form presented in the chapter on paragraphs. What
+needs to be said of sentences has already been said when treating of
+movement. Of words one thing may be suggested. Choose live words,
+specific words, words that have "go" in them.
+
+It should be remembered that everything cannot be learned at once. The
+study of the whole is the principal occupation just now. Select the
+main incident; choose other incidents to be consistent with it; start
+out at once giving the conditions of the story; proceed now fast, now
+slow, as the thought demands, arriving at a conclusion that is an
+expected surprise, the result of forces at work in the story.
+
+
+                  SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES
+
+The questions are only suggestive. They indicate how literature can be
+made to teach composition. Some questions may seem hard, and will
+provoke discussion. To have even a false opinion, backed by only a few
+facts, is better than an entire absence of thought. Encourage
+discussion. The answers to the questions have not been suggested in
+the questions themselves. The object has been to throw the pupil upon
+his own thinking.
+
+These questions upon the "Method of the Author" should not be
+considered until the far more important work of deriving the "Meaning
+of the Author" has been finished. Only after the whole piece has been
+carefully studied can the relation of the parts to the whole be
+understood. Reserve the questions for the review.
+
+
+                              QUESTIONS.
+
+                        THE GREAT STONE FACE.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 40.)
+
+In what paragraphs is the main incident?
+
+Can you find one sentence on the second page of the story that
+foreshadows the result?
+
+How many incidents or episodes contribute to the story?
+
+Do these help in the development of Ernest's character? If not, what
+is the use of them?
+
+Why are they arranged in this order?
+
+Introduce into its proper place an incident of a scientist. Write it
+up.
+
+Do you think one of the incidents could be omitted? Which one?
+
+Are the incidents related in the order in which they occurred? Is one
+the cause of another?
+
+Has the story a plot? Why do you think so? What is a plot?
+
+Where are introduced the time, place, and the principal character?
+
+What is the use of the description of "the great stone face"?
+
+Why does the author tell only what "was reported" of the interior of
+Mr. Gathergold's palace? Is it better so?
+
+Are the descriptions to accent the mood of the story? or are they
+primarily to make concrete and real the persons and places?
+
+Is there any place where the movement of the story is rapid?
+
+Does the author begin at once, and close when the story is told?
+
+Did you find any use of comparisons in the piece? (See top of p. 6,
+top of p. 19, middle of p. 22.)[3]
+
+Of what value are they in composition?
+
+
+                           THE GENTLE BOY.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 145.)
+
+What is the main incident?
+
+In relation to the whole story, in what place does it stand?
+
+Do the other incidents serve to develop the character of "the gentle
+boy"? or are they introduced to open up to the reader that character?
+(Compare with "Wee Willie Winkie.")
+
+Do you consider all the incidents necessary?
+
+Why has the author introduced the fact that Ilbrahim gently cared for
+the little boy who fell from the tree?
+
+What is the use of the first two pages of the story?
+
+Where does the story really begin?
+
+How could you know the time, if the first page were not there? Is it a
+delicate way of telling "when"?
+
+Notice that time, place, and principal characters all are introduced
+into the first paragraph of the real story.
+
+Why does the author note the change in Tobias's circumstances? Does it
+add to the interest of the story? Would you omit it?
+
+Do you think this plot more complicated than that of "The Great Stone
+Face"?
+
+What is the use of the description on p. 31?
+
+What do you note as the difference between
+(a) second line of p. 19, sixth line of p. 27, sixteenth line of p.
+29, and (b) fourth line of p. 25, the figure in the complete paragraph
+on p. 40?
+
+
+                          THE GRAY CHAMPION.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 145.)
+
+Note the successive stages by which the time is approached. (Compare
+with the beginning of "Silas Marner.")
+
+Can you feel any difference between the movement of this story and the
+movement in "The Gentle Boy"?
+
+Is there any difference in the length of the sentences? (Remember that
+the independent clauses of a compound sentence are very nearly the
+same as simple sentences.)
+
+Is there any difference in the proportion of verbs and verbals? What
+parts of speech have almost disappeared?
+
+
+                        ROGER MALVIN'S BURIAL.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 145.)
+
+Why is the first paragraph needed?
+
+Why could the incident in the first paragraph on p. 50 not be omitted?
+Do you find it later?
+
+How many chapters could you divide the story into? What is the basis
+of division?
+
+Why did not Hawthorne tell the result of the shot at once?
+
+A plot is usually made by introducing more than one cause, by hiding
+one of the causes, or by holding back an effect. Which in this story?
+
+Is there a change of movement between the beginning and the end of the
+story? Look at the last two pages carefully. How has the author
+expressed the intensity of the situation?
+
+Does the story end when it is finished?
+
+
+                          THE WEDDING KNELL.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 145.)
+
+Of the three common ways of giving uncertainty to a plot, which has
+been used?
+
+Do you call this plot more complicated than those of the other tales
+studied?
+
+Why does the author say, at the top of p. 72, "necessary preface"?
+Could it not be omitted? If not, what principle of narrative
+construction would be violated by its omission?
+
+Why has he introduced the last paragraph on p. 74 reaching over to p.
+75?
+
+
+                         THE AMBITIOUS GUEST.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 40.)
+
+In what order are the elements of the story introduced?
+
+Pick out phrases which prepare you for the catastrophe.
+
+Can you detect any difference in the movement of the different parts
+of the story? What aids its expression?
+
+
+                            THE GOLD-BUG.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 120.)
+
+Would you have been satisfied if the story had stopped when the
+treasure was discovered? What more do you want to know?
+
+What, then, is the main incident? Was the main incident the last to
+occur in order of time? Why did Poe delay telling it until the end?
+
+Do you see how relating the story in the first person helped him to
+throw the main incident last? Why could he not tell it before?
+
+Does Poe tell any other stories in the first person?
+
+In what person are "Treasure Island" and "Kidnapped" told? Are they
+interesting?
+
+If a friend is telling you a story, do you care more for it if it is
+about a third party or about himself? Why?
+
+What, then, is the advantage of making an actor the narrator? What are
+some of the disadvantages?
+
+Do you think this plot as good as those of Hawthorne's stories?
+
+Why was it necessary to have "a day of remarkable chilliness" (p. 3),
+and a Newfoundland dog rushing into the room (p. 6)?
+
+What principle would it violate to omit these little matters?
+(Text-book, p. 24.)
+
+What of the rapidity of movement when they are digging? How has
+rapidity been gained?
+
+What form of wit does Poe attempt? Does he succeed?
+
+Do you think the conversation is natural? If not, what is the matter
+with it?
+
+Are negroes usually profane? Does Jupiter's general character lead you
+to expect profanity from him? Is anything gained by his oaths? Is
+anything sacrificed? In this story is profanity artistic? (To know
+what is meant by "artistic," read the last line of "L'Envoi" on p. 253
+of the text-book.)
+
+
+                      THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 30.)
+
+What is the purpose of the first stanza?
+
+What connection in thought is there between the second, third, and
+fourth stanzas? What have these stanzas to do with the story? If they
+have nothing to do with it, what principle of structure do they
+violate? Would Lowell be likely to do this?
+
+What is the use of the description beginning "And what is so rare as a
+day in June"?
+
+Would the story be complete without the preludes? Would the teaching
+be understood without them?
+
+Are time and place definitely stated in the poem? Why should they be,
+or not be?
+
+Why does so much time elapse between Part I. and Part II. of the
+story?
+
+In what lines do you find the main incident?
+
+In the first prelude is Lowell describing a landscape of New England
+or Old England? Where is the story laid? What comment have you to make
+upon these facts?
+
+Pick out the figures. Are they useful?
+
+Can you find passages of exposition and description in this narrative?
+Why do you call it narration?
+
+What is Lowell's criticism upon himself? (See "Fable for Critics.")
+
+
+                          A CHRISTMAS CAROL.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 57.)
+
+Is the opening such as to catch the attention?
+
+What is the essential idea in the description of Scrooge? Do all
+details enforce this idea? Do you know Scrooge?
+
+In what paragraph does Dickens tell where the story occurs?
+
+Find places on p. 19 and p. 96 where Dickens has used "in" or "into."
+
+What advantage to the story is the appearance in Scrooge's office of
+his nephew and the two gentlemen? Do they come into the story again?
+
+Are the details in the description of the apparition on p. 41 in the
+order in which they would be noted? Which is the most important
+detail? Where is it in the description?
+
+Is the description of Mrs. Fezziwig on p. 52 successful?
+
+What helps express rapidity of movement in the paragraph at the bottom
+of p. 53? (See also paragraph on p. 85.)
+
+Examining the words used by Dickens and Hawthorne, which are longer?
+Which are most effectual? Are you sure? Rewrite one of Hawthorne's
+paragraphs with a Dickens vocabulary. What is the result?
+
+What word is the topic of the last paragraph on p. 73?
+
+Recast the first sentence of the last paragraph on p. 77.
+
+Does Dickens use slang? (Do not consider conversation in the answer to
+this question.)
+
+What is the main incident? Is there one of the minor incidents that
+could be omitted?
+
+Which one could you most easily spare?
+
+What is the need of the last chapter?
+
+
+                               MARMION.
+                 (Rolfe's Student's Series, Vol. 2.)
+
+How do you know the time of "Marmion"?
+
+Do you see any reason why stanza vi. of Canto I. would better precede
+stanza v.?
+
+Where is the first mention of De Wilton? the first intimation of Clara
+de Clare? of Constance?
+
+What form of discourse in stanza vii. of Canto II.?
+
+What part in the development of the narrative does Fitz-Eustace's song
+make?
+
+Does the tale related by the host break the unity of the whole? Is it
+"another story"? What value has it?
+
+Why does Scott not tell of Marmion's encounter with the Elfin Knight
+in Canto III.? Where is it told? Why there?
+
+Why is Canto II. put after Canto I.? Did the events related in II.
+occur after those related in I.?
+
+How many of the descriptions of persons in "Marmion" begin with the
+face? How many times are they of the face only?
+
+Try to write the incident related in stanzas xix., xx., xxi., and
+xxii. of Canto III. in fewer words than Scott has done it without
+sacrificing any detail.
+
+Are you satisfied with the description of King James in stanza viii.
+Canto V.? Do you see him?
+
+Write an outline of the plot of "Marmion" in two hundred words.
+
+Why is the story of Lady Clare reserved until Canto V.?
+
+What cantos contain the main incident?
+
+Were all that precedes omitted, would "The Battle" be as interesting?
+
+Do you think the plot good? Is it complicated?
+
+What of the number of figures used in the last canto compared with
+those used in any other canto? Do you find more in narrative or
+descriptive passages? Why?
+
+Read stanza viii. Canto III. Can you describe a voice without using
+comparison?
+
+Do the introductions to the several cantos form any part of the story?
+Would they be just as good anywhere else? Would the story be better
+with them, or without them? What principle of structure do they
+violate?
+
+
+                              EXERCISES.
+
+The subjects for composition given below are not intended as a course
+to be followed, but only to suggest a plan for the work. The
+individual topics for essays may not be the best for all cases. Long
+lists of topics can be found in rhetorics. Bare subjects, however, are
+usually unsuggestive. They should be adapted to the class. Put the
+subjects in such shape that there is something to get hold of. Give
+the pupils a fair start.
+
+1-4. In order to place before the pupils good models for constructing
+stories, read one like "A Piece of String" in "An Odd Number," by
+Maupassant. Stories for this purpose should not be long. Talk the
+story over with the pupils, bringing out clearly the main incident and
+the several episodes which contribute to it. Have them notice how
+characters, time, and place are introduced; and how each succeeding
+event is possible and natural. Then have it rewritten. This will fix
+the idea of plan. For this purpose some of Miss Wilkins's stories are
+excellent; Kenneth Grahame's "The Golden Age," and Miss Jewett's short
+stories are good material. Some of the short stories in current
+magazines serve well.
+
+5, 6. Read the first of a story and its close,--enough to indicate the
+main incident and the setting of the story. Have the pupils write it
+complete.
+
+7. Read the close of a story. The pupils will then write the whole.
+
+8. Read the opening of a story. Have the pupils complete it.
+
+9. Finish "The Circus-Man's Story" (Text-book, p. 297.)
+
+10. My First Algebra Lesson. Remember that in composition a good story
+is worth more than a true one. The basis may be a fact. Do not
+hesitate to fix it up.
+
+11. A delivery horse runs away. No persons are in the wagon. Tell
+about it.
+
+12. Write about a runaway in which you and your little sister are
+injured. (I have found it very helpful to use the same subject, but
+having the relation of the narrator to the incident very different. It
+serves to bring out a whole new vocabulary in order to express the
+difference in the feelings of the narrator.)
+
+13. Write the story suggested to your mind by these words: Digging in
+the sand I found a board much worn by the waves, on which were cut, in
+characters scarcely traceable, these words: "Dec.----18 9,    N. J."
+
+14. A humorous incident in a street car, in which the joke was on the
+other fellow.
+
+15. Another in which the joke was on me. The same incident may be used
+with good effect. The choice of new words to express the difference of
+feelings makes an excellent exercise.
+
+16. Tell the story that Doreas related to her neighbors about her
+husband's escape and her father's death.
+
+17. To bring out the fact that the language must be varied to suit the
+character of the reader or listener, tell a fairy story to a sleepy
+five-year old so that he will not go to sleep. Do not hesitate at
+exaggerations. Only remember it must be consistent.
+
+18. Have "The Gentle Boy" tell one of the incidents in which he was
+cruelly treated. This may well be an incident of your own life adapted
+to its purpose.
+
+19, 20. Jim was a mean boy. Meanness seemed to be in his blood. He was
+all mean. His hair was mean; his freckles were mean; his big, chapped
+hands were mean. And he was always mean. He was mean to his pets; he
+was meaner to small boys; and he was as mean as he dared to be to his
+equals in size.
+
+Write one incident to show Jim's meanness.
+
+Write another to show how Jim met his match, and learned a lesson.
+
+21. Work up the following into a story. It all occurs in one day at
+the present time. Place, your own city. Characters, a poor sewing
+girl, her little sick brother, and a wealthy society lady. Incidents:
+a conversation between brother and sister about some fruit; a
+conversation between the sewing girl and the lady about money due for
+sewing; stealing apples; arrest; appearance of the lady. Title: Who
+was the Criminal?
+
+22. A story of a modern Sir Launfal.
+
+23. The most thrilling moment of my life.
+
+24. Tell the whole story suggested by the stanza of "A Nightingale in
+the Study," by Lowell, which begins, "Cloaked shapes, a twanging of
+guitars."
+
+25. Write a story which teaches a lesson. Remember that the lesson is
+in the story, not at its end.
+
+In the work at this time but little attention can be given to the
+teaching of paragraphs and sentences. The pupil should learn what a
+paragraph is, and should have his composition properly divided into
+paragraphs. But the form and massing of paragraphs cannot be taken up
+at this time. The same may be said of sentences. He should have no
+sentences broken in two by periods; nor should he have two sentences
+forced into one. Grammatical errors should be severely criticised.
+However, the present work is to get the pupils started; and they
+cannot get started if there is a teacher holding them back by
+discouraging criticisms. Mark all mistakes of whatever kind; but put
+the stress upon the whole composition: its unity, its coherence, its
+mass, and its movement. Everything cannot be done at once; many
+distressing faults will have to be passed over until later.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV
+
+                             DESCRIPTION
+
+
+  Difficulties of Language for making Pictures.
+
+Description has been defined as the form of literature which presents
+a picture by means of language. In the preceding chapter, it has been
+pointed out that the sequence of language is perfectly adapted to
+detail the sequence of action in a narrative. For the purpose of
+constructing a picture, the means has serious drawbacks. The picture
+has to be presented in pieces; and the difficulties are much as would
+be experienced if "dissected maps and animals" used for children's
+amusement were to be put together in the head. It would not be easy to
+arrange the map of the United States from blocks, each containing a
+small part of it, taken one at a time from a box. Yet this closely
+resembles the method language forces us to adopt in constructing a
+picture. Each phrase is like one of the blocks, and introduces a new
+element into the picture; from these phrases the reader must
+reconstruct the whole. This means not alone that he shall remember
+them all, but there is a more serious trouble: he must often rearrange
+them. For example, a description by Ruskin begins, "Nine years old."
+Either a boy or a girl, the reader thinks, as it may be in his own
+home. In the case of this reader it is a boy, rather tall of his age,
+with brown hair and dark eyes. But the next phrase reads, "Neither
+tall nor short for her age." Now the reader knows it is a girl of
+common stature. Later on he learns that her eyes are "deep blue;" her
+lips "perfectly lovely in profile;" and so on through the details of
+the whole sketch. Many times in the course of the description the
+reader makes up a new picture; he is continually reconstructing. Any
+one who will observe his own mind while reading a new description can
+prove that the picture is arranged and rearranged many times. This is
+due to the means by which it is presented. Language presents only a
+phrase at a time,--a fragment, not a whole,--and so fails in the
+instantaneous presentation of a complete picture.
+
+  Painting and Sculpture.
+
+The painter or sculptor who upon canvas or in stone flashes the whole
+composition before us at the same instant of time, has great
+advantages over the worker in words. In these methods there is needed
+no reconstruction of previous images, no piecing together of a number
+of fragments. Without any danger of mistakes which will have to be
+corrected later, the spectator can take in the whole picture at
+once,--every relation, every color, every difference in values.
+
+It is because pictures are the surest and quickest means of
+representing objects to the mind that books, especially text-books,
+and magazines are so profusely illustrated. No magazine can claim
+popularity to-day that does not use illustrations where possible; no
+text-book in science or history sells unless it contains pictures. And
+this is because all persons accurately and quickly get the idea from a
+picture.
+
+  Advantages of Language.
+
+Whatever be the disadvantages of language, there are some advantages.
+Who could paint this from Hawthorne?
+
+     "Soon the smoke ascended among the trees, impregnated with
+     _savory incense,_ not _heavy, dull,_ and _surfeiting,_ like
+     the steam of cookery indoors, but _sprightly_ and _piquant._
+     The _smell_ of our feast was akin to the woodland odors with
+     which it mingled." ("Mosses from an Old Manse.")
+
+Or this from Lowell?--
+
+     "Under the yaller-pines I house,
+     When sunshine makes 'em all _sweet-scented,_
+     An' _hear_ among their furry boughs
+     The _baskin'_ west wind _purr contented,_
+     While 'way o'erhead, ez _sweet_ an' _low
+     Ez distant bells thet ring for meetin',_
+     The wedged wil' geese _their bugles blow,_
+     Further an' further South retreatin'."[4]
+
+Or cut this from marble?--
+
+     "O mother Ida, many-fountained Ida,
+     Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
+     For now the noonday quiet holds the hill;
+     The grasshopper is silent in the grass;
+     The lizard, with his shadow on the stone,
+     Rests like a shadow, and the winds are dead.
+     The purple flower droops; the golden bee
+     Is lily-cradled; I alone awake.
+     My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love,
+     My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim,
+     And I am all aweary of my life."[5]
+
+The painter cannot put sounds upon a canvas, nor can the sculptor
+carve from marble an odor or a taste. We use the other senses in
+determining qualities of objects; and words which describe effects
+produced by other senses beside sight are valuable in description. As
+Lowell says, "we may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing" a
+large number of beautiful things. Moreover, language suggests hidden
+ideas that the representative arts cannot so well do. The following
+from a "Song" by Lowell has in it suggestions which the picture could
+not present.
+
+       "Violet! sweet violet!
+       Thine eyes are full of tears;
+           Are they wet
+           Even yet
+     With the thought of other years?
+     Or with gladness are they full,
+     For the night so beautiful,
+     And longing for those far-off spheres?
+
+       "Thy little heart, that hath with love
+       Grown colored like the sky above,
+       On which thou lookest ever,--
+           Can it know
+           All the woe
+     Of hope for what returneth never,
+     All the sorrow and the longing
+     To these hearts of ours belonging?"
+
+  Enumeration and Suggestion
+
+Description, like narration, has two large divisions: one simply to
+give information or instruction; the other to present a vivid picture.
+One is _representative_ or _enumerative;_ the other, _suggestive._ One
+may be illustrated by guide-books; the other by the descriptions of
+Stevenson or Ruskin. And in the most artistic fashion the two have
+been made to supplement each other in the following picture of "bright
+and beautiful Athens" by Cardinal Newman. From the first, to the
+sentence beginning "But what he would not think of," there is simply
+an enumeration of features which a commercial agent might see; the
+rest is what the artistic soul of the lover of beauty saw there. One
+is enumeration; the other a gloriously suggestive picture.
+
+     "A confined triangle, perhaps fifty miles its greatest
+     length, and thirty its greatest breadth; two elevated rocky
+     barriers, meeting at an angle; three prominent mountains,
+     commanding the plain,--Parnes, Pentelicus, and Hymettus; an
+     unsatisfactory soil; some streams, not always full;--such is
+     about the report which the agent of a London company would
+     have made of Attica. He would report that the climate was
+     mild; the hills were limestone; there was plenty of good
+     marble; more pasture land than at first survey might have
+     been expected, sufficient, certainly, for sheep and goats;
+     fisheries productive; silver mines once, but long since
+     worked out; figs fair; oil first-rate; olives in profusion.
+     But what he would not think of noting down was that that
+     olive-tree was so choice in nature and so noble in shape
+     that it excited a religious veneration; and that it took so
+     kindly to the light soil as to expand into woods upon the
+     open plain, and to climb up and fringe the hills. He would
+     not think of writing word to his employers, how that clear
+     air, of which I have spoken, brought out, yet blended and
+     subdued, the colors on the marble, till they had a softness
+     and harmony, for all their richness, which in a picture
+     looks exaggerated, yet is after all within the truth. He
+     would not tell how that same delicate and brilliant
+     atmosphere freshened up the pale olive, till the olive
+     forgot its monotony, and its cheek glowed like the arbutus
+     or beech of the Umbrian hills. He would say nothing of the
+     thyme and the thousand fragrant herbs which carpeted
+     Hymettus; he would hear nothing of the hum of its bees; nor
+     take account of the rare flavor of its honey, since Gaza and
+     Minorca were sufficient for the English demand. He would
+     look over the Aegean from the height he had ascended; he
+     would follow with his eyes the chain of islands, which,
+     starting from the Sunian headland, seemed to offer the
+     fabled divinities of Attica, when they would visit their
+     Ionian cousins, a sort of viaduct thereto across the sea;
+     but that fancy would not occur to him, nor any admiration of
+     the dark violet billows with their white edges down below;
+     nor of those graceful, fan-like jets of silver upon the
+     rocks, which slowly rise aloft like water spirits from the
+     deep, then shiver, and break, and spread, and shroud
+     themselves, and disappear in a soft mist of foam; nor of the
+     gentle, incessant heaving and panting of the whole liquid
+     plain; nor of the long waves, keeping steady time, like a
+     line of soldiery as they resound upon the hollow shore,--he
+     would not deign to notice the restless living element at all
+     except to bless his stars that he was not upon it. Nor the
+     distinct details, nor the refined coloring, nor the graceful
+     outline and roseate golden hue of the jutting crags, nor the
+     bold shadows cast from Otus or Laurium by the declining
+     sun;--our agent of a mercantile firm would not value these
+     matters even at a low figure. Rather, we must turn for the
+     sympathy we seek to yon pilgrim student, come from a
+     semi-barbarous land to that small corner of the earth, as to
+     a shrine, where he might take his fill of gazing on those
+     emblems and coruscations of invisible unoriginate
+     perfection. It was the stranger from a remote province, from
+     Britain or from Mauritania, who in a scene so different from
+     that of his chilly, woody swamps, or of his fiery, choking
+     sands, learned at once what a real University must be, by
+     coming to understand the sort of country which was its
+     suitable home."[6]
+
+  Enumerative Description.
+
+Enumerative description has one point of great difference from
+suggestive description. In the former everything is told; in the
+latter the description is as fortunate in what it omits as in what it
+includes. Were an architect to give specifications for the building of
+a house, every detail would have to be included; but after all the
+pages of careful enumeration the reader would know less of how it
+looked than after these few words from Irving. "A large, rickety
+wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping windows, some of
+them broken and mended with old hats and petticoats, and over the door
+was painted 'The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle.'" So the manual
+training student uses five hundred words to describe in detail a box
+which would be thrown off with but a few words in a piece of
+literature. In enumerative description, one element is of as much
+importance as another; no special feature is made primary by the
+omission or subdual of other qualities. It has value in giving exact
+details of objects, as if for their construction, and in including an
+object in a class.
+
+  Suggestive Description.
+
+Suggestive description, description the aim of which is not
+information, but the reproduction of a picture, is the kind most
+employed in literature. To present a picture, not all the details
+should be given. The mind cannot carry them all, and, much worse, it
+cannot arrange them. Nor is there any need for a detailed enumeration.
+A room has walls, floor, and ceiling; a man naturally has ears, arms,
+and feet. These things may be taken for granted. It is not what is
+common to a class that describes; it is what is individual, what takes
+one object out of a class.
+
+  Value of Observation.
+
+This leads to the suggestion that _good description depends largely on
+accurate observation._ A selection frequently quoted, but none the
+less valuable because often seen, is in point here. It is the last
+word on the value of observation.
+
+     "Talent is long patience. It is a question of regarding
+     whatever one desires to express long enough and with
+     attention close enough to discover a side which no one has
+     seen and which has been expressed by nobody. In everything
+     there is something of the unexplored, because we are
+     accustomed to use our eyes only with the thought of what has
+     already been said concerning the thing we see. The smallest
+     thing has in it a grain of the unknown. Discover it. In
+     order to describe a fire that flames or a tree in the plain,
+     we must remain face to face with that fire or that tree
+     until for us they no longer resemble any other tree or any
+     other fire. This is the way to become original.
+
+     "Having, moreover, impressed upon me the fact that there are
+     not in the whole world two grains of sand, two insects, two
+     hands, or two noses absolutely alike, he forced me to
+     describe a being or an object in such a manner as to
+     individualize it clearly, to distinguish it from all other
+     objects of the same kind. 'When you pass,' he said to me, 'a
+     grocer seated in his doorway, a concierge smoking his pipe,
+     a row of cabs, show me this grocer and this concierge, their
+     attitude, all their physical appearance; suggest by the
+     skill of your image all their moral nature, so that I shall
+     not confound them with any other grocer or any other
+     concierge; make me see, by a single word, wherein a
+     cab-horse differs from the fifty others that follow or
+     precede him.'... Whatever may be the thing which one wishes
+     to say, there is but one word for expressing it; only one
+     verb to animate it, but one adjective to qualify it. It is
+     essential to search for this verb, for this adjective, until
+     they are discovered, and never to be satisfied with anything
+     else."[7]
+
+  The Point of View.
+
+With the closest observation, an author gets into his own mind what he
+wishes to present to another; but with this essential step taken, he
+is only ready to begin the work of communication. For the successful
+communication of a picture there are some considerations of value. And
+first is _the point of view._ It has much the same relation to
+description as the main incident has to narration. In large measure it
+determines what to exclude and what to include. When a writer has
+assumed his point of view, he must stay there, and tell not a thing
+more than he can see from there. It would hardly be possible for a
+man, telling only so much as he saw while gazing from Eiffel Tower
+into the streets below, to say that the people looked like
+Lilliputians and that their hands were dirty. To one lying on the bank
+of a stream, it does not look like "a silver thread running through
+the landscape." Things do not look the same when they are near as when
+at a distance. This fact has been acted upon more by the modern school
+of painting than ever before in art. Verboeckhoven painted sheep in a
+marvelous way. The drawing is perfect, giving the animal to the life.
+Still, no matter how far away the artist was standing, there are the
+same marvelously painted tufts of wool, showing almost the individual
+fibres. Tufts of wool were on the sheep, and made of fibres; but no
+artist at twenty rods could see them. The new school gives only what
+actually can be seen. Its first law is that each "shall draw the thing
+as he sees it for the God of Things as They Are." Make no additions to
+what you can actually see because, as a result of experience, you know
+that there are some things not yet mentioned in your description; the
+hands may be dirty, but the man on the tower cannot see the dirt.
+Neither make an addition simply because it sounds well; the "silver
+thread through the landscape" is beautiful, but, unfortunately, it is
+not always true.
+
+Not only does distance cut out details from a picture; the fact that
+man sees in a straight line and not around a corner eliminates some
+features. In describing a house, remember that as you stand across the
+street from it, the back porch cannot be seen, neither can the
+shrubbery in the back yard. A writer would not be justified in
+speaking of a man's necktie, if the man he was describing were walking
+in front of him. In enumerative description the inside of a box may be
+told of; a man may be turned around, as it were; but to present a
+picture, only one side can be described, just as it would be shown in
+a photograph. Any addition to what can actually be known from the
+point of view assumed by the author is a fault and a source of
+confusion. Choose your point of view; stay there; and tell only what
+is seen from that point.
+
+  Moving Point of View.
+
+It has been said that the point of view should not be changed. This
+requires one modification. It may be changed, if the reader is kept
+informed of the changes. If a person wished to describe an interior,
+he would be unable to see the whole from any one point of view. As he
+passed from room to room he should inform his reader of his change of
+position. Then the description, though a unit, is a combination of
+several descriptions; just as the house is one, though made of
+dining-room, sitting-rooms, bedrooms, and attic. This kind of
+description is very common in books of travel, in which the author
+tells what he sees in passing. The thing to be remembered in writing
+this kind of description is to inform the reader where the author is
+when he writes the different parts of the description,--to give the
+points of view.
+
+  The Point of View should be stated.
+
+The point of view, whether fixed or moving, should be made clear.
+Either it should be definitely stated, or it should be suggested by
+some phrase in the description. In the many examples which are quoted
+in this chapter, it would be well to see what it is that gives the
+point of view. The picture gains in distinctness when the point of
+view is known. The following sentences are from "The Old Manse;" there
+is no mistake here. The reader knows every move the author makes. It
+opens with:--
+
+     "Between two tall gateposts of rough-hewn stone (the gate
+     itself having fallen from its hinges at some unknown epoch)
+     we beheld the gray front of the old parsonage terminating
+     the vista of an avenue of black ash-trees."
+
+From the street the reader is taken to "the rear of the house," where
+there was "the most delightful little nook of a study that ever
+offered its snug seclusion to a scholar." Through its window the
+clergyman saw the opening of the "deadly struggle between two
+nations." He heard the rattle of musketry, and
+
+     "there needed but a gentle wind to sweep the battle smoke
+     around this quiet house. Perhaps the reader, whom I cannot
+     help considering as my guest in the Old Manse and entitled
+     to all courtesy in the way of sight-showing,--perhaps he
+     will choose to take a nearer view of the memorable spot. We
+     stand now on the river's brink."... "Here we are, at the
+     point where the river was crossed by the old bridge."...
+     "The Old Manse! We had almost forgotten it, but will return
+     thither through the orchard."... "What with the river, the
+     battle-field, the orchard, and the garden, the reader begins
+     to despair of finding his way back into the Old Manse. But
+     in agreeable weather it is the truest hospitality to keep
+     him out-of-doors. I never grew quite acquainted with my
+     habitation till a long spell of sulky rain had confined me
+     beneath its roof. There could not be a more sombre aspect of
+     external nature than as then seen from the windows of my
+     study."
+
+And so Hawthorne continues through this long and beautiful description
+of "The Old Manse;" every change in the point of view is noted.
+
+  Mental Point of View.
+
+Closely connected with the physical point of view is the mood or
+purpose of the writer; this might be called _the mental point of
+view._ Not everything should be told which the author could know from
+his position, but only those things which at the time serve his
+purpose. In the description already quoted from Newman, the mercantile
+gentleman notes a large number of features which are the commercial
+advantages of Attica; of these but three are worthy of mention by "yon
+pilgrim student" in giving his impression of Athens as "a shrine where
+he might take his fill of gazing on those emblems and coruscations of
+invisible unoriginate perfection." The others--the soil, the streams,
+the climate, the limestone, the fisheries, and the silver mines--do
+not serve his purpose. Hawthorne in the long description already
+mentioned has retained those features which suggest quiet and peace.
+Such a profusion of "quiet," "half asleep," "peaceful," "unruffled,"
+"unexcitable" words and phrases never "loitered" through forty pages
+of "dreamy" and "whispering" description.
+
+In the following bit from "Lear," where Edgar tells his blinded father
+how high the cliff is, only those details are included which measure
+distance.
+
+                               "How fearful
+     And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low!
+     The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
+     Show scarce so gross as beetles; half way down
+     Hangs one that gathers samphire,--dreadful trade!
+     Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:
+     The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
+     Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
+     Diminished to her cock; her cock, a buoy
+     Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,
+     That on th' unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,
+     Cannot be heard so high.--I'll look no more,
+     Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
+     Topple down headlong."
+
+The following is from Kipling's "The Light that Failed:"--
+
+     "What do you think of a big, red, dead city built of red
+     sandstone, with green aloes growing between the stones,
+     lying out neglected on honey-colored sands? There are forty
+     dead kings there, Maisie, each in a gorgeous tomb finer than
+     all the others. You look at the palaces and streets and
+     shops and tanks, and think that men must live there, till
+     you find a wee gray squirrel rubbing its nose all alone in
+     the marketplace, and a jeweled peacock struts out of a
+     carved doorway and spreads its tail against a marble screen
+     as fine pierced as point-lace. Then a monkey--a little black
+     monkey--walks through the main square to get a drink from a
+     tank forty feet deep. He slides down the creepers to the
+     water's edge, and a friend holds him by the tail, in case he
+     should fall in.
+
+     "Is all that true?
+
+     "I have been there and seen. Then evening comes and the
+     lights change till it's just as though you stood in the
+     heart of a king-opal. A little before sundown, as punctually
+     as clockwork, a big bristly wild boar, with all his family
+     following, trots through the city gate, churning the foam on
+     his tusks. You climb on the shoulder of a big black stone
+     god, and watch that pig choose himself a palace for the
+     night and stump in wagging his tail. Then the night-wind
+     gets up, and the sands move, and you hear the desert outside
+     the city singing, 'Now I lay me down to sleep,' and
+     everything is dark till the moon rises."
+
+Note how every detail introduced serves to make the city dead. Dead
+kings, a wee gray squirrel, a little black monkey, a bristly wild
+boar, the night wind, and the desert singing,--these could not be seen
+or heard in a live city with street cars; but all serve to emphasize
+the fact that here is "a big, red, dead city."
+
+At the risk of over-emphasizing this point that the purpose of the
+author, the mental point of view of the writer, the feeling which the
+object gives him and which he wishes to convey to the reader, the
+central thought in the description, is primary, and an element that
+cannot be overlooked in successful description, I give another
+example. This point really cannot be over-emphasized: a writer cannot
+be too careful in selecting materials. Careless grouping of
+incongruous matters cannot make a picture. Nor does the artistic
+author leave the reader in doubt as to the purpose of the description;
+its central thought is usually suggested in the first sentence. In the
+quotations from Shakespeare and Kipling, the opening sentences are the
+germ of what follows. Each detail seems to grow out of this sentence,
+and serves to emphasize it. In the following by Stevenson, the
+paragraphs spring from the opening sentence; they explain it, they
+elaborate it, and they accent it.
+
+     "Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof; but in the
+     open world it passes lightly, with its stars and dews and
+     perfumes, and the hours are marked by changes in the face of
+     Nature. What seems a kind of temporal death to people choked
+     between walls and curtains is only a light and living
+     slumber to the man who sleeps afield. All night long he can
+     hear Nature breathing deeply and freely; even as she takes
+     her rest she turns and smiles; and there is one stirring
+     hour unknown to those who dwell in houses, when a wakeful
+     influence goes abroad over the sleeping hemisphere, and all
+     the outdoor world are on their feet. It is then that the
+     first cock crows, not this time to announce the dawn, but
+     like a cheerful watchman speeding the course of the night.
+     Cattle awake on the meadows; sheep break their fast on the
+     dewy hillsides, and change to a new lair among the ferns;
+     and houseless men, who have lain down with the fowls, open
+     their dim eyes and behold the beauty of the night.
+
+     "At what inaudible summons, at what gentle touch of Nature,
+     are all these sleepers thus recalled in the same hour to
+     life? Do the stars rain down an influence, or do we share
+     some thrill of mother earth below our resting bodies? Even
+     shepherds and old country-folk, who are the deepest read in
+     these arcana, have not a guess as to the means or purpose of
+     this nightly resurrection. Towards two in the morning they
+     declare the thing takes place; and neither know nor inquire
+     further. And at least it is a pleasant incident. We are
+     disturbed in our slumber only, like the luxurious Montaigne,
+     'that we may the better and more sensibly enjoy it.' We have
+     a moment to look upon the stars. And there is a special
+     pleasure for some minds in the reflection that we share the
+     impulse with all outdoor creatures in our neighborhood, that
+     we have escaped out of the Bastille of civilization, and are
+     become, for the time being, a more kindly animal and a sheep
+     of Nature's flock." ("Travels with a Donkey.")
+
+  Length of Descriptions.
+
+There is one more step in the exclusion of details. This considers
+neither the point of view nor the purpose of the writer, but it is
+what is due the reader. Stevenson says in one of his essays that a
+description which lasts longer than two minutes is never attempted in
+conversation. The listener cannot hold the details enumerated. The
+clearest statement regarding this comes from Jules Lemaitre in a
+criticism upon some descriptions by Emile Zola which the critic says
+are praised by persons who have never read them. He says:--
+
+     "It has been one of the greatest literary blunders of the
+     time to suppose that an enumeration of parts is a picture,
+     to think that forever placing details side by side, however
+     picturesque they may be, is able in the end to make a
+     picture, to give us any conception of the vast spectacles in
+     the physical universe. In reality, a written description
+     arranges its parts in our mind only when the impression of
+     the first features of which it is formed are remembered
+     sufficiently, so that we can easily join the first to those
+     which complete and end it. In short, a piece of description
+     is ineffective if we cannot hold in mind all its details at
+     one time. It is necessary that all the details coexist in
+     our memory just as the parts of a painting coexist under our
+     eye. This becomes next to impossible if the description of
+     one definite object last over fifteen minutes of reading.
+     The longer it is, the more obscure it becomes. The
+     individual features fade away in proportion to the number
+     which are presented; and for this reason one might say that
+     we cannot see the forest for the trees. Every description
+     which is over fifty lines ceases to be clear to a mind of
+     ordinary vigor. After that there is only a succession of
+     fragmentary pictures which fatigues and overwhelms the
+     reader."[8]
+
+These, then, are the principles that guide in the choice of materials
+for a description. First, the point of view, whether fixed or movable,
+should be made clear to the reader; it should be retained throughout
+the description, or the change should be announced. By regard for it
+the writer will be guided to the exclusion of matters that could not
+be observed, and to the inclusion of such details as can be seen and
+are essential. Second, the writer will keep out matters that do not
+contribute to his purpose, and will select only those details which
+assist in producing the desired impression. Third, the limitations of
+the reader's powers advise a writer to be brief: five hundred words
+should be the outside; two hundred are enough for most writers. These
+principles will give to the whole that unity of materials and of
+structure which is the first requisite of an effective description.
+
+The next matter for consideration is the arrangement of the materials.
+The arrangement depends on the principles that guided in narration,
+Mass and Coherence.
+
+  Arrangement of Details in Description.
+
+After we have looked at any object long enough to be able to write
+about it, one feature comes to assume an importance that sets it far
+above all others. To a writer who has looked long at a man, he may
+shrink to a cringing piece of weakness, or he may grow to a strong,
+self-centred power whose presence alone inspires serenest trust.
+Hawthorne, standing in St. Peter's, saw only the gorgeous coloring;
+proportions, immensity, and sacredness were as nothing to the
+harmonious brilliancy of this expanded "jewel casket."[9] Stevenson,
+thinking of the beast of burden best suited to carry his great
+sleeping sack, discarded the horse, for, as he says, "she is a fine
+lady among animals."[10] The description of a horse which follows this
+statement emphasizes the fact that a horse is not intended for
+carrying burdens. From the germinal impression of a description, all
+the details grow; to this primary impression they all contribute. In
+the case of buildings, or other things material, this impression is
+generally one of form, sometimes of the height of the object; if
+striking, it may be color. The strongest impression of persons is a
+quality of character which shows itself either in the face or in the
+pose of a man. An example of each may be found in the following
+paragraphs from "David Copperfield:"--
+
+     "At length we stopped before a very old house bulging out
+     over the road; a house with long, low lattice-windows
+     bulging out still farther, and beams with carved heads on
+     the ends bulging out too, so that I fancied the whole house
+     was leaning forward, trying to see who was passing on the
+     narrow pavement below. It was quite spotless in its
+     cleanliness. The old-fashioned brass knocker on the
+     low-arched door, ornamented with carved garlands of fruits
+     and flowers, twinkled like a star; the two stone steps
+     descending to the door were as white as if they had been
+     covered with fair linen; and all the angles and corners, and
+     carvings and mouldings, and quaint little panes of glass,
+     and quainter little windows, though as old as the hills,
+     were as pure as any snow that ever fell upon the hills.
+
+     "When the pony-chaise stopped at the door, and my eyes were
+     intent upon the house, I saw a cadaverous face appear at a
+     small window on the ground floor (in a little round tower
+     that formed one side of the house), and quickly disappear.
+     The low arched door then opened, and the face came out. It
+     was quite as cadaverous as it had looked in the window,
+     though in the grain of it there was that tinge of red which
+     is sometimes to be observed in the skins of red-haired
+     people. It belonged to a red-haired person--a youth of
+     fifteen, as I take it now, but looking much older whose hair
+     was cropped as close as the closest stubble; who had hardly
+     any eyebrows, and no eyelashes, and eyes of a red-brown; so
+     unsheltered and unshaded that I remember wondering how he
+     went to sleep. He was high-shouldered and bony; dressed in
+     decent black, with a white wisp of a neck cloth; buttoned up
+     to the throat; and had a long, lank, skeleton hand, which
+     particularly attracted my attention, as he stood at the
+     pony's head, rubbing his chin with it, and looking up at us
+     in the chaise."
+
+Hawthorne thus begins his description of "The House of the Seven
+Gables:"--
+
+     "Maule's Lane, or Pyncheon Street, as it were now more
+     decorous to call it, was thronged, at the appointed hour, as
+     with a congregation on its way to church. All, as they
+     approached, looked upward at the imposing edifice, which was
+     henceforth to assume its rank among the habitations of
+     mankind."
+
+And in the same volume his description of "The Pyncheon of To-day"
+begins:--
+
+     "As the child went down the steps, a gentleman ascended
+     them, and made his entrance into the shop. It was the
+     portly, and, had it possessed the advantage of a little more
+     height, would have been the stately figure of a man,
+     considerably in the decline of life, dressed in a black suit
+     of some thin stuff, resembling broadcloth as closely as
+     possible."
+
+If the description be long, and the object will lend itself to such a
+treatment, a definite, tangible, easily understood shape or form
+should be suggested at once. Notice Newman's first sentence describing
+Attica: "A confined triangle, perhaps fifty miles its greatest length,
+and thirty its greatest breadth." Like this is the beginning of the
+description of the battle of Waterloo by Victor Hugo.
+
+     "Those who would get a clear idea of the battle of Waterloo
+     have only to lay down upon the ground in their mind a
+     capital letter A. The left stroke of the A is the road to
+     Nivelles, the right stroke is the road from Genappe, the
+     cross of the A is the sunken road from Ohain to Braine
+     l'Alleud. The top of the A is Mont Saint Jean, Wellington is
+     there; the left-hand lower point is Hougomont, Reille is
+     there with Jerome Bonaparte; the right-hand lower point is
+     La Belle Alliance, Napoleon is there. A little below the
+     point where the cross of the A meets and cuts the right
+     stroke, is La Haie Sainte. At the middle of this cross is
+     the precise point where the final battle word was spoken.
+     There the lion is placed, the involuntary symbol of the
+     supreme heroism of the Imperial Guard. The triangle
+     contained at the top of the A, between the two strokes and
+     the cross, is the plateau of Mont Saint Jean. The struggle
+     for this plateau was the whole of the battle."[11]
+
+In "The Vision of Sir Launfal" Lowell opens his beautiful description
+with the words, "And what is so rare as a day in June?" From this
+general and comprehensive sentence follow all the details which make a
+June day perfect.
+
+Hawthorne, after telling how he happened to write of him, begins his
+long description of "The Old Apple Dealer" with the following
+paragraph:--
+
+     "He is a small man, with gray hair and gray stubble beard,
+     and is invariably clad in a shabby surtout of snuff color,
+     closely buttoned, and half concealing a pair of gray
+     pantaloons; the whole dress, though clean and entire, being
+     evidently flimsy with much wear. His face, thin, withered,
+     furrowed, and with features which even age has failed to
+     render impressive, has a frost-bitten aspect. It is a moral
+     frost which no physical warmth or comfortableness could
+     counteract. The summer sunshine may fling its white heat
+     upon him, or the good fire of the depot room may make him
+     the focus of its blaze on a winter's day; but all in vain;
+     for still the old man looks as if he were in a frosty
+     atmosphere, with scarcely warmth enough to keep life in the
+     region about his heart. It is a patient, long-suffering,
+     quiet, hopeless, shivering aspect. He is not
+     desperate,--that, though its etymology implies no more,
+     would be too positive an expression,--but merely devoid of
+     hope. As all his past life, probably, offers no spots of
+     brightness to his memory, so he takes his present poverty
+     and discomfort as entirely a matter of course; he thinks it
+     the definition of existence, so far as himself is concerned,
+     to be poor, cold, and uncomfortable. It may be added, that
+     time has not thrown dignity as a mantle over the old man's
+     figure: there is nothing venerable about him: you pity him
+     without a scruple."
+
+So this old apple dealer shivers all through this description of nine
+pages to the last sentences:--
+
+     "God be praised, were it only for your sake, that the
+     present shapes of human existence are not cast in iron nor
+     hewn in everlasting adamant, but moulded of the vapors that
+     vanish away while the essence flits upward to the Infinite.
+     There is a spiritual essence in this gray and lean old shape
+     that shall flit upward too. Yes; doubtless there is a region
+     where the lifelong shiver will pass away from his being, and
+     that quiet sigh, which it has taken him so many years to
+     breathe, will be brought to a close for good and all."
+
+The prominent characteristic may be the feeling aroused by the object.
+It may be horror, as in a description of a haunted house or a
+murderer; it may be love, as in the picture of an old home or a
+sainted mother. The emotion occasioned is often mentioned or suggested
+at once, and the details are afterward given which have called forth
+the feeling. Poe uses this in the first paragraph of "The House of
+Usher."
+
+     "During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the
+     autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in
+     the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through
+     a singularly dreary tract of country, and at length found
+     myself, as the shades of evening drew on, within view of the
+     melancholy House of Usher. I know not how it was--but, with
+     the first glimpse of the building, _a sense of insufferable
+     gloom pervaded my spirit._ I say insufferable; for the
+     feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable,
+     because poetic, sentiment with which the mind usually
+     receives even the sternest natural images of the desolate or
+     terrible. I looked upon the scene before me--upon the mere
+     house, and the simple landscape features of the domain--upon
+     the bleak walls--upon the vacant, eye-like windows--upon a
+     few rank sedges--and upon a few white trunks of decayed
+     trees--with an utter depression of soul which I can compare
+     to no earthly sensation more properly than to the
+     after-dream of a reveler upon opium--the bitter lapse into
+     every-day life--the hideous dropping off of the veil. There
+     was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart--an
+     unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goading of the
+     imagination could torture into aught of the sublime.... It
+     was, possible, I reflected, that a mere different
+     arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details
+     of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to
+     annihilate, its capacity for sorrowful impression; and,
+     acting upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous
+     brink of a black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled lustre
+     by the dwelling, and gazed down--but with a shudder even
+     more thrilling than before--upon the remodeled and inverted
+     images of the gray sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems, and
+     the vacant and eye-like windows."
+
+And one may see from looking back at the illustrations given that the
+dominant impression which gives the character to the whole
+description, this leading quality which is the essence of the whole,
+usually stands at the very beginning, and to it all the succeeding
+details cling.
+
+  The End of a Description.
+
+The end of a description is equally as important as the opening. In
+most descriptions, whether short or long, the most important detail,
+the detail that emphasizes most the general feeling of the whole,
+stands at the end. If the description be short, the necessity of a
+comprehensive opening statement is not imperative,--indeed, it may be
+made so formal and ostentatious when compared with the rest of the
+description as to be ridiculous; yet even in the short description
+some important detail should close it. In a long description the
+repetition of the opening statement in a new form sometimes stands at
+the end. If the description be of movement or change, the end will be
+the climax of the movement, the result of the change.
+
+In the examples already given there are illustrations of the methods
+of closing. In each case, there is an important detail or an artistic
+repetition of the general impression. Many examples of short
+characterization can be found in all narratives. In Irving's
+description of Ichabod Crane, the next to the last sentence gives the
+significant detail, and the last gives another general impression. It
+reads:--
+
+     "The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his person.
+     He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders,
+     long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his
+     sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his
+     whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was small,
+     and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes,
+     and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weather-cock
+     perched upon his spindle neck to tell which way the wind
+     blew." ("The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.")
+
+So far this is but an amplification of his likeness to a crane;
+certainly "a long snipe nose" "upon his spindle neck" is the most
+important detail. Next the author gives another general impression:--
+
+     "To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy
+     day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one
+     might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending
+     upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield."
+
+The following is from "The House of Usher:"--
+
+     "Shaking off from my spirit what _must_ have been a dream, I
+     scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building. Its
+     principal feature seemed to be that of an excessive
+     antiquity. The discoloration of ages had been great. Minute
+     fungi overspread the whole exterior, hanging in a fine
+     tangled web-work from the eaves. Yet all this was apart from
+     any extraordinary dilapidation. No portion of the masonry
+     had fallen, and there appeared to be a wild inconsistency
+     between its still perfect adaptation of parts and the
+     crumbling condition of the individual stones. In this there
+     was much that reminded me of the specious totality of old
+     woodwork which has rotted for long years in some neglected
+     vault with no disturbance from the breath of the external
+     air. Beyond this indication of extensive decay, however, the
+     fabric gave little token of instability. Perhaps the eye of
+     a scrutinizing observer might have discovered a barely
+     perceptible fissure, which, extending from the roof of the
+     building in front, made its way down the wall in a zigzag
+     direction, until it became lost in the sullen waters of the
+     tarn."
+
+In this every detail emphasizes the "excessive antiquity" of the
+house; and on reading the story there is no question of the importance
+of the "barely perceptible fissure." Thereby hangs the tale.
+
+The two following are descriptions of dawn, of change; they have
+marked climaxes. The first is by Edward Everett, the second by
+Stevenson. The similarity in choice of words and in the feelings of
+the men is remarkable.
+
+     "Such was the glorious spectacle as I entered the train. As
+     we proceeded, the timid approach of twilight became more
+     perceptible; the intense blue of the sky began to soften;
+     the smaller stars, like little children, went first to rest;
+     the sister-beams of the Pleiades soon melted together; but
+     the bright constellations of the west and north remained
+     unchanged. Steadily the wondrous transfiguration went on.
+     Hands of angels, hidden from mortal eyes, shifted the
+     scenery of the heavens; the glories of night dissolved into
+     the glories of dawn. The blue sky now turned more softly
+     gray; the great watch-stars shut up their holy eyes; the
+     east began to kindle. Faint streaks of purple soon blushed
+     along the sky; the whole celestial concave was filled with
+     the inflowing tides of the morning light, which came pouring
+     down from above in one great ocean of radiance, till at
+     length, as we reached the Blue Hills, a flash of purple
+     blazed out from above the horizon, and turned the dewy
+     teardrops of flower and leaf into rubies and diamonds. In a
+     few seconds, the everlasting gates of morning were thrown
+     wide open, and the lord of day, arrayed in glories too
+     severe for the gaze of man, began his state." ("The Uses of
+     Astronomy.")
+
+
+     "At last she began to be aware of a wonderful revolution,
+     compared to which the fire of Mittwalden Palace was but a
+     crack and flash of a percussion cap. The countenance with
+     which the pines regarded her began insensibly to change; the
+     grass, too, short as it was, and the whole winding staircase
+     of the brook's course, began to wear a solemn freshness of
+     appearance. And this slow transfiguration reached her heart,
+     and played upon it, and transpierced it with a serious
+     thrill. She looked all about; the whole face of nature
+     looked back, brimful of meaning, finger on lip, leaking its
+     glad secret. She looked up. Heaven was almost emptied of
+     stars. Such as still lingered shone with a changed and
+     waning brightness, and began to faint in their stations. And
+     the color of the sky itself was most wonderful; for the rich
+     blue of the night had now melted and softened and
+     brightened; and there had succeeded a hue that has no name,
+     and that is never seen but as the herald of the morning.
+     'Oh!' she cried, joy catching at her voice, 'Oh! it is the
+     dawn!'
+
+     "In a breath she passed over the brook, and looped up her
+     skirts and fairly ran in the dim alleys. As she ran, her
+     ears were aware of many pipings, more beautiful than music;
+     in the small, dish-shaped houses in the fork of giant arms,
+     where they had lain all night, lover by lover, warmly
+     pressed, the bright-eyed, big-hearted singers began to
+     awaken for the day. Her heart melted and flowed forth to
+     them in kindness. And they, from their small and high
+     perches in the clerestories of the wood cathedral, peered
+     down sidelong at the ragged Princess as she flitted below
+     them on the carpet of the moss and tassel.
+
+     "Soon she had struggled to a certain hilltop, and saw far
+     before her the silent inflooding of the day. Out of the East
+     it welled and whitened; the darkness trembled into light;
+     and the stars were extinguished like the street-lamps of a
+     human city. The whiteness brightened into silver; the silver
+     warmed into gold, and the gold kindled into pure and living
+     fire; and the face of the East was barred with elemental
+     scarlet. The day drew its first long breath, steady and
+     chill; and for leagues around the woods sighed and shivered.
+     And then, at one bound the sun had floated up; and her
+     startled eyes received day's first arrow, and quailed under
+     the buffet. On every side, the shadows leaped from their
+     ambush and fell prone. The day was come, plain and garish;
+     and up the steep and solitary eastern heaven, the sun,
+     victorious over his competitors, continued slowly and
+     royally to mount." ("Prince Otto.")
+
+  Proportion.
+
+One thing further should be said regarding Mass. Not everything can
+stand first or last; some important details must be placed in the
+midst of a description. These particulars will not be of equal
+importance. The more important details may be given their
+proportionate emphasis by relatively increasing the length of their
+treatment. If one detail is more important than another, it requires
+more to be said about it; unimportant matters should be passed over
+with a word. Proportion in the length of treatment is a guide to the
+relative importance of the matters introduced into a description.
+
+In the description of "The House of Usher," position emphasizes the
+barely perceptible fissure. Proportion singles out the crumbling
+condition of the individual stones and makes this detail more emphatic
+than either the discoloration or the fungi. And in Newman's
+description, the olive-tree, the brilliant atmosphere, the thyme, the
+bees, all add to the charms of bright and beautiful Athens; but most
+of all the Aegean, with its chain of islands, its dark violet billows,
+its jets of silver, the heaving and panting of its long waves,--the
+restless living element fascinates and enraptures "yon pilgrim
+student." Position and proportion are the means of emphasis in a
+paragraph of description.
+
+  Arrangement must be natural.
+
+Having settled the massing of the description, the next matter for
+consideration is the arrangement. In order that the parts of a
+description may be coherent, hold together, they should be arranged in
+the order in which they would naturally be perceived. What strikes the
+eye of the beholder as most important, often the general
+characteristic of the whole, should be mentioned first; and the
+details should follow as they are seen. In a building, the usual way
+of observing and describing is from foundation to turret stone. A
+landscape may be described by beginning with what is near and
+extending the view; this is common. Sometimes the very opposite plan
+is pursued; or one may begin on either hand and advance toward the
+other. Of a person near by, the face is the first thing observed; for
+it is there that his character can be best discovered. Afterward
+details of clothing follow as they would naturally be noticed. If a
+person be at a distance his pose and carriage would be about all that
+could be seen; as he approaches, the other details would be mentioned
+as they came into view. To arrange details in the order in which they
+are naturally observed will result in an association in the
+description of the details that are contiguous in the objects. Jumping
+about in a description is a source of confusion. How entirely it may
+ruin a paragraph can be estimated by the effect upon this single
+sentence, "He was tall, with feet that might have served for shovels,
+narrow shoulders, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, long
+arms and legs, and his whole frame most loosely hung together." This
+rearrangement makes but a disjointed and feeble impression; and the
+reason is entirely that an order in which no person ever observed a
+man has been substituted for the commonest order,--from head to foot.
+Arrange details so that the parts which are contiguous shall be
+associated in the description, and proceed in the order in which the
+details are naturally observed.
+
+The following is by Irving; he is describing the stage-coachman:--
+
+     "He has commonly a broad, full face, curiously mottled with
+     red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding into
+     every vessel of the skin; he is swelled into jolly
+     dimensions by frequent potations of malt liquors, and his
+     bulk is still further increased by a multiplicity of coats,
+     in which he is buried like a cauliflower, the upper one
+     reaching to his heels. He wears a broad-brimmed, low-crowned
+     hat; a huge roll of colored handkerchief about his neck,
+     knowingly knotted and tucked in at the bosom; and has in
+     summer time a large bouquet of flowers in his buttonhole,
+     the present, most probably, of some enamored country lass.
+     His waistcoat is commonly of some bright color, striped, and
+     his small-clothes extend far below the knees, to meet a pair
+     of jockey boots which reach about half way up his legs."[12]
+
+  Use Familiar Images.
+
+When the materials have been selected and arranged, the hardest part
+of the work has been done. It now remains to express in language the
+picture. A few suggestions regarding the kind of language will be
+helpful. The writer must always bear in mind the fact that in
+constructing a mental picture each reader does it from the images he
+already possesses. "Quaint arabesques" is without meaning to many
+persons; and until the word has been looked up in the dictionary, and
+the picture seen there, the beautiful line of "Sir Launfal" suggests
+no image whatever. So when Stevenson speaks of the birds in the
+"clerestories of the wood cathedral," the image is not distinct in the
+mind of a young American. Supposing a pupil in California were asked
+to describe an orange to an Esquimau. He might say that it is a
+spheroid about the size of an apple, and the color of one of
+Lorraine's sunsets. This would be absolutely worthless to a child of
+the frigid zone. Had he been told that an orange was about the size of
+a snowball, much the color of the flame of a candle, that the peeling
+came off like the skin from a seal, and that the inside was good to
+eat, he would have known more of this fruit. The images which lie in
+our minds and from which we construct new pictures are much like the
+blocks that a child-builder rearranges in many different forms; but
+the blocks do not change. From them he may build a castle or a mill;
+yet the only difference is a difference in arrangement. So it is with
+the pictures we build up in imagination: our castle in Spain we have
+never seen, but the individual elements which we associate to lift up
+this happy dwelling-place are the things we know and have seen. A
+reader creates nothing new; all he does is to rearrange in his own
+mind the images already familiar. Only so may he pass from the known
+to the unknown.
+
+The fact that we construct pictures of what we read from those images
+already in our minds warns the writer against using materials which
+those for whom he writes could not understand. It compels him to
+select definite images, and it urges him to use the common and the
+concrete. It frequently drives him to use comparisons.
+
+  Use of Comparisons.
+
+To represent the extremely bare and unornamented appearance of a
+building, one might write, "It looked like a great barn," or "It was a
+great barn." In either case the image would be definite, common, and
+concrete. In both cases there is a comparison. In the first, where the
+comparison is expressed, there is a _simile;_ in the second, where the
+comparison is only implied, there is a _metaphor._ These two figures
+of speech are very common in description, and it is because they are
+of great value. One other is sometimes used,--_personification,_ which
+ascribes to inanimate things the attributes of life which are the
+property of animate nature. What could be happier than this by
+Stevenson: "All night long he can hear Nature breathing deeply and
+freely; even as she takes her rest she turns and smiles"? or this, "A
+faint sound, more like a moving coolness than a stream of air"? And at
+the end of the chapter which describes his "night under the pines," he
+speaks of the "tapestries" and "the inimitable ceiling" and "the view
+which I command from the windows." In this one chapter are
+personification, simile, metaphor,--all comparisons, and doing what
+could hardly be done without them. Common, distinct, concrete images
+are surest.
+
+  Choice of Words. Adjectives and Nouns.
+
+To body forth these common, distinct, concrete images calls for a
+discriminating choice of words; for in the choice of words lies a
+large part of the vividness of description. If the thing described be
+unknown to the reader, it requires the right word to place it before
+him; if it be common, still must the right word be found to set it
+apart from the thousand other objects of the same class. The words
+that may justly be called describing words are adjectives and nouns;
+and of these the adjective is the first descriptive word. The rule
+that a writer should never use two adjectives where one will do, and
+that he should not use one if a noun can be found that completely
+expresses the thought, is a good one to follow. One certain stroke of
+the crayon is worth a hundred lines, each approaching the right one.
+One word, the only one, will tell the truth more vividly than ten that
+approach its expression. For it must be remembered that a description
+must be done quickly; every word that is used and does nothing is not
+only a waste of time, but is actually in the way. In a description
+every word must count. It may be a comparison, an epithet,
+personification, or what not, but whatever method is adopted, the
+right word must do it quickly.
+
+How much depends on the nice choice of words may be seen by a study of
+the selections already quoted; and especially by a careful reading of
+those by Stevenson and Everett. To show the use of adjectives and
+nouns in description, the following from Kipling is a good
+illustration. Toomai had just reached the elephants' "ball-room" when
+he saw--
+
+     "white-tusked wild males, with fallen leaves and nuts and
+     twigs lying in the wrinkles of their necks and the folds of
+     their ears; fat, slow-footed she-elephants, with restless
+     pinky-black calves only three or four feet high, running
+     under their stomachs; young elephants with their tusks just
+     beginning to show, and very proud of them; lanky, scraggy,
+     old-maid elephants, with their hollow, anxious faces, and
+     trunks like rough bark; savage old bull-elephants, scarred
+     from shoulder to flank with great weals and cuts of by-gone
+     fights, and the caked dirt of their solitary mud bath
+     dropping from their shoulders; and there was one with a
+     broken tusk and the marks of the full-stroke, the terrible
+     drawing scrape of a tiger's claw on his side."[13]
+
+One third of the words in this paragraph are descriptive nouns and
+adjectives, none of which the reader wishes to change.
+
+  Use of Verbs.
+
+Verbs also have a great value in description. In the paragraph
+picturing the dawn, Stevenson has not neglected the verbs. "Welled,"
+"whitened," "trembled," "brightened," "warmed," "kindled," and so on
+through the paragraph. Try to change them, and it is apparent that
+something is lost by any substitution. Kaa, the python, "_pours_
+himself along the ground." If he is angry, "Baloo and Bagheera could
+see the big swallowing-muscles on either side of Kaa's throat _ripple_
+and _bulge._"
+
+Yet in the choice of words, one may search for the bizarre and unusual
+rather than for the truly picturesque. Stevenson at times seems to
+have lapsed. When he says that Modestine would feel a switch "more
+_tenderly_ than my cane;" that he "must _instantly_ maltreat this
+uncomplaining animal," meaning constantly; and at another place that
+he "had to labor so _consistently_ with" his stick that the sweat ran
+into his eyes, there is a suspicion of a desire for the sensational
+rather than the direct truth. On the other hand, the beginner finds
+himself using words that have lost, their meaning through
+indiscriminate usage. "Awful good," "awful pretty," and "awful sweet"
+mean something less than good, pretty, and sweet. "Lovely," "dear,"
+"splendid," "unique," and a large number of good words have been much
+dulled by the ignorant use of babblers. Superlatives and all words
+denoting comparison should be used with stinginess. One cannot afford
+to part with this kind of coin frequently; the cheaper coins should be
+used, else he will find an empty purse when need arises. Thackeray has
+this: "Her voice was the sweetest, low song." How much better this,
+Her voice was a sweet, low song. All the world is shut out from this,
+while in the former he challenges the world by the comparison.
+Shakespeare was wiser when he made Lear say,--
+
+                     "Her voice was ever soft,
+     Gentle, and low,--an excellent thing in woman."
+
+Avoid words which have lost their meaning by indiscriminate use; shun
+the sensational and the bizarre; use superlatives with economy; but in
+all you do, whether in unadorned or figurative language, choose the
+word that is quick and sure and vivid--the one word that exactly
+suggests the picture.
+
+
+                  SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES
+
+
+                              QUESTIONS.
+
+                            THE OLD MANSE.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 69.)
+
+Are there narrative portions in "The Old Manse"? paragraphs of
+exposition?
+
+Do you term the whole narration, description, or exposition? Why?
+
+Frame a sentence which you think would be an adequate topic sentence
+for the whole piece.
+
+What phrase in the first paragraph allows the author to begin the
+second with the words, "Nor, in truth, had the Old Manse," etc.? Where
+in the second paragraph is found the words which are the source of "my
+design," mentioned in the third? How does the author pass from the
+fourth paragraph to the fifth? In the same way note the connections
+between the succeeding paragraphs. They are most skillfully dovetailed
+together. Now make a list of the phrases in the first fifteen pages
+which introduce paragraphs, telling from what in the preceding
+paragraph each new paragraph springs. Do you think that such a
+felicitous result just happened? or did Hawthorne plan it?
+
+Does Hawthorne generally introduce his descriptions by giving the
+feeling aroused by the object described, a method very common with
+Poe?
+
+In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of p. 18, what do you think
+of the selection of material? What have guided in the inclusion and
+exclusion of details?
+
+Write a paragraph upon this topic: There could not be a more joyous
+aspect of external nature than as seen from the windows of my study
+just after the passing of a cooling shower. Be careful to select
+things that have been made happy, and to use adjectives and nouns that
+are full of joy.
+
+Make a list of the words used to describe "The Old Apple Dealer."
+
+Has this description Unity?
+
+What relation to the whole has the first sentence of paragraph three?
+the last?
+
+Do you think there is a grammatical error in the third sentence of
+this paragraph?
+
+By contrasts to what has Hawthorne brought out better the character of
+the Apple Dealer? When can contrasts help?
+
+
+              AN INDIAN-SUMMER REVERIE, AND OTHER POEMS.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 30.)
+
+In this poem what purpose is served by the first two stanzas?
+
+Where in the landscape does the author begin? Which way does he
+progress?
+
+Quote stanzas in which other senses than sight are called upon.
+
+Make a list of the figures of speech. How many similes? metaphors?
+examples of personification? Which seems most effective? Which
+instance of its use do you prefer? Has Lowell used too many figures?
+
+Read "The Oak," "The Dandelion," and "Al Fresco."
+
+Are they description or exposition? Do they bear out Lowell's estimate
+of himself?
+
+
+                           THE SKETCH-BOOK.
+             (Riverside Literature Series, Nos. 51, 52.)
+
+Why has Irving given four pages to the description of Sleepy Hollow
+before he introduces Ichabod Crane?
+
+Why, then, seven pages to Ichabod before the story begins?
+
+What gives the peculiar interest to this tale?
+
+In the "Legend of Sleepy Hollow" how many paragraphs of description
+close with an important detail?
+
+In how many with a general characterization?
+
+In all the descriptions of buildings by Irving that you have read,
+what are the first things mentioned,--size, shape, color, or what?
+Make a list, so as to be sure.
+
+Does Irving use many comparisons? Are the likenesses to common things?
+Select the ten you think best. Are there more in narrative or
+descriptive passages? What do you gather from this fact?
+
+In "Christmas Day," on p. 51 (R. L. S., No. 52), does Irving proceed
+from far to near in the landscape? Is this common? Find another
+example.
+
+How has Irving emphasized the littleness of the minister described on
+p. 56 (R. L. S., No. 52)?
+
+
+                   THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 119.)
+
+Is the arrangement of the details in the last two lines of the first
+paragraph stronger than the arrangement of the same details on p. 63?
+Why, or why not?
+
+In the description of the hall, pp. 67 and 68, do the details produce
+the effect upon you which they did upon Poe?
+
+Find a description in this piece which closes with an important
+detail.
+
+Is Usher described at all when Poe says, "I gazed upon him with a
+feeling half of pity, half of awe"? Do the details enumerated arouse
+such feelings in you? Would the feeling have been called forth if it
+had not been suggested by Poe? Is there, then, any advantage in this
+method of opening a description?
+
+What good was done by describing Usher as Poe knew him in youth?
+
+Why is the parenthetical clause on p. 72 necessary?
+
+On p. 80, should Poe write "previously to its final interment"?
+
+What do you think of the length of the sentence quoted on p. 85?
+
+Does Poe use description to accent the mood of the narrative, or to
+make concrete the places and persons?
+
+Why is "The Haunted Palace" introduced into the story?
+
+Is this story as good as "The Gold-Bug"?
+
+
+                            SILAS MARNER.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 83.)
+
+Why is not the early history of Silas Marner related first in the
+story?
+
+By what steps has the author approached the definite time?
+
+From the fragments about his appearance, do you get a clear idea of
+how Marner looks?
+
+Do you approve this method of scattering the description along through
+the story? Write a description of Marner on the night he was going to
+the tavern.
+
+Could not the quarrel between Godfrey and Dunsey been omitted?
+
+Describe the interior of Marner's cottage.
+
+Why should Sally Oates and her dropsy be admitted to the story?
+
+Do you know as well how George Eliot's characters look as how they
+think and feel?
+
+What do you think of the last sentence of Chapter IV.? Why does not
+Chapter V. go on with Dunsey's story? Why is Chapter VI. introduced at
+all? What of its close?
+
+What figure in the last sentence of Chapter X.?
+
+Would you prefer to know how tall Eppie was, what kind of clothes she
+wore, etc., to the knowledge you gain of her on p. 178?
+
+Suppose that Dunsey came home the night he staked Wildfire, recite the
+conversation between him and Godfrey.
+
+Have Dolly Winthrop, Priscilla Lammeter, and Mr. Macey talk over "The
+New Minister."
+
+Write on "What I see in George Eliot's Face."
+
+
+                        THE DESERTED VILLAGE.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 68.)
+
+Is this piece description or exposition?
+
+In the first stanza where is the topic sentence?
+
+The author has made two groups of charms. Would it be as well to
+change them about? Give your reasons.
+
+Where has he used the ear instead of the eye to suggest his picture?
+Is it clear?
+
+What method is adopted in lines 125-128? See also lines 237-250.
+
+Can you unite the paragraphs on p. 25? Why do you think so?
+
+Could you suggest a new arrangement of details in lines 341-362 that
+would be as good as the present? What are the last four lines for?
+
+
+                              EXERCISES.
+
+Enumerative Description may well employ a few lessons. In it accuracy
+of detail must be studied, and every detail must be introduced.
+
+1. The Teacher's Desk.
+
+2. Write a letter to a carpenter giving details for the construction
+of a small bookcase.
+
+3. By telling how you made it, describe a camp, a kite, a dress, or a
+cake. Narration may be employed for the purpose of description. A good
+example may be found in "Robinson Crusoe" in the chapter describing
+his home after the shipwreck.
+
+4. Describe an unfurnished room. Shape, size, position, and number of
+windows, the fireplace, etc., should be definite. Be sure to give the
+point of view. To say "On my right hand," "In front of me," or any
+similar phrases means nothing unless the reader knows where you are.
+
+In these exercises the pupil will doubtless employ the paragraph of
+particulars. This is the most common in description. Other forms are
+valuable.
+
+5. Using a paragraph telling what it was not, finish this: I followed
+the great singer to her home. Imagine my surprise in finding that the
+house in which this lady lived was not a home of luxury and
+splendor,--not even a home of comfort. Go on with the details of a
+home of luxury which were _not_ there. Finish with what you did see.
+This is really a description of two houses set in artistic contrast to
+heighten the effect. Remember you are outside.
+
+6. By the use of comparison finish this: The home of my poor little
+friend was but little better than a barn. Choose only such details as
+emphasize the barn-like appearance of the home. There is but one room.
+Remember where you are standing; and keep in mind the effect you wish
+to produce.
+
+7. Using a moving point of view, describe an interior. Do not have too
+many rooms.
+
+8. Furnish the room described in number four to suit your taste. Tell
+how it looks. Remember that a few things give character to a room.
+
+9. Describe your childhood's home as it would look to you after years
+of absence.
+
+10. Using a paragraph of the obverse, describe the appearance of the
+house from which you were driven by the cruelty of a drunken father.
+
+11. Describe a single tree standing alone in a field. It will be well
+for the teacher to read to the class some descriptions of
+trees,--Lowell's "Birch" and "Oak," "Under the Willows," and some
+stanzas from "An Indian Summer Reverie." Holmes has some good
+paragraphs on trees in "The Autocrat." Any good tree descriptions will
+help pupils to do it better than they can without suggestion. They
+should describe their own tree, however.
+
+12. Describe some single flower growing wild. Read Lowell's
+"Dandelion," "Violet, Sweet Violet," Wordsworth's "Daisy," "The
+Daffodils," "The Small Celandine," and Burns's "Daisy." These do not
+so much describe as they arouse a feeling of love for the flowers
+which will show itself in the composition.
+
+13. Describe a view of a lake. If possible, have your point of view
+above the lake and use the paragraph of comparison.
+
+14. Describe a landscape from a single point of view. Read Curtis's
+"My Castles in Spain" from "Prue and I," many descriptions in "An
+Inland Voyage" by Stevenson, and "Bay Street" by Bliss Carman in "The
+Atlantic Monthly."
+
+15. Describe your first view of a small cluster of houses or a small
+town.
+
+16. Approach the town, describing its principal features. Keep the
+reader informed as to where you are.
+
+17. Describe a dog of your own.
+
+18. Describe a dog of your neighbor's. Before the description is
+undertaken read "Our Dogs" and "Rab" by Dr. Brown; "A Dog of Flanders"
+by Ouida. Scott has some noble fellows in his novels.
+
+19. Describe a flock of chickens. There are good descriptions of
+chickens in "The House of the Seven Gables" and in "Sketches" by
+Dickens.
+
+20. Describe the burning of your own home. Be careful not to narrate.
+
+21. Describe a stranger you met on the street to-day. It is easier to
+describe a person if you and the person you describe move toward each
+other. Remember that you begin the description at a distance. Details
+should be mentioned as they actually come into view.
+
+22. Describe your father in his favorite corner at home.
+
+23. Describe a person you do not like, by telling what he is not.
+
+24. Describe a person you admire, but are not acquainted with, using
+the paragraph of comparisons.
+
+25. Describe a picture.
+
+It would be well to have at the end of this year four or five stories
+written, in which description plays a part. Its principal use is to
+give the setting to the story, to give concreteness to the characters,
+and to accent the mood of the story.
+
+Most passages of description are short. Rarely will any pupil write
+over three hundred words. One hundred are often better. The short
+composition gives an opportunity for the study of accuracy of
+expression. What details to include; in what order to arrange them
+that they produce the best effect, both of vividness and naturalness;
+and the influence of the point of view and the purpose of the author
+on the unity of description should be kept constantly present in the
+exercises. Careful attention should be paid to choice of words, for on
+right words depends in a large degree the vividness of a description.
+Right words in well-massed paragraphs of vivid description should be
+the object this term.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER V
+
+                              EXPOSITION
+
+
+So far we have studied discourse which deals with things,--things
+active, doing something, considered under the head of narration; and
+things at rest, and pictured, considered in description. Now we come
+to exposition, which deals with ideas either separately or in
+combinations. Instead of Mr. Smith's horse, exposition treats of the
+general term, horse. "The Great Stone Face" may have taught a lesson
+by its story, but the discussion of the value of lofty ideals is a
+subject for exposition.
+
+  General Terms Difficult.
+
+That general terms and propositions are harder to get hold of than
+concrete facts is readily apparent in the first reading of an author
+like Emerson. To a young person it means little. Yet when he puts in
+the place of the general terms some specific examples, and so verifies
+the statements, the general propositions have a mine of meaning, and
+"the sense of the author is as broad as the world." This stanza from
+Lowell is but little suggestive to young readers:--
+
+     "Such earnest natures are the fiery pith,
+       The compact nucleus, round which systems grow!
+     Mass after mass becomes inspired therewith,
+       And whirls impregnate with the central glow."[14]
+
+Yet when Columbus and Luther and Garrison are mentioned as
+illustrations of the meaning, it becomes world-wide in its
+application. Still in order to get at the thought, there is first the
+need of the specific and the concrete; afterward we pass to the
+general and the abstract.
+
+As abstract ideas are harder to get hold of than concrete facts, so
+exposition has difficulties greater than those found in narration and
+description. It is not so hard to tell what belongs in a story; the
+events are all distinct. Nor is it so difficult to know what to
+include in a description; one can look and see. In exposition this is
+not so. In most minds ideas do not have distinct limits; the edges
+rather are indistinct. It is hard to tell where the idea stops. In
+writing of "The Uses of Coal," it is easy to wander over an indistinct
+boundary and to take a survey of "The Origin of Coal." Not only may
+one include what unquestionably should be excluded, but there is no
+definite guide to the arrangement of the materials, such as was found
+in narration. There a sequence of time was an almost infallible rule;
+here the writer must search carefully how to arrange hazy ideas in
+some effective form. As discourse comes to deal more with general
+ideas, the difficulties of writing increase; and the difficulties are
+not due to any new principles of structure which must be introduced.
+When one says that the material should be selected according to the
+familiar law of Unity, he has given the guiding principle. Yet the
+real difficulty is still before an author: it is to decide what stamp
+to put upon such elusive matter as ideas. They cannot be kept long
+enough in the twilight of consciousness to analyze them; and often
+ideas that have been marked "accepted" have, upon reexamination, to be
+"rejected." To examine ideas--the material used in this form of
+discourse--so thoroughly that they may be accurately, definitely known
+in their backward relation and their bearing upon what follows, this
+is the seat of the difficulty in exposition.
+
+Exposition may conveniently be classified into exposition of a term,
+or definition; and exposition of a proposition, which is generally
+suggested by the term exposition.
+
+  Definition.
+
+Definition of a word means giving its limits or boundaries. Of man it
+might be said that it is a living animal, having a strong bony
+skeleton; that this skeleton consists of a trunk from which extend
+four limbs, called arms and legs, and is surmounted by a bony cavity,
+called a skull; that the skeleton protects the vital organs, and is
+itself covered by a muscular tissue which moves the bones and gives a
+rounded beauty to their ugliness; that man has a highly developed
+nervous system, the centre of which is the brain placed in the skull.
+So a person might go on for pages, enumerating the attributes which,
+taken together, make up the general idea of man.
+
+  Exposition and Description distinguished.
+
+This sort of exposition is very near description; indeed, were the
+purpose different, it would be description. The purpose, however, is
+not to tell how an individual looks, but to place the object in a
+class. It is therefore not description, but exposition. Moreover, the
+method is different. In description those characteristics are given
+that distinguish the object from the rest of the class; while in
+exposition those qualities are selected which are common to all
+objects of its class.
+
+  Logical Definition.
+
+On account of the length of the definition by an enumeration of all
+the attributes, it is not frequently used except in long treatises.
+For it there has been substituted what is called a _logical
+definition._ Instead of naming all the characteristics of an object, a
+logical definition groups many attributes under one general term, and
+then adds a quality which distinguishes the object from the others of
+the general class. Man has been defined as the "reasoning animal." In
+this definition a large number of attributes have been gathered
+together in the general term "animal;" then man is separated from the
+whole class "animal" by the word "reasoning." A logical definition
+consists, then, of two parts: the general term naming the genus, and
+the limiting term naming the distinguishing attribute called the
+differentia.
+
+  Genus and Differentia.
+
+Genus and differentia are found in every good definition. The _genus_
+should be a term more general than the term defined. "Man is a person
+who reasons" is a poor definition; because "person" is no more general
+than "man." "A canine is a dog that is wild" is very bad, because
+"dog," the general term in the definition, is less general than the
+word defined. However, to say that "a dog is a canine that has been
+domesticated," is a definition in which the genus is more general than
+the term defined.
+
+Next, the genus should be a term well understood. "Man is a mammal who
+reasons" is all right, in having a genus more general than the term
+defined, but the definition fails with many because "mammal" is not
+well understood. "Botany is that branch of biology which treats of
+plant life" has in it the same error. "Biology" is not so well
+understood as "botany," though it is a more general term. In cases of
+this sort, the writer should go farther toward the more general until
+he finds a term perfectly clear to all. "Man is an animal that
+reasons," "botany is the branch of science that treats of plant life,"
+would both be easily understood. The genus should be a term better
+understood than the term defined; and it should be a term more general
+than the term defined.
+
+A definition may be faulty in its _differentia_ also. The differentia
+is that part of a definition which names the difference between the
+term defined and the general class to which it belongs. "Man is a
+reasoning animal." "Animal" names the general class, and "reasoning"
+is the differentia which separates "man" from other "animals." On the
+selection of this limiting word depends the accuracy of the
+definition. "Man is an animal that walks," or "that has hands," or
+"that talks," are all faulty; because bears walk, monkeys have hands,
+and parrots talk. Supposing the following definitions were given: "A
+cat is an animal that catches rats and mice;" "A rose is a flower that
+bears thorns;" "Gold is a metal that is heavy;" all would be faulty
+because the differentia in each is faulty. Notice, too, the
+definitions of "dog" and "canine" already given. Even "man is a
+reasoning animal" may fail; since many men declare that other animals
+reason. The differentia should include all the members that the term
+denotes, and it should exclude all that it does not denote.
+
+  Requisites of a good Definition.
+
+The requisites of a good definition are: first, that it shall include
+or denote all the members of the class; second, that it shall exclude
+everything which does not belong to its class; third, that the words
+used in the definition shall be better understood than the word
+defined; fourth, that it shall be brief.
+
+A definition may perfectly expound a term; and because of the very
+qualities that make it a good definition, accuracy and brevity, it may
+be almost valueless to the ordinary reader. For instance, this
+definition, "An acid is a substance, usually sour and sharp to the
+taste, that changes vegetable blue colors to red, and, combining with
+an earth, an alkali, or a metallic oxide, forms a salt," would not
+generally be understood. So it frequently becomes necessary to do more
+than give a definition in order to explain the meaning of a term. This
+brings us to the study of exposition, as it is generally understood,
+in which all the resources of language are called into service to
+explain a term or a proposition.
+
+  How do Men explain? First, by Repetition.
+
+What, then, are the methods of explaining a proposition? First, _a
+proposition may be explained by the repetition of the thought in some
+other form._ To be effective, repetition must add something to what
+has been said; the words used may be more specific or they may be more
+general. For example, "A strong partisan may not be a good citizen.
+The stanchest Republican may by reason of a blind adherence to party
+be working an injury to the country he loves. Indeed, one can easily
+conceive a body of men so devoted to a theory, beautiful though it may
+be in many respects, that they stand in the way of the world's
+progress." The second sentence repeats the thought of the first in
+more specific terms; the third repeats it in more general terms. The
+specific may be explained by the general; more often the general is
+cleared up by the specific. In either case, the proposition must be
+brought one step nearer to the reader by the restatement, or the
+repetition is not good.
+
+Speaking of written or printed words, Barrett Wendell writes:--
+
+     "In themselves, these black marks are nothing but black
+     marks more or less regular in appearance. Modern English
+     type and script are rather simple to the eye. Old English
+     and German are less so; less so still, Hebrew and Chinese.
+     But all alphabets present to the eye pretty obvious traces
+     of regularity; in a written or printed page the same mark
+     will occur over and over again. This is positively all we
+     see,--a number of marks grouped together and occasionally
+     repeated. A glance at a mummy-case, an old-fashioned
+     tea-chest, a Hebrew Bible, will show us all that any eye can
+     ever see in a written or printed document. The outward and
+     visible body of style consists of a limited number of marks
+     which, for all any reader is apt to know, are purely
+     arbitrary." ("English Composition.")
+
+In this paragraph every sentence is a repetition of some part of the
+opening or topic sentence, and serves to explain it.
+
+  Second, by telling the obverse.
+
+Second, _a proposition may be explained by telling what it is not._ At
+times this is as valuable as telling what it is. Care should be taken
+that the thing excluded or denied have some likeness to the
+proposition or term being explained; that the two be really in some
+danger of being confused. Unless to a hopelessly ignorant person, it
+would not explain anything to say "a horse is not a man;" but to
+assert that "a whale is not a fish, though they have many points in
+common," would prepare the way for an explanation of what a whale is.
+The obverse statement is nearly always followed by a repetition of
+what the thing is.
+
+The following from Newman illustrates the method:
+
+     "Now what is Theology? First, I will tell you what it is
+     not. And here, in the first place (though of course I speak
+     on the subject as a Catholic), observe that, strictly
+     speaking, I am not assuming that Catholicism is true, while
+     I make myself the champion of Theology. Catholicism has not
+     formally entered into my argument hitherto, nor shall I just
+     now assume any principle peculiar to it, for reasons which
+     will appear in the sequel, though of course I shall use
+     Catholic language. Neither, secondly, will I fall into the
+     fashion of the day, of identifying Natural Theology with
+     Physical Theology; which said Physical Theology is a most
+     jejune study, considered as a science, and really no science
+     at all, for it is ordinarily no more than a series of pious
+     or polemical remarks upon the physical world viewed
+     religiously, whereas the word 'Natural' comprehends man and
+     society, and all that is involved therein, as the great
+     Protestant writer, Dr. Butler, shows us. Nor, in the third
+     place, do I mean by Theology polemics of any kind; for
+     instance, what are called 'Evidences of Religion,' or 'the
+     Christian Evidences.'... Nor, fourthly, do I mean by
+     Theology that vague thing called 'Christianity,' or 'our
+     common Christianity,' or 'Christianity the law of the land,'
+     if there is any man alive who can tell what it is....
+     Lastly, I do not understand by Theology, acquaintance with
+     the Scriptures; for, though no person of religious feeling
+     can read Scripture but he will find those feelings roused,
+     and gain much knowledge of history into the bargain, yet
+     historical reading and religious feeling are not a science.
+     I mean none of these things by Theology. I simply mean the
+     Science of God, or the truths we know about God put into a
+     system; just as we have a science of the stars, and call it
+     astronomy, or of the crust of the earth, and call it
+     geology."[15]
+
+  Third, by Details.
+
+Third, _a common way of explaining a proposition is to go into
+particulars about it._ Enough particulars should be given to furnish a
+reasonable explanation of the proposition. Macaulay, writing of the
+"muster-rolls of names" which Milton uses, goes into details. He
+says:--
+
+     "They are charmed names. Every one of them is the first link
+     in a long chain of associated ideas. Like the dwelling place
+     of our infancy revisited in manhood, like the song of our
+     country heard in a strange land, they produce upon us an
+     effect wholly independent of their intrinsic value. One
+     transports us back to a remote period of history. Another
+     places us among the novel scenes and manners of a distant
+     region. A third evokes all the dear classical recollections
+     of childhood,--the schoolroom, the dog-eared Virgil, the
+     holiday, and the prize. A fourth brings before us the
+     splendid phantoms of chivalrous romance, the trophied lists,
+     the embroidered housings, the quaint devices, the haunted
+     forests, the enchanted gardens, the achievements of
+     enamoured knights, and the smiles of rescued
+     princesses."[16]
+
+  Fourth, by Illustrations.
+
+Fourth, _a proposition may be explained by the use of a single example
+or illustration._ The value of this method depends on the choice of
+the example. It must in no essential way differ from the general case
+it is intended to illustrate. Supposing this proposition were advanced
+by some woman-hater: "All women are, by nature, liars," and it should
+be followed by this sentence, "For example, take this lady of
+fashion." Such an illustration is worthless. The individual chosen
+does not fairly represent the class. If, on the other hand, a teacher
+in physics should announce that "all bodies fall at the same rate in a
+vacuum," and should illustrate by saying, "If I place a bullet and a
+feather in a tube from which the air has been exhausted, they will be
+found to fall equally fast," his example would be a fair one, as the
+two objects differ in no manner essential to the experiment from "all
+bodies."
+
+Here should be included anecdotes used as illustrations. They are of
+value if they are of the same type as the general class they are
+intended to explain. They may be of little value, however. It could
+safely be said that half the stories told in campaign speeches are not
+instances in point at all, but are told only to amuse and deceive.
+Specific instances must be chosen with care if they are to serve a
+useful purpose in exposition.
+
+This example is from Newman:--
+
+     "To know is one thing, to do is another; the two things are
+     altogether distinct. A man knows that he should get up in
+     the morning,--he lies abed; he knows that he should not lose
+     his temper, yet he cannot keep it. A laboring man knows that
+     he should not go to the ale-house, and his wife knows that
+     she should not filch when she goes out charing, but,
+     nevertheless, in these cases, the consciousness of a duty is
+     not all one with the performance of it. There are, then,
+     large families of instances, to say the least, in which men
+     may become wiser, without becoming better."[17]
+
+  Fifth, by Comparisons.
+
+Last, _a thing may be explained by telling what it is like, or what it
+is not like._ This method of comparison is very frequently employed.
+To liken a thing to something already known is a vivid way of
+explaining. Moreover in many cases it is easier than the method of
+repetition or that of details. By this method Macaulay explains his
+proposition that "it is the character of such revolutions that we
+always see the worst of them first." He says:--
+
+     "A newly liberated people may be compared to a northern army
+     encamped on the Rhine or the Xeres. It is said that when
+     soldiers in such a situation first find themselves able to
+     indulge without restraint in such a rare and expensive
+     luxury, nothing is to be seen but intoxication. Soon,
+     however, plenty teaches discretion, and, after wine has been
+     for a few months their daily fare, they become more
+     temperate than they had ever been in their own country. In
+     the same manner, the final and permanent fruits of liberty
+     are wisdom, moderation, and mercy. Its immediate effects are
+     often atrocious crimes, conflicting errors, skepticism on
+     points the most clear, dogmatism on points the most
+     mysterious."[18]
+
+The comparison may be a simile or a metaphor, as when Huxley writes,
+explaining "the physical basis of life:"--
+
+     "Protoplasm, simple or nucleated, is the formal basis of all
+     life. It is the clay of the potter: which, bake it and paint
+     it as he will, remains clay, separated by artifice, and not
+     by nature, from the commonest brick or sun-dried clod."[19]
+
+These, then, are the methods commonly adopted for explaining terms and
+propositions. First, by the use of definitions; second, by repeating
+the proposition either directly or obversely, adding something to the
+thought by each repetition; third, by enumerating particulars which
+form the ground for the statement; fourth, by selecting an instance
+which fairly illustrates the proposition; fifth, by the use of
+comparisons and analogies.
+
+  The Subject.
+
+Some general considerations regarding the choice of a subject have
+been given. A subject should lend itself to the form of discourse
+employed; next, it should be a subject interesting to the readers; and
+third, it should be interesting to the writer and suited to his
+ability. The last condition makes it advisable to limit the subject to
+a narrow field. Few persons have the ability to view a general subject
+in all its relations. "Books" everybody knows something of; yet very
+few are able to treat this general subject in all its ramifications. A
+person writing of the general topic "books" would not only be
+compelled to know what a book is, what may truly be called a book, and
+what is the value of books to readers, and therefore the influence of
+the different kinds of literature; he would also be driven to study
+the machinery for making books, the history of printing, illustrating,
+and binding books, and all the mechanical processes connected with the
+manufacture of books. The subject might take quite another turn, and
+be the development of fiction or drama; it might be a discussion of
+the influences, political or social, that have moulded literature; it
+might be a study of character as manifested in an author's works. No
+one is well fitted to write on the general topic "books." A subject
+should be limited.
+
+  The Subject should allow Concrete Treatment.
+
+For young persons _the subject should be so selected and stated that
+the treatment may be concrete._ As persons advance they make more
+generalizations; few, however, go so far as to think in general terms.
+Macaulay says, "Logicians may reason about abstractions, but the great
+mass of men must have images." That author depended largely for his
+glittering effects upon the use of common, concrete things which the
+masses understand. The subject should be such that it can be treated
+concretely. "Love," as a general proposition, is beautiful; but what
+more can a young writer say about it? Let him leave the whole horde of
+abstract subjects found in old rhetorics alone. They are subjects for
+experience; they cannot be handled by youth.
+
+  The Theme.
+
+After the subject has been chosen, the writer next considers how he
+shall treat it. He selects the attitude he will assume toward the
+proposition, his point of view; and this position he embodies in a
+short sentence, called his _theme._ For instance, "patriotism" is the
+subject; as it stands it is abstract and very general. However, this,
+"Can a partisan be a patriot?" would be sufficiently concrete to be
+treated. Even yet there is no indication of the author's point of
+view. Should he write, "A real partisan is no patriot," his theme is
+announced, and his point of view known.
+
+A _theme,_ either explicit or implicit, _is essential in exposition._
+It is not necessary that it shall be stated to the reader, but it must
+be clearly stated by the writer for his own guidance. It is, however,
+usually announced at the opening of the essay. Whether announced or
+not, it is most essential to the success of the essay. It is the
+touchstone by which the author tries all the material which he has
+collected. Not everything on the subject of patriotism should be
+admitted to an essay that has for its theme, "A real partisan cannot
+be a true patriot." It would save many a digression if the theme were
+always written in bold, black letters, and placed before the author as
+he writes. Every word in a theme should be there for a purpose,
+expressing some important modification of the thought. For instance,
+the statement above regarding a partisan may be too sweeping; perhaps
+the essayist would prefer to discuss the modified statement that "a
+blind partisan cannot always be a true patriot." The theme should
+state exactly what will be treated in the essay. The statement of it
+should employ the hardest kind of thinking; and when the theme is
+determined definitely and for all, the essay is safe from the
+intrusion of foreign ideas which disturb the harmony of the whole.
+
+Another advantage in the theme is that, when once chosen, it will go
+far toward writing the essay. One great trouble with the young writer
+is that he is not willing to rely on his theme to suggest his
+composition. Mr. Palmer well says:--
+
+     "He examines his pen point, the curtains, his inkstand, to
+     see if perhaps ideas may not be had from these. He wonders
+     what the teacher will wish him to say, and he tries to
+     recall how the passage sounded in the Third Reader. In every
+     direction but one he turns, and that is the direction where
+     lies the prime mover of his toil, his subject. Of that he is
+     afraid. Now, what I want to make evident is that his subject
+     is not in reality the foe, but the friend. It is his only
+     helper. His composition is not to be, as he seems to
+     suppose, a mass of laborious inventions, but it is made up
+     exclusively of what the subject dictates. He has only to
+     attend. At present he stands in his own way, making such a
+     din with his private anxieties that he cannot hear the rich
+     suggestions of his subject. He is bothered with considering
+     how he feels, or what he or somebody else will like to see
+     on his paper. This is debilitating business. He must lean on
+     his subject, if he would have his writing strong, and busy
+     himself with what it says, rather than with what he would
+     say."[20]
+
+  The Title.
+
+Having selected a subject, and with care stated the theme, it yet
+remains to give the essay a name. There is something in a name, and
+those authors who make a living by the pen are the shrewdest in
+displaying their wares under the most attractive titles. _The title
+should be attractive,_ but it should not promise what the essay does
+not give. Newspaper headlines are usually attractive enough, but
+shamefully untruthful. Next, the title should _indicate the scope of
+the essay._ When Mr. Palmer calls his little book "Self-Cultivation in
+English," it is evident that it is not a text-book, and that it will
+not treat English as literature or as a science. Then, the title
+should be _short._ The theme can rarely be used as a title; it is too
+long. But the paramount idea developed in the essay should be embodied
+in the title. "Partisanship and Patriotism" would be a good subject to
+give the essay we have spoken of. The title, then, should be
+attractive; it should be short; and it should truthfully indicate the
+contents of the essay.
+
+  Selection of Material.
+
+One of the important factors in the construction of an essay is the
+selection of material. Though theme and title have already been
+discussed, it was not because they are the things for a writer to
+consider next after he has chosen his subject, but because they are so
+intimately bound up in the subject that their consideration at that
+time was natural. Before a writer can decide upon the position he will
+assume toward a proposition, he should have looked over the field in a
+general way; for only with the facts before him is he competent to
+choose his point of view and to state his theme. The title is not in
+the least essential to the writing of the essay; it may be deferred
+until the essay is finished. It is necessary, however, that the writer
+have much knowledge of his subject, and that from this knowledge he be
+able to frame an opinion regarding the subject. When this has been
+done he is ready to begin the work of constructing his essay; and the
+first question in exposition, as in narration and description, is the
+selection of material to develop the theme he has chosen.
+
+The selection of material is a more difficult matter in exposition
+than in narration and description. It requires the shrewdest scrutiny
+to keep out matter that does not help the thought forward. In
+narration we decided by the main incident; in description by the
+purpose and the point of view; in exposition we test all material by
+its relation to the theme. Does it help to explain the theme? If not,
+however good material it may be, it has no business in the essay.
+
+Association of ideas is a law by which, when one of two related ideas
+is mentioned, the other is suggested. To illustrate, when Manila is
+mentioned, Admiral Dewey appears; when treason is spoken of, Arnold is
+in the mind. This law is of fundamental importance in arranging an
+essay; one thing should suggest the next. But valuable as it is, even
+indispensable, it may become the source of much mischief. For
+instance, a pupil has this for a topic, "Reading gives pleasure to
+many." He writes as his second sentence, "By pleasure I mean the
+opposite of pain," and goes on. "All things are understood by their
+opposites. If we did not know sickness, we could not enjoy our health.
+Joy is understood through sorrow. I remember my first sorrow. My
+father had just given me a new knife,--my first knife," and so on from
+one thing to another. And not so unnaturally either; each sentence has
+suggested the next, but not one is on the topic. The most anxious
+watch must be kept in the selection of material. Some will be admitted
+without any question; some will be excluded with a brusqueness almost
+brutal. There is a third class, however, that is allied with the
+subject, yet it is not so easy to determine whether it should be
+admitted or rejected. This class requires the closest questioning. It
+must contribute to the strength of the essay, not to its pages, or it
+has no place there.
+
+  Scale of Treatment.
+
+_There is another condition which must be considered in the selection
+of material, the scale of treatment._ If Macaulay had been asked by a
+daily paper to contribute a paragraph of five hundred words on Milton,
+he could not have introduced all the numerous topics which have their
+place in his essay of one hundred pages. He might have mentioned
+Milton's poetry and his character, the two main divisions of the
+present essay; but Dante and Aeschylus, Puritan and Royalist, would
+scarcely have received notice. The second consideration in selecting
+material is the purpose and length of the essay, and the consequent
+thoroughness with which the subject is to be treated.
+
+_The exhaustiveness with which an author treats any subject depends,
+first, on his knowledge._ Any person could write a paragraph on
+Milton; Macaulay and Lowell wrote delightful essays on the topic;
+David Masson has written volumes about him. These would have been
+impossible except to a person who had been a special student of the
+subject. Second, the thoroughness of the treatment depends _on the
+knowledge of the readers._ For persons acquainted with the record of
+the momentous events of Milton's time, it would have been quite
+unnecessary, it might be considered even an insult to intelligence, to
+go into such details of history. The shortest statement suffices when
+the reader is already familiar with the subject and needs only to know
+the application in this case. Third, the scale of treatment depends
+_on the purpose for which the essay is written._ If a newspaper
+paragraph, it is one thing; if for a magazine, it is quite another; if
+it is to be the final word on the subject, it may reach to volumes.
+
+An apt illustration of proportion in the scale of treatment has been
+given by Scott and Denny in their "Composition-Rhetoric." They suggest
+that three maps of the United States, one very large, another half the
+size of the first, and a third very small, be hung side by side. If a
+comparison be made, it will be found that, whereas a great number of
+cities are represented on the largest map, only half as many appear on
+the middle-sized map. If the smallest map be examined, only the
+largest cities, the longest rivers, the greatest lakes, and the
+highest mountains can be found; all others must be omitted. On all
+three maps the same relation of parts is maintained. In proportion to
+the whole, New York State will hold the same position in all of them.
+The Mississippi River will flow from Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico,
+and the Gulf will sweep in a curve from Texas to Florida. The scale is
+different, but the proportion does not change.
+
+This principle applies in the construction of themes. In a paragraph
+only very important topics will receive any mention. In an essay these
+important topics retain their proper place and relation, while many
+other points of subordinate rank will be introduced. If the treatment
+be lengthened to a book, a host of minor sub-topics will be
+considered, each adding something to the development of the theme, and
+each giving to its principal topic the relative importance which
+belongs to the main divisions of the essay. The scale of treatment
+will have much to do with the selection of material.
+
+Using Macaulay's "Milton" as an illustration, the analyses below will
+show how by increasing the size of the essay new subjects come into
+the field for notice. The first is but a paragraph and has the two
+main divisions of the essay. The second is an outline for an essay of
+two thousand words. In the third only one of the sub-topics is
+analyzed, as Macaulay has discussed it. It would take too much space
+to analyze minutely the whole essay.
+
+                               MILTON.
+
+A. Milton's poetry has given him his position among great men.
+B. His conduct was such as was to be expected from a man of a spirit
+   so high and of an intellect so powerful.
+
+In the following outline the same main headings are retained, and the
+sub-topics which explain them are introduced. The numbers indicate the
+paragraphs in Macaulay's essay given to each topic.
+
+                         INTRODUCTION (1-8).
+
+A. Milton's poetry has given him his position among men. (9-46.)
+     I. No poet has ever triumphed over greater difficulties than
+        Milton. (10-19.)
+    II. In his lesser works he shows his great power. (20-31.)
+   III. There is but one modern poem that can be compared with
+        "Paradise Lost;" Dante's "Divine Comedy" has great power, is
+        upon a kindred subject, but in style of treatment widely
+        different. (32-46.)
+        Transition. (47-49.)
+B. His conduct was such as was to be expected from a man of a spirit
+   so high and of an intellect so powerful. (50-90.)
+     I. He lived at one of the most memorable eras in the history of
+        mankind, and his conduct must be judged as that of the people
+        is judged. (50-78.)
+    II. There were some peculiarities which distinguished him from
+        his contemporaries. (79-90.)
+        Conclusion. (91-94.)
+
+Again, taking up but one section, B, II., the analysis is as
+follows:--
+
+II. There were some peculiarities which distinguished him from his
+   contemporaries. (79-90.)
+     A. Milton adopted the noblest qualities of every party--
+          1. Puritans. (80-84.)
+               a. They excited contempt. However
+               b. They were no vulgar fanatics; but
+               c. They derived their peculiarities from their daily
+                  contemplation of superior beings and eternal
+                  interests.
+               d. Thus the Puritan was made up of two men,--the one
+                  all self-abasement, the other all pride.
+               e. Resume of character of Puritans.
+          2. Heathens were passionate lovers of freedom. (85.)
+          3. Royalists had individual independence, learning, and
+             polite manners of the Court.
+     B. But he alone fought the battle for the freedom of the mind.
+        (88.)
+          1. This led him to discard parties; and (89)
+          2. To dare the boldest literary services. (90.)
+
+The fundamental principle guiding in the selection of material is
+unity. It decides what may with propriety be admitted to the essay,
+and it determines in part what must be left out. Another principle,
+secondary to this, is scale of treatment. If the essay is to be short,
+only essentials may be used; if long, many related sub-topics must
+take their subordinate positions in the essay.
+
+  Arrangement.
+
+Following the selection of material comes its arrangement. Here also
+there is greater difficulty than was experienced in narration or
+description. Though the same principles of Coherence and Mass guide,
+they are more difficult to apply. The seat of the difficulty is in the
+elusiveness of the material. It is hard to picture distinctly the
+value and relation of the different topics of an essay. Suppose the
+subject is "The Evils of War." The first paragraph might contain a
+general statement announcing the theme. Then these topics are to be
+discussed:--
+
+     1. The effect on the _morale_ of a nation.
+     2. The suffering of friends and relatives.
+     3. The destruction of life.
+     4. The backward step in civilization.
+     5. The destruction of property.
+
+The order could not be much worse. How shall a better be obtained?
+
+  Use Cards for Subdivisions.
+
+The most helpful suggestion regarding a method of making the material
+in some degree visible, capable of being grasped, is that each
+subdivision be placed on a separate card, and that, as the material is
+gathered, it be put upon the card containing the group to which it
+belongs. By different arrangements of these cards the writer can find
+most easily the order that is natural and effective. It is much like
+anagrams, this ordering of matter in an essay. Take these letters,
+s-l-y-w-a-r-e, and in your head try to put them together to make a
+word; you will have some trouble, probably. If, however, these same
+letters be put upon separate slips of paper, you may with some
+arrangement get out the rather common word, lawyers. It is much the
+same with topic cards in exposition; they can be moved and rearranged
+in all possible ways, and at last an order distinctly better than any
+other will be found.
+
+Speaking of cards, it might be well to say that the habit of putting
+down a fact or an idea bearing on a topic just as soon as it occurs to
+one is invaluable for a writer. All men have good memories; some
+persons have better ones than others. But there is no one who does not
+forget; and each catches himself very often saying, "I knew that, but
+I forgot it." It is a fact, not perhaps complimentary, that paper
+tablets are surer than the tablets of memory.
+
+  An Outline.
+
+In exposition, where the whole attention of the reader should be given
+to the thought, where more than ever the mind should be freed from
+every hindrance, and its whole energy directed to getting the meaning,
+the greatest care should be given to making a plan. No person who has
+attained distinction in prose has worked without a plan. Any piece of
+literature, even the most discursive, has in it something of plan; but
+in literature of the first rank the plan is easily discovered. How
+clear it is in Macaulay's essay has been seen. In Burke it is yet more
+logical and exact. However beautiful a piece may be, however naturally
+one thought grows out of another, as though it were always so and
+could be no other way, be sure it is so because of some man's thought,
+on account of careful planning. And it may be said without a chance of
+contradiction that when an essay has been well planned it is half
+done, and that half by far the harder. "We can hardly at the present
+day understand what Menander meant, when he told a man who inquired as
+to the progress of his comedy that he had finished it, not having yet
+written a single line, because he had constructed the action of it in
+his mind. A modern critic would have assured him that the merit of his
+piece depended on the brilliant things which arose under his pen as he
+went along." The brilliant things are but the gargoyles and the
+scrolls, the ornaments of the structure; and when so brilliant as to
+attract especial attention, they divert the mind from the total effect
+much as a series of beautiful marbles set between those perfect
+columns would have ruined the Parthenon. It was not in any single
+feature--not in pediment, column, or capital, not in frieze,
+architrave, or tympanum--that its glorious beauty lay, but in the
+simple strength and the harmonious symmetry of the whole, in the
+general plan. Webster planned his orations, Newman planned his essays,
+Carlyle planned his Frederick the Great. Their works are not a
+momentary inspiration; they are the result of forethought, long and
+painstaking. The absolute essential in the structure of an essay, that
+without which it will fail to arrive anywhere, that compared to which
+all ornament, all fine writing, is but sounding brass and a tinkling
+cymbal, that absolute essential is the total effect secured by making
+a plan.
+
+  Mass the End.
+
+The principles governing the arrangement of material are Mass and
+Coherence. Both are equally essential, but in practice some questions
+regarding Mass are settled first. _The important positions in an essay
+are the beginning and the end; of these the more important is the
+end._ In this place, then, there shall be those sentences or those
+paragraphs which deserve that distinction. Here frequently stands the
+theme, the conclusion of the whole matter, that for which the
+composition was constructed. So that if one wished to know the theme
+of an essay, he would be justified in looking at its conclusion to
+find it. In the essay on "Milton," it is evident from the last
+paragraph that Macaulay never intended it to be only a criticism of
+his poetry, though he has devoted many pages to this discussion. Here
+is just the last sentence: "Nor do we envy the man who can study
+either the life or the writings of the great poet and patriot without
+aspiring to emulate, not indeed the sublime works with which his
+genius has enriched our literature, but the zeal with which he labored
+for the public good, the fortitude with which he endured every private
+calamity, the lofty disdain with which he looked down on temptations
+and dangers, the deadly hatred which he bore to bigots and tyrants,
+and the faith which he so sternly kept with his country and his fame."
+Notice the last sentence of a delightful essay by George William
+Curtis; one could easily guess the contents and the title. "Fear of
+yourself, fear of your own rebuke, fear of betraying your
+consciousness of your duty and not doing it--that is the fear that
+Lovelace loved better than Lucasta; that is the fear which Francis,
+having done his duty, saved, and justly called it honor." Examples of
+the ending in which the theme of the essay stands in the place of
+greatest distinction are so plentiful that there needs no collector to
+establish the assertion.
+
+In a single paragraph of exposition not exceeding two or three hundred
+words, it is a very safe rule for a beginner always to have the theme
+in the last sentence; or if he has stated the theme in the opening, to
+have a restatement of it in different form, fuller and more explicit
+usually, sometimes a shorter and more epigrammatic form, in the
+conclusion.
+
+If the pupil should obey this little rule to have at the end something
+worthy of the position, a vast amount of time would be saved both to
+teacher and to pupil. It can be safely said that not more than one
+half the essays end when the thought ends. Instead of quitting when he
+has finished, the writer dribbles on, repeating in diluted fashion
+what he has said with some force before, and often introducing matters
+that are not within hailing distance of his theme. When one has said
+what he started out to say, it is time to stop. If he stops then, he
+will have something important in the place of distinction.
+
+  The Beginning.
+
+_The position of second importance is the beginning._ If but a
+paragraph be written, the topic is usually announced at the opening.
+In short essays this is the most frequent beginning, and it may safely
+be used at all times. Exposition is explanation; the natural thing is
+to let the reader know at once what the writer is attempting to
+explain. Then the reader knows what the author is talking about and
+can relate every statement to the general proposition. To delay the
+topic compels the reader to hold in mind all that has been said up to
+the time the real theme is uncovered; this frequently results in
+inattention. In the little book by Mr. Palmer, the first paragraph
+opens with these two sentences: "English as a study has four aims: the
+mastery of our language as a science, as a history, as a joy, and as a
+tool. I am concerned with but one, the mastery of it as a tool." So,
+too, the essay of which the last sentence has been quoted begins:
+"These are very precious words of Lovelace:--
+
+     'I could not love thee, dear, so much,
+     Loved I not honor more.'
+
+And Francis First's message to his mother after Pavia, 'All is lost
+but honor,' is in the same key."
+
+Instead of announcing the theme at the very beginning, in essays of
+some length there is sometimes an account of the occasion which led to
+the composition. Macaulay has used this opening in the essay on
+"Milton." Second, the opening may be the clearing away of matters
+unrelated in reality, but which people have commonly associated with
+the topic. And third, the essay may open with definitions of the terms
+that will be used in the discussion. Of these three, only the first
+will be much used by young persons. It makes an easy approach to the
+subject, and avoids the unpleasant jar of an abrupt start. It is
+common with Macaulay, Lowell, and many essayists that write in an
+easy, almost conversational style.
+
+There is one case in which the theme should not be announced at the
+opening. If the proposition were distasteful, if it were generally
+believed to be false, it would not be policy to announce it at the
+beginning. However reasonable men may be, it is still true that reason
+is subject to emotions and beliefs to a greater degree than is
+praiseworthy. If a man should open an address upon Abraham Lincoln by
+saying that he was a cringing coward, he would have difficulty to get
+an audience to hear anything he said after that, no matter how much
+truth he spoke. The author of such a statement would be so disliked
+that nothing would win for him favor. When an unwelcome theme is to be
+discussed, it must be approached carefully by successive steps which
+prepare the reader for the reception of a truth that before seemed
+false to him. In this case the theme will be stated at the end, but
+not at the beginning of the essay.
+
+Get started as soon as you can, and stop when you have finished; by so
+doing you will have important matters in those places which will
+emphasize them. Shun the allurements of high-sounding introductions
+and conclusions. Professor Marston used to tell his pupils to write
+the best introduction they could, to fashion their most gorgeous
+peroration, and to be sure to have the discussion clear, logical, and
+well expressed. Then he said that when he had cut off both ends, he
+generally had left a good essay. An essay should be done much as a
+business man does business. He does not want the gentleman who calls
+on him during business hours to bow and scatter compliments before he
+takes up the matter which brought him there; nor does he care to see
+him swaying on the doorknob after the business is finished. To the
+business at once, and leave off when you have done. Introductions,
+exordiums, perorations, and conclusions are worthless unless they be
+in reality a part of the discussion and necessary to the understanding
+of the whole.
+
+  Proportion in Treatment.
+
+Everything, however, cannot occupy the first and last places. How can
+other matters be emphasized? To refer to the parallel of the map, in
+order to make people see that the Mississippi River is longer than the
+Hudson, the designer made it longer on the map. That is exactly what
+is done in an essay. If one matter is of greater importance than
+another, it should take up a larger part of the essay. When Macaulay
+passes over Milton's sonnets with a paragraph, while he devotes
+sixteen paragraphs to "Paradise Lost," he indicates by the greater
+mass the greater value he ascribes to the epic. So again, a very good
+proof that he did not intend this essay to be a literary criticism
+primarily, another evidence beside the closing paragraph, is found in
+his division of the whole essay. To Milton's poetry he has given
+forty-one paragraphs, and to his character fifty-two paragraphs. The
+most common way of emphasizing important divisions of an essay is by
+increasing the length of treatment.
+
+  Emphasis of Emotion.
+
+However, there are times when this cannot be done: a point may be so
+well known that it needs no amplification. In such a case there may be
+an emphasis of emotion; that is, the statement may be made with an
+intensity that counterbalances the weight of the larger treatment. It
+might be said that the one has great velocity and little mass, while
+the other has great mass and little velocity. By hurling forth the
+smaller mass at a higher velocity, the momentum may be as great as
+when the larger mass moves with little velocity. The dynamic force of
+burning words may give an emphasis to a paragraph out of all
+proportion to the length of treatment. In one paragraph Macaulay
+dashes aside all the defenses of Charles. He writes:--
+
+     "The advocates of Charles, like the advocates of other
+     malefactors against whom overwhelming evidence is produced,
+     generally decline all controversy about the facts, and
+     content themselves with calling testimony to character. He
+     had so many private virtues! And had James II. no private
+     virtues? Was Oliver Cromwell, his bitterest enemies
+     themselves being the judges, destitute of private virtues?
+     And what, after all, are the virtues ascribed to Charles? A
+     religious zeal, not more sincere than that of his son, and
+     fully as weak and narrow-minded, and a few of the ordinary
+     household decencies which half the tombstones in England
+     claim for those who lie beneath them. A good father! A good
+     husband! Ample apologies indeed for fifteen years of
+     persecution, tyranny, and falsehood." ("Essay on Milton.")
+
+  Phrases indicating Emphasis.
+
+Moreover, phrases and sentences may be introduced to show that a
+writer considers some topics of equal importance to others, or even of
+greater importance, though they do not demand the same length of
+treatment. _Of equal importance, not less weighty, beyond question the
+most pertinent,_ illustrate what is meant by phrases which indicate
+values. These and many of their class which the occasion will call
+forth are necessary to give certain topics the rank they hold in the
+writer's conception of the whole subject. In discussing the temper and
+character of the American people, Burke ascribes it to six powerful
+causes. The relative value of these is indicated in the last three by
+phrases. I quote only the opening sentences.
+
+     "First, the people of the colonies are descendants of
+     Englishmen."... "They were further confirmed in this
+     pleasing error by the form of their provincial legislative
+     assemblies."... "If anything were wanting to this necessary
+     operation of the form of government, religion would have
+     given it a complete effect."... "There is a circumstance
+     attending these [southern] colonies which makes the spirit
+     of liberty _still more_ high and haughty than in those to
+     the northward."... "Permit me, Sir, to add another
+     circumstance which contributes _no mean part_ towards the
+     growth and effect of this untractable spirit."... "The last
+     cause of this disobedient spirit in the colonies is _hardly
+     less powerful_ than the rest."[21]
+
+Emphasis is indicated, then, by position; by the length of treatment;
+by dynamic statement; and by phrases denoting values.
+
+  Coherence.
+
+Coherence is the second principle which modifies the internal
+structure of a composition. That arrangement should be sought for that
+places in proximity one to another those ideas which are most closely
+related. More than in composition dealing with things, in those forms
+of discourse dealing with intangible, invisible ideas,--with thoughts,
+with speculations,--the greatest care is necessary to make one topic
+spring of necessity from a preceding topic. And this is not impossible
+when the material has been carefully selected. The principal divisions
+of the subject bear a necessary and logical relation to the whole
+theme, and the subordinate divisions have a similar relation to their
+main topic. In the essay on "Milton," Macaulay is seeking to commend
+his hero to the reader for two reasons: first, because his writings
+"are powerful, not only to delight, but to elevate and purify;"
+second, because "the zeal with which he labored for the public good,
+the fortitude with which he endured every private calamity, the lofty
+disdain with which he looked down on temptations and dangers, the
+deadly hatred which he bore to bigots and tyrants, and the faith which
+he so sternly kept with his country and with his fame" made him a
+patriot worthy of emulation. We feel instinctively that this
+arrangement, poetry first and character next, and not the reverse, is
+the right order. To discuss character first and poetry last would have
+been ruinous to Macaulay's purpose. Notice next the development of a
+sub-topic in the same essay. Only one sentence from a paragraph is
+given. The defenders of Charles do not choose to discuss "the great
+points of the question," but "content themselves with exposing some of
+the crimes and follies to which public commotions necessarily give
+birth." "Be it so." "Many evils were produced by the Civil War." "It
+is the character of such revolutions that we always see the worst of
+them first." Yet "there is only one cure for the evils which newly
+acquired freedom produces, and that cure is freedom." "Therefore it is
+that we decidedly approve of the conduct of Milton and the other wise
+and good men who, in spite of much that was ridiculous and hateful in
+the conduct of their associates, stood firmly by the cause of public
+liberty." No other arrangement of these paragraphs seems possible. To
+shift the sequence would break the chain. Each paragraph grows
+naturally from the paragraph preceding. Closely related topics stand
+together. There is Coherence.
+
+  Transition Phrases.
+
+The logical connection between topics which have been well arranged
+may be made more evident by the skillful use of words and phrases that
+indicate the relation of what has been said to what is to be said.
+These phrases are guideposts pointing the direction the next topic
+will take. They advise the reader where he is and whither he is going.
+Cardinal Newman, who had the ability to write not only so that he
+could be understood, but so that he could not be misunderstood, made
+frequent use of these guides. The question in one of his essays is
+"whether knowledge, that is, acquirement, is the real principle of
+enlargement, or whether that is not rather something beyond it." These
+fragments of sentences open a series of paragraphs. 1. "For instance,
+let a person ... go for the first time where physical nature puts on
+her wilder and more awful forms," etc. 2. "Again, the view of the
+heavens which the telescope opens," etc. 3. "And so again, the sight
+of beasts of prey and other foreign animals," etc. 4. "Hence Physical
+Science generally," etc. 5. "Again, the study of history," etc. 6.
+"And in like manner, what is called seeing the world," etc. 7. "And
+then again, the first time the mind comes across the arguments and
+speculations of unbelievers," etc. 8. "On the other hand, Religion has
+its own enlargement," etc. 9. "Now from these instances, ... it is
+plain, first, that the communication of knowledge certainly is either
+a condition or a means of that sense of enlargement, or enlightenment
+of which at this day we hear so much in certain quarters: this cannot
+be denied; but next, it is equally plain, that such communication is
+not the whole of the process." How extremely valuable such phrases are
+may be realized from the fact that, though the matter is entirely
+unknown, any one can know the relation of the parts of this essay,
+whither it tends, and can almost supply Newman's thoughts.
+
+  Summary and Transition.
+
+To secure coherence between the main divisions of an essay, instead of
+words and phrases, there are employed sentences and paragraphs of
+summary and transition. Summaries gather up what has been said on the
+topic, much like a conclusion to a theme; transitions show the
+relation between the topic already discussed and the one next to be
+treated. Summaries at the conclusion of any division of the whole
+subject are like the seats on a mountain path which are conveniently
+arranged to give the climber a needed rest, and to spread out at his
+feet the features of the landscape through which he has made his way.
+Summaries put the reader in possession of the situation up to that
+point, and make him ready for the next stage of the advance. At the
+end of the summary there is frequently a transition, either a few
+sentences or sometimes a short paragraph. The sentence or paragraph of
+transition is much more frequent than the paragraph which summarizes.
+
+The examples of these summaries and transitions are so frequent in
+Macaulay and Burke that one transition is sufficient to indicate their
+use. Macaulay writes:--
+
+     "There are several minor poems of Milton on which we would
+     willingly make a few remarks.... Our limits, however,
+     prevent us from discussing the point at length. We hasten on
+     to that extraordinary production which the general suffrage
+     of critics has placed in the highest class of human
+     compositions." ("Essay on Milton.")
+
+To conclude, exposition embraces definition and explanation.
+Definition is usually too concise to be clear, and needs an added
+explanation. In any piece of exposition there must be unity, and this
+principle will dispense with everything that is not essential to the
+theme; there must be judicious massing, that those parts of the essay
+deserving emphasis may receive it; and there must be a coherence
+between the parts, large and small, so close and intimate that the
+progress from one topic to another shall be steady and without
+hindrance. Unity, Mass, and Coherence should be the main
+considerations in composition the aim of which is to explain a term or
+a proposition.
+
+
+                 SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES.
+
+
+                              QUESTIONS.
+
+                     MACAULAY'S ESSAY ON MILTON.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 103.)
+
+What makes up the introduction of this essay? Does he use the same
+method in the Essay on Addison? Take a volume of his essays and see
+how many begin in similar fashion. At what paragraph of this Essay on
+Milton does the introduction end? Would it be as well to omit it? Give
+reasons for your opinion.
+
+Make an analysis of his argument of the proposition, "No poet has ever
+triumphed over greater difficulties than Milton."
+
+Does Macaulay give a definition of poetry on page 13, or is it an
+exposition of the term?
+
+What figure of speech do you find in the last sentence of the
+paragraph on page 43?
+
+When Macaulay begins to discuss "the public conduct of Milton," what
+method of introduction does he adopt? What value is there in it?
+
+Do the trifles mentioned at the end of the paragraph on page 55 make
+an anticlimax?
+
+What arrangement of sentences in the paragraph does he use most,
+individual or serial?
+
+Does he close his paragraphs with a repetition of the topic more
+frequently than with a single detail emphasizing the topic?
+
+Is his last sentence, in case it is a repetition of the topic, longer
+or shorter than the topic sentence?
+
+Does Macaulay frequently use epigrams? antitheses?
+
+Find all transition paragraphs.
+
+Find ten full sentence transitions outside of the transition
+paragraphs.
+
+Where, in such paragraphs, is the topic sentence?
+
+In this essay find examples of the five methods of expounding a
+proposition.
+
+Which method does Macaulay use oftenest?
+
+Is his treatment of the subject concrete?
+
+What advantage is there in such treatment?
+
+
+                        OF KINGS' TREASURIES.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 142.)
+
+Do you think the title good?
+
+Is Ruskin wise in disclosing his subject at once?
+
+In section 3 what purpose does the first paragraph fulfill? What
+method of exposition is adopted in the last paragraph? What method in
+section 4?
+
+For what purpose is the first paragraph of section 5 introduced? Is
+the last paragraph of this section a digression?
+
+Do you think the last sentence of section 9 upon the topic announced
+in the first sentence? Where does Ruskin begin to treat the second
+topic? Should there be two paragraphs?
+
+Find the genus and differentia in the definition of "a good book of
+the hour."
+
+What is the use of the analogy in section 13?
+
+What figure do you find in section 14?
+
+Do you think a large part of section 30 a digression?
+
+What do you think of the structure of sentences 4 and 8 in section 32?
+Could you improve it by a change of punctuation?
+
+What is the effect of the supposed case at the end of section 33? Is
+it a fair deduction? Is it at the right place in the paragraph, and
+why?
+
+Where would you divide the paragraph in section 37?
+
+Is the example in section 36 a fair one, and does it prove the case?
+
+What is a very common method with Ruskin of connecting paragraphs?
+
+Could you break up the sixth sentence of section 31 so that it would
+be better?
+
+If his audience had been hostile to him would he have been fortunate
+in some of his assertions? Make an analysis of the whole essay. Does
+he seem to you to have digressed from his topic? At what point? Should
+it be two essays?
+
+What led Ruskin into this long criticism of English character?
+
+Could you include all the main topics that Ruskin has included, and by
+a change in proportion keep the essay on the subject?
+
+
+                    WEBSTER'S BUNKER HILL ORATION.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 56.)
+
+Number the paragraphs in this oration.
+
+Why is paragraph 3 introduced?
+
+What method of development is used in paragraph 7? In paragraph 8?
+
+In how many paragraphs is the last sentence short?
+
+In how many is the last sentence a repetition of the topic?
+
+What purpose is served in paragraphs 8, 9, and 10?
+
+In paragraph 12 note the use of contrast.
+
+What kind of development in paragraph 27?
+
+Analyze the oration from paragraph 28.
+
+Does he place the topic sentence near the beginning of the paragraphs?
+
+Does he frequently use transition sentences?
+
+Do you think the outline of this as distinct as that of Macaulay's
+Essay on Milton? Should it be?
+
+What figure of speech in the word "axe" in paragraph 32, and "bayonet"
+in paragraph 36?
+
+What figure at the end of paragraph 40?
+
+Does he use figures as frequently as Macaulay?
+
+
+                              EXERCISES.
+
+This year, taking up the study of exposition, offers especially good
+opportunities for exercises in paragraph and sentence construction.
+During the first eight or ten weeks the pupils will write isolated
+paragraphs. The unity and arrangement of these should be carefully
+criticised. Also the exercises should be arranged so that the pupils
+will employ all forms of paragraphs. Before he begins to write a
+paragraph, the pupil should know what he is to include in it, and in
+what order; otherwise the paragraph will fail in unity and effective
+massing. Paragraphs are made by forethought, not by inspiration.
+
+Following the writing of isolated paragraphs is the composition of the
+long essay. The first thing is a study of outlines. This will take up
+six or eight weeks. To secure the view of the whole in different
+arrangements, use the cards.
+
+When the class has gained some grasp of outlines, the writing of
+essays should be begun. At the option of the pupils, they may write
+some of the essays already outlined, or study new themes. Two or three
+paragraphs are all that can be well done for a lesson. Good, not much,
+should be the ideal. In this way a single essay may occupy a class
+from three to six weeks.
+
+It should be remembered that these exercises are written consciously
+for practice. They are exercises--no more. Their purpose is to give
+skill and judgment in composition. It is because they are exercises
+that they may be somewhat stereotyped and artificial in form, just as
+exercises in music may be artificially constructed to meet the
+difficulties the young musician will have to confront.
+
+During the writing of these essays special attention should be given
+to sentence construction. The inclusion of just the ideas needed in
+the sentence and no more; the massing that makes prominent the thought
+that deserves prominence; and the nice adjustment of one sentence to
+the next: these objects should be striven for during this semester.
+
+1, 2. Write definitions of such common terms as jingoism, civil
+service, gold standard, the submerged tenth, sweat shop, internal
+revenue, cyclonic area, foreign policy, imperialism, free silver,
+mugwump, political pull, Monroe doctrine, etc. Five or six terms which
+are not found in a dictionary will make a hard exercise; and two or
+three lessons in definitions will set the pupils in the direction of
+accurate and adequate statements.
+
+For isolated paragraphs write upon the following subjects:--
+
+3. Novel reading gives one a knowledge of the world not to be gained
+in any other way. Particulars.
+
+4. Novel reading unfits people for the actualities of life. Specific
+instances.
+
+5. Among the numerous uses of biography three stand forth
+preeminent,--it furnishes the material of history, it lets us into the
+secrets of the good and great, and it sets before us attainable ideals
+of noble humanity. Repetition.
+
+6. It is beyond any possibility of successful contradiction that the
+examination system encourages cheating. Proofs.
+
+7. Electric cars and automobiles are driving horses out of the cities.
+Instances.
+
+8. Every great development in the culture of a nation has followed a
+great war. Proofs.
+
+9. From the following general subjects have the pupils state definite
+themes. Write isolated paragraphs on a few of them.
+
+     Political Parties.
+     War.
+     Books.
+     Machines.
+     Inventions.
+     Great Men.
+     Planets.
+     Civil Service.
+     Coeducation.
+     Roads.
+     Tramps.
+     Boycotts.
+
+10. Place another similar list on the board and have the pupils vote
+on what three they prefer. Use these in making outlines. Then select
+more.
+
+Supposing they had settled upon this theme: The tramp is the logical
+result of our economic system; have it outlined. The result might be
+as follows:--
+
+A. What is a tramp?
+     1. Who become tramps?
+     2. Their number.
+     3. Where are they?
+B. Why is he a tramp?
+     1. Inventions have increased the power of production more rapidly
+        than the demand for products has grown.
+          a. On the farm.
+          b. Transportation.
+          c. Factories.
+          d. Piecework.
+     2. Women now do much work formerly done by men.
+          a. As clerks.
+          b. As typewriters, stenographers, and bookkeepers.
+          c. In the professions.
+     3. The result of these causes is that many men willing to work
+        are out of employment.
+C. What must be done?
+
+11. Fill out the following outline.
+
+Subject: The Thermometer.
+  A. Its Invention.
+  B. Its Construction.
+  C. Its Value and Uses.
+
+12. Outline six more themes.
+
+13. Beginning the writing of long essays, write essays in sections.
+Using "Tramps" for an illustration, as it is outlined it contains
+about twelve paragraphs. All of section "A" may be included in one
+paragraph. "B, 1" may be a paragraph of repetition; "a," "b," "c,"
+"d," may each make a paragraph of particulars. By stating "B, 2" in
+the following way, it may be a paragraph of "what not:" It was once
+considered unladylike for women to engage in any occupation outside of
+the home. Men said that they could not retain, etc.--Go on with the
+things woman could not do, closing with a statement of what she does
+do.
+
+"B, 2, a." On account of their fidelity, honesty, and courtesy, women
+succeed as clerks. Repetition.
+
+    b. The quickness of their intelligence and the accuracy of their
+       work have made women more desirable for routine work in an
+       office than men. Comparison and Contrast.
+
+    c. There are certain feminine qualities which especially fit women
+       for the practice of teaching and medicine. Details.
+
+"B, 3." By Combination of Forms.
+
+"C." By Details.
+
+It would be a pleasure to go on with this list of exercises, but it is
+unnecessary and it is unwise. These indicate the objects to be sought
+for in the exercises. They are not a specific course, though they
+might suit a certain environment. Each teacher knows her own
+pupils,--their attainments and their interests. The subjects should be
+chosen to suit their special cases. Only make them interesting; put
+them into such form that there is something to get hold of; and adapt
+them so that all the topics to be studied will be illustrated in the
+work. The pupils should be able to write any form of paragraph, to
+arrange it so that any idea is made prominent, and to make easy
+transitions. Arrange the exercises to accomplish definite results.
+
+During the third year, attention should be given to words and to the
+refinements of elegant composition. These the pupils will best learn
+by careful watch of the literature. The teacher should be quick to
+feel the strength and beauty of any passage and able to point out the
+means adopted to obtain the delightful effect. Clearness first is the
+thing to be desired; if to this can be added force and a degree of
+elegance during the last two years, the work of the instructor has
+been well done.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI
+
+                               ARGUMENT
+
+
+Argument has been defined as that form of discourse the purpose of
+which is to convince the reader of the truth or falsity of a
+proposition. It is closely allied with exposition. To convince a
+person, it is first necessary that the proposition be explained to
+him. This is all that is necessary in many cases. Did men decide all
+matters without prejudice, and were they willing to accept the truth
+at any cost, even to discard the beliefs that have been to them the
+source of greatest happiness, the simple explanation would be
+sufficient. However, as men are not all-wise, and as they are not
+always "reasonable," they are found to hold different opinions
+regarding the same subject; and one person often wishes to convince
+another of the error of his beliefs. Men continually use the words
+_because_ and _therefore;_ indeed, a great deal of writing has in it
+an element of argument.
+
+From the fact that argument and exposition are so nearly alike, it
+follows that they will be governed by much the same principles. As
+argument, in addition to explaining, seeks to convince, it is
+necessary, in addition to knowing how to explain, to know what is
+considered convincing,--what are proofs; and secondly, what is the
+best order in which to arrange proofs.
+
+  Induction and Deduction.
+
+Arguments have been classified as inductive and deductive.[22]
+Induction includes arguments that proceed from individual cases to
+establish a general truth. Deduction comprises arguments that proceed
+from a general truth to establish the proposition in specific
+instances, or groups of instances.
+
+  Syllogism. Premises.
+
+If one should say "Socrates is mortal because he is a man," or
+"Socrates will die because all men are mortal," or "Socrates is a man,
+therefore he will die," by any of these he has expressed a truth which
+all men accept. In any of these expressions are bound up two
+propositions, called premises, from which a third proposition, called
+a conclusion, is derived. If expanded, the three propositions assume
+this form: All men are mortal. Socrates is a man. Therefore Socrates
+is mortal. This is termed a syllogism. A syllogism consists of a major
+premise, a predication about all the members of a general class of
+objects; a minor premise, a predication that includes an individual or
+a group of individuals in the general class named by the major
+premise; and a conclusion, the proposition which is derived from the
+relation existing between the other two propositions. The propositions
+above would be classified as follows:--
+
+     Major premise: All men are mortal, a predication about _all_
+     men.
+
+     Minor premise: Socrates is a man, including an individual in
+     the general class.
+
+     Conclusion: Socrates is mortal.
+
+  Terms.
+
+In every syllogism there are three terms,--major, minor, and middle.
+The middle term is found in both the premises, but not in the
+conclusion. It is the link connecting the major and minor terms. The
+major term is usually the predicate of the major premise and the
+predicate of the conclusion. The minor term is the subject of the
+minor premise and the subject of the conclusion. "Men" is the middle
+term, "are mortal" the major term, and "Socrates," the minor term.
+
+  Enthymeme.
+
+It is rarely the case in literature that the syllogism is fully
+stated: generally one of the premises is omitted. Such a form of
+statement is termed an enthymeme. "Socrates will die because all men
+are mortal" is an enthymeme. The minor premise has been omitted.
+"Socrates is mortal because he is a man" is also an enthymeme, because
+the major premise which states that "all men are mortal" has been
+omitted.
+
+The conclusions arrived at by means of syllogisms are irresistible,
+provided the form be correct and the premises be true. It is
+impossible here to discuss the forms of syllogisms; they are too many.
+It will be of value, however, to call attention to a few of the
+commonest errors in syllogisms.
+
+  Definition of Terms.
+
+The first error arises from a misunderstanding of terms. It is often
+said that George Eliot is a poet; there are some who disagree. Certain
+it is that she wrote in verse form; and it is true that she has
+embodied noble thoughts in verse; but it is quite as true that she
+lacks "the bird-note." If this were reduced to a syllogism, it would
+not be a discussion of whether George Eliot be a poet, but rather a
+discussion of what is a poet. Stated, it reads: All persons who embody
+noble thoughts in verse form are poets. George Eliot is a person who
+has embodied noble thoughts in verse form. Therefore George Eliot is a
+poet. If the major premise of this syllogism be granted, the
+conclusion is unquestionable. The terms should be defined at the
+beginning; then this error, springing from a misunderstanding of
+terms, perhaps the most common, would be avoided.
+
+  Undistributed Middle.
+
+The second error arises from the fact that the middle term is not
+"distributed;" that is, the major premise makes no statement about all
+the members of a class. The premises in the following are true, but
+the conclusion is nonsense.
+
+     A horse is an animal.
+     Man is an animal.
+     Therefore, man is a horse.
+
+The middle term, in this case "animal," must be "distributed;" some
+statement must be made of _all_ animals. The following would be true:
+All animals have life; therefore man has life. The major premise
+predicates life of all animals.
+
+  False Premises.
+
+A third error in a syllogism is in the premises themselves. If either
+premise be false, the conclusion is not necessarily true. A parent
+might say to his son, "You are doing wrong, and you will pay the
+penalty for it soon." Generally he would be right. However, if this
+were put into a syllogism, it would read as follows: All persons who
+do wrong pay the penalty soon. You are such a person. Therefore, etc.
+Admitting the son is breaking the law, the fact is that the major
+premise is not always true, and the conclusion holds the weakness of
+the weak premise. Again, supposing everybody accepted the general
+truth, "All unrepentant sinners will be punished." The minister might
+then say to a young man, "You will certainly be punished, because all
+unrepentant sinners will be punished." The young man might deny the
+suppressed minor premise, which is, "You are an unrepentant sinner."
+Both premises must be true if they prove anything. The conclusion
+contains the weakness of either premise. In both of these examples
+note that the mistake is in the premise which does not appear. In an
+enthymeme, great care should be taken with the suppressed premise. Be
+sure it is true when you use this form of argument, and be sure to
+look for it and state it in full when examining another's argument. It
+is a common way of hiding a weak point to cover it in the suppressed
+premise of an enthymeme.
+
+  Method of Induction.
+
+Induction, which proceeds directly opposite to the method of
+deduction, is the method by which all our ultimate knowledge has been
+obtained. By observing individual instances man has gathered a great
+store of general truths. There was a time when the first man would not
+have been justified in saying, "The sun will rise in the east
+to-morrow." The general law had not been established. To-day it is
+practically certain that the sun will rise in the east to-morrow
+morning, because it has done so for thousands of years; the large
+number of instances establishes the general truth. Yet there may come
+a day when it will rise in the south, or not rise at all. Until every
+case has been tried and found to conform to the law, theoretically man
+cannot be absolutely certain of any general truth. There may come an
+exception to the general rule that all men must die. So far, however,
+there is no experience to justify any man in hoping to escape death.
+"As sure as death" means in practice absolutely sure, though this is
+not what is called a perfect induction; that is, an induction in which
+every possible case has been included. "All the other States are
+smaller than Texas" is a perfect induction, but it forms no basis for
+argument. All the cases must be known for a perfect induction; there
+is no unknown to argue to. This, then, is only a short statement of
+many individual truths, and has but little of value. Induction that is
+imperfect is more valuable; for with many cases the probability
+becomes so strong that it is a practical certainty. It is the method
+of science.
+
+More valuable for literature is another division of arguments into
+arguments from cause, arguments from sign, and arguments from example.
+
+  Arguments from Cause.
+
+Arguments from cause include those propositions which, if they were
+granted, would account for the fact or proposition maintained. The
+decisive test is to suppose the proposition to be true; then, if it
+will account for the condition, it is an argument from cause. A child
+holds its finger in a flame; therefore its finger is burned. If the
+first proposition be supposed to be true, it will account for a burned
+finger. It is an argument from cause, and it is conclusive. Again, if
+a man severs his carotid artery, he will die. If the first proposition
+be supposed to be true, it will account for the man's subsequent
+death. Now, supposing a man takes strychnine, he will die. This is not
+quite so sure. If a stomach-pump were used or an antidote given, he
+might not die. The cause has been hindered in its action, or another
+cause has intervened to counterbalance the first. If, then, a cause be
+adequate to produce the effect, and if it act unhindered or
+unmodified, the effect will certainly follow the active cause. An
+argument that uses as a premise such a cause may predicate its effect
+as a conclusion with absolute certainty. Such an argument is
+conclusive.
+
+The argument from cause is used more frequently to establish a
+probability than to prove a fact or proposition. However strong the
+proofs of a statement may be, men hesitate to accept either the
+statement or the proofs if the proposition is not plausible, or, as
+people say, if "they do not understand it," or if "it is not
+reasonable." If a murder be done and circumstances all point to your
+friend, you do not believe your friend to be the criminal until some
+fact is produced sufficient to cause your friend to commit the
+crime,--until some motive is established. If it be shown that the
+friend hated the murdered man and would be benefited by his death, a
+motive is established,--the proposition is made plausible. A man could
+"understand how he came to do it." The hatred and the benefit being
+granted, they would account for his deed. It is an argument from
+cause, used not as a proof, but to establish a probability. It makes
+the proposition ready for proof.
+
+  Arguments from Sign.
+
+The second class of arguments, arguments from sign, is most often used
+for proof. If two facts or conditions always occur together, the
+presence of one is a sign of the presence of the other. Cause and
+effect are so related that if either be observed, it is an indication
+of the other. No cause acts without a consequent effect; an effect is
+a sure sign of a preceding cause. Supposing one should say, "Because
+the flowers are dead, there was a frost," or "If ice has formed on the
+river, it must have been cold," in both instances the argument would
+be an argument from sign. Both also proceed from the effect to the
+cause. Only a low temperature forms ice on the river; the argument
+from effect to cause is conclusive. In the first case, the argument is
+not conclusive, because flowers may die from other causes. In a case
+like this, it is necessary to find all possible causes, and then by
+testing each in succession to determine which could not have acted and
+leave the one that is the only actual cause. A man is found dead;
+death has resulted from natural causes, from murder, or from suicide.
+Each possible cause would be tested; and by elimination of the other
+possible causes the one right cause would be left. This method of
+elimination is frequently employed in arguments from effect to cause.
+When this method is used the alternatives should be few, else it gives
+rise to confusion and to lack of attention caused by the tediousness
+of the discussion. And an enumeration of all possible causes must be
+made; for if one be omitted it may be the one that is in fact the
+right one.
+
+The relation between cause and effect is so intimate that the
+occurrence of one may be regarded as a sure sign of the presence of
+the other. If an effect is produced by only one cause, the presence of
+the effect is a certain indication of the cause. If several causes
+produce the same effect, some other methods must be used to determine
+the cause operating in this special case.
+
+  Sequence and Cause.
+
+In reasoning from effect to cause, one must be sure that he is dealing
+with a cause. As effect follows cause, there is danger that anything
+that follows another may be considered as caused by it. Because a man
+died just after eating, it would not be quite reasonable to connect
+eating and death as cause and effect. The fact is that death is surer
+to follow starvation. The glow at evening is generally followed by
+fair weather the next day; but the fair weather is not an effect of a
+clear sunset. Common sense must be used to determine whether the
+relation is one of cause and effect; something more than a simple
+sequence is necessary.
+
+Another argument from sign associates conditions that frequently occur
+together, though one is not the cause of the other. "James is near,
+because there is his blind father," means that James always
+accompanies his father; where the father is, the son is too. If one
+had noticed that potatoes planted at the full of the moon grew well,
+and potatoes planted at other times did not thrive, he might say as a
+result of years of observation that a certain crop would be a failure
+because it was not planted at the right time. This argument might have
+weight with ignorant people, but intelligent persons do not consider
+it a sure sign. All signs belong to this class of arguments; they are
+of value or worthless as they come true more or less frequently. Every
+time there is an exception the argument is weakened; another case of
+its working strengthens it. Where there is no sure relation like cause
+and effect, the strength of the argument depends on the frequency of
+the recurrence of the associated conditions.
+
+A third argument from sign associates two effects of the same cause. A
+lad on waking exclaims, "The window is covered with frost; I can go
+skating to-day." The frost on the window is not the cause of the ice
+on the river. Rather, both phenomena are results of the same cause.
+This kind of argument is not necessarily conclusive; yet with others
+it always strengthens a case.
+
+Testimony is usually called an argument from sign. The assertion by
+some one that a thing occurred is not sure proof; it is only a sign
+that it occurred. People have said that they have seen witches,
+ghosts, and sea serpents, and unquestionably believed it; men
+generally do not accept their testimony. In a criminal case, it would
+be difficult to accept the testimony of both sides. Though testimony
+seems a strong argument, it is or it is not, according to the
+conditions under which it is given. One would care little for the
+testimony of an ignorant man in a matter that called for wisdom; he
+would hesitate to accept the testimony of a man who claimed he saw,
+but upon cross-examination could not report what he saw; and he would
+not think it fair to be condemned upon the testimony of his enemies.
+Books have been written upon evidence, but three principles are all
+that are needed in ordinary arguments. First, the person giving
+testimony must be capable of observation; second, he must be able to
+report accurately what he has observed; third, he must have a desire
+to tell the exact truth.
+
+  Arguments from Example.
+
+The third large division comprises arguments from example. That is, if
+a truth be asserted of an individual, it can therefore be predicated
+of the class to which the individual belongs. For instance, if the
+first time a person saw a giraffe, he observed that it was eating
+grass, he would be justified in saying that giraffes are herbivorous.
+All gold is yellow, heavy, and not corroded by acid, though no one has
+tested it all. However, every giraffe does not have one ear brown and
+the other gray because the first one seen happened to be so marked;
+neither is all gold in the shape of ten-dollar gold pieces. Only
+common sense will serve to pick out essential qualities; but if
+essential and invariable qualities be selected, the argument from the
+example of an individual to all members of its class is very powerful.
+
+Analogies resemble examples. In exposition they are used for
+illustration; in argument they are employed as proofs. Though two
+things belong to different classes of objects, they may have some
+qualities that are similar, and so an argument may be made from one to
+another. "Natural Law in the Spiritual World" is a book written to
+show how the physical laws hold true in the region of spirit. It is
+not because an enemy sowed tares in a neighbor's field that there are
+wicked men in the world; nor is it because a lover of jewels will sell
+everything that he has to buy the pearl of greatest price that men
+devote everything they have to the kingdom of heaven. Analogies prove
+nothing. They clear up relations and often help the reader to
+appreciate other arguments. They are valuable when the likeness is
+broad and easily traced. They should never be used alone.
+
+These, then, are the principal forms of argument: deduction and
+induction; arguments from cause, from sign, and from example. Upon
+these men depend when they wish to convince of truth or error.
+
+  Selection of Material.
+
+In argument the material is selected with reference to its value as
+proof. Every particle of matter must be carefully tested. While a
+piece of material that could be omitted without loss to the
+explanation may sometimes find a place in exposition, such a thing
+must not occur in argument. As soon as a reader discovers that the
+writer is off the track, either he loses respect for the author's
+words, or he suspects him of trying to hide the weakness of his
+position in a cloud of worthless and irrelevant matters. Every bit of
+material should advance the argument one step; it should fill its
+niche in the well-planned structure; it should contribute its part to
+the strength of the whole.
+
+  Plan called The Brief.
+
+When the material has been selected, it must be arranged. An argument
+is a demonstration. Each of its parts is the natural result of what
+has preceded, and, up to the last step, each part is the basis for the
+next step. As in geometry a demonstration that omits one step in its
+development, or, which comes to the same thing, puts the point out of
+its logical order, is worthless as a demonstration, so in argument not
+one essential step can be omitted, nor can it be misplaced. The plan
+in an argument may be more evident than in exposition. We are a little
+offended if the framework shows too plainly in exposition; but there
+is no offense in a well-articulated skeleton in an argument. It is
+quite the rule that the general plan and the main divisions of the
+argument are announced at the very beginning. Any device that will
+make the relation of the parts clearer should be used. Over and over
+again the writer should arrange the cards with the topics until he is
+certain that no other order is so good. The writing is a mere trifle
+compared with the outline, called in argument the brief.
+
+Though the brief is so essential, it is unfortunately a thing about
+which but few suggestions can be given. The circumstances under which
+arguments are written--especially whether written to defend a position
+or to attack it--are so various that rules cannot be given. Still a
+few general principles may be of value.
+
+  Climax.
+
+Proofs should be arranged in a climax. This does not mean that the
+weakest argument should come first, and the next stronger should
+follow, and so on until the last and strongest is reached. It is
+necessary to begin with something that will catch the attention; and
+in argument it is frequently a proof strong enough to convince the
+reader that the writer knows what he is contending for, and that he
+can strike a hard blow. Then again, it is evident that in all
+arguments there are main points in the discussion that must be
+established by points of minor importance. The main points should be
+arranged in a logical climax, and the sub-topics which go to support
+one of the main divisions should have their climax. At the end of the
+whole should be the strongest and the most comprehensive argument. It
+should be a general advance of the whole line of argument, including
+all the propositions that have previously been called into action,
+sweeping everything before it.
+
+  Inductive precedes Deductive.
+
+To gain this climax what kind of arguments should precede? Of
+inductive and deductive, the inductive proofs generally go first. The
+advance from particular instances to general truths is the best suited
+to catch the attention, for men think with individual examples, and
+general truths make little appeal to them. Moreover, if one is
+addressing people of opposing views,--and in most cases he is, else
+why is he arguing?--it is unwise to begin with bald statements of
+unwelcome truths. They will be rejected without consideration. They
+can with advantage be delayed until they are reached in the regular
+development, and the reader has been prepared for their reception.
+General truths and their application by deductive arguments usually
+stand late in the brief.
+
+  Cause precedes Sign.
+
+Of arguments from cause, sign, or example, it is ordinarily wise to
+place arguments from cause first. A person does not listen to any
+explanation of an unknown truth until he knows that the explanation is
+plausible; that the cause assigned is adequate to produce the result.
+After one knows that the cause is sufficient and may have brought
+about the result, he is in a position to learn that it is the very
+cause that produced the effect. Arguments from cause are very rarely
+conclusive proofs of fact. They only establish a probability. And it
+would be unwise to prove that a thing might be a possibility after one
+had attempted to prove that it is a fact. It would be a long step
+backward, a retreat. Therefore arguments from cause, unless absolutely
+conclusive proof of fact, should not come last; but by other
+arguments,--by testimony, by example, by analogy,--the possibility,
+which has been reached by the argument from cause, may be established
+as a fact.
+
+  Example follows Sign.
+
+Of the two, sign and example, example generally follows sign. In
+arguments about human affairs, examples seldom prove anything; for
+under similar conditions one person may not act like another. Though
+this be true, the argument from example is one of the most
+effective--it is not at all conclusive--in that class of cases where
+oratory is combined with argument to convince and persuade. This is
+because men learn most readily from examples. To reason about matters
+of conduct on abstract principles of morality convinces but few; to
+point to a Lincoln or a Franklin has persuaded thousands. Examples are
+of most use in enforcing and illustrating and strengthening a point
+already established, and they generally follow arguments from sign.
+
+  Refutation.
+
+One other class of arguments finds a place in debate: namely, indirect
+arguments. It is often as much an advantage to a debater to dispose of
+objections as it is to establish his own case. This is because a
+question usually has two alternatives. If one can refute the arguments
+in favor of the opponent's position, he has by that very process
+established his own. If the points of the refutation are of minor
+importance and are related to any division of his own direct argument,
+the refutation of such points should be taken up in connection with
+the related parts of the direct argument. If, however, it is an
+argument of some weight and should be considered separate and apart
+from the direct argument, it is generally wisest to proceed to its
+demolition at the end of the direct argument and before the conclusion
+of the whole. For then the whole weight of the direct argument will be
+thrown into the refutation and will render every word so much the more
+destructive. Again, if the opposing argument be very strong and have
+taken complete possession of the audience, it must be attacked and
+disposed of at the very beginning. Otherwise it is impossible for the
+direct argument to make any advance.
+
+From these suggestions one derives the general principle that each
+case must be considered by itself. There will be cases of conflict
+among the rules, and there must be a careful weighing of methods.
+Common sense and patient labor are the most valuable assistants in
+arranging a powerful argument.
+
+It hardly needs to be said that the suggestions made in the chapter on
+Exposition regarding Mass and Coherence should be observed here. In
+argument as in exposition, topics are emphasized by position, and by
+proportion in the scale of treatment. Here as there, matters that are
+closely related in thought should be connected in the discourse, and
+matters that are not related in thought should not be associated in
+the essay.
+
+It will be an advantage now to look through "Conciliation with the
+Colonies" and note its general plan of structure. Only the main
+divisions of this powerful oration can be given, as to make a full
+brief would deprive this piece of literature of half its value for
+study.
+
+  Analysis of Burke's Oration.
+
+Mr. Burke begins by saying that it is "an awful subject or there is
+none this side of the grave." He states that he has studied the
+question for years, and while Parliament has pursued a vacillating
+policy and one aggravating to the colonies, he has a fixed policy and
+one sure to restore "the former unsuspecting confidence in the Mother
+Country." His policy is simple peace. This by way of introduction. He
+then divides the argument into two large divisions and proceeds.
+
+I. OUGHT YOU TO CONCEDE?
+     A. What are "the true nature and the peculiar circumstances of
+        the object which we have before us?"
+          I. America has a rapidly growing population.
+         II. It has a rapidly increasing commercial value, shown by
+               1. Its demand for our goods.
+               2. The value of its agricultural products.
+               3. The value of the products of its fisheries.
+        III. There is in the people a "fierce spirit of liberty."
+             This is the result of
+               1. Their descent from Englishmen.
+               2. Their popular form of government.
+               3. Religion in the North.
+               4. The haughty spirit of the South.
+               5. Their education.
+               6. Their remoteness from the governing body.
+     B. "You have before you the object." "What ... shall we do with
+        it?" "There are but three ways of proceeding relative to this
+        stubborn spirit in the colonies."
+          I. To change it by removing the causes. This is
+             impracticable.
+         II. To prosecute it as criminal. This is inexpedient.
+        III. _To comply with it as necessary._ This is the answer to
+             the first question.
+
+II. OF WHAT NATURE OUGHT THE CONCESSION TO BE?
+     A. A concession that grants to any colony the satisfaction of the
+        grievances it complains of brings about conciliation and
+        peace. This general proposition is established by the
+        following examples. It has done so in
+          1. Ireland,
+          2. Wales,
+          3. Durham, and
+          4. Chester.
+     B. The grievances complained of in America are unjust taxation
+        and no representation.
+     C. Therefore these resolutions rehearsing facts and calculated to
+        satisfy their grievances will bring about conciliation and
+        peace.
+          I. They are unrepresented.
+         II. They are taxed.
+        III. No method has been devised for procuring a representation
+             in Parliament for the said Colonies.
+         IV. Each colony has within itself a body with powers to
+             raise, levy, and assess taxes.
+          V. These assemblies have at sundry times granted large
+             subsidies and aids to his Majesty's service.
+         VI. Experience teaches that it is expedient to follow their
+             method rather than force payment.
+     D. As a result of the adoption of these resolutions, "everything
+        which has been made to enforce a contrary system must, I take
+        it for granted, fall along with it. On that ground, I have
+        drawn the following resolutions."
+          I. It is proper to repeal certain legislation regarding
+             taxes, imports, and administration of justice.
+         II. To secure a fair and unbiased judiciary.
+        III. To provide better for the Courts of Admiralty.
+     E. He next considers objections.
+     Conclusion.
+
+Notice first the introduction. It goes straight to the question. To
+tell a large opposition that it has vacillated on a great question is
+not calculated to win a kind hearing; yet this point, necessary to
+Burke's argument, is so delicately handled that no one could be
+seriously offended, nor could any one charge him with weakness. The
+introduction serves its purpose; it gains the attention of the
+audience and it exactly states the proposition.
+
+He then divides the whole argument into two parts. The framework is
+visible, and with intent. These great divisions he takes up
+separately. First, that there may be a perfect understanding of the
+question, he explains "the true nature and the peculiar circumstances
+of the object which we have before us." This illustrates the use of
+exposition in argument. The descent and education did not prove that
+the Americans had a fiery spirit; that was acknowledged and needed no
+proof. It simply sets forth the facts,--facts which he afterward uses
+as powerful instruments of conviction. As long as a man can use
+exposition, he can carry his readers with him; it is when he begins to
+argue, to force matters, that he raises opposition. So this use of
+exposition was fortunate. America was an English colony. Her strength
+and riches were England's strength and wealth. It would be pleasing to
+all Englishmen to hear the recital of America's prosperity. Up to the
+time he asks, "What, in the name of God, shall we do with it," the
+oration is not essentially argument; it does nothing more than place
+"before you the object."
+
+In the section marked "I. B," Burke begins the real argument by the
+method of elimination. He asserts that there are only three ways of
+dealing with this fierce spirit of liberty. Then he conclusively
+proves the first impracticable and the second inexpedient. There is
+left but the one course, concession. This method of proof is
+absolutely conclusive if every possible contingency is stated and
+provided for. Notice that in this section "B" everything that was
+mentioned in the first section "A" is used, and the whole is one solid
+mass moving forward irresistibly to the conclusion of the first and
+the most important part of this argument.
+
+The second main division is devoted to the conclusion of the first. If
+you must concede,--the conclusion of the first half,--what will be the
+nature of your concession? A concession, to be a concession, must
+grant what the colonists wish, not what the ministry thinks would be
+good for them. Then by the history of England's dealings with Ireland,
+Wales, Chester, and Durham, he proves that such a concession has been
+followed by peace. This makes the major premise of his syllogism,
+stated in "II. A." The minor premise is a statement of the grievances
+of the colonies. The conclusion is in the resolutions for the redress
+of the grievances of the colonies. The second part is then one great
+syllogism, the premises of which are established by ample proof, the
+conclusion of which cannot well be disputed.
+
+"And here I should close," says the orator; the direct argument is
+finished. There are some objections which demand dignified
+consideration. At this point, however, it is easy to refute any
+objections, for behind each word there is now the crushing weight of
+the whole argument.
+
+The conclusion recites the advantages of Burke's plan over all others,
+and reasserts its value, now proven at every point. It is a powerful
+summary, and a skillful plea for the adoption of a policy of
+conciliation with the colonies of America.
+
+Every kind of argument is used in this oration. One would look long
+for a treasury better supplied with illustrations. The great
+conclusions are reached by the certain methods of elimination and
+deduction. In establishing the minor points Burke has used arguments
+from sign, cause, example, and induction. He calls in testimony; he
+quotes authority; he illustrates. Not any device of sound argument
+that a man honest in his search for truth may use has been omitted. It
+is worthy of patient study.
+
+In conclusion, the student of argument should learn well the value of
+different kinds of argument; he should exercise the most careful
+scrutiny in selecting his material, without any hesitation rejecting
+irrelevant matter; he should state the proposition so that it cannot
+be misunderstood; he must consider his readers, guiding his course
+wisely with regard for all the conditions under which he produces his
+argument; he should remember that the law in argument is climax, and
+that coherence should be sought with infinite pains. Above all, the
+man who takes up a debate must be fair and honest; only so will he win
+favor from his readers, and gain what is worth more than victory,--the
+distinction of being a servant of truth.
+
+
+                         SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS
+
+
+                              QUESTIONS.
+
+                     MACAULAY'S ESSAY ON MILTON.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 103.)
+
+Put into a syllogism, Macaulay's opponents said, "An educated man
+living in an enlightened age has better facilities for writing poetry
+than an uneducated man at the dawn of civilization. Milton was an
+educated man, living in an enlightened age; therefore Macaulay had
+better facilities," etc.
+
+Which premise does Macaulay attack? Does he demolish it?
+
+What value is there in an analogy between experimental sciences and
+imitative arts? Between poetry and a magic-lantern? Is either an
+argument that is convincing? Are both effective in the essay?
+
+What do you think of Macaulay's estimate of Wordsworth? Granting that
+this estimate is true, what kind of a proof is it of the proposition
+that "his very talents will be a hindrance to him"?
+
+Is it a uniform phenomenon that as civilization advances, poetry
+declines? Name some instances that prove it.
+
+Name some instances that disprove it. What method of proof have you
+used in both?
+
+Is an uncivilized state of society the cause of good poetry, or only
+an attendant circumstance?
+
+What method of proof is adopted on pages 34 and 35?
+
+Granting that you cannot conceive "a good man and an unnatural
+father," does that prove anything about the first sentence at the
+bottom of page 55?
+
+Does the example of the prisoner on page 60 prove anything?
+
+
+          BURKE'S SPEECH ON CONCILIATION WITH THE COLONIES.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 100.)
+
+What argument does Burke use to prove that hedging in the population
+is not practicable?
+
+When he says that they will occupy territory because they have done
+so, is that an inductive or deductive argument, or is it an argument
+from sign?
+
+If it is deductive, what is the suppressed premise?
+
+Are the arguments from 48 to 64 more in the nature of direct or
+indirect proofs?
+
+What value is there in an indirect argument?
+
+"Americans speak the English language, therefore they are English." Is
+the argument good? Where is the fault? Look for the suppressed
+premise.
+
+Is paragraph 55 direct or indirect argument?
+
+Does he prove that criminal procedure against the colonies would fail,
+by sign or by deduction?
+
+Do the four precedents which he cites of Ireland, Wales, Durham, and
+Chester prove that his plan will work in America?
+
+Upon what general principle do all arguments from example depend?
+
+Is paragraph 79 in itself exposition or argument?
+
+What method is adopted in paragraph 88 to prove that the principle of
+concession is applicable to America?
+
+How does he prove that Americans were grieved by taxes?
+
+How does he establish the competence of the colony assemblies?
+
+How could the arguments have made "the conclusion irresistible"?
+(Paragraph 112.)
+
+What principle of argument is stated in paragraph 114?
+
+In paragraph 127 is the one example cited enough to prove the rule?
+
+Find an example of argument from sign. Is it a relation of cause and
+effect? Is it conclusive?
+
+In paragraph 129 what does Burke mention as arguments of value?
+
+What kind of arguments in paragraphs 128 to 136? What is the
+conclusion?
+
+Whenever Burke states a general truth it forms a part of what? Supply
+the other premise in five cases, and derive a conclusion.
+
+Does he ever use an argument from cause to establish a probability? To
+establish a fact?
+
+Does he use deduction more frequently than sign?
+
+Does he seek for a climax in the arrangement of the parts of his
+brief?
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VII
+
+                              PARAGRAPHS
+
+
+  Definition.
+
+So far we have been dealing with whole compositions; we now take up
+the study of paragraphs, sentences, and words. A paragraph in many
+respects resembles a whole composition. It may be narrative,
+descriptive, expositive, or argumentative. It must have a beginning, a
+middle, and an end. It is constructed with regard to Unity, Mass, and
+Coherence. And as a whole composition treats a single theme, so a
+paragraph treats one division of a theme. It has been defined as a
+composition in miniature. A paragraph is a sentence or a group of
+sentences serving a single purpose in the development of a theme. The
+purpose may be simply to announce the theme-subject, to make a
+conclusion, to indicate a transition; but in the great majority of
+cases its purpose is to treat a single topic. So true is this that
+many authors, with good reason, define a paragraph as a group of
+sentences treating a single topic.
+
+  Long and Short Paragraphs.
+
+Nobody would have trouble in telling where on a page a paragraph began
+and where it ended. The indention at the beginning, and usually the
+incomplete line at the end, mark its visible limits. Unfortunately
+there is no specified length after which the writer is to make a break
+in the lines and begin a new paragraph. The length of a paragraph
+depends on something deeper than appearances; as the topic requires a
+lengthy or but a short treatment, as the paragraph may be a long
+summary or a short transition, the length of a paragraph varies. Yet
+there is one circumstance which should counsel an author to keep his
+paragraphs within certain bounds: he should always have regard for his
+readers. Readers shirk heavy labor. If a book or an article looks
+hard, it is passed by; if it looks easy, it is read. If the paragraphs
+be long and the page solid, the composition looks difficult; if the
+paragraphs be short and the page broken, the piece looks easy. This
+fact should advise a writer to make the page attractive by using short
+paragraphs; provided, and the provision is important, he can so make
+real paragraphs, divisions of composition that fully treat one topic.
+These divisions may in reality be but one sentence, and they may just
+as unquestionably be two pages of hard reading.
+
+Successive paragraphs, each more than a page of ordinary print in
+length, repel as too hard; and a series of paragraphs of less than a
+quarter of a page impresses a reader as scrappy, and the work seems to
+lack the authority of complete treatment. An author will serve his
+readers and himself best by so subdividing his subject that the
+paragraphs are within these limits.
+
+The following paragraph is much too long and can with no difficulty be
+subdivided. The paragraphs in the next group are too short, and they
+are incomplete.
+
+     "Keating rode up now, and the transaction became more
+     complicated. It ended in the purchase of the horse by Bryce
+     for a hundred and twenty, to be paid on the delivery of
+     Wildfire, safe and sound, at the Batherley stables. It did
+     occur to Dunsey that it might be wise for him to give up the
+     day's hunting, proceed at once to Batherley, and, having
+     waited for Bryce's return, hire a horse to carry him home
+     with the money in his pocket. But the inclination for a run,
+     encouraged by confidence in his luck, and by a draught of
+     brandy from his pocket-pistol at the conclusion of the
+     bargain, was not easy to overcome, especially with a horse
+     under him that would take the fences to the admiration of
+     the field. Dunstan, however, took one fence too many, and
+     got his horse pierced with a hedge-stake. His own
+     ill-favored person, which was quite unmarketable, escaped
+     without injury; but poor Wildfire, unconscious of his price,
+     turned on his flank, and painfully panted his last. It
+     happened that Dunstan, a short time before, having had to
+     get down to arrange his stirrup, had muttered a good many
+     curses at this interruption, which had thrown him in the
+     rear of the hunt near the moment of glory, and under this
+     exasperation had taken the fences more blindly. He would
+     soon have been up with the hounds again, when the fatal
+     accident happened; and hence he was between eager riders in
+     advance, not troubling themselves about what happened behind
+     them, and far-off stragglers, who were as likely as not to
+     pass quite aloof from the line of road in which Wildfire had
+     fallen. Dunstan, whose nature it was to care more for
+     immediate annoyances than for remote consequences, no sooner
+     recovered his legs, and saw that it was all over with
+     Wildfire, than he felt a satisfaction at the absence of
+     witnesses to a position which no swaggering could make
+     enviable. Reinforcing himself, after his shake, with a
+     little brandy and much swearing, he walked as fast as he
+     could to a coppice on his right hand, through which it
+     occurred to him that he could make his way to Batherley
+     without danger of encountering any member of the hunt. His
+     first intention was to hire a horse there and ride home
+     forthwith, for to walk many miles without a gun in his hand,
+     and along an ordinary road, was as much out of the question
+     to him as to other spirited young men of his kind. He did
+     not much mind about taking the bad news to Godfrey, for he
+     had to offer him at the same time the resource of Marner's
+     money; and if Godfrey kicked, as he always did, at the
+     notion of making a fresh debt, from which he himself got the
+     smallest share of advantage, why, he wouldn't kick long:
+     Dunstan felt sure he could worry Godfrey into anything. The
+     idea of Marner's money kept growing in vividness, now the
+     want of it had become immediate; the prospect of having to
+     make his appearance with the muddy boots of a pedestrian at
+     Batherley, and to encounter the grinning queries of
+     stablemen, stood unpleasantly in the way of his impatience
+     to be back at Raveloe and carry out his felicitous plan; and
+     a casual visitation of his waistcoat-pocket, as he was
+     ruminating, awakened his memory to the fact that the two or
+     three small coins his fore-finger encountered there were of
+     too pale a color to cover that small debt, without payment
+     of which the stable-keeper had declared he would never do
+     any more business with Dunsey Cass. After all, according to
+     the direction in which the run had brought him, he was not
+     so very much farther from home than he was from Batherley;
+     but Dunsey, not being remarkable for clearness of head, was
+     only led to this conclusion by the gradual perception that
+     there were other reasons for choosing the unprecedented
+     course of walking home. It was now nearly four o'clock, and
+     a mist was gathering: the sooner he got into the road the
+     better. He remembered having crossed the road and seen the
+     finger-post only a little while before Wildfire broke down;
+     so, buttoning his coat, twisting the lash of his
+     hunting-whip compactly round the handle, and rapping the
+     tops of his boots with a self-possessed air, as if to assure
+     himself that he was not at all taken by surprise, he set off
+     with the sense that he was undertaking a remarkable feat of
+     bodily exertion, which somehow, and at some time, he should
+     be able to dress up and magnify to the admiration of a
+     select circle at the Rainbow. When a young gentleman like
+     Dunsey is reduced to so exceptional a mode of locomotion as
+     walking, a whip in his hand is a desirable corrective to a
+     too bewildering dreamy sense of unwontedness in his
+     position; and Dunstan, as he went along through the
+     gathering mist, was always rapping his whip somewhere. It
+     was Godfrey's whip, which he had chosen to take without
+     leave because it had a gold handle; of course no one could
+     see, when Dunstan held it, that the name _Godfrey Cass_ was
+     cut in deep letters on that gold handle--they could only see
+     that it was a very handsome whip. Dunsey was not without
+     fear that he might meet some acquaintance in whose eyes he
+     would cut a pitiable figure, for mist is no screen when
+     people get close to each other; but when he at last found
+     himself in the well-known Raveloe lanes without having met a
+     soul, he silently remarked that that was part of his usual
+     good luck. But now the mist, helped by the evening darkness,
+     was more of a screen than he desired, for it hid the ruts
+     into which his feet were liable to slip--hid everything, so
+     that he had to guide his steps by dragging his whip along
+     the low bushes in advance of the hedgerow. He must soon, he
+     thought, be getting near the opening at the Stone-pits: he
+     should find it out by the break in the hedgerow. He found it
+     out, however, by another circumstance which he had not
+     expected--namely, by certain gleams of light, which he
+     presently guessed to proceed from Silas Marner's cottage.
+     That cottage and the money hidden within it had been in his
+     mind continually during his walk, and he had been imagining
+     ways of cajoling and tempting the weaver to part with the
+     immediate possession of his money for the sake of receiving
+     interest. Dunstan felt as if there must be a little
+     frightening added to the cajolery, for his own arithmetical
+     convictions were not clear enough to afford him any forcible
+     demonstration as to the advantages of interest; and as for
+     security, he regarded it vaguely as a means of cheating a
+     man by making him believe that he would be paid. Altogether,
+     the operation on the miser's mind was a task that Godfrey
+     would be sure to hand over to his more daring and cunning
+     brother: Dunstan had made up his mind to that; and by the
+     time he saw the light gleaming through the chinks of
+     Marner's shutters, the idea of a dialogue with the weaver
+     had become so familiar to him, that it occurred to him as
+     quite a natural thing to make the acquaintance forthwith.
+     There might be several conveniences attending this course:
+     the weaver had possibly got a lantern, and Dunstan was tired
+     of feeling his way. He was still nearly three quarters of a
+     mile from home, and the lane was becoming unpleasantly
+     slippery, for the mist was passing into rain. He turned up
+     the bank, not without some fear lest he might miss the right
+     way, since he was not certain whether the light were in
+     front or on the side of the cottage. But he felt the ground
+     before him cautiously with his whip-handle, and at last
+     arrived safely at the door. He knocked loudly, rather
+     enjoying the idea that the old fellow would be frightened at
+     the sudden noise. He heard no movement in reply: all was
+     silence in the cottage. Was the weaver gone to bed, then? If
+     so, why had he left a light? That was a strange
+     forgetfulness in a miser. Dunstan knocked still more loudly,
+     and, without pausing for a reply, pushed his fingers through
+     the latch-hole, intending to shake the door and pull the
+     latch-string up and down, not doubting that the door was
+     fastened. But, to his surprise, at this double motion the
+     door opened, and he found himself in front of a bright fire,
+     which lit up every corner of the cottage--the bed, the loom,
+     the three chairs, and the table--and showed him that Marner
+     was not there."[23]
+
+
+     "The country, all white, lit up by the fire, shone like a
+     cloth of silver tinted with red.
+
+     "A bell, far off, began to toll.
+
+     "The old 'Sauvage' remained standing before her ruined
+     dwelling, armed with her gun, her son's gun, for fear lest
+     one of those men might escape.
+
+     "When she saw that it was ended, she threw her weapon into
+     the brasier. A loud report rang back.
+
+     "People were coming, the peasants, the Prussians.
+
+     "They found the woman seated on the trunk of a tree, calm
+     and satisfied.
+
+     "A German officer, who spoke French like a son of France,
+     demanded of her:--
+
+     "'Where are your soldiers?'
+
+     "She extended her thin arm towards the red heap of fire
+     which was gradually going out, and she answered with a
+     strong voice:--
+
+     "'There!'
+
+     "They crowded round her. The Prussian asked:--
+
+     "'How did it take fire?'
+
+     "She said:--
+
+     "'It was I who set it on fire.'"[24]
+
+  Topic Sentence.
+
+Paragraphs are developments of a definite topic; and this topic is
+generally announced at the beginning of the paragraph. In isolated
+paragraphs, paragraphs that are indeed compositions in miniature, the
+topic-sentence is the first sentence. The reader is then advised of
+the subject of the discussion; and as sentence after sentence passes
+him, he can relate it to the topic, and the thought is a cumulative
+whole. If the subject be not announced, the individual sentences must
+be held in mind until the reader catches the drift of the discussion,
+or the author at last presents the topic.
+
+Below are four paragraphs, from different forms of discourse, all
+having the topic-sentence at the beginning.
+
+     "_But success or defeat was a minor matter to them, who had
+     only thought for the safety of those they loved._ Amelia, at
+     the news of the victory, became still more agitated even
+     than before. She was for going that moment to the army. She
+     besought her brother with tears to conduct her thither. Her
+     doubts and terrors reached their paroxysm; and the poor
+     girl, who for many hours had been plunged into stupor, raved
+     and ran hither and thither in hysteric insanity,--a piteous
+     sight. No man writhing in pain in the hard-fought field
+     fifteen miles off, where lay, after their struggles, so many
+     of the brave--no man suffered more keenly than this poor
+     harmless victim of the war. Jos could not bear the sight of
+     her pain. He left his sister in the charge of her stouter
+     female companion and descended once more to the threshold of
+     the hotel, where everybody still lingered, and talked, and
+     waited for more news."[25]
+
+
+     "_Yet the fact remains that the honey-bee is essentially a
+     wild creature, and never has been and cannot be thoroughly
+     domesticated._ Its proper home is the woods, and thither
+     every new swarm counts on going; and thither many do go in
+     spite of the care and watchfulness of the bee-keeper. If the
+     woods in any given locality are deficient in trees with
+     suitable cavities, the bees resort to all kinds of
+     makeshifts; they go into chimneys, into barns and outhouses,
+     under stones, into rocks, and so forth. Several chimneys in
+     my locality with disused flues are taken possession of by
+     colonies of bees nearly every season. One day, while
+     bee-hunting, I developed a line that went toward a farmhouse
+     where I had reason to believe no bees were kept. I followed
+     it up and questioned the farmer about his bees. He said he
+     kept no bees, but that a swarm had taken possession of his
+     chimney, and another had gone under the clapboards in the
+     gable end of his house. He had taken a large lot of honey
+     out of both places the year before. Another farmer told me
+     that one day his family had seen a number of bees examining
+     a knot-hole in the side of his house; the next day as they
+     were sitting down to dinner their attention was attracted by
+     a loud humming noise, when they discovered a swarm of bees
+     settling upon the side of the house and pouring into the
+     knot-hole. In subsequent years other swarms came to the same
+     place."[26]
+
+
+     "_It is important, therefore, to hold fast to this: that
+     poetry is at bottom a criticism of life;_ that the greatness
+     of a poet lies in his powerful and beautiful application of
+     ideas to life,--to the question: How to live. Morals are
+     often treated in a narrow and false fashion; they are bound
+     up with systems of thought and belief which have had their
+     day; they have fallen into the hands of pedants and
+     professional dealers; they grow tiresome to some of us. We
+     find attraction, at times, even in a poetry of revolt
+     against them; in a poetry which might take for its motto
+     Omar Khayyam's words: 'Let us make up in the tavern for the
+     time which we have wasted in the mosque.' Or we find
+     attractions in a poetry indifferent to them; in a poetry
+     where the contents may be what they will, but where the form
+     is studied and exquisite. We delude ourselves in either
+     case; and the best cure for our delusion is to let our minds
+     rest upon that great and inexhaustible word _life,_ until we
+     learn to enter into its meaning. A poetry of revolt against
+     moral ideas is a poetry of revolt against _life;_ a poetry
+     of indifference toward moral ideas is a poetry of
+     indifference toward _life._"[27]
+
+
+     "_The advantages arising from a system of copyright are
+     obvious._ It is desirable that we should have a supply of
+     good books: we cannot have such a supply unless men of
+     letters are liberally remunerated; and the least
+     objectionable way of remunerating them is by means of
+     copyright. You cannot depend for literary instruction and
+     amusement on the leisure of men occupied in the pursuits of
+     active life. Such men may occasionally produce compositions
+     of great merit. But you must not look to such men for works
+     which require deep meditation and long research. Works of
+     that kind you can expect only from persons who make
+     literature the business of their lives. Of these persons few
+     will be found among the rich and the noble. The rich and the
+     noble are not impelled to intellectual exertion by
+     necessity. They may be impelled to intellectual exertion by
+     the desire of distinguishing themselves, or by the desire of
+     benefiting the community. But it is generally within these
+     walls that they seek to signalize themselves and to serve
+     their fellow-creatures. Both their ambition and their public
+     spirit, in a country like this, naturally take a political
+     turn. It is then on men whose profession is literature, and
+     whose private means are not ample, that you must rely for a
+     supply of valuable books. Such men must be remunerated for
+     their literary labor. And there are only two ways in which
+     they can be remunerated. One of those ways is patronage; the
+     other is copyright."[28]
+
+Frequently the topic-sentence is delayed until after the connection
+between what was said in the preceding paragraph and what will be said
+has been made. To establish this relation requires sometimes but a
+word or a short phrase, and sometimes sentences. In these cases the
+topic-sentence follows the transition, and it may come as late as the
+middle of the paragraph.
+
+     "The crows we have always with us, but it is not every day
+     or every season that one sees an eagle. _Hence I must
+     preserve the memory of one I saw the last day I went
+     bee-hunting._ As I was laboring up the side of a mountain at
+     the head of a valley, the noble bird sprang from the top of
+     a dry tree above me and came sailing directly over my head.
+     I saw him bend his eye down upon me, and I could hear the
+     low hum of his plumage, as if the web of every quill in his
+     great wings vibrated in his strong, level flight. I watched
+     him as long as my eye could hold him. When he was fairly
+     clear of the mountain he began that sweeping spiral movement
+     in which he climbs the sky. Up and up he went without once
+     breaking his majestic poise till he appeared to sight some
+     far-off alien geography, when he bent his course
+     thitherward, and gradually vanished in the blue depths. The
+     eagle is a bird of large ideas, he embraces long distances;
+     the continent is his home. I never look upon one without
+     emotion; I follow him with my eye as long as I can. I think
+     of Canada, of the Great Lakes, of the Rocky Mountains, of
+     the wild and sounding sea-coast. The waters are his, and the
+     woods and the inaccessible cliffs. He pierces behind the
+     veil of the storm, and his joy is height and depth and vast
+     spaces."[29]
+
+
+     "Now these insinuations and questions shall be answered in
+     their proper places; here I will but say that I scorn and
+     detest lying, and quibbling, and double-tongued practice,
+     and slyness, and cunning, and smoothness, and cant, and
+     pretence, quite as much as any Protestants hate them; and I
+     pray to be kept from the snare of them. But all this is just
+     now by the bye; _my present subject is my Accuser;_ what I
+     insist upon here is this unmanly attempt of his, in his
+     concluding pages, to cut the ground from under my feet;--to
+     poison by anticipation the public mind against me, John
+     Henry Newman, and to infuse into the imaginations of my
+     readers suspicion and mistrust of everything that I may say
+     in reply to him. This I call poisoning the wells."
+     ("Apologia.")
+
+In exposition and argument, and sometimes in the other forms of
+discourse, the topic-sentence may be at the end of the paragraph. This
+is for emphasis in narration and description. In exposition and
+argument it is better to lead up to an unwelcome truth than to
+announce it at once.
+
+     "Thus the matter of life, so far as we know it (and we have
+     no right to speculate on any other), breaks up, in
+     consequence of that continual death which is the condition
+     of its manifesting vitality, into carbonic acid, water, and
+     nitrogenous compounds which certainly possess no properties
+     but those of ordinary matter. And out of these same forms of
+     ordinary matter, and from none which are simpler, the
+     vegetable world builds up all the protoplasm which keeps the
+     animal world a-going. _Plants are the accumulators of the
+     power which animals distribute and disperse._"[30]
+
+  No Topic-Sentence.
+
+Sometimes no topic-sentence appears in the paragraph. In such a case
+it is easily discovered; or at times it is too fragile to be
+compressed into any definite shape--a feeling, or a sentiment too
+delicate, too volatile for expression. A paragraph with no
+topic-sentence is most common in narration and description.
+
+     "The tide of color has ebbed from the upper sky. In the west
+     the sea of sunken fire draws back; and the stars leap forth,
+     and tremble, and retire before the advancing moon, who slips
+     the silver train of cloud from her shoulders, and, with her
+     foot upon the pine-tops, surveys heaven." ("Richard
+     Feverel," by George Meredith.)
+
+  The Plan.
+
+Whether the topic form a part of the paragraph or not, it should be
+distinctly before the writer, and he should write upon the topic.
+Nothing contributes so much to the success of paragraphs as a definite
+treatment of one single topic. The paragraph is the development, the
+growth of this topic, as the plant is the development of its seed.
+Moreover, the development is according to a definite plan. The
+different steps are not usually laid out, as was done in the outline
+of a theme. Genung, in the "Practical Elements of Rhetoric," presents
+what he calls a typical form for a paragraph. It shows that a
+paragraph which is fully developed is in reality a miniature theme. It
+is as follows:--
+
+     The Subject proposed.
+
+  I. Whatever is needed to explain the subject.
+       Repetition.
+       Obverse.
+       Definition.
+ II. Whatever is needed to establish the subject.
+       Exemplification or detail.
+       Illustration.
+       Proof.
+III. Whatever is needed to apply the subject.
+       Result or consequence.
+       Enforcement.
+       Summary or recapitulation.
+
+  Kinds of Paragraphs.
+
+This typical form of a paragraph embodies all that paragraphs may do,
+and it is the logical arrangement. However, it is rare, perhaps it
+never occurs, that a paragraph is found having all these elements
+developed. The purpose determines which part of a paragraph should
+receive the amplification. If it be narrative or descriptive, there is
+no definition or proof; but the development by details will
+predominate. In an argument, definition and proof will form the large
+part of the paragraphs. Again, the position in the theme determines
+what kind of a paragraph should be used. In exposition the first
+paragraphs would be devoted to stating the proposition, and would
+therefore be largely given up to definition and repetition; the body
+would be especially paragraphs of detail and illustration; while the
+closing paragraph would be taken up with results and a summary. As one
+of the elements of a paragraph has been especially developed,
+paragraphs have been named paragraphs of repetition,[31] of the
+obverse, of details, of instances or examples, and of comparisons.
+Such a division is somewhat mechanical; but for purposes of study and
+for conscious practice in construction it has value.
+
+  Details.
+
+The paragraph of details is by far the most common. It is found in all
+kinds of discourse. It originates from the fact that persons generally
+give the general truth first and follow this statement with the
+details or particulars. Whether the storyteller begins by saying, "Now
+I'll tell you just how they happened to be there;" or the traveler
+writes, "From the Place de la Concorde one has about him magnificent
+views," or "There were many unfortunate circumstances about the
+Dreyfus affair;" in each case he will follow the general statement of
+the opening sentence with sentences going into particulars or details.
+
+     _"All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet
+     schoolroom._ The scholars were hurried through their lessons
+     without stopping at trifles; those who were nimble skipped
+     over half with impunity, and those who were tardy had a
+     smart application now and then in the rear, to quicken their
+     speed or help them over a tall word. Books were flung aside
+     without being put away on the shelves, inkstands were
+     overturned, benches thrown down, and the whole school was
+     turned loose an hour before the usual time, bursting forth
+     like a legion of young imps, yelping and racketing about the
+     green in joy at their early emancipation."[32]
+
+
+     "It was toward evening that Ichabod arrived at the castle of
+     the Heer Van Tassel, _which he found thronged with the pride
+     and flower of the adjacent country._ Old farmers, a spare
+     leathern-faced race, in homespun coats and breeches, blue
+     stocking, huge shoes, and magnificent pewter buckles. Their
+     brisk, withered little dames, in close crimped caps,
+     long-waisted short-gowns, homespun petticoats, with scissors
+     and pincushions, and gay calico pockets hanging on the
+     outside. Buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their
+     mothers, excepting where a straw hat, a fine ribbon, or
+     perhaps a white frock gave symptoms of city innovation. The
+     sons, in short square-skirted coats, with rows of stupendous
+     brass buttons, and their hair generally queued in the
+     fashion of the times, especially if they could procure an
+     eelskin for the purpose, it being esteemed throughout the
+     country as a potent nourisher and strengthener of the
+     hair."[32]
+
+
+     "The enemies of the Parliament, indeed, rarely choose to
+     take issue in the great points of the question. They content
+     themselves with exposing some of _the crimes and follies_ to
+     which public commotions necessarily give birth. They bewail
+     the unmerited fate of Strafford. They execrate the lawless
+     violence of the army. They laugh at the scriptural names of
+     the preachers. Major-generals fleecing their districts;
+     soldiers reveling on the spoils of a ruined peasantry;
+     upstarts, enriched by the public plunder, taking possession
+     of the hospitable firesides and hereditary trees of the old
+     gentry; boys smashing the beautiful windows of cathedrals;
+     Quakers riding naked through the market-place;
+     Fifth-monarchy men shouting for King Jesus; agitators
+     lecturing from the tops of tubs on the fate of Agag,--all
+     these, they tell us, were the offspring of the great
+     Rebellion."[33]
+
+In narration and in a short paragraph of description this paragraph of
+details is frequently without a topic-sentence. The circumstances that
+make up a transaction are grouped, but there is no need of writing, "I
+will now detail this." In the following, since the paragraph is
+plainly about the preparation for the fight, it is unnecessary to say
+so. Such a patent statement would hinder the movement of the story.
+
+     "Alan drew a dirk, which he held in his left hand in case
+     they should run in under his sword. I, on my part, clambered
+     up into the berth with an armful of pistols and something of
+     a heavy heart, and set open the window where I was to watch.
+     It was a small part of the deck that I could overlook, but
+     enough for our purpose. The sea had gone down, and the wind
+     was steady and kept the sails quiet; so that there was a
+     great stillness on the ship, in which I made sure I heard
+     the sound of muttering voices. A little after, and there
+     came a clash of steel upon the deck, by which I knew they
+     were dealing out the cutlasses, and one had been let fall;
+     and after that silence again."[34]
+
+  Comparisons.
+
+The paragraph of comparisons tells what a thing is like and what a
+thing is not like. It is much used in description and exposition. It
+is often the clearest way to describe an object or to explain a
+proposition. One thing may be likened to a number of things, drawing
+from each a quality that more definitely pictures it; or it may be
+compared with but one, and the likeness may be followed out to the
+limit of its value. In the same manner it is often of value to tell
+what a thing or a proposition does not resemble, to contrast it with
+one or more ideas, and by this means exclude what might otherwise be
+confusing. Note that after the negative comparison the paragraph
+closes with what it is like, or what it is.
+
+From Macaulay's long comparison of the writings of Milton and Dante,
+one paragraph is enough to illustrate the use of contrast.
+
+     "Now let us _compare_ with the exact details of Dante the
+     dim intimations of Milton. We will cite a few examples. The
+     English poet has never thought of taking the measure of
+     Satan. He gives us merely a vague idea of vast bulk. In one
+     passage the fiend lies stretched out, huge in length,
+     floating many a rood, equal in size to the earth-born
+     enemies of Jove, or to the sea monster which the mariner
+     mistakes for an island. When he addresses himself to battle
+     against the guardian angels, he stands like Teneriffe or
+     Atlas; his stature reaches the sky. Contrast with these
+     descriptions the lines in which Dante has described the
+     gigantic spectre of Nimrod: 'His face seemed to me as long
+     and as broad as the ball of St. Peter's at Rome, and his
+     other limbs were in proportion; so that the bank, which
+     concealed him from the waist downwards, nevertheless showed
+     so much of him that three tall Germans would in vain have
+     attempted to reach to his hair.'" ("Essay on Milton.")
+
+The following indicates the use of similarity.
+
+     "It is the character of such revolutions that we always see
+     the worst of them at first. Till men have been some time
+     free, they know not how to use their freedom. The natives of
+     wine countries are generally sober. In climates where wine
+     is a rarity intemperance abounds. A newly liberated people
+     may be _compared to_ a northern army encamped on the Rhine
+     or the Xeres. It is said that, when soldiers in such a
+     situation first find themselves able to indulge without
+     restraint in such a rare and expensive luxury, nothing is to
+     be seen but intoxication. Soon, however, plenty teaches
+     discretion, and, after wine has been for a few months their
+     daily fare, they become more temperate than they had ever
+     been in their own country. In the same manner, the final and
+     permanent fruits of liberty are wisdom, moderation, and
+     mercy. Its immediate effects are often atrocious crimes,
+     conflicting errors, skepticism on points the most clear,
+     dogmatism on points the most mysterious. It is just at this
+     crisis that its enemies love to exhibit it. They pull down
+     the scaffolding from the half-finished edifice; they point
+     to the flying dust, the falling bricks, the comfortless
+     rooms, the frightful irregularity of the whole appearance,
+     and then ask in scorn where the promised splendor and
+     comfort is to be found. If such miserable sophisms were to
+     prevail, there would never be a good house or a good
+     government in the world." ("Essay on Milton," by Lord
+     Macaulay.)
+
+  Repetition.
+
+A third method of developing a paragraph from a topic-sentence is by
+repetition. Simply to repeat in other words would be useless
+redundancy; but so to repeat that with each repetition the thought
+broadens or deepens is valuable in proposing a subject or explaining
+it. No person has attained greater skill in repetition than Matthew
+Arnold, and much of his clearness comes from his repetition, often of
+the very same phrases.
+
+     "Wordsworth has been in his grave for some thirty years, and
+     certainly his lovers and admirers cannot flatter themselves
+     that this great and steady light of glory as yet shines over
+     him. He is not fully recognized at home; he is not
+     recognized at all abroad. Yet I firmly believe that the
+     poetical performance of Wordsworth is, after that of
+     Shakespeare and Milton, of which all the world now
+     recognizes the worth, undoubtedly the most considerable in
+     our language from the Elizabethan age to the present time.
+     Chaucer is anterior; and on other grounds, too, he cannot
+     well be brought into the comparison. But taking the roll of
+     our chief poetical names, besides Shakespeare and Milton,
+     from the age of Elizabeth downwards, and going through
+     it,--Spenser, Dryden, Pope, Gray, Goldsmith, Cowper, Burns,
+     Coleridge, Scott, Campbell, Moore, Byron, Shelley, Keats (I
+     mention those only who are dead),--I think it certain that
+     Wordsworth's name deserves to stand, and will finally stand,
+     above them all. Several of the poets named have gifts and
+     excellencies which Wordsworth has not. But taking the
+     performance of each as a whole, I say that Wordsworth seems
+     to me to have left a body of poetical work superior in
+     power, in interest, in the qualities which give enduring
+     freshness, to that which any one of the others has left."
+     ("Essay on Wordsworth," by Matthew Arnold.)
+
+
+     "Perhaps no person can be a poet, or can even enjoy poetry,
+     without a certain unsoundness of mind, if anything which
+     gives so much pleasure ought to be called unsoundness. By
+     poetry we mean not all writing in verse, nor even all good
+     writing in verse. Our definition excludes many metrical
+     compositions which, on other grounds, deserve the highest
+     praise. By poetry, we mean the art of employing words in
+     such a manner as to produce an illusion on the imagination,
+     the art of doing by means of words what the painter does by
+     means of colors. Thus the greatest of the poets has
+     described it, in lines universally admired for the vigor and
+     felicity of their diction, and still more valuable on
+     account of the just notion which they convey of the art in
+     which he excelled:--
+
+                  'As imagination bodies forth
+          The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
+          Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
+          A local habitation and a name.'
+
+     These are the fruits of the 'fine frenzy' which he ascribes
+     to the poet,--a fine frenzy, doubtless, but still a frenzy.
+     Truth, indeed, is essential to poetry, but it is the truth
+     of madness. The reasonings are just, but the premises are
+     false. After the first suppositions have been made,
+     everything ought to be consistent; but those first
+     suppositions require a degree of credulity which almost
+     amounts to a partial and temporary derangement of the
+     intellect. Hence, of all people, children are the most
+     imaginative. They abandon themselves without reserve to
+     every illusion. Every image which is strongly presented to
+     their mental eye produces in them the effect of reality. No
+     man, whatever his sensibility may be, is ever affected by
+     Hamlet or Lear as a little girl is affected by the story of
+     poor Red Riding Hood. She knows it is all false, that wolves
+     cannot speak, that there are no wolves in England. Yet in
+     spite of her knowledge she believes; she weeps; she
+     trembles; she dares not go into a dark room lest she should
+     feel the teeth of the monster at her throat. Such is the
+     despotism of the imagination over uncultivated minds."
+     ("Essay on Milton," by Macaulay.)
+
+  Obverse.
+
+A fourth method of building up a paragraph from a topic-sentence
+consists in telling what it is not; that is, giving the obverse. This
+is very effective in argument, and is employed in exposition and
+description. The obverse usually follows a positive statement, and
+again is followed by the affirmative; that is, first what it is, then
+what it is not, and last, what it is again. In the following
+description by Ruskin, the method appears and reappears. Notice the
+"nots" and "buts," indicating the change from the negative to the
+positive statement. It would be a sacrilege to omit the last
+paragraph, though it does not illustrate this manner of development.
+
+     "For all other rivers there is a surface, and an underneath,
+     and a vaguely displeasing idea of the bottom. But the Rhone
+     flows like one lambent jewel; its surface is nowhere, its
+     ethereal self is everywhere, the iridescent rush and
+     translucent strength of it blue to the shore, and radiant to
+     the depth.
+
+     "Fifteen feet thick, not of flowing, but flying water; not
+     water, neither--melted glacier, rather, one should call it;
+     the force of the ice is with it, and the wreathing of the
+     clouds, the gladness of the sky, and the continuance of
+     Time.
+
+     "Waves of clear sea are, indeed, lovely to watch, but they
+     are always coming or gone, never in any taken shape to be
+     seen for a second. But here was one mighty wave that was
+     always itself, and every fluted swirl of it, constant as the
+     wreathing of a shell. No wasting away of the fallen foam, no
+     pause for gathering of power, no helpless ebb of discouraged
+     recoil; but alike through bright day and lulling night, the
+     never-pausing plunge, and never-fading flash, and
+     never-hushing whisper, and, while the sun was up, the
+     ever-answering glow of unearthly aquamarine, ultramarine,
+     violet-blue, gentian-blue, peacock-blue, river-of-paradise
+     blue, glass of a painted window melted in the sun, and the
+     witch of the Alps flinging the spun tresses of it forever
+     from her snow.
+
+     "The innocent way, too, in which the river used to stop to
+     look into every little corner. Great torrents always seem
+     angry, and great rivers are often too sullen; but there is
+     no anger, no disdain in the Rhone. It seemed as if the
+     mountain stream was in mere bliss at recovering itself again
+     out of the lake-sleep, and raced because it rejoiced in
+     racing, fain yet to return and stay. There were pieces of
+     wave that danced all day, as if Perdita were looking on to
+     learn; there were little streams that skipped like lambs and
+     leaped like chamois; there were pools that shook the
+     sunshine all through them, and were rippled in layers of
+     overlaid ripples, like crystal sand; there were currents
+     that twisted the light into golden braids, and inlaid the
+     threads with turquoise enamel; there were strips of stream
+     that had certainly above the lake been mill-stream, and were
+     looking busily for mills to turn again; and there were
+     shoots of stream that had once shot fearfully into the air,
+     and now sprang up again, laughing, that they had only fallen
+     a foot or two;--and in the midst of all the gay glittering
+     and eddied lingering, the noble bearing by of the midmost
+     depth, so mighty, yet so terrorless and harmless, with its
+     swallows skimming in spite of petrels, and the dear old
+     decrepit town as safe in the embracing sweep of it as if it
+     were set in a brooch of sapphires."[35]
+
+This extract from Burke's speech is a good example of the same method.
+
+     "I put this consideration of the present and the growing
+     numbers in the front of our deliberation, because, Sir, this
+     consideration will make it evident to a blunter discernment
+     than yours, that _no_ partial, narrow, contracted, pinched,
+     occasional system will be at all suitable to such an object.
+     It will show you that it is _not_ to be considered as one of
+     those _minima_ which are out of the eye and consideration of
+     the law; _not_ a paltry excrescence of the state; _not_ a
+     mean dependent, who may be neglected with little damage and
+     provoked with little danger. It will prove that some degree
+     of care and caution is required in the handling such an
+     object; it will show that you ought not, in reason, to
+     trifle with so large a mass of the interests and feelings of
+     the human race. You could at no time do so without guilt;
+     and be assured you will not be able to do it long with
+     impunity."[36]
+
+  Examples.
+
+A fifth method of expanding a topic is by means of illustrations and
+examples. It is used largely in establishing or enforcing a
+proposition. The author selects one example, or perhaps more than one,
+to illustrate his proposition. Note the words that may introduce
+specific instances: _for example, for instance, to illustrate, a case
+in point,_ and so forth.
+
+In the first of the following quotations, Cardinal Newman is showing
+that simply to acquire is not true mental enlargement. The paragraph
+is made up of a series of instances. The second paragraph is by
+Macaulay.
+
+     "The _case is the same still more strikingly when_ the
+     persons in question are beyond dispute men of inferior
+     powers and deficient education. Perhaps they have been much
+     in foreign countries, and they receive, in a passive,
+     otiose, unfruitful way, the various facts which are forced
+     upon them there. Seafaring men, _for example,_ range from
+     one end of the earth to the other; but the multiplicity of
+     external objects which they have encountered forms no
+     symmetrical and consistent picture upon their imagination;
+     they see the tapestry of human life, as it were, on the
+     wrong side, and it tells no story. They sleep, and they rise
+     up, and they find themselves, now in Europe, now in Asia;
+     they see visions of great cities and wild regions; they are
+     in the marts of commerce, or amid the islands of the South;
+     they gaze on Pompey's Pillar, or on the Andes; and nothing
+     which meets them carries them forward or backward, to any
+     idea beyond itself. Nothing has a drift or relation; nothing
+     has a history or a promise. Everything stands by itself and
+     comes and goes in its turn, like the shifting scenes of a
+     show, which leave the spectator where he was. Perhaps you
+     are near such a man on a particular occasion, and expect him
+     to be shocked or perplexed at something which occurs; but
+     one thing is much the same to him as another; or, if he is
+     perplexed, it is as not knowing what to say, whether it is
+     right to admire, or to ridicule, or to disapprove, while
+     conscious that some expression of opinion is expected from
+     him; for in fact he has no standard of judgment at all, and
+     no landmarks to guide him to a conclusion. Such is mere
+     acquisition, and, I repeat, no one would dream of calling it
+     philosophy." ("Idea of a University," by Cardinal Newman.)
+
+
+     "I will give _another instance._ One of the most
+     instructive, interesting, and delightful books in our
+     language is Boswell's 'Life of Johnson.' Now it is well
+     known that Boswell's eldest son considered this book,
+     considered the whole relation of Boswell to Johnson, as a
+     blot in the escutcheon of the family. He thought, not
+     perhaps altogether without reason, that his father had
+     exhibited himself in a ludicrous and degrading light. And
+     thus he became so sore and irritable that at last he could
+     not bear to hear the 'Life of Johnson' mentioned. Suppose
+     that the law had been what my honorable and learned friend
+     wishes to make it. Suppose that the copyright of Boswell's
+     'Life of Johnson' had belonged, as it well might, during
+     sixty years, to Boswell's eldest son. What would have been
+     the consequence? An unadulterated copy of the finest
+     biographical work in the world would have been as scarce as
+     the first edition of Camden's 'Britannia.'" (Speech,
+     "Copyright," by Macaulay.)
+
+  Combines Two or More Forms.
+
+As was said at the beginning, a paragraph is seldom made exclusively
+of one form. One part of the typical paragraph is usually developed
+more than any other and gives to the paragraph its character and its
+name. By far the most common variety of paragraph is that which
+combines two or more of the other forms. It is not necessary to cite
+examples; they are everywhere. Though combination is the commonest
+method of development, it should be guarded. It is a poor paragraph
+that combines the forms indiscriminately. It should follow some plan;
+and the best plan is the one already given in the typical paragraph.
+
+All paragraphs, whatever be the special method of development, are
+governed by the three principles which have guided in the structure of
+whole compositions. Whether the purpose be to prove or to narrate, to
+enforce a conclusion or to illustrate, if a paragraph is to produce
+its greatest effect, it should have unity, it should be well massed,
+and it should be coherent.
+
+It is not necessary now to define unity in a paragraph; the need is
+rather to notice the offenses against it that frequently occur. They
+are manifestly two: too much may be included, and not all may be
+included. The accompanying circumstance of the one, not necessarily
+the cause, however, is often a very long paragraph, and of the other a
+short paragraph.
+
+  Unity.
+
+Violations of the unity of a paragraph most frequently result from
+including more than belongs there. The theme has been selected; it is
+narrow and concise. When one begins to write, many things crowd in
+pell-mell. Impressions, which come and go, we hardly know how or why,
+are the only products of most minds. Impressions, not shaped and
+logical thoughts, make up the mixed confusion frequently called a
+theme. The writer puts down enough of these impressions to make a
+paragraph, and then goes on to do it again, fancying that so he is
+really paragraphing. Even should he keep within the limits of his
+theme, he cannot in this way paragraph. As everything upon a subject
+does not belong in a theme, so everything in a theme may not be
+introduced indiscriminately into any paragraph.
+
+The other danger lies in the short paragraph. It does not allow a
+writer room to say all he has to say upon the topic, so it runs over
+into the next paragraph. All of the thought-paragraph should appear in
+one division on the page. This error is not so common as the former.
+Examples of each are to be found on pages 152-157.
+
+  Need of Outline.
+
+The remedy for this confusion clearly is hard thinking; and a great
+assistance is the outline. Before a word is written, think through the
+theme; get clearly the purpose of each paragraph in the development of
+the whole. Then write just what the paragraph was intended to include,
+and no more. More will be suggested because the parts of a whole theme
+are all closely related, but that more belongs somewhere else. Make a
+sharp outline, and follow it.
+
+  Mass.
+
+A paragraph should be so arranged that the parts which arrest the eye
+will be important.[37] When a person glances down a page, his eye
+rests upon the beginning and the end of each paragraph. A reader going
+rapidly through an article to get what he wants of it does not read
+religiously every word; he knows that he will be directed to the
+contents of each paragraph by the first and last sentences. If a
+writer considers his readers, if he desires to arrange his paragraph
+so that it will be most effective, he will have at these points such
+sentences as will accurately indicate its contents and the trend of
+the discussion; and he will form these sentences so well that they
+will deserve the attention which is given them by reason of their
+position in the paragraph.
+
+  What begins and what ends a Paragraph?
+
+What are the words that deserve the distinction of opening and closing
+a paragraph? As in the theme, so in a paragraph, the first thing is to
+announce the subject of discussion. When the subject is simply
+announced without giving any indication as to the drift of the
+discussion, the conclusion of the discussion is generally stated in
+the last sentence. Burke says, "The first thing we have to consider
+with regard to the nature of the object is the number of people in the
+colonies." He concludes the paragraph with, "Whilst we are discussing
+any given magnitude, they are grown to it. Whilst we spend our time in
+deliberating on the mode of governing two millions, we shall find we
+have millions more to manage. Your children do not grow faster from
+infancy to manhood than they spread from families to communities, and
+from villages to nations." In other cases the opening sentence states
+the conclusion at which the paragraph will arrive. Then the closing
+sentence may be a repetition of the opening or topic sentence; or it
+may be one of the points used to exemplify or establish the
+proposition which opens the paragraph. Again, in a short paragraph the
+topic need not be announced at the beginning; in this case it should
+be given in the concluding sentence. Or, should the topic be given in
+the opening sentence of a short paragraph, it is unnecessary to repeat
+it at the end. In any case, whether the paragraph opens with a simple
+announcement of the topic to be discussed, or with the conclusion
+which the paragraph aims to explain, establish, or illustrate, or
+whether it closes with the conclusion of the whole matter, or with one
+of the main points in the development, the sentences at the beginning
+and the end of a paragraph should be strong sentences worthy of their
+distinguished position.
+
+In the first paragraph below, there is a proposition in the first
+sentence and its repetition in the last. In the two following, though
+they close with no general statement, the specific assertions used to
+substantiate and illustrate the first sentences are strong and carry
+in themselves the truth of the topic-sentence.
+
+     "The eloquence of Mr. Adams resembled his general character,
+     and formed, indeed, a part of it. It was bold, manly, and
+     energetic; and such the crisis required. When public bodies
+     are to be addressed on momentous occasions, when great
+     interests are at stake, and strong passions excited, nothing
+     is valuable in speech farther than as it is connected with
+     high intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force,
+     and earnestness are the qualities which produce conviction.
+     True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It
+     cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for
+     it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be
+     marshaled in every way, but they cannot compass it. It must
+     exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion.
+     Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of
+     declamation, all may aspire to it; they cannot reach it. It
+     comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain
+     from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires,
+     with spontaneous, original, native force. The graces taught
+     in the schools, the costly ornaments and studied
+     contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men when their own
+     lives and the fate of their wives, their children, and their
+     country hang on the decision of the hour. Then words have
+     lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate
+     oratory contemptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked
+     and subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then
+     patriotism is eloquent; then self-devotion is eloquent. The
+     clear conception, outrunning the deductions of logic, the
+     high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit,
+     speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing
+     every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward
+     to his object--this, this is eloquence: or rather it is
+     something greater and higher than all eloquence; it is
+     action, noble, sublime, godlike action."[38]
+
+
+     "The prejudiced man travels, and then everything he sees in
+     Catholic countries only serves to make him more thankful
+     that his notions are so true; and the more he sees of
+     Popery, the more abominable he feels it to be. If there is
+     any sin, any evil in a foreign population, though it be
+     found among Protestants also, still Popery is clearly the
+     cause of it. If great cities are the schools of vice, it is
+     owing to Popery. If Sunday is profaned, if there is a
+     carnival, it is the fault of the Catholic Church. Then,
+     there are no private houses, as in England; families live in
+     staircases; see what it is to belong to a Popish country.
+     Why do the Roman laborers wheel their barrows so slow in the
+     Forum? why do the Lazzaroni of Naples lie so listlessly on
+     the beach? why, but because they are under the _malaria_ of
+     a false religion. Rage, as is well known, is in the Roman
+     like a falling sickness, almost as if his will had no part
+     in it and he had no responsibility; see what it is to be a
+     Papist. Bloodletting is as frequent and as much a matter of
+     course in the South as hair-cutting in England; it is a
+     trick borrowed from the convents, when they wish to tame
+     down refractory spirits."[39]
+
+
+     "Excuse me, Sir, if turning from such thoughts I resume this
+     comparative view once more. You have seen it on a large
+     scale; look at it on a small one. I will point out to your
+     attention a particular instance of it in the single province
+     of Pennsylvania. In the year 1704 that province called for
+     L11,459 in value of your commodities, native and foreign.
+     This was the whole. What did it demand in 1772? Why, nearly
+     fifty times as much; for in that year the export to
+     Pennsylvania was L507,909, nearly equal to the export to all
+     the colonies together in the first period."[40]
+
+The following illustrates the weakness of closing with a specific
+instance when it does not rise to the level of the remainder of a
+paragraph. The last sentence would better be omitted.
+
+     "We often hear of the magical influence of poetry. The
+     expression in general means nothing; but, applied to the
+     writings of Milton, it is most appropriate. His poetry acts
+     like an incantation. Its merit lies less in its obvious
+     meaning than in its occult power. There would seem, at first
+     sight, to be no more in his words than in other words. But
+     they are words of enchantment. No sooner are they pronounced
+     than the past is present and the distant near. New forms of
+     beauty start at once into existence, and all the
+     burial-places of memory give up their dead. Change the
+     structure of the sentence, substitute one synonym for
+     another, and the whole effect is destroyed. The spell loses
+     its power; and he who should then hope to conjure with it
+     would find himself as much mistaken as Cassim in the Arabian
+     tale, when he stood crying, 'Open Wheat,' 'Open Barley,' to
+     the door which obeyed no sound but 'Open Sesame.' In the
+     miserable failure of Dryden in his attempt to translate into
+     his own diction some parts of the 'Paradise Lost' is a
+     remarkable instance of this." ("Essay on Milton," by
+     Macaulay.)
+
+  Length of opening and closing Sentences.
+
+By examination, one finds that the first sentence of a paragraph of
+exposition and of argument is usually a terse statement of the
+proposition; and that after the proposition has been established there
+follows a longer sentence gathering up all the points of the
+discussion into a full, rounded period which forms a suitable climax
+and conclusion of the paragraph. Of Macaulay's "Milton" one is quite
+inside the truth when he says that of those paragraphs containing an
+opening topic-sentence and its restatement as a conclusion, the
+closing sentence is the longer in the ratio of two to one. In Burke's
+"Conciliation," the ratio rises as high as four to one. There are,
+however, exceptions to the rule. Paragraphs sometimes close with a
+shorter statement of the proposition, a sort of aphorism or epigram.
+As this kind of sentence is fascinating, some books have said that
+paragraphs should close so; that it is like cracking a whip, and gives
+a snap to the paragraph not gained in any other way. Even if readers
+enjoyed having paragraphs close in this cracking manner, it must be
+borne in mind that not all conclusions are capable of such a
+statement, and, what is worse, that the tendency to seek for epigrams
+leads to untruth and a degenerated form of witticism. Such forced
+sentences are only half truths, or they are a bit of cheap repartee.
+Such a close is effective, if the whole truth can be so expressed; but
+to seek for such sentences is dangerous. The best rule is the one
+already stated; it applies to the long sentence and the short sentence
+alike. It is that a paragraph should close with words that deserve
+distinction.
+
+  Proportion.
+
+The body of a paragraph should have the matter so proportioned that
+the more important points shall receive the longer treatment. In a
+paragraph of proof, details, or comparison, that point in the proof,
+that particular, that part of the comparison, which for the specific
+purpose has most significance, should have proportionately fuller
+treatment. It is the same principle already noticed in exposition.
+Indicate the relative importance of topics in a paragraph by the
+relative number of words used in their treatment.
+
+For mass in a paragraph, then, keep in mind that the last sentence
+should contain matter and form worthy of the position it occupies;
+that the position of next importance is at the beginning; and that the
+relative importance of the matters in the body of a paragraph is
+pretty correctly indicated by the relative length of treatment.
+
+  Coherence and Clearness.
+
+Coherence, the third principle of structure, is the most important;
+and it is the most difficult to apply. For one can make a beginning
+and an end, he can select his materials so that there is unity, but to
+make all the parts stick together, to arrange the sentences so that
+one grows naturally from the preceding and leads into the next,
+requires nice adjustment of parts, and rewriting many times. How
+essential coherence in a paragraph is, simply to make the thought easy
+to grasp, may be seen by taking a paragraph to pieces and mixing up
+its sentences, and at the same time removing all words that bind its
+parts together. The following can hardly be understood at all, but in
+its original condition it is so clear that it cannot be misunderstood.
+If the sentences be arranged in the following order, the original
+paragraph will appear: 1, 5, 3, 9, 8, 6, 2, 4, 7, 10.
+
+     1. "The first question which obviously suggests itself is
+     how these wonderful moral effects are to be wrought under
+     the instrumentality of the physical sciences. 2. To know is
+     one thing, to do is another; the two things are altogether
+     distinct. 3. Does Sir Robert Peel mean to say, that whatever
+     be the occult reasons for the result, so it is; you have but
+     to drench the popular mind with physics, and moral and
+     religious advancement follows on the whole, in spite of
+     individual failures? 4. A man knows he should get up in the
+     morning,--he lies abed; he knows he should not lose his
+     temper, yet he cannot keep it. 5. Can the process be
+     analyzed and drawn out, or does it act like a dose or a
+     charm which comes into general use empirically? 6. It is
+     natural and becoming to seek for some clear idea of the
+     meaning of so dark an oracle. 7. A laboring man knows he
+     should not go to the ale-house, and his wife knows she
+     should not filch when she goes out charing, but,
+     nevertheless, in these cases, the consciousness of a duty is
+     not all one with the performance of it. 8. Or rather, does
+     he mean, that, from the nature of the case, he who is imbued
+     with science and literature, unless adverse influences
+     interfere, cannot but be a better man? 9. Yet when has the
+     experiment been tried on so large a scale as to justify such
+     anticipations? 10. There are, then, large families of
+     instances, to say the least, in which men may become wiser,
+     without becoming better; what, then, is the meaning of this
+     great maxim in the mouth of its promulgators?"
+
+Coherence, so necessary to the easy understanding of a paragraph, is
+gained in three ways: by the order in which the sentences are
+arranged; by the use of parallel constructions for parallel ideas; and
+by the use of connectives.
+
+  Two Arrangements of Sentences in a Paragraph.
+
+Material which has been selected with regard to the principle of unity
+is all informed with one idea. Yet though one thought runs through it
+all and unites it, the parts do not stand in an equally close relation
+to the conclusion, nor is each part equally related to every other
+part. Had they been, the last paragraph quoted would have been as well
+in one order as another. Rather the sentences seem to fall into groups
+of more closely related matters; or at times one sentence seems to
+follow as the direct consequence of the preceding sentence. With
+respect to the way in which the sentences contribute to the topic of
+the paragraph, whether the topic be announced first or last, sentences
+may be said to contribute directly to the proposition or indirectly.
+If directly, the paragraph is a collection of sentences, each having a
+common purpose, each having a similar relation to the topic, arranged,
+as it were, side by side, and advancing as one body to the conclusion.
+This may be termed an individual arrangement of sentences, since as
+individuals they each contribute to the topic. The conclusion derives
+its force from the combined mass of all. If indirectly, the paragraph
+is a series of sentences, each growing out of the one preceding it,
+each receiving a push from the sentence before, and the last having
+the combined force of all. This may be styled a serial arrangement of
+sentences, since in such a case each contributes to the topic only as
+one in a chain. The former overcomes by its mass; the latter strikes
+by reason of its velocity. The one advances in rank; the other
+advances in single file.
+
+An illustration of each will help to an understanding of this. In the
+following paragraph from Macaulay's essay on Milton, each of the
+details mentioned points directly to "those days" when the race became
+a "byword and a shaking of the head to the nations." Their aggregate
+mass enforces the topic of the paragraph. They are all one body
+equally informed with the common principle which is the topic. Notice
+that one sentence is not the source of the next, but that all the
+sentences stand in a similar relation to the conclusion. This
+arrangement is common in description. In the second paragraph, from
+Irving's "Legend of Sleepy Hollow," each detail contributes to the
+appearance of Ichabod, not through some other sentence, but directly.
+
+     "Then came those days, never to be recalled without a blush,
+     the days of servitude without loyalty and sensuality without
+     love; of dwarfish talents and gigantic vices; the paradise
+     of cold hearts and narrow minds; the golden age of the
+     coward, the bigot, and the slave. The king cringed to his
+     rival that he might trample on his people; sank into a
+     viceroy of France, and pocketed with complacent infamy her
+     degrading insults and her more degrading gold. The caresses
+     of harlots and the jests of buffoons regulated the policy of
+     the state. The government had just ability enough to
+     deceive, and just religion enough to persecute. The
+     principles of liberty were the scoff of every grinning
+     courtier, and the Anathema Maranatha of every fawning dean.
+     In every high place, worship was paid to Charles and James,
+     Belial and Moloch; and England propitiated those obscene and
+     cruel idols with the blood of her best and bravest children.
+     Crime succeeded to crime, and disgrace to disgrace, till the
+     race, accursed of God and man, was a second time driven
+     forth to wander on the face of the earth, and to be a byword
+     and a shaking of the head to the nations."
+
+
+     "Ichabod was a suitable figure for such a steed. He rode
+     with short stirrups, which brought his knees nearly up to
+     the pommel of the saddle; his sharp elbows stuck out like
+     grasshoppers'; he carried his whip perpendicularly in his
+     hand, like a sceptre, and as his horse jogged on, the motion
+     of his arms was not unlike the flapping of a pair of wings.
+     A small wool hat rested on the top of his nose, for so his
+     scanty strip of forehead might be called, and the skirts of
+     his black coat fluttered out almost to the horse's tail.
+     Such was the appearance of Ichabod and his steed as they
+     shambled out of the gate of Hans Van Ripper, and it was
+     altogether such an apparition as is seldom to be met with in
+     broad daylight."
+
+The following paragraph in the essay on Milton contains an example of
+the second method of arrangement. Each sentence is the result of the
+one before it. The sentences advance in single file. Notice that each
+sentence does not contribute directly to the conclusion, but that it
+acts through the succeeding sentence. The phrases from which a
+succeeding sentence springs are in small capitals; and the phrases
+which refer back are in italics.
+
+     "Most of the remarks which we have hitherto made on the
+     public character of Milton apply to him only as one of A
+     LARGE BODY. WE SHALL PROCEED to notice some of the
+     peculiarities which distinguished him _from his
+     contemporaries._ _And for that purpose_ it is necessary to
+     take a short survey of THE PARTIES into which the political
+     world was at that time divided. We must premise that our
+     observations are intended to apply only to THOSE WHO
+     ADHERED, from a sincere preference, to one or to the other
+     side. In days of public commotion, _every faction,_ like an
+     Oriental army, is attended by a crowd of camp-followers, a
+     useless and heartless RABBLE, who prowl round its line of
+     march in the hope of picking up something under its
+     protection, but desert it in the day of battle, and often
+     join to exterminate it after defeat. England, at the time of
+     which we are treating, abounded with fickle and _selfish
+     politicians,_ who transferred their support to every
+     government as it rose; who kissed the hand of the king in
+     1640, and spat in his face in 1649; who shouted with equal
+     glee when Cromwell was inaugurated in Westminster Hall, and
+     when he was dug up to be hanged at Tyburn; who dined on
+     calves' heads or broiled rumps, and cut down oak branches or
+     stuck them up, as circumstances altered, without the
+     slightest shame or repugnance. _These_ we leave out of
+     account. We take our estimate of parties from _those who_
+     really deserve to be called partisans."
+
+(For other examples of the same arrangement see the next quotation,
+and also a paragraph quoted on page 222.)
+
+Paragraphs are most frequently found to combine the two methods. In
+the following, notice that the second sentence grows out of the first,
+the third from the second, and so the serial arrangement is maintained
+until the eighth is reached. Sentences nine, ten, eleven, and twelve
+give body to sentence eight. Then begins again the regular succession.
+Sentences sixteen to twenty are the outgrowth of the phrase "on his
+account."
+
+     "1. The Puritans were men whose minds had derived a peculiar
+     character from the daily contemplation of superior beings
+     and eternal interests. 2. Not content with acknowledging in
+     general terms an overruling Providence, they habitually
+     ascribed every event to the will of the Great Being, for
+     whose power nothing was too vast, for whose inspection
+     nothing was too minute. 3. To know Him, to serve Him, to
+     enjoy Him, was with them the great end of existence. 4. They
+     rejected with contempt the ceremonious homage which other
+     sects substituted for the pure worship of the soul. 5.
+     Instead of catching occasional glimpses of the Deity through
+     an obscuring veil, they aspired to gaze full on the
+     intolerable brightness, and to commune with Him face to
+     face. 6. Hence originated their contempt for terrestrial
+     distinctions. 7. The difference between the greatest and the
+     meanest of mankind seemed to vanish when compared with the
+     boundless interval which separated the whole race from Him
+     on whom their own eyes were constantly fixed. 8. They
+     recognized no title to superiority but His favor; and,
+     confident of that favor, they despised all the
+     accomplishments and all the dignities of the world. 9. If
+     they were unacquainted with the works of philosophers and
+     poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of God. 10. If
+     their names were not found in the registers of heralds, they
+     were recorded in the Book of Life. 11. If their steps were
+     not accompanied by a splendid train of menials, legions of
+     ministering angels had charge over them. 12. Their palaces
+     were houses not made with hands; their diadems, crowns of
+     glory which should never fade away. 13. On the rich and the
+     eloquent, on nobles and priests, they looked down with
+     contempt; for they esteemed themselves rich in a more
+     precious treasure, and eloquent in a more sublime language,
+     nobles by the right of an earlier creation, and priests by
+     the imposition of a mightier hand. 14. The very meanest of
+     them was a being to whose fate a mysterious and terrible
+     importance belonged, on whose slightest action the spirits
+     of light and darkness looked with anxious interest; who had
+     been destined, before heaven and earth were created, to
+     enjoy a felicity which should continue when heaven and earth
+     should have passed away. 15. Events which short-sighted
+     politicians ascribed to earthly causes had been ordained on
+     his account. 16. For his sake empires had risen, and
+     flourished, and decayed. 17. For his sake the Almighty had
+     proclaimed His will by the pen of the Evangelist and the
+     harp of the prophet. 18. He had been wrested by no common
+     deliverer from the grasp of no common foe. 19. He had been
+     ransomed by the sweat of no vulgar agony, by the blood of no
+     earthly sacrifice. 20. It was for him that the sun had been
+     darkened, that the rocks had been rent, that the dead had
+     risen, that all nature had shuddered at the sufferings of
+     her expiring God."
+
+This division has been made because by its aid an approach can be made
+toward rules for arrangement. In the paragraph quoted on page 183, the
+different sentences are equally related to the topic. Is there, then,
+no reason why one should be first rather than another? Notice the
+topics of the sentences and the order becomes a necessity. King, state
+policy, government, liberty, religion,--it is an ascending scale. On
+page 96 is a paragraph on the charmed names used by Milton. "One,"
+"another," "a third," "a fourth,"--for all one can see as to the
+relation of each to the topic, "a fourth" might as well have been
+"one" as fourth. But upon reading the paragraph it is evident that
+Macaulay thought the last more important than the first. So in the
+paragraph just quoted about the Puritans, when the arrangement of the
+first eight sentences changes in sentences nine through eleven, and
+again in sentences sixteen to twenty, the order is a climax. Moreover,
+those topics are associated which are more closely related in thought.
+King is more closely related to government than to religion, and
+religion is more intimately associated with the idea of liberty than
+with king. The order, then, is the natural order of association. From
+these examples we derive the first principle of arrangement. In a
+paragraph where several sentences contribute individually to the
+topic, they must be arranged in the order in which the thoughts are
+associated and follow each other; and, when possible, they should take
+the order of a climax.
+
+  Definite References.
+
+In the paragraph made up of sentences in a series, each linked to the
+sentence before and after, the difficulty is in transmitting the force
+of one sentence to the next one undiminished. This is done by binding
+the sentences so closely together that one cannot slip on the other.
+In the paragraph about the Puritans, of the second sentence the "Great
+Being" goes back to "superior beings" of the first; and "Him" in the
+next springs from "Great Being." "To know Him, to serve Him, to enjoy
+Him,"--what is it but the "pure worship" of the fourth? while
+"ceremonious homage" of the fourth is the "occasional glimpses of the
+Deity through an obscuring veil" of the fifth. One sentence grows out
+of some phrase of the preceding sentence; the sentences are firmly
+locked together by the repetition, a little modified, of the thought
+of a preceding phrase. There is no slipping. To get this result there
+must be no question of the thought-sequence in the sentences. Each
+sentence must be a consequence of a preceding sentence. And there must
+be attention to the choice and position of the words from which the
+following sentence is to spring. Such words cannot be indefinite,
+mushy words; they must be definite, firm words. Moreover, they must
+not be buried out of sight by a mass of unimportant matters; they must
+be so placed that they are unhindered, free to push forward the
+thought toward its ultimate conclusion. This often requires inversion
+in the sentence. That phrase which is the source of the next sentence
+must be thrown up into a prominent position; and it is usually pressed
+toward the end of the sentence, nearer to the sentence which is its
+consequence. In a paragraph quoted on page 222, where this same
+subject is taken up in connection with sentences, there is an
+excellent illustration of this. "Slow and obscure," "inadequate
+ideas," "small circle," and the numerous phrases which repeat the
+thought, though not the words, are firm words binding the sentences
+together indissolubly.
+
+  Use of Pronouns.
+
+Not all sentences permit such clear reference as this. Still it must
+be said that where the thought is logical and clear, the reference is
+never missed: the binding words are important words and they occupy
+prominent positions. There is, however, a whole group of words whose
+function is to make the references sure. They are pronouns. Pronouns
+refer back, and they point forward. Their careful use is the commonest
+method of making sure of references, and so of binding sentences
+together. The ones in common use are _this, that, the former, the
+latter;_ the relatives _who, which,_ and _that;_ and the personal
+pronouns _he, she, it._ To these may be added some adverbs: _here,
+there, hence, whence, now, then, when,_ and _while._ The binding force
+of these words is manifest in every paragraph of composition.
+
+The following paragraph, from Burke's speech on "Conciliation with the
+Colonies," illustrates the use of pronouns as words referring back,
+and binding the whole into one inseparable unit.
+
+     "As to the wealth which the colonies have drawn from the sea
+     by their fisheries, you had all that matter fully opened at
+     your bar. You surely thought _those_ acquisitions of value,
+     for _they_ seemed even to excite your envy; and yet the
+     spirit by which _that_ enterprising employment has been
+     exercised ought rather, in my opinion, to have raised your
+     esteem and admiration. And pray, Sir, what in the world is
+     equal to _it?_ Pass by the other parts, and look at the
+     manner in which the people of New England have of late
+     carried on the whale fishery. Whilst we follow _them_ among
+     the tumbling mountains of ice, and behold _them_ penetrating
+     into the deepest frozen recesses of Hudson's Bay and Davis's
+     Straits, whilst we are looking for _them_ beneath the arctic
+     circle, we hear that _they_ have pierced into the opposite
+     region of polar cold, that _they_ are at the antipodes, and
+     engaged under the frozen Serpent of the south. Falkland
+     Island, which seemed too remote and romantic an object for
+     the grasp of national ambition, is but a stage and
+     resting-place in the progress of _their_ victorious
+     industry. Nor is the equinoctial heat more discouraging to
+     _them_ than the accumulated winter of both the poles. We
+     know that whilst _some_ of _them_ draw the line and strike
+     the harpoon on the coast of Africa, _others_ run the
+     longitude and pursue _their_ gigantic game along the coast
+     of Brazil. No sea but what is vexed by _their_ fisheries; no
+     climate that is not witness to _their_ toils. Neither the
+     perseverance of Holland, nor the activity of France, nor the
+     dexterous and firm sagacity of English enterprise ever
+     carried _this_ most perilous mode of hardy industry to the
+     extent to which _it_ has been pushed by _this_ recent
+     people; a people who are still, as it were, but in the
+     gristle, and not yet hardened into the bone of manhood. When
+     I contemplate _these_ things; when I know that the colonies
+     in general owe little or nothing to any care of ours, and
+     that they are not squeezed into this happy form by the
+     constraints of watchful and suspicious government, but that,
+     through a wise and salutary neglect, a generous nature has
+     been suffered to take her own way to perfection; when I
+     reflect upon _these_ effects, when I see how profitable
+     _they_ have been to us, I feel all the pride of power sink,
+     and all presumption in the wisdom of human contrivances melt
+     and die away within me. My rigor relents. I pardon something
+     to the spirit of liberty."
+
+  Of Conjunctions.
+
+Another group of words which give coherence to a paragraph is
+conjunctions. They indicate the relations between sentences, and they
+point the direction of the new sentence. The common relations between
+sentences indicated by conjunctions are coordinative, subordinative,
+adversative, concessive, and illative. Each young writer has usually
+but one word, at the most two words, in his vocabulary to express each
+of these relations. He knows _and, but, if, although,_ and
+_therefore._ Each person should learn from a grammar the whole list,
+for no class of words indicates clear thinking so unmistakably as
+conjunctions.
+
+Two words of advice should be given regarding the use of conjunctions.
+If the thought all bends one way, if this direction is perfectly
+clear, there is no need of conjunctions. It is when the course of the
+discussion is tortuous, when the road is not direct, when the reader
+may lose the way without these guides, that conjunctions should be
+used. On the other hand, conjunctions are an annoyance when not
+needed. Just as guideposts along a road where there is no chance to
+leave the direct path are useless, and their recurrence is a cause of
+aggravation, so it is with unnecessary conjunctions. They attract
+attention to themselves, and so draw it from the thought. The first
+caution is, Do not use conjunctions unless needed.
+
+In the following, the repetition of _and_ is unnecessary and annoying.
+
+     "Six shillings a week does not keep body and soul together
+     very unitedly. They want to get away from each other when
+     there is only such a very slight bond as that between them;
+     and one day, I suppose, the pain and the dull monotony of it
+     all had stood before her eyes plainer than usual, and the
+     mocking spectre had frightened her. She had made one last
+     appeal to friends, but, against the chill wall of their
+     respectability, the voice of the erring outcast fell
+     unheeded; _and_ then she had gone to see her child--had held
+     it in her arms and kissed it, in a weary, dull sort of way,
+     _and_ without betraying any particular emotion of any kind,
+     _and_ had left it, after putting into its hand a penny box
+     of chocolate she had bought it, _and_ afterwards, with her
+     last few shillings, had taken a ticket _and_ come down to
+     Goring.
+
+     "It seemed that the bitterest thoughts of her life must have
+     centred about the wooded reaches and the bright green
+     meadows around Goring; but women strangely hug the knife
+     that stabs them, and, perhaps, amidst the gall, there may
+     have mingled also sunny memories of sweetest hours, spent
+     upon those shadowed deeps over which the great trees bend
+     their branches down so low.
+
+     "She had wandered about the woods by the river's brink all
+     day, _and_ then, when evening fell _and_ the gray twilight
+     spread its dusky robe upon the waters, she stretched out her
+     arms to the silent river that had known her sorrow and her
+     joy. _And_ the old river had taken her into its gentle arms,
+     _and_ had laid her weary head upon its bosom, _and_ had
+     hushed away the pain."
+
+The other word is: When possible put the conjunction that connects two
+sentences into the body of the sentence, rather than at its beginning.
+In this way its binding power is increased. This principle should
+limit the use of _and_ and _but_ at the beginning of a sentence.
+Rarely is _and_ needed in such a place. If the thought goes straight
+forward--and it must do so if _and_ correctly expresses the
+relation--there is usually no gain in its use. At times when the
+reader might be led to expect some change of direction from some
+phrase in the preceding sentence, then it would be wise to set him
+right by the use of _and._ Moreover, there are times when coordinate
+thoughts are so important, and the expression of the coordination is
+so important, that a sentence beginning with _and_ is the only
+adequate means of expressing it. However, be very sure that there is
+need for every _and_ that you use. The same caution may be given about
+_but._ _But_ indicates an abrupt turn in the thought. Is such a
+contrast in the thought? If so, is there no other word to express the
+thought? Some persons go so far as to say that these words should
+never begin a sentence. This is too pedantic and not true. When
+coordinative and adversative relations are to be expressed, however,
+it is certainly more elegant if some variety can be obtained, and the
+union is closer if the conjunction be placed in the body of the
+sentence. This requires the use of other words besides _and_ and
+_but._ _Also, in like manner, besides, too, nevertheless, however,
+after all, for all that,_ should be as familiar as the two overworked
+words _and_ and _but._ Look for ways to bind sentences in the middle
+rather than at the end. It is more elegant and it is much safer.
+
+  Parallel Constructions.
+
+A third principle of arrangement is the use of parallel constructions
+for parallel thoughts. By parallel structure is meant that the
+principal elements of the sentences shall be arranged in the same
+order. If subordinate clauses precede principal clauses in one
+sentence, they shall in the other; if they follow in one, they shall
+follow in the other. If an active voice be used in one, it shall be
+used in the other; if the predicate go before the subject in one, it
+shall in the other. The use of parallel structure frequently demands
+repetition of forms and even of identical words and phrases. It is
+very effective in giving clearness to a paragraph and in securing
+coherence of its parts.
+
+In the first of the two illustrations below, read one sentence this
+way and observe the ruin that is wrought. "The North American colonies
+made such a struggle against the mother country." In the second
+paragraph, change two of the sentences to the passive voice. The
+effect is evident loss in clearness and strength.
+
+     "All history is full of revolutions, produced by causes
+     similar to those which are now operating in England. A
+     portion of the community which had been of no account,
+     expands and becomes strong. It demands a place in the
+     system, suited, not to its former weakness, but to its
+     present power. If this is granted, all is well. If this is
+     refused, then comes the struggle between the young energy of
+     one class and the ancient privileges of another. Such was
+     the struggle between the Plebeians and Patricians of Rome.
+     Such was the struggle of the Italian allies for admission to
+     the full rights of Roman citizens. Such was the struggle of
+     our North American colonies against the mother country. Such
+     was the struggle which the Third Estate of France maintained
+     against the aristocracy of birth. Such was the struggle
+     which the Roman Catholics of Ireland maintained against the
+     aristocracy of creed. Such is the struggle which the free
+     people of color in Jamaica are now maintaining against the
+     aristocracy of skin. Such, finally, is the struggle which
+     the middle classes in England are maintaining against an
+     aristocracy of mere locality, against an aristocracy, the
+     principle of which is to invest a hundred drunken
+     pot-wallopers in one place, or the owner of a ruined hovel
+     in another, with powers which are withheld from cities
+     renowned to the furthest ends of the earth for the marvels
+     of their wealth and of their industry."[41]
+
+
+     "Man is a being of genius, passion, intellect, conscience,
+     power. He exercises these various gifts in various ways, in
+     great deeds, in great thoughts, in heroic acts, in hateful
+     crimes. He founds states, he fights battles, he builds
+     cities, he ploughs the forest, he subdues the elements, he
+     rules his kind. He creates vast ideas, and influences many
+     generations. He takes a thousand shapes, and undergoes a
+     thousand fortunes. Literature records them all to the
+     life.... He pours out his fervid soul in poetry; he sways to
+     and fro, he soars, he dives, in his restless speculations;
+     his lips drop eloquence; he touches the canvas, and it glows
+     with beauty; he sweeps the strings, and they thrill with an
+     ecstatic meaning. He looks back into himself, and he reads
+     his own thoughts, and notes them down; he looks out into the
+     universe, and tells over and celebrates the elements and
+     principles of which it is the product."[42]
+
+(The principles of Mass and Coherence in paragraphs are closely allied
+with these same principles regarding sentences. Some further
+discussion of these important matters, as well as more illustrations,
+will be found in the next chapter.)
+
+Good sense must be exercised in the use of parallel constructions.
+Although a short series of sentences containing parallel thoughts is
+common and demands this treatment, it is not at all frequent that one
+has such a long series as these paragraphs contain. In these
+paragraphs the parallel is in the thought; it has not been searched
+out. Because one is pleased with these effects of parallel
+construction, he should not be led to seek for opportunities where he
+can force sentences into similar shapes. The thoughts must be
+parallel. If the thought is actually parallel, a parallel treatment
+may be adopted with great advantage to clearness and force; if it is
+not parallel, any attempt to treat it as such is detected as a shallow
+trick. To search for thoughts to trail along in a series results in
+thinnest bombast. As everywhere else in composition, so here a writer
+must rely on his good taste and good sense.
+
+  Summary.
+
+Whatever may be the special mode of development, of whatever form of
+discourse it is to be a part, the three fundamental principles which
+guide in making a paragraph are Unity, Mass, and Coherence. The unity
+of the paragraph is secured by referring all of the material to the
+topic, including what contributes to the main thought and excluding
+what has no value. Paragraphs excessively long or very short may lead
+to offenses against unity. Mass in a paragraph is gained by placing
+worthy words in the positions of distinction; by treating the more
+important matters at greater length; and, when possible without
+disturbing coherence, by arranging the material in a climax. Coherence
+is secured by keeping together matters related in thought; by a wise
+choice and placing of all words which bind sentences together; and by
+the use of parallel constructions for parallel ideas. Carefully chosen
+material, arranged so that worthy words occupy the positions of
+distinction, and all so skillfully knit together that every sentence,
+every phrase, every word, takes the reader one step toward the
+conclusion,--this constitutes a good paragraph.
+
+
+                         SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS
+
+
+                            THE OLD MANSE.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 69.)
+
+In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 19, what do you think
+of the selection of material? Does the last detail give the finishing
+touch to the paragraph? Is it a real climax?
+
+On page 25 a paragraph begins, "Lightly as," etc. In the second
+sentence "bound volume" goes back to what words in the first sentence?
+"he," of the third, to what of the second? "thus it was" to what
+before?
+
+Now take the paragraph on pages 34 and 35 and trace the connection of
+the sentences, drawing two lines under the phrase from which a
+succeeding sentence springs, and one line under words that refer back
+to a preceding phrase; also trace out the dovetailing in the sentences
+on pages 6 and 7. In the paragraph on pages 18 and 19 the development
+is not so. Each sentence emphasizes "the sombre aspect of external
+nature." What is the law of their arrangement? (See text-book, pages
+181-187.)
+
+Find other paragraphs arranged in this way. (See pages 35, 36.)
+
+What is the topic of the second paragraph?
+
+Can you divide the paragraph filling the middle of page 8? Where?
+
+What is the relation between the first sentence and the last in the
+paragraph at the bottom of page 11? Give the words that join the
+sentences of the paragraph together.
+
+In the paragraph beginning on page 13, what is the purpose of the
+first two sentences?
+
+On page 14, does it seem to you that Hawthorne had forgotten the Old
+Manse enough so that it could be called a digression? or do you think
+that the delightful, rambling character of the essay permits it? Can
+you divide this paragraph on pages 14 and 15? Where?
+
+What figure at the bottom of page 15? Is it the custom to use a
+capital letter in such a case? Has the paragraph in which the figure
+occurs unity? Where could you divide it? Give the topic of both new
+paragraphs.
+
+Of the paragraph on pages 16 and 17, what is the relation of the last
+three sentences to the topic?
+
+What comment would you make upon the last sentence of the paragraph
+ending at the top of page 25?
+
+At the opening of the paragraph beginning on page 29, do you like the
+figure? Trace the relation between the first and second sentences;
+between the second and the third. Could this paragraph be divided?
+
+
+           RIP VAN WINKLE AND THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 51.)
+
+In the paragraph on page 11, what is the relation between the first
+and last sentences? Why is the middle of the paragraph introduced? Is
+it effective?
+
+What method of development is adopted in the next paragraph?
+
+Trace out the connection of the paragraphs in the first five pages of
+this essay. What words at the beginning of each paragraph are
+especially helpful in joining the parts?
+
+On page 13 Irving writes, "Times grew worse and worse for Rip Van
+Winkle," etc. How many paragraphs are given to this topic? Could all
+of them be put into one? Should they? What is the last part of the
+first sentence of this paragraph?
+
+Why are there so few topic sentences in this essay? How did Irving
+know where to paragraph? Give topics of the paragraphs on pages 16,
+17, 18. In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of p. 17, why are the
+clothes of the man mentioned first?
+
+What method of paragraph development is adopted in the paragraph
+beginning in the middle of page 23? Is the last detail important?
+
+From the use on pages 24 and 25, what do you gather as to the rule for
+paragraphing where dialogue is reported?
+
+In the paragraph on page 40, what reason has Irving for saying
+"therefore"? From what sentence does the last of this paragraph arise?
+Do you think the specific closing of the paragraph worthy of the
+position?
+
+When Irving says on page 41 that he was "an odd mixture of small
+shrewdness and simple credulity," did he mean that he was shrewd, or
+that he was not shrewd? Can you find anything in the paragraphs to
+develop the thought that he was shrewd? How many paragraphs are given
+to his simple credulity? Why so many?
+
+In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 42, what advantage is
+there in the exclamatory sentences?
+
+Would it be as well to divide the next paragraph into three sentences?
+Give your reasons. As the paragraph stands, is the sentence loose or
+periodic?
+
+In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 45, what is the
+method of development? Why is the chanticleer mentioned last?
+
+Are Irving's sentences long? Do they seem long? Why, or why not?
+
+What is the relation of the first sentence of the first paragraph on
+page 55 to the last?
+
+What is the topic of the next paragraph? Do you think it would be just
+as well to put the second sentence of this paragraph last?
+
+In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 55, what method of
+development has been used? Why is the "blue jay" mentioned last?
+
+
+                   THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 119.)
+
+Do you think the first paragraph too long? Where can you divide it?
+What is the test of the length of a paragraph?
+
+At the bottom of page 67, do you think the first sentence of the
+paragraph the topic? or is it the last sentence? Give reasons.
+
+Is the detail at the end of the paragraph beginning on the middle of
+page 71 upon the topic of the paragraph? Is it good there? How do you
+know that Usher did not say "him"?
+
+Of the paragraph on page 73, what sentence is the topic?
+
+What proportion of the paragraphs have topic sentences? Have the
+others topics? Give them for the paragraphs on the first five pages.
+
+What method of paragraph development has Poe adopted in the paragraph
+beginning in the middle of page 81? What is the relation between the
+opening and the close of the paragraph? Why is the middle needed?
+
+Do you like the second sentence of the next paragraph? What is there
+disagreeable in it?
+
+As you read along do the paragraphs run into one another? Is such a
+condition good?
+
+
+                            SILAS MARNER.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 83.)
+
+Divide paragraphs on pages 10 and 11. What is the topic of each of the
+new paragraphs?
+
+In the first paragraph of chapter two each sentence grows out of the
+one preceding. Put two lines under the words in each sentence which
+are the source of the next sentence. Draw one line under the words in
+each sentence which refer back to the preceding sentence.
+
+In the paragraph beginning at the bottom of page 94, what is the topic
+sentence? What relation has the last sentence to the first? What
+method of development in the paragraph?
+
+Can the paragraphs of exposition usually be divided? Do they violate
+unity? If not, upon what principle can you divide them?
+
+What is the tendency in regard to the length of paragraphs in recent
+literature?
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII
+
+                              SENTENCES
+
+
+  Definition and Classification. Simple Sentences.
+
+A sentence is a group of words expressing a complete thought.
+Sentences have been classified as simple, complex, and compound. In
+reality there are but two classes of sentences,--simple and compound.
+It is not material to the construction of a sentence whether a
+modifier be a word, a phrase, or a clause; it still remains an
+adjective, adverb, or noun modifier, and the method in which the
+subject and predicate are developed is the same. By means of
+modifiers, a subject and predicate of but two words may grow to the
+size of a paragraph, and yet be a group of words expressing one
+complete thought.
+
+In the sentence below, the subject and predicate are "we are free."
+This does not, however, express Burke's complete thought. It is not
+what he meant. Free to do what? How free? When may it be done? Why
+now? What bill? All these introduce modifications to the simple
+assertion, "we are free," modifications which are essential to the
+completeness of the thought.
+
+     "By the return of this bill, which seemed to have taken its
+     flight forever, we are at this very instant nearly as free
+     to choose a plan for our American government as we were on
+     the first day of the session."
+
+  Compound Sentences.
+
+On the other hand, the compound sentence is usually said to consist of
+at least two independent clauses; and the very fact of their
+independence, which is only a grammatical independence, to be sure,
+makes the clauses very nearly independent sentences. So near to
+sentences may the clauses be in their independence that some writers
+would make them so. The following group of sentences Kipling certainly
+could have handled in another way. "The reason for her wandering was
+simple enough. Coppy, in a tone of too hastily assumed authority, had
+told her over night that she must not ride out by the river. And she
+had gone to prove her own spirit and teach Coppy a lesson." Certainly
+the last two sentences could be united into a compound sentence, nor
+would it be straining the structure to put all three sentences into
+one. This example is not exceptional. Many similar cases may be found
+in all prose writers; and in Macaulay's writings there are certainly
+occasions when it would be better to unite independent sentences. If
+the fundamental ideas of the two clauses bear certain definite and
+evident relations to each other, they should stand in one compound
+sentence. These evident relations are: first, an assertion and its
+repetition in some other form; second, an assertion and its contrast;
+third, an assertion and its consequence; and fourth, an assertion and
+an example. If the clauses do not bear one of these evident relations
+to each other, they should receive special attention; for they may be
+two separate, independent thoughts requiring for their expression two
+sentences. The following sentences illustrate the common relations
+that may exist between the clauses of a compound sentence.
+
+_Repetition._ "Nothing has a drift or relation; nothing has a
+     promise or history."
+
+     "But the religion most prevalent in our northern colonies is
+     a refinement on the principle of resistance; it is the
+     dissidence of dissent, and the protestantism of the
+     Protestant religion."
+
+_Contrast._ "If the people approve the way in which these
+     authorities are interpreting and using the Constitution,
+     they go on; if the people disapprove, they pause, or at
+     least slacken their pace."
+
+     "Every court is equally bound to pronounce, and competent to
+     pronounce, on such questions, a State court no less than a
+     Federal court; but as all the more important questions are
+     carried by appeal to the supreme Federal court, it is
+     practically that court whose opinion determines them."
+
+_Consequence._ "The British and American line had run near it
+     during the war; it had, _therefore,_ been the scene of
+     marauding, and infested with refugees, cow-boys, and all
+     kinds of border chivalry."
+
+_Example._ "He found favor in the eyes of the mothers by petting
+     the children, particularly the youngest; and like the lion
+     bold, which whilom so magnanimously the lamb did hold, he
+     would sit with a child on one knee, and rock a cradle with
+     his foot for whole hours together."
+
+There is another condition which masses many details into one compound
+sentence. If in narration a writer wishes to give the impression that
+many things are done in a moment of time, and together form one
+incident, he may group many circumstances, nearly independent except
+for the matter of time, into one compound sentence. In description he
+may present groups of details hastily in one sentence, and so give the
+impression of unity. The same thing may be done in exposition. Many
+independent ideas may bear a common relation to another idea, either
+expressed or understood; and in order to get them before the reader as
+one whole, the author may group them in a single sentence. The
+examples below illustrate this method of sentence development.
+
+_Narration._ "For a moment the terror of Hans Van Ripper's wrath
+     passed across his mind, for it was his Sunday saddle; but
+     this was no time for petty fears; the goblin was hard on his
+     haunches; and (unskillful rider that he was!) he had much
+     ado to maintain his seat; sometimes slipping on one side,
+     sometimes on another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge
+     of his horse's backbone, with a violence that he verily
+     feared would cleave him asunder."[43]
+
+_Description._ "In one corner stood a huge bag of wool, ready to
+     be spun; in another, a quantity of linsey-woolsey just from
+     the loom; ears of Indian corn, and strings of dried apples
+     and peaches, hung in gay festoons along the walls, mingled
+     with the gaud of red peppers; and a door left ajar gave him
+     a peep into the best parlor, where the claw-footed chairs
+     and dark mahogany tables shone like mirrors; andirons, with
+     their accompanying shovel and tongs, glistened from their
+     covert of asparagus tops; mock oranges and conch shells
+     decorated the mantelpiece; strings of various-colored birds'
+     eggs were suspended above it; a great ostrich egg was hung
+     from the centre of the room, and a corner cupboard,
+     knowingly left open, displayed immense treasures of old
+     silver and well-mended china."[43]
+
+_Exposition._ "That perfection of the Intellect, which is the
+     result of Education, and its _beau ideal,_ to be imparted to
+     individuals in their respective measures, is the clear,
+     calm, accurate vision and comprehension of all things, as
+     far as the finite mind can embrace them, each in its place,
+     and with its own characteristics upon it. It is almost
+     prophetic from its knowledge of history; it is almost
+     heart-searching from its knowledge of human nature; it has
+     almost supernatural charity from its freedom from littleness
+     and prejudice; it has almost the repose of faith, because
+     nothing can startle it; it has almost the beauty and harmony
+     of heavenly contemplation, so intimate is it with the
+     eternal order of things and the music of the spheres."[44]
+
+(Notice the use of the semicolon in the last two groups of sentences.
+The parts of compound sentences such as these should be separated by
+semicolons.)
+
+  Short Sentences.
+
+Having determined approximately what relations may be grouped in a
+single sentence, the first question for consideration is whether
+sentences should be long or short. This cannot be definitely answered.
+Since they should be concise, the short sentence is well suited for
+definitions. Since a proposition should be announced in as few words
+as can be used, without sacrificing brevity to clearness, short
+sentences serve best for this purpose. As changes in the direction of
+the development of a thought should be quickly indicated, a short
+sentence is generally used for transition. And as at times when the
+mind is under a stress of strong feeling, or the action of a story is
+rapid, all explanatory matters are cut away, the barest statements in
+shortest sentences serve best to express strong emotion and rapid
+action.
+
+  Long Sentences.
+
+Long sentences have the very opposite uses. To amplify a topic, to
+develop a proposition by repetition, by details, by proofs, or by
+example, long sentences are serviceable; by them the finer
+modifications of a thought can be expressed. So, too, a summary of a
+paragraph or a chapter frequently employs long sentences to express
+the whole thought with precision and with proper subordination of
+parts. Again, as short sentences best express haste and intensity, so
+long sentences give the feeling of quiet deliberation and dignified
+calm.
+
+Illustrations of definitions, propositions, transitions, and
+exemplifications are to be found everywhere. Slow movement expressed
+by long sentences is well illustrated in Irving and Hawthorne. One
+selection from George Meredith, to show the peculiar adaptation of the
+short sentence to express intensity of feeling, is given. Richard
+Feverel has just learned that the wife whom he had deserted has borne
+him a son. Description and narration are mingled. The short, nervous
+sentences express both the vividness of his impressions and the
+intensity of his emotions.
+
+     "A pale gray light on the skirts of the flying tempest
+     displayed the dawn. Richard was walking hurriedly. The green
+     drenched woods lay all about his path, bent thick, and the
+     forest drooped glimmeringly. Impelled as a man who feels a
+     revelation mounting obscurely to his brain, Richard was
+     passing one of those little forest-chapels, hung with votive
+     wreaths, where the peasants halt to kneel and pray. Cold,
+     still, in the twilight it stood, rain-drops pattering round
+     it. He looked within, and saw the Virgin holding her Child.
+     He moved not by. But not many steps had he gone before the
+     strength went out of him, and he shuddered. What was it? He
+     asked not. He was in other hands. Vivid as lightning the
+     Spirit of Life illumined him. He felt in his heart the cry
+     of his child, his darling's touch. With shut eyes he saw
+     them both. They drew him from the depths; they led him a
+     blind and tottering man. And as they led him he had a sense
+     of purification so sweet he shuddered again and again."
+
+  Unity.
+
+In a sentence, as in a theme or a paragraph, the first question
+regarding its structure is what to put into it. The germ of a
+paragraph is usually a sentence; of the sentence it is one word or but
+very few words. This kernel of a sentence may be developed through the
+many modifications of the thought; but always the additions must be
+distinctly related to the germ words. If this relation of parts to the
+kernel of the sentence be unmistakable, the sentence has unity; if
+there are parts whose connection with the germ of the sentence cannot
+be easily traced, they should be rejected as belonging to another
+sentence. The pith of the whole sentence can be stated in a few words,
+if the sentence has unity.
+
+Long sentences should be watched. One thing easily suggests another,
+interesting too, it may be; and when an essay is to be written,
+anything,--especially if it have so worthy a quality as interest to
+recommend it,--anything is allowed to go in. Such a sentence as the
+following can be explained on no other principle: "Just then James
+came rushing downstairs like mad to find the fellow who had punched a
+hole in the tire of his bicycle, which was a Columbia which he got two
+years before at a second-hand store, paying for it in work at fifteen
+cents an hour." Plainly everything after "bicycle" is nothing to the
+present purpose and should be excluded. The following from a
+description of Cologne Cathedral is as bad, in some respects, worse;
+for there is one point where the break is so abrupt that a child would
+detect it. "The superintendence was intrusted to Mr. Ahlert, whose
+ideas were not well adapted to inspire him for his grand task, under
+his direction much of the former beauty and artistical skill was lost
+sight of, but at all events it was a great satisfaction to see the
+work go on and to have the expenses defrayed by the State." In this
+case the writer, beyond doubt, thinks long sentences the correct
+thing. Long sentences are necessary at times; but the desire simply to
+write long sentences or to fill up space should never lead one to
+forget that a sentence is the expression of one--not more--of one
+complete thought.
+
+On the other hand, sentences should contain the whole of one thought;
+none of it should run over into another sentence. Strange as it may
+seem, sentences are sometimes found like the following: "James was on
+the whole a bad boy. But he had some redeeming qualities." "The first
+day at school was all new to me. While it was interesting as well."
+"He said that he was going. And that I might go with him." There is no
+ground for an explanation of such errors as these except laziness and
+grossest illiteracy. It is by no device so simple as the insertion of
+a period that man can separate what has been joined in thought. _And_
+and _but_ rarely begin sentences; in nearly all cases it will be found
+that the sentences they purport to connect are but the independent
+clauses of one compound sentence. _While_ or any other subordinating
+conjunction introduces a dependent clause; a dependent clause is not a
+sentence; it can never stand alone.
+
+The offenses against the unity of a sentence are including too much
+and including too little. Both are the result of carelessness or
+inability to think. The purpose, the kernel, the germ of the sentence,
+should be so clearly in mind that every necessary modification of the
+thought shall be included and every unnecessary phrase be excluded.
+Some further suggestions concerning unity are found in the paragraphs
+treating primarily of mass and coherence.
+
+  Mass.
+
+As advance is made in the ability to grasp quickly the thought of a
+book, it becomes more and more evident that the eye must be taken into
+account when arranging the parts of a composition. The eye sees the
+headings of the chapters; it catches the last words of one paragraph
+and the first words of the next; it lights upon the words near the
+periods; so the parts of a composition should be arranged so that
+these points shall contain worthy words. Moreover, within the sentence
+the colon marks the greatest independence of the parts; the semicolon
+comes next; and the comma marks the smallest division of thought.
+Following the guidance of the eye, then, the words before a period
+should be the most important; those near a colon, a semicolon, and a
+comma will have a descending scale of value. A speaker has no
+difficulty with punctuation; unconsciously he pauses with the thought.
+So true is this, that one is inclined to say that if the writer will
+read aloud his own composition, and punctuate where he pauses in the
+reading, always remembering the rank of the marks of punctuation, he
+will not be far from right. It will be noticed that he has paused in
+the reading after important words, as if the thought stayed a moment
+there for the help of the reader. Naturally we pause after important
+words; and conversely, the places of importance in a sentence are near
+the marks of punctuation, increasing from the comma to the period.
+
+  End of a Sentence.
+
+The end of a sentence is more important than the beginning; and the
+difference in value is greater than in a paragraph. In a paragraph the
+opening is very important, generally containing the topic. In a
+sentence, however, the beginning more often has some phrase of
+transition, or some modifier; while it is the end that contains the
+gist of the sentence. This fact makes it imperative that no unworthy
+matter stand at the end. How important a position it is, and how much
+is expected of the final words of a sentence, is evident from the
+effect of failure produced by a sentence that closes with weak words.
+In the following sentences, phrases have been moved from their places;
+the weakness is apparent.
+
+     Abstract liberty is not to be found; and this is true of
+     other mere abstractions.
+
+     This is a persuasion built upon liberty, and not only
+     favorable to it.
+
+     I pass, therefore, to their agriculture, another point of
+     view.
+
+Of course Burke never wrote such sentences as these. However,
+sentences like them can be found in school compositions.
+
+     "Lincoln's character is worthy to be any young man's ideal;
+     having in it much to admire."
+
+     "Euclid Avenue, with its broad lawns, and with Wade Park as
+     the fitting climax of its spacious beauty, is the most
+     attractive driveway in the United States, which is saying a
+     good deal."
+
+     "Minnesota has many beautiful lakes; Mille Lacs, fringed
+     with dark pines; Osakis, with its beach of glistening sand;
+     Minnetonka, skirted by a lovely boulevard bordered by cool
+     lawns and cosy cottages; and many others not so big."
+
+Such sentences as these are not uncommon. Their ruin is wrought by the
+closing words. Watch for trailing relatives, dangling participles, and
+straggling generalities at the end of sentences. The end of a sentence
+is a position of distinction; it should be held by words of
+distinction.
+
+So influential is position in a sentence that by virtue of it a word
+or a clause of equal rank with others can be made to take on a certain
+added authority. By observing the end of a sentence, a reader can
+determine what was uppermost in the mind of an author careful of these
+things. In the following sentence as it was written by Burke the
+emphasis is on the duration of the time; but by a change of position
+it is put upon the fact. "Refined policy ever has been the parent of
+confusion; and ever will be so, as long as the world endures."
+Changing the last clause it reads, "and, as long as the world endures,
+ever will be so." This is not weak; but the stress is not where Burke
+placed it. The position of the words gives them an importance that
+does not inhere in the words themselves.
+
+  Effect of Anti-climax.
+
+Still, as the tenure of a place of distinction cannot save a fool from
+the reputation of folly, position in a sentence cannot redeem empty
+words from their truly insipid character. Indeed, as the imbecility of
+a shallow pate is made all the more apparent by a position of
+distinction, so is the utter unfitness of certain words for their
+position painfully manifest. This is the secret of anti-climax. By
+reason of its very position in a sentence, the last phrase should be
+distinguished; instead the position is held by a silly nothing.
+Disappointing anti-climaxes, like those already cited, are frequently
+made by young writers; and they are sometimes met with in the works of
+the best authors. The following sentence is from Newman: from the
+point of view of an ardent churchman, it may be a climax; but from the
+point of view of the general reader who considers the whole greater
+than any of its parts, in spite of all the sense preceding the final
+phrase, that is absurd and disappointing nonsense.
+
+     "I protest to you, gentlemen, that if I had to choose
+     between a so-called university, which dispensed with
+     residence and tutorial superintendence, and gave its degrees
+     to any person who passed an examination in a wide range of
+     subjects, and a university which had no professors and
+     examinations at all, but merely brought a number of young
+     men together for three or four years, and then sent them
+     away as the University of Oxford is said to have done some
+     sixty years since, if I were asked which of these methods
+     was the better discipline of the intellect,--mind, I do not
+     say which is _morally_ the better, for it is plain that
+     compulsory study must be a good and idleness an intolerable
+     mischief,--but if I must determine which of the two courses
+     was the more successful in training, moulding, and enlarging
+     the mind, which sent out men the more fitted for their
+     secular duties, which produced better public men, men of the
+     world, men whose names would descend to posterity, I have no
+     hesitation in giving the preference to that university which
+     did nothing, over that which exacted an acquaintance with
+     every science under the sun. And, paradox as this may seem,
+     still if results be the test of systems, the influence of
+     the public schools and colleges of England, in the course of
+     the last century, at least will bear out one side of the
+     contrast as I have drawn it. What could come, on the other
+     hand, of the ideal systems of education which have
+     fascinated the imagination of this age, could they ever take
+     effect, and whether they would not produce a generation
+     frivolous, narrow-minded, and resourceless, intellectually
+     considered, is a fair subject for debate; but so far is
+     certain, that the universities and scholastic
+     establishments, to which I refer, and which did little more
+     than bring together first boys and then youths in large
+     numbers, these institutions, with miserable deformities on
+     the side of morals, with a hollow profession of
+     Christianity, and a heathen code of ethics,--I say, at
+     least, they can boast of a succession of heroes and
+     statesmen, of literary men and philosophers, of men
+     conspicuous for great natural virtues, for habits of
+     business, for knowledge of life, for practical judgment, for
+     cultivated tastes, for accomplishments, who have made
+     England what it is,--able to subdue the earth, _able to
+     domineer over Catholics._"[45]
+
+  Use of Climax.
+
+From what has been said, it is evident that the parts of a sentence,
+as far as may be, should be arranged in a climax. The climax should be
+in the thought, with a corresponding increase in the weight of the
+phrases. If the thoughts increase in importance, the words that
+express them should increase in number. The number of words in the
+treatment bears a pretty constant ratio to the importance of the
+subject treated. The paragraph quoted from Newman is an excellent
+illustration of the use of climax,--until it comes to that last
+phrase. Note in the first sentence the repetition of the condition,
+three times repeated. Change the second to the third and see how
+different it is. Then he has "public men, men of the world, men whose
+names would descend to posterity,"--a steady increase in the thought,
+and a corresponding increase in the length of phrases. The last
+sentence contains a fine example of climax. "Of heroes and statesmen,
+of literary men and philosophers, of men conspicuous for great natural
+virtues, for habits of business, for knowledge of life, for practical
+judgment, for cultivated tastes, for accomplishments, who have made
+England what it is,--able to subdue the earth." Climax is the
+arrangement that produces the effect of vigorous strength. In
+arranging a succession of modifiers, so far as possible without
+breaking some other more important principle, a writer will gain in
+force if he seeks for climax.
+
+  Loose and Periodic.
+
+Sentences are divided into two classes: loose and periodic. A loose
+sentence may be broken at some point before the end, and up to that
+point be grammatically a complete sentence. An arrangement of the
+parts of a sentence that suspends the meaning until the close is
+called periodic. The periodic sentence is generally so massed that the
+end contains words of distinction, and the sentence forms a climax.
+Not all climaxes are periods; but nearly all periods are climaxes.
+
+  The Period.
+
+The philosophy of the periodic sentence has been best stated by
+Herbert Spencer. He starts with the axiom that the whole amount of
+attention a reader can give at any moment is limited and fixed. A
+reader must give a part of it to merely acquiring the meaning; the
+remainder of his attention he can give to the thought itself. In
+reading Cicero the pupil has to put a large part of his attention upon
+the vocabulary, upon the order and construction of the words; the
+barest fragment of attention he can bestow upon the thought of the
+great orator. So when the reader attacks one of Browning's most
+involved and obscure passages, he is kept from the thought by the
+difficulties in the language. As it is the purpose of language to
+convey thought, and as it is usually the wish of an author to be
+understood, he should use up as little as possible of the reader's
+limited attention for the mere acquisition of the thought, and leave
+the reader as much as he can to put upon the meaning. In applying this
+to sentences, the question is, which form of sentence demands least
+effort to get at its meaning: the periodic sentence, which suspends
+the meaning to the end; or the loose sentence, which may be broken at
+several points and gives its meaning in installments? The old example
+is as good as any: shall we say as the French do, a horse black; or
+shall we say as the English do, a black horse? for in the arrangement
+of these three words there lies the difference between a loose and a
+periodic sentence. Consider the French order first. When a person
+hears the words "a horse," he at once thinks of the horse he knows
+best; that is, generally, a bay horse. When the word "black" follows,
+the whole image has to be changed from the bay horse he knows to the
+black horse he has occasionally seen. There has been a waste of
+attention. On the other hand, when the words "a black" are heard, the
+mind constructs no image; it waits until the noun modified is spoken.
+Then the whole image springs up at once; it is correct and it needs no
+remodeling. The following sentence illustrates the point. "I am
+wasting time" is the beginning. It would be difficult to enumerate the
+many thoughts suggested by these words; each person has his own idea
+of wasting time. When the rest of the sentence is added, "trying to
+learn my geometry lesson," the whole has to be reconstructed. On the
+other hand the periodic statement suspends the meaning to the end.
+There is no place where, without additions to the words used, the mind
+can rest. "Trying to learn a geometry lesson is for me a waste of
+time." Theoretically the periodic sentence is better than the loose
+sentence; for it economizes attention.
+
+There is another side to the question, however. If the details be
+many, and if each be long, they would be more than the mind could
+carry without great effort; and instead of economy of attention, there
+is improvident waste. The mind will carry a long, carefully arranged
+period at intervals; but a succession of periods is sure to result in
+its absolute refusal to do so any longer. There is a limit to the
+length of a period that economizes attention; and there is a limit to
+the number of successive periods which a reader can endure.
+
+  Periodic and Loose combined.
+
+There is another form of sentence, which combines the loose and the
+periodic. It generally begins with the periodic form and sustains this
+until it is better to relieve the mind of the stress, when the period
+ends or the loose structure begins; and the sentence may as a whole be
+periodic while containing parts that are loose. This kind of sentence
+is a common form for long sentences. It gives to prose much of the
+dignity of the period, together with the familiarity of the loose
+sentence.
+
+The sentence below may be changed, by putting the last clause first,
+to a loose sentence; and by placing it after the word "subject" it
+becomes mixed.
+
+     "By all persons who have written of the subject, for the
+     grandeur of its mountains and the deep quiet of its green
+     valleys for the leaping torrents of its foaming rivers and
+     blue calm of its crag-walled lakes, Switzerland has been
+     named 'the Paradise of Europe.'"
+
+The following paragraph from Burke contains examples of loose,
+periodic, and mixed sentences:--
+
+     "To restore order and repose to an empire so great and so
+     distracted as, ours, is, merely in the attempt, an
+     undertaking that would ennoble the flights of the highest
+     genius, and obtain pardon for the efforts of the meanest
+     understanding. Struggling a good while with these thoughts,
+     by degrees I felt myself more firm. I derived, at length,
+     some confidence from what in other circumstances usually
+     produces timidity. I grew less anxious, even from the idea
+     of my own insignificance. For, judging of what you are by
+     what you ought to be, I persuaded myself that you would not
+     reject a reasonable proposition because it had nothing but
+     its reason to recommend it. On the other hand, being totally
+     destitute of all shadow of influence, natural or
+     adventitious, I was very sure that, if my proposition were
+     futile or dangerous--if it were weakly conceived, or
+     improperly timed,--there was nothing exterior to it of power
+     to awe, dazzle, or delude you. You will see it just as it
+     is; and you will treat it just as it deserves."[46]
+
+  Which shall be used?
+
+Which shall be used, loose sentences or periodic? In literature the
+loose more frequently occur. They are informal and conversational, and
+are especially suited to letter-writing, story-telling, and the light
+essay. The period is formal; it has the air of preparation. The
+oration, the formal essay, well-wrought argument,--forms of literature
+where preparation is expected,--may use the period with good effect.
+It has a finish, a scholarly refinement, not found in the loose
+sentence; and yet a series of periods would be as much out of place in
+a letter as a court regalia at a downtown restaurant. The loose
+sentence is easy, informal, and familiar; the periodic is stiff,
+artificial, and aristocratic. To use none but loose sentences gives a
+composition an air of familiarity even to the verge of vulgarity; to
+employ only periodic sentences induces a feeling of stiff
+artificiality bordering on bombast. The fitness of each for its
+purpose is the guide for its use.
+
+There is, however, a reason why young persons should be encouraged to
+use periodic sentences. Usually they compose short sentences, so there
+is little danger of overburdening the reader's attention. With this
+danger removed, the result of the generous use of periodic sentences
+will be nothing worse than a too obvious preparation. The sentences
+will all be finished to a degree, and unquestionably will give a
+feeling of artificiality. However, the attention to sentence-structure
+necessary in order to make it periodic is a thing devoutly to be
+wished at this stage of growth. No other fault is so common in
+sentence-construction as carelessness. A theme will be logically
+outlined, a paragraph carefully planned, but a sentence,--anybody
+standing on one foot can make a sentence. A well-turned sentence is a
+work of art, and it is never made in moments when the writer "didn't
+think." The end must be seen at the beginning: else it does not end;
+it plays out. There is no other remedy for careless, slipshod
+sentence-making so effective as the construction of many periodic
+sentences.
+
+Not only will there be care in the arrangement of the material, but
+when all details must be introduced before the principal thought,
+there will be little chance of any phrase slipping into the sentence
+that does not in truth belong there. Dangling participles, trailing
+relatives, and straggling generalities can find no chance to hang on
+to a periodic sentence. Every detail must be a real and necessary
+modification of the germ thought of the sentence, else it can hardly
+be forced in. Periodic sentences, then, besides insuring a careful
+finish to the work, are also a safeguard against the introduction of
+irrelevant material,--the commonest offense against sentence-unity.
+
+  Emphasis by Change of Order.
+
+Closely connected with the emphasis gained by the periodic arrangement
+of the parts of a sentence is the emphasis gained by forcing words out
+of their natural order. In a sentence the points which arrest the eye
+and the attention are the beginning and the end. However, if the
+subject stands first and the words of the predicate in their natural
+order, there is no more emphasis upon them than these important
+elements of a sentence ordinarily deserve. To emphasize either it is
+necessary to force it out of its natural position. "George next went
+to Boston," is the natural order of this sentence. Supposing, however,
+that a writer wished to emphasize the fact that it was George who went
+next, not James or Fred, he could do it by forcing the word "George"
+from its present natural position to a position unnatural. He could
+write, "It was George who next went to Boston," or, "The next to go to
+Boston was George." Forcing the subject toward the position usually
+occupied by the predicate emphasizes the subject. This is similar to
+the emphasis given by the period. "It was George" is so far periodic,
+followed by the loose structure; and the last arrangement is quite
+periodic. Every device for throwing the subject back into the sentence
+makes the sentence up to the point where the subject is introduced
+periodic; this arrangement throws the emphasis forward to the word
+that closes the period.
+
+Other parts of a sentence may be emphasized by being placed out of
+their natural order. In the natural order, adjectives and adverbs
+precede the words they modify; conditional and concessive clauses
+precede the clauses they modify; an object follows a verb; and
+prepositional phrases and adjective clauses follow the words they
+modify. These rules are general. Moving a part of a sentence from this
+general order usually emphasizes it. "George went to Boston next"
+emphasizes a little the time; but "Next George went to Boston" places
+great emphasis on the time. So "It was to Boston that George went
+next" emphasizes the place. "Went" cannot be so dealt with. It seems
+irrevocably fixed that in a prose declarative sentence the verb shall
+never stand first. It is not allowed by good use.
+
+The rearrangement of the following sentence illustrates the emphasis
+given by putting words out of their natural order:--
+
+     The strong and swarthy sailors of the Patria slowly rowed
+     the party to the shore.
+
+     The sailors of the Patria, strong and swarthy, slowly rowed
+     the party to the shore.
+
+     Slowly the strong and swarthy sailors of the Patria rowed
+     the party to the shore.
+
+     Of the steamer Patria, the sailors, strong and swarthy,
+     rowed the party to the shore.
+
+To show the arrangement of clauses the following will be sufficient:--
+
+     He cannot make advancement, even if he studies hard.
+
+     Even if he studies hard, he cannot make advancement.
+
+
+     "Your Irish pensioners would starve, if they had no other
+     fund to live on than the taxes granted by English
+     authority."
+
+     If they had no other fund to live on than the taxes granted
+     by English authority, your Irish pensioners would starve.
+
+The latter arrangement emphasizes the conclusion much more than the
+former; at the same time it subordinates the condition. Burke wished
+the emphasis to be upon the condition; he placed it after the
+conclusion.
+
+  Subdue Unimportant Elements.
+
+Emphasis is gained by placing words in important positions in a
+sentence by arranging the parts to form a climax; by the use of the
+period; by forcing words out of their natural order. It is also gained
+by the subdual of parts not important. This emphasis is a matter of
+relative intensity. The beauty and strength of any artistic product
+depend as much upon the subdual of the accessories as upon the
+intensifying of the necessaries. In order to get the emphasis upon
+certain phrases, it is necessary to subordinate other phrases. In the
+talk of a child every thought phrases itself as a simple sentence. Not
+until it grows to youth does the child recognize that there is a
+difference in values, and adopt means for expressing it. To grasp
+firmly the principal idea and then subdue all other ideas is an
+elegant way of emphasizing.
+
+The subdual of parts is accomplished by reducing to subordinate
+clauses, to phrases, to words, some of the ideas which in a child's
+talk would be expressed in sentences. A thought of barely enough
+importance to be mentioned should be squeezed into a word. If it
+deserves more notice, perhaps a prepositional phrase will express it.
+A participial phrase will often serve for a clause or a sentence. A
+subordinate clause may be needed if the thought is of great
+importance. And last, if it deserves such a distinction, the thought
+may demand an independent clause or a sentence for itself. If the
+following sentence be broken into bits as a child would tell it, the
+nice effects of emphasis which Irving has given it are ruined:--
+
+     "When the dance was at an end, Ichabod was attracted to a
+     knot of the sager folks, who, with old Van Tassel, sat
+     smoking at one end of the piazza, gossiping over former
+     times, and drawing out long stories about the war."[47]
+
+Put into simple sentences, it would be like this: The dance was at an
+end. Ichabod was attracted to a knot of folks. The folks were older.
+They sat at the end of the piazza. Old Van Tassel was with them. They
+were smoking, etc.
+
+In such sentences, nothing is emphatic; it is all alike. In Irving's
+sentences, where ideas are reduced to clause, phrase, even a word,
+there is no question about what is important and what is unimportant.
+He has secured an exquisite emphasis by a discriminating subdual of
+subordinate ideas.
+
+This brings up the sentences by Kipling already quoted on page 201.
+The author has used three independent sentences. They can be written
+as one, thus: The reason of her wandering was simple enough; for
+Coppy, in a tone of too-hastily-assumed authority, had told her over
+night that she must not ride out by the river, and she had gone to
+prove her own spirit and teach Coppy a lesson.
+
+There is a reason, however, why Kipling wished that last sentence to
+stand alone. Subordinated as it is here rewritten, it does not half
+express the spiteful independence she assumed to teach Coppy a lesson.
+It needs the independent construction. Just as surely as Kipling is
+right in putting the reasons into two sharp, independent sentences, is
+Irving right when he puts the reason in the following sentence into a
+subordinate clause. It is not important enough to deserve a sentence
+all by itself.
+
+     "He was, moreover, esteemed by the women as a man of great
+     erudition, for he had read several books quite through, and
+     was a perfect master of Cotton Mather's 'History of New
+     England Witchcraft,' in which, by the way, he most firmly
+     and potently believed."
+
+In the following sentence the effect of subordination is
+unmistakable:--
+
+     "He had a name in the village for brutally misusing the ass;
+     yet it is certain that he shed a tear _which_ made a clean
+     mark down one cheek."
+
+Now read it again:--
+
+     "He had a name in the village for brutally misusing the ass;
+     yet it is certain that he shed a tear, _and the tear_ made a
+     clean mark down one cheek."
+
+The last clause has burst away from its former submission, and in its
+independence has made the most important announcement of the
+sentence,--the witty climax. Emphasis is, to a large degree, a matter
+of position, but position cannot emancipate any clause from the
+thralldom of subordination. To emphasize one idea, subordinate
+ancillary ideas; make them take their proper rank in the sentence.
+Reduce them to a clause or to a phrase; and if a word justly expresses
+the relative importance of the thought, reduce its expression to a
+single word.
+
+  The Dynamic Point of a Sentence.
+
+In the chapter on paragraphs it was said that one sentence is often
+the source of the succeeding sentence; that such a sentence seemed to
+be charged like a Leyden jar, and to discharge its whole power through
+a single word or phrase; and further, that this word or phrase should
+be left free to act,--it should be uncovered. How a sentence can be
+arranged so that this word or phrase shall have the prominence it
+deserves, and can unhindered transmit the undiminished force of one
+sentence to the next, has now been explained. First, such words can be
+made dynamic by placing them at the beginning or the end of a
+sentence; second, by placing them near the major marks of punctuation;
+third, by forcing them from their natural order; and fourth, by the
+subdual of the other parts of the sentence. The greatest care in
+massing sentences so that none of their power be lost in transmission
+is one of the secrets of the literature that carries the reader
+irresistibly forward. Sometimes he may be annoyed by the repetition of
+phrases; but he cannot get away; he must go forward. In the paragraph
+below, quoted from Matthew Arnold, every phrase that is the point from
+which the next sentence springs is in a position where it can act
+untrammeled. Through it the whole force of the sentence passes:--
+
+     "It will be said that it is a very subtle and indirect
+     action which I am thus prescribing for criticism, and that,
+     by embracing in this manner the Indian virtue of detachment
+     and abandoning the sphere of practical life, it condemns
+     itself as a slow and obscure work. Slow and obscure it may
+     be, but it is the only proper work of criticism. The mass of
+     mankind will never have any ardent zeal for seeing things as
+     they are; very inadequate ideas will satisfy them. On these
+     inadequate ideas reposes, and must repose, the general
+     practice of the world. That is as much as saying that
+     whoever sets himself to see things as they are will find
+     himself one of a very small circle; but it is only by this
+     small circle resolutely doing its own work that adequate
+     ideas will ever get current at all. The rush and uproar of
+     practical life will always have a dizzying and attracting
+     effect upon the most collected spectator, and tend to draw
+     him into its vortex; most of all will this be the case where
+     that life is so powerful as it is in England. But it is only
+     by remaining collected, and refusing to lend himself to the
+     point of view of the practical man, that the critic can do
+     the practical man any service; and it is only by the
+     greatest sincerity in pursuing his own course, and by at
+     last convincing even the practical man of his sincerity,
+     that he can escape misunderstandings which perpetually
+     threaten him."[48]
+
+  Good Use.
+
+Good use has been mentioned. In massing the parts of a sentence for
+the purpose of emphasizing some idea, a writer has not entire freedom.
+Good use, which is the use of acknowledged masters, decides what may
+be done. There are certain arrangements of words to which we are
+accustomed; and the disregard of them leads to obscurity or downright
+contrariety in the thought. "Brutus stabbed Caesar" is the common
+order; "Brutus Caesar stabbed," or "Stabbed Brutus Caesar," is obscure;
+while "Caesar stabbed Brutus" is the very opposite of the truth. Those
+who have studied Latin know that as far as understanding the sentence
+is concerned, it would make no difference in which order the three
+Latin words should be arranged; though it would make a mighty
+difference in the emphasis. In Latin the case endings determine the
+construction of the words. In an inflected language the words may be
+massed almost to suit the writer; in an uninflected language, within
+certain limits the order determines the relation between groups of
+words. Though for emphasis it might be advisable to have the object
+first, for the sake of clearness in a short sentence the object cannot
+stand first. The primary consideration in making any piece of
+literature is that it may be understood. To be understood, the
+sentence must be arranged in the order to which we are accustomed. The
+order to which we are accustomed has been determined by good use.
+
+The variety in the arrangement of the parts of a sentence that has
+been sanctioned by good usage is great, yet there are limits. Grammar
+is based upon the usage of the best writers. Any offense against the
+grammar of our language is a sin against good use. Browning may use
+constructions so erratic that the ordinary reader does not know what
+he is reading about; Carlyle may forge a new word rather than take the
+trouble to find one that other people have used. But the young writer,
+at least, is far safer while keeping within the limits of good use.
+
+  Clearness gained by Coherence.
+
+Coherence in a sentence is that principle of structure by which its
+parts are best arranged to stick together. The parts of a sentence
+containing related ideas should be so associated that there can be no
+mistake regarding the reference or the modification. Such a sentence
+as the following cannot be understood; the reference is obscure.
+"James told him that he did not see what he was to do in the matter."
+If the reader were sure of the first "he," he could not come nearer
+than a guess at the reference of the second "he." The third personal
+pronoun--he, she, it--in all its cases is especially uncertain in its
+references.
+
+The first sentence below is from an English grammar. The second is
+from a recently published biography. Both are obscure in the reference
+of the pronouns.
+
+     "When 'self' is added to a pronoun of the First and Second
+     person, it is preceded by the Possessive case. But when it
+     is added to a pronoun of the Third person, it is preceded by
+     a pronoun in the Objective case."
+
+     "I am reminded of Swinburne's view of Providence when he
+     said that he never saw an old gentleman give a sixpence to a
+     beggar, but he was straightway run over by a 'bus."
+
+The relative pronoun is also uncertain in its references.
+
+     Some Southerners were among the ship's passengers, of whom a
+     few had served in the Rebellion. (Obscure reference.)
+
+     Red lights were displayed in a peculiar succession, which
+     warned of impending storm. (No antecedent.)
+
+To make the reference of pronouns, personal and relative, distinct,
+the antecedent must be made prominent; sometimes the only way out of
+the difficulty is a repetition of the antecedent. And the pronoun
+should stand near the word to which it refers. Keep associated ideas
+together.
+
+Like pronouns in the uncertainty of their reference are participles.
+Either the subject is not expressed, or it is uncertain.
+
+     Hastening up the steps, the door opened. (None.)
+
+     Coming from the spring, with a pail of water in either hand,
+     he saw her for the first time. (Uncertain.)
+
+Adverbs are sometimes placed so that they make a sentence ridiculous;
+and frequently their meaning is lost by being separated from the words
+they modify. "Only" is a word to be watched. Like adverbs are
+correlative conjunctions. They are frequently so placed that they do
+not join the elements they were intended to unite.
+
+     He seized the young girl as she rose from the water almost
+     roughly.
+
+     I think I hardly shall.
+
+     I only went as far as the gate.
+
+    "Who shall say, of us who know only of rest and peace by
+     toil and strife?"
+
+     He not only learned algebra readily but also Latin.
+
+Phrases and clauses may lose their reference by being removed from the
+words they modify.
+
+     Toiling up the hill, he arrived at Hotel Bellevue through a
+     drizzling rain.
+
+     Addison rose to a post which dukes, the heads of the great
+     houses of Talbot, Russell, and Bentinck, have thought it an
+     honor to fill without high birth, and with little property.
+
+     "Fred was liked well; but he had the habit of that class
+     that cannot get the English Language in the right order when
+     a little excited."
+
+All the classes of errors which have been exemplified here are due to
+the infringement of one rule: things that belong together in thought
+should stand together in composition. Nothing should be allowed to
+come between a pronoun, an adjective, an adverb, a correlative, a
+phrase, or a clause, and the word it modifies. Sometimes other
+modifiers have to be taken into account: where more than one word or
+phrase modifies the same word, a trial will have to be made to arrange
+them so that there shall be no obscurity or absurdity. Keep related
+ideas together; keep unrelated ideas apart.
+
+  Parallel Construction.
+
+The second principle which helps to make the relation of parts clear
+is parallel construction. It has already been explained in paragraphs.
+In sentences the commonest errors are in linking an infinitive with a
+gerund, a participle with a verb, an active with a passive voice, a
+phrase with a clause. The result is sentences like the following:--
+
+     You cannot persuade him to go and into buying what he does
+     not want.
+
+     Thus he spoke, and turning to the door.
+
+     The king began to force the collection of duties, and an
+     army was sent by him to execute his wishes.
+
+     He was resolved to use patience and that he would often
+     exercise charity.
+
+Such sentences are offensive to the ear; and were they as long as the
+ones below, they would not be clear.
+
+     "You cannot persuade them _to burn_ their books of curious
+     science; _to banish_ their lawyers from their courts of
+     laws; or _to quench_ the lights of their assemblies by
+     refusing to choose those persons who are best read in their
+     privileges."
+
+     "For though rebellion is declared, it _is_ not _proceeded
+     against_ as such, nor _have_ any steps _been taken_ towards
+     the apprehension or conviction of any individual offender,
+     either on our late or our former Address; but modes of
+     public coercion _have been adopted,_ and such as have much
+     more resemblance to a sort of qualified hostility towards an
+     independent power than the punishment of rebellious
+     subjects."
+
+     "My Resolutions therefore mean TO ESTABLISH the equity and
+     justice of a taxation of America by grant and not by
+     imposition; TO MARK the legal competency of the colony
+     Assemblies for the support of their government in peace, and
+     for public aids in time of war; TO ACKNOWLEDGE _that this
+     legal competency has had_ a dutiful and beneficial exercise;
+     and _that experience has shown_ the benefit of their grants,
+     and the futility of Parliamentary taxation as a method of
+     supply."[49]
+
+In the second sentence Burke has used a passive voice when it would
+certainly be more elegant to change to the active. "Is proceeded
+against" is surely awkward, but for uniformity and resulting clearness
+he has retained the passive. In the last sentence the infinitives "to
+establish," "to mark," and "to acknowledge" are in the same
+construction; they are objects of "mean." Then comes a change of form
+to show that the clauses "that this legal competency has had," etc.,
+and "that experience has shown," etc., are in a like relation to the
+infinitive "to acknowledge." Though the last clause by reason of the
+punctuation looks correlative with the others, it is not related as
+object to the verb "mean," as the others are, but it is the object of
+"to acknowledge." There could hardly be a better example of the value
+of parallel constructions for the purpose of avoiding confusion, and
+linking together parts that are related.
+
+  Balanced Sentences.
+
+Parallel constructions are used in balanced sentences. In balanced
+sentences one part is balanced against another,--a noun and a noun, an
+adjective and an adjective, phrase and phrase. Balanced sentences are
+especially suited to express antithesis, the figure of speech where
+two ideas are sharply opposed to each other. In the following from
+Newman, the balancing is admirable: "Inebriated with the cup of
+insanity, and flung upon the stream of recklessness, she dashes down
+the cataract of nonsense and whirls amid the pools of confusion." This
+is not antithesis, however; but the following from Macaulay is: "She
+seems to have written about the Elizabethan age, because she had read
+much about it; she seems, on the other hand, to have read a little
+about the age of Addison, because she had determined to write about
+it."
+
+The danger in the use of balanced sentences is excess. Macaulay is
+very fond of brilliant contrasts. _But_ is a very common word with
+him. In some cases the reader feels that for the sake of the figure he
+has forced the truth. Balanced sentences are palpably artificial, and
+should be used but sparingly.
+
+There is, however, but little danger of overdoing the parallel
+construction where there is no antithesis. The parts of succeeding
+sentences do not resemble each other so much in thought that there is
+great danger of resulting monotony in its expression. However, should
+the difficulty arise, the monotony may be broken up by a trifling
+variation. Macaulay has done this well in the sentences quoted on page
+186, beginning with the words, "For his sake empires had risen, and
+flourished, and decayed," and continuing to the end of the paragraph.
+
+  Use of Connectives.
+
+The third method of securing coherence in a sentence is by the use of
+connectives. The skillful use of prepositions and conjunctions
+indicates a master of words. The use of connectives has been discussed
+when treating of emphasis secured by subdual of unimportant details.
+Such parts are connected, and in a very definite way. The relations
+are evident. Two examples will illustrate. The first group of
+sentences are the fragments of but one of Irving's.
+
+     He did not look to the right or left. He did not notice the
+     scene. The scene was of rural wealth. He had often gloated
+     on this scene. He went straight to the stable. He kicked and
+     cuffed his steed several times, and so forth.
+
+Now note the value of prepositions in giving these separate sentences
+coherence.
+
+     "Without looking to the right or left to notice the scene of
+     rural wealth, on which he had so often gloated, he went
+     straight to the stable, and with several hearty cuffs and
+     kicks roused his steed most unceremoniously from the
+     comfortable quarters in which he was soundly sleeping,
+     dreaming of mountains of corn and oats, and whole valleys of
+     timothy and clover."
+
+The next also is from Irving, and shows the skillful use of
+conjunctions to point out unerringly the relation of the clauses in a
+sentence.
+
+     "What seemed particularly odd to Rip was that, though these
+     folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained
+     the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were,
+     withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever
+     witnessed."
+
+Coherence, the principle of structure that surely holds the parts of a
+sentence together, is of greater importance than Mass. Upon Coherence
+depends the meaning of a sentence; upon Mass the force with which the
+meaning is expressed. That the meaning may be clear, it is necessary
+that the relation of the parts shall be perfectly evident. This
+lucidity is gained by placing related parts near together, and
+conversely, by separating unrelated ideas; by using parallel
+constructions for parallel thoughts; and by indicating relations by
+the correct use of prepositions and conjunctions.
+
+To summarize, sentences are the elements of discourse. The ability of
+a sentence to effect with certainty its purpose depends upon Unity,
+Mass, and Coherence. A sentence must contain all that is needed to
+express the whole thought, but it must contain no more. A sentence
+must be arranged so that its important parts shall be prominent.
+Position and proportion are the means of emphasis in a sentence. By
+placing the important words near the major marks of punctuation, by
+arranging the parts in a climax or a period, by forcing words out of
+the natural order, and by subduing unimportant details, a sentence is
+massed to give the important elements their relative emphasis. Last,
+the parts of a sentence should be arranged so that their relations
+shall be clear and unmistakable. Proximity of related parts, parallel
+construction for parallel ideas, and connectives are the surest means
+of securing Coherence in a sentence.
+
+
+                         SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS
+
+
+                            SILAS MARNER.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 83.)
+
+On page 18 put together the sentence beginning "Every man's work,"
+etc., with the next. What connective and what punctuation will you
+use? What is the difference in effect? What one of the relations of a
+compound sentence does the second part bear to the first?
+
+On page 26 could you make two sentences of the sentence beginning,
+"Raveloe lay low among the bushy trees"? Would it be as well? Would it
+be better?
+
+On page 35 do the three parts of the compound sentence beginning, "He
+would have liked," etc., belong to one sentence? Which one?
+
+Is it right to say, "He would have liked to spring," or would it be
+better to say, "He would have liked to have sprung"?
+
+Do you think colons are used too frequently in Silas Marner? Compare
+their use with their use in Hawthorne's Stories and Irving's Sketches.
+
+In the sentence beginning, "Let him live," etc., at the bottom of page
+94, is "a possible state of mind in some possible person not yet
+forthcoming," a climax or an anti-climax? Why?
+
+At the bottom of page 183 why was it necessary to crowd so much into
+one sentence?
+
+
+                     MACAULAY'S ESSAY ON MILTON.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 103.)
+
+Re-write the sentence on page 33 beginning, "Of all poets," etc.,
+making it loose. Is it better or worse?
+
+Why does "here" stand first in the next sentence?
+
+What poets with whom you are familiar have philosophized too much?
+
+Is the first sentence of the paragraph beginning in the middle of page
+36 periodic or loose?
+
+How many periodic sentences in this paragraph?
+
+In the paragraph on pages 37 and 38 trace the relation of the
+succeeding sentences.
+
+At the bottom of page 45 what is the reason for putting first in the
+sentence, "of those principles"? What do you think of the massing of
+the whole sentence? What has been made emphatic?
+
+Note the last two sentences at the end of the paragraph on page 58. Is
+their arrangement effective? Change one. What is the effect? (See also
+the middle of page 64.)
+
+On page 60 why did he not say, "She grovels like a beast, she hisses
+like a serpent, she stings like a scorpion"?
+
+What arrangement of clauses in the first sentence in the paragraph
+beginning at the bottom of page 66? Does it add clearness?
+
+In the same paragraph find a balanced sentence.
+
+What advantage is there in the short sentences on page 68?
+
+In the first sentence of the paragraph, beginning on page 71, read one
+of the clauses, "by whom king, church, and aristocracy were trampled
+down." What is the effect of the change?
+
+Is the parallel construction in the last sentence beginning on page 77
+good? Is it good in the last sentence of this paragraph?
+
+In the next paragraph, why is Macaulay's way better than this: "He was
+neither Puritan, free thinker, nor royalist"?
+
+When a sentence is introduced by a participial phrase or a dependent
+clause it is in part or wholly periodic. Does Macaulay frequently use
+this introduction? What is the effect upon his style?
+
+Can you find examples of sentences beginning with a loose structure,
+and having within them examples of the periodic structure?
+
+In the paragraph filling pages 79 and 80 there are many examples of
+periodic and parallel structure. Contrast this paragraph with some of
+Lamb's paragraphs.
+
+What is the effect of position upon the phrase, "Even in his hands,"
+on page 67?
+
+When Macaulay inverts the order of a sentence does he usually do it
+for emphasis or to secure coherence?
+
+Does he use many pronouns and conjunctions?
+
+Does he repeat words?
+
+
+          BURKE'S SPEECH ON CONCILIATION WITH THE COLONIES.
+               (Riverside Literature Series, No. 100.)
+
+How many sentences in the first paragraph are periodic?
+
+What kind of sentences in paragraph 10?
+
+What is the effect of this paragraph?
+
+Notice the arrangement of loose and periodic clauses in the last
+sentence in paragraph 12. Make this sentence entirely loose.
+
+In the long sentence in paragraph 25 do the he's and him's all refer
+to the same person?
+
+What would you say of Burke's use of pronouns?
+
+Find examples of balanced sentences in this oration.
+
+Are you ever astray regarding Burke's meaning?
+
+What has he done to gain clearness?
+
+For what purpose does he frequently use questions?
+
+
+                    WEBSTER'S BUNKER HILL ORATION.
+                (Riverside Literature Series, No. 56.)
+
+What relation has the second sentence of paragraph 1 to the first?
+
+Is the last sentence in paragraph 3 clear? How has he made it so?
+
+Compare this sentence with the one beginning at the bottom of page 12.
+
+In the last sentence of paragraph 6 where does loose structure change
+to the periodic?
+
+In paragraph 7 why would it be a blemish to write, "That we may keep
+alive similar sentiments"?
+
+Why does he repeat "We wish" so many times? Why did he not substitute
+synonyms?
+
+In paragraph 18 why has he used the word "interest" more than once? If
+the thought is to be repeated, why not some other word?
+
+In the eighth sentence of paragraph 21 is the structure periodic or
+loose?
+
+Reverse the order of clauses in the last sentence of paragraph 28.
+What is the effect?
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX
+
+                                WORDS
+
+
+A word is the sign of an idea. Whether the idea be an object, a
+quality, an action, simple existence, or a relation, if it be
+communicated to another, it must have some sign; in language these
+signs are words. Infinitely varied are the ideas man has to express.
+Each day, each moment, has its new combination of circumstances; yet
+by the common person the effect of the novel situation is described as
+"horrid" or "awful" or "perfectly lovely." Three adjectives to
+describe all creation! No wonder that people are constantly
+misunderstood; that others do not get their ideas. How can they? Do
+the best the master can, the thought will not pass from him to his
+reader without considerable deflection. He cannot say exactly what he
+would. His words do not hold the same meaning for him as for others.
+"Mother" to him is a dear woman with a gentle voice, always dressed in
+black, sitting by the window of home; to another she is a shrieking
+termagant, whose phrases are punctuated by blows. There is not a word
+that means exactly the same to two persons; yet with words men must
+express their thoughts, their feelings, their hopes, their
+purposes,--always changing, ever new,--and for all this shall they use
+but a few score of words? Words are the last, least elements of
+language; without these least elements, these atoms of language, no
+sentence, however simple, can be made; by means of them, the master
+drives mobs to frenzy or soothes the pain of eternal loss. The calm
+and peace which Emerson knew, we know; the perpetual benediction of
+past years which Wordsworth felt, all may feel. These thoughts masters
+have expressed in words, but not in three words. Thousands are not
+enough accurately to transfer their visions of this changing universe
+from them to us. Ideas infinite in their variety demand for their
+expression all the means which our language has placed at the disposal
+of the master. For this true expression the whole dictionary with its
+thousands of words is all too small.
+
+  Need of a Large Vocabulary.
+
+Whoever hopes to be understood must acquire a full, rich vocabulary.
+However clearly he may think, however much he may feel, until he has
+words, the thought, the emotion, must remain his alone. To get a
+vocabulary, then, is a person's business. He who has it can command
+him who has it not. Not in literature alone, but in business,--in
+medicine, in law, behind the accountant's desk or the salesman's
+counter,--he is master who can say what he means so that the person to
+whom he speaks must know just what he means. Now it is a singular
+truth that when we read any great author, the words which we do not
+understand are remarkably few. Even in Shakespeare there are not many;
+and the few are unknown by reason of a constantly changing vocabulary.
+It was probably true then, as it would certainly be to-day, that the
+large majority of audiences lost not a word of his fifteen thousand,
+while they themselves used less than eight hundred. We know what
+others say; yet we say nothing ourselves. What a vocabulary one could
+accumulate, if from six to eighteen he added only two words a day!
+Twelve years, and each year more than seven hundred words! It does not
+look a difficult task. Children do more, and never realize the
+superiority of their achievement. Nine thousand words at eighteen!
+Shakespeare alone used more. Macaulay needed scarcely six thousand.
+
+  Dictionary.
+
+How shall a vocabulary be accumulated? One method is by the use of a
+dictionary; and many persons find it a source of great pleasure. The
+genealogy and biography of words are as fascinating to a devoted
+philologist as stamps to a philatelist or cathedrals to an architect.
+"Canteen" is quite an unassuming little word. Yet imperious Caesar knew
+it in its childhood. The Roman camp was laid out like a small city,
+with regular streets and avenues. On one of these streets called the
+"Via Quintana" all the supplies were kept. When the word passed into
+the Italian, it became "cantina;" and cantinas may be found among all
+nations who have drawn their language from the Latin. There is this
+difference, however: that whereas eatables were to be had in the Roman
+quintana, only drinkables can be found in the Italian cantina. When
+the English adopted the word, the middle meaning, a place where wines
+are stored, a wine-cellar, came to be a small flask especially fitted
+for the rough usage of a soldier's life, in which a necessary supply
+of some sort of liquid may be carried. So the name of a street has
+become the much-berated canteen of the sutler and the much needed
+canteen of the soldier. The dictionary is full of such fascinating
+biographies. Still its fascination is not the reason why most people
+study the dictionary: it is because such a study is necessary for the
+person who hopes for an accurate knowledge of the words he reads. It
+is not impossible to know "pretty nearly what it means" from the
+context; but no master uses words without knowing exactly what they
+mean. Certainty of meaning precedes frequency of use; and this
+necessary confidence is gained from a study of the dictionary. In a
+general way we know all the words of Macaulay's vocabulary; but the
+average man uses only eight hundred of them. His knowledge of words is
+no more than an indistinct, mumbling knowledge. To lift each word out
+of its context, to make it a distinct, living entity, capable of
+serving, the definition must be studied. Then the student knows just
+what service the word is fitted for, and finds a pleasure in being
+competent to command that service. The dictionary is a necessity to
+the person who hopes to use words.
+
+  Study of Literature.
+
+Yet the knowledge of words that the student derives from the
+dictionary is not sufficient. When one hears an educated foreigner
+speak, he detects little errors in his use of words,--errors which are
+not the fault of definition, but errors in the idiomatic use of words.
+This use cannot be learned from a dictionary, where words are studied
+individually, but only by studying them in combination with other
+words where the influence of one word upon another may be noted. There
+is little difference in the size of a pile of stones, whether we say a
+great pile of stones or a large pile of stones; but a great man is of
+much more consequence than a large man. A dictionary could hardly have
+told a foreigner this. A man may pursue or chase a robber, as the
+author wishes; but he may not chase a course. Prepositions are
+especially liable to be misused, and their correct use comes from a
+study of literature, not of the dictionary. The nice and
+discriminating refinements in the use of words are learned by careful
+reading. When a phrase is met, such as "the steep and solitary eastern
+heaven," where each word has been born to a new beauty; or this, "And
+the sweet city with her dreaming spires," where the adjectives "sweet"
+and "dreaming" have a richer content, they should be regarded with
+great care and greeted with even more delight than words entirely new.
+How to read that we may gain this complete mastery of words, Mr.
+Ruskin has best told us in "Sesame and Lilies." Every person should
+know "Of Kings' Treasuries" by reading and re-reading. Literature, the
+way masters have used words, will furnish a knowledge of the nicer
+discriminations in their use.
+
+The dictionary and literature are the sources of a full and refined
+vocabulary. But the vocabulary which may be perfectly understood is
+not entirely in one's possession until it is used. Seek the first
+opportunity to use the newly acquired word. It will be hard to utter
+it; you will feel an effort in getting it out. Only once, however;
+after that it rises as easily as any old familiar word. Because the
+companion with whom you speak is always "just as mad as" she can be,
+is no reason why you may not at times be vexed, annoyed, aggravated,
+exasperated, or angry. Men are not always either "perfectly lovely" or
+"awful;" neither are all ladies "jewels." There are degrees of
+villainy and nobility; and all jewels have not the same lustre. Know
+what you want to say, and find the one word that will exactly say it.
+This costs work, it is true; but what is there worth having which has
+not cost some one work? Do the work; search for the word; then use it.
+In this way a vocabulary becomes a real possession.
+
+The words which a person may use are generally described as reputable,
+national, and present. Words must be reputable; that is, sanctioned by
+the authority of the creators of English literature. They must be
+national; words that are the property of the mass of the people, not
+of a clique or a district. And they must be of the present; Chaucer's
+vocabulary, though it be the source of English, will not satisfy the
+conditions of to-day.
+
+  Vulgarisms are not reputable.
+
+First, words must be of reputable use. No person would consider
+vulgarisms reputable. When a person says "I hain't got none," he has
+reached about the acme of vulgarisms, the language of the illiterate.
+Grammar has been disregarded; a word has been used which is not a
+word; and another word has no reason for its appearance in the
+sentence. Yet sometimes this expression is heard; seldom seen written.
+It is always set down to the account of an illiterate home; for no one
+can reach a high school without knowing its grammatical errors. The
+unerring use of _don't, me, I, lie, lay, set,_ and _sit,_ is not so
+assured that the list can be omitted. Adjectives are used for adverbs;
+"real good" is not yet forgotten. Nouns are called upon to do the work
+of verbs. This is the language of the illiterate, and it should be
+avoided; for vulgarisms are not reputable.
+
+  Slang is not reputable.
+
+Neither is slang reputable. He would be a prude who would not
+recognize that slang is sometimes right to the point; and that many of
+our strongest idioms were originally slang. Still, although many
+phrases which to-day are called slang were at one time reputable, the
+fact of their respectable birth cannot save them from the slight
+imputation that now they are slang. Notwithstanding the fact that we
+owe some of our strongest idioms to slang, the free use of slang
+always vulgarizes. It generally is called upon to supply a deficiency
+either in thought or in the power of expression. People too lazy to
+think, too indolent to read, with little to say, and but a few slang
+phrases to say it with, may be allowed to practice this vulgarity; but
+cultured persons in cultured conversation will eschew all acquaintance
+with it. To find it in the serious composition of educated persons
+always raises a question of their refinement. It is the stock in trade
+of the lazy and the uncultured. It is used to divert attention from
+poverty of thought and a threadbare vocabulary. It is unnecessary for
+the complete expression of thought by the scholar and man of
+refinement.
+
+It is a real misfortune that many good words have been tarnished by
+the handling of the illiterate. "Awful," "horrid," and "lovely" are
+good words; but they have been sullied by common use. So common have
+they become that they approach slang. They may be rescued from that
+charge in each person's writing, if he shows by accurate use of them
+that he is master of their secret strength.
+
+Milton wrote in "Paradise Lost:"--
+
+     "No! let us rather choose,
+     Armed with Hell-flames and fury, all at once
+     O'er Heav'n's high towers to force resistless way,
+     Turning our tortures into _horrid_ arms
+     Against the Torturer."
+
+Lord Lytton makes Richelieu exclaim:--
+
+     "Look where she stands! Around her form I draw
+     The _awful_ circle of our solemn church."
+
+And in the New Testament we read:--
+
+     "Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever
+     things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever
+     things are pure, whatsoever things are _lovely,_ whatsoever
+     things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if
+     there be any praise, think on these things."
+
+There is no question here of the words; they have all the freshness
+and vigor of their youth. Do not hesitate to use such words exactly.
+When the thought calls for them, they say with certainty what can be
+expressed only doubtfully by other words.
+
+  Words must be national. Provincialisms.
+
+Second, words must be of national use. They cannot be words confined
+to a locality. When Morris talks of a house that has been "gammoned,"
+he deprives a large number of readers of his meaning. "Gums" and
+"brasses" may be good in certain districts of England, but in
+literature they should not be used, for they would not generally be
+understood. For the same reason much of the common conversation of the
+South is foreign to a native of New York. Whoever employs the language
+of a locality limits his circle of readers to that locality. To write
+for all he must use the language of all; he must avoid provincialisms.
+
+  Technical and Bookish Words.
+
+Like words that are used by a small region are words which are
+understood by a clique of persons. Scholars are inclined to use a
+scholarly vocabulary. The biologist has one; the chemist another; the
+philosopher a third. This technical vocabulary may be a necessity at
+times; but when a specialist addresses the public, his words must be
+the words which an average cultured man can understand. Such words can
+be found if the writer will look for them; if he does not, his work
+can scarcely be called literature. Technical words and bookish terms
+are not words of national use.
+
+The following by Josiah Royce illustrates how clearly a most abstruse
+topic can be handled by a man willing to take the trouble:[50]--
+
+     "If you ask what sort of thing this substance is, the first
+     answer is, that it is something eternal; and that means, not
+     that it lasts a good while, but that no possible temporal
+     view of it could exhaust its nature. All things that happen
+     result from the one substance. This surely means that what
+     happens now and what happened millions of years ago are, for
+     the substance, equally present and necessary results. To
+     illustrate once more in my own way: A spider creeping back
+     and forth across a circle could, if she were geometrically
+     disposed, measure out in temporal succession first this
+     diameter, and then that. Crawling first over one diameter,
+     she would say, 'I now find this so long.' Afterwards
+     examining another diameter, she would say, 'It has now
+     happened that what I have just measured proves to be
+     precisely as long as what I measured some time since, and no
+     longer.' The toil of such a spider might last many hours,
+     and be full of such successive measurements, each marked by
+     a spun thread of web. But the true circle itself within
+     which the web was spun, the circle in actual space as the
+     geometer knows it, would its nature be thus a series of
+     events, a mere succession of spun threads? No, the true
+     circle would be timeless, a truth founded in the nature of
+     space, outlasting, preceding, determining all the weary
+     web-spinning of this time-worn spider. Even so we, spinning
+     our web of experience in all its dreary complications in the
+     midst of the eternal nature of the world-embracing
+     substance, imagine that our lives somehow contain true
+     novelty, discover for the substance what it never knew
+     before, invent new forms of being. We fancy our past wholly
+     past, and our future wholly unmade. We think that where we
+     have yet spun no web, there is nothing, and that what we
+     long ago spun has vanished, broken by the winds of time into
+     nothingness. It is not so. For the eternal substance there
+     is no before and after; all truth is truth. 'Far and forgot
+     to me is near,' it says. In the unvarying precision of its
+     mathematical universe, all is eternally written.
+
+                  'Not all your piety nor wit
+          Can lure it back to cancel half a line,
+          Nor all your tears wash out one word of it.'"
+
+  Foreign Words.
+
+Words and phrases from a foreign language should be used only as a
+last resort. _Bon mot, sine qua non,_ and _dolce far niente_ are all
+very apt, and to a person like Mr. Lowell, who was intimately
+acquainted with many languages, they may come as soon as their English
+equivalents. In the case of such a person, the reason why they should
+not be used is that the reader cannot understand them. But when a
+young smatterer uses them to advertise his calling acquaintance with a
+language, he is but proclaiming his own lack of good taste. In his
+composition they are as ineffective to make it respectable as a large
+diamond on a gamester's finger to make him an honored gentleman. Use
+the English language when writing for English-speaking people. It has
+the fullest, richest vocabulary in the world. It will not be found
+unequal to the task of expressing your thoughts.
+
+  Words in Present Use.
+
+Third, words should be in present use. Words may be so new that people
+do not know them; they may have passed out of use after years of good
+service. Of new words, but little can be said. The language constantly
+changes. New discoveries and inventions demand new words. What ones
+will be more than temporary cannot be prophesied. "Blizzard" and
+"mugwump" were new but a short time ago: the latter is dying from
+disuse, the former has come to stay. In this uncertainty one thing can
+be said, however. No word which has not secured recognition should be
+used by a young person, if by reputable words already in the language
+he can express his meaning. And just as he should not be the first to
+take up an untried word, so the young writer should not be the last to
+drop a dead one. There is at present a sort of fad for old English. A
+large number of words that have been resting quietly in their graves
+for centuries have been called forth. Some may enjoy a second life;
+most of them will feel only the weakness of a second obsolescence.
+"Foreword" and "inwit" were good once; but "preface" and "conscience"
+mean as much and have the advantage of being alive. To be understood
+use the words of the present.
+
+  Words in their Present Meaning.
+
+Use words in their present signification. Not only has language cast
+out many words; it has changed many others so that they are hardly
+recognized. When Chaucer wrote,
+
+     "Ther may no man Mercury mortify
+     But hit be with his brother knowleching,"
+
+"mortify" meant to make dead, to kill. To-day a lady may say she was
+mortified to death; but that is hyperbole. In "Paradise Lost" Satan
+may
+
+     "Through the palpable obscure find out
+     His uncouth way."
+
+But a person to-day is not justified in using "uncouth" for "unknown."
+The works of Shakespeare and Milton abound in words whose life has
+been prolonged to the present, but whose signification has been
+changed. The writer who seeks to use words with these old meanings is
+standing in his own light. Such use always attracts attention to the
+words themselves, and by so much subtracts attention from the thought.
+
+  Words of Latin and Saxon Origin.
+
+Words that are in good use have been divided into two classes, as they
+have been drawn from two sources. Some differences between Anglo-Saxon
+and Latin words are marked. Saxon words are generally short; Latin
+words long. The first are the words of home and are concerned with the
+necessities of life; the second are the words of the court and the
+adornments of polite society. The former made the foundation of our
+language and gave to it its idiomatic strength; the latter came later,
+and added to the strength of the language its grace and refinement.
+
+In our speech there can be no doubt that short words are used when the
+purpose is to be understood quickly, even harshly, while the longer
+words are frequently employed for saying unpleasant things pleasantly.
+Euphemism, the choice of words not harsh for harsh ideas, has its
+uses. It is not always wrong to say, "He was taken away" for "He was
+killed." But when the plain truth is to be spoken, when, as in most
+composition, the object is to be understood, the words should be
+chosen which exactly express the thought, be those words Latin or
+Saxon. For any one to say, "Was launched into eternity" for "Was
+hanged," or "When the fatal noose was adjusted about the neck of the
+unfortunate victim of his own unbridled passions" for "When the halter
+was put around his neck," is a useless parade of vocabulary.[51] One
+knows that such phrases are made by a writer who is ignorant of the
+value of words, or by a penny-a-liner, willing to sacrifice every
+effect of language to the immediate needs of his purse. Such writing
+has no power. The words are dictated by too low a motive to have any
+force in them. Let a writer go straight to the point as directly as
+the hindrances of language will allow. Even then his expression will
+lag behind his thought.
+
+This does not mean that one is to use Saxon words always. It means
+that one shall use the words that say exactly what is to be said, so
+that the reader can get the exact thought with the least outlay of
+attention to the words. Latin words are as common as Saxon words. To
+search out a Saxon word because it is Saxon and short is as
+reprehensible as to use the indirection of Latin words where
+directness is wanted. Latin words have a place; they express the finer
+distinctions and gradations of thought. In the discussion of any
+question requiring nice precision of statement Latin words are
+necessary. In the following from Newman, it would be difficult,
+perhaps impossible, to substitute words of Anglo-Saxon origin for the
+words of Latin origin, and could it be done, the passage would not
+then have the clearness it now has from his use of common words,
+though they be Latin:--
+
+     "I mean then by the Supreme Being, one who is simply
+     self-dependent, and the only Being who is such; moreover,
+     that He is without beginning or Eternal, and the only
+     Eternal; that in consequence He has lived a whole eternity
+     by Himself; and hence that He is all-sufficient, sufficient
+     for his own blessedness, and all-blessed, and ever-blessed.
+     Further, I mean a Being who, having these prerogatives, has
+     the Supreme Good, or rather is the Supreme Good, or has all
+     the attributes of good in infinite intenseness; all wisdom,
+     all truth, all justice, all love, all holiness, all
+     beautifulness; who is omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent;
+     ineffably one, absolutely perfect; and such that what we do
+     not know of Him is far more wonderful than what we do and
+     can."[52]
+
+Latin words, moreover, have a fullness of sound which gives them an
+added weight and dignity. One would hesitate long before changing one
+of Milton's big-sounding phrases, even if he were not compelled to
+sacrifice the metre. In Webster's orations there is a dignity, a
+sublimity, gained by the use of full-mouthed polysyllables. Supposing
+he had said at the beginning of his eulogy of Adams and Jefferson,
+"This is a new sight" instead of "This is an unaccustomed spectacle,"
+the whole effect of dignified utterance commensurate with the occasion
+would have been lost. The oration abounds in examples of reverberating
+cadences. Milton's sentences are a stately procession of gorgeous
+words: the dignified pomp of the advance is occasioned by the wealth
+of essential beauty and historical association in the individual
+words:--
+
+           "That proud honor claimed
+     Azazel as his right, a Cherube tall:
+     Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurl'd
+     Th' imperial ensign, which, full high advanc't
+     Shon like a meteor streaming to the wind,
+     With gemms and golden lustre rich emblaz'd
+     Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while
+     Sonorous metall blowing martial sounds:
+     At which the universal host up-sent
+     A shout that tore Hell's concave, and beyond
+     Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.
+     All in a moment through the gloom were seen
+     Ten thousand banners rise into the air,
+     With orient colours waving; with them rose
+     A forrest huge of spears; and thronging helms
+     Appear'd, and serried shields in thick array
+     Of depth immeasurable." ("Paradise Lost.")
+
+The choice of words does not depend on whether they are of Latin or of
+Saxon origin. In use it will be found that short words, like short
+sentences, give more directness and force to the composition; while
+long words have a dignified elegance and refinement of discrimination
+not the property of monosyllables. No one should think, however, that
+short words cause the force or long words cause the dignity. These
+qualities belong to the thought; the completeness of its expression is
+approached by a choice in words. Choose words for their fitness to say
+what you think, or feel, or purpose, having no regard for their
+origin.
+
+  General and specific.
+
+Words are also classified as general and specific. By a general word
+is meant a word common to or denoting a large number of ideas. By
+specific is meant a word that denotes or specifies a single idea.
+"Man," "move," "bad," are general and denote a large number of ideas;
+while "Whittier," "glide," "thieving," are specific, denoting but one
+man, one movement, one kind of badness. "Man" denotes the whole human
+race, while it implies a feeling, thinking, speaking, willing animal.
+"Whittier" denotes but a single person, but beside all the common
+qualities implied by the, word "man," "Whittier" suggests, among other
+things, a homely face, serious and kind, a poet, and an anti-slavery
+worker.
+
+  Use Words that suggest most.
+
+As a principle in composition, it may be said that the more a word or
+phrase can be made to imply or suggest, while at the same time
+expressing all that the writer wishes to say, the more valuable does
+that word or phrase become. Yet it should be remembered that words may
+be so specific that they do not include all that the author wishes to
+include. For instance, if instead of "Blessed are the peacemakers,"
+the beatitude should be made to read "Blessed are the Quakers," though
+this organized body of persons labor for the blessings of peace, yet
+the meaning would be restricted by the limited denotation of the term.
+It does not include enough. So in almost all of Emerson's writing, it
+would not be possible to express his entire thought with more specific
+words. Therefore regard must always be had for the thought,--that it
+may be expressed in its perfect fullness and entirety. Keeping this
+full expression in view, those words are strongest, truest, richest,
+which suggest most. To say of a person that he is a bad man is one
+thing; that he is a traitor is quite another; but when one writes that
+he is a veritable Judas, words fail to keep pace with suggestions, and
+reason yields to emotion. Specific words, if they denote the whole
+idea, are as much better than general terms as their suggestion
+exceeds the suggestion of general terms.
+
+  Synecdoche, Metonymy.
+
+Much of the force of figures of speech is derived from the suggestive
+quality of the specific words employed. When a man calls another a
+dog, he has used a metaphor. He has availed himself of a term that
+gathers up all the snarling qualities of the worst of the dog species.
+The figure has high suggestive power. Synecdoche, too, that figure of
+speech in which a part is used for the whole or the whole for a part,
+employs a term of higher suggestive power for one of lower connoting
+force. "All hands took hold" is better than "All persons went to
+work." Metonymy is the substitution of the name of one thing for that
+of another to which the former bears a known and close relation. The
+most common of these known and close relations are those of cause and
+its effects, of container and the thing contained, and of sign and the
+thing signified. "He has read Shakespeare," "He was addicted to the
+use of the bottle," "All patriots fight for the flag," are examples of
+metonymy. All these figures depend in large degree for their power
+upon the greater suggestiveness of specific words; and their use gives
+to composition an efficiency and directness commensurate with the
+greater connoting value of the specific words.
+
+  Care in Choice of Specific Words.
+
+A writer should keep in mind the fact that the same word may mean
+widely different things to two persons. For this reason the specific
+word that appeals to him most may be of no value in addressing others.
+"Free silver" means to one set of men the withdrawal of money from
+investment, consequent stagnation in business, followed by the closing
+of factories and penury among laborers. To others it means three
+dollars a day for unskilled labor, fire, clothes, and something to
+eat. Again, if one wished to present the horrors of devastating
+disease, in the South he would mention yellow fever, in the North
+smallpox; but to a lady who saw six little brothers and sisters dead
+from it in one week, three carried to the graveyard on the hillside
+one chill November morning, all the terrors of contagious disease are
+suggested by the word "diphtheria." Words are weighted with our
+experiences. They are laden with what we have lived into them. As
+persons have different experiences, each word carries to each person a
+different meaning. The wise writer chooses those specific words which
+suggest most to the men he addresses,--in general, to the average man.
+
+There are many words that carry some of the same suggestions to all.
+These words are connected with the common things of life: such words
+as "home," "death," "mother," and the many more that have been with
+all people from childhood. They are simple little words crowded with
+experiences. Such words carry a weight of suggestion not found in
+strange new words. It is for this reason that simple language goes
+straight to the heart; it is so loaded with life. Of two expressions
+that convey the thought with equal accuracy, always choose the
+simpler.
+
+The following poems--one by Tennyson,[53] steeped in pain, perfect in
+its phrasing; the other by Kipling, rising to a conception of a true
+artist's work, never before so simply expressed--are both written in
+home words, little words, but words all know, words that carry to all
+a common meaning:--
+
+     "Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean:
+     Tears from the depth of some divine despair
+     Rise in the heart and gather to the eyes,
+     In looking on the happy autumn fields,
+     And thinking of the days that are no more.
+
+     "Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail
+     That brings our friends up from the underworld;
+     Sad as the last which reddens over one
+     That sinks with all we love below the verge;
+     So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
+
+     "Ah! sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
+     The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
+     To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
+     The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
+     So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
+
+     "Dear as remembered kisses after death,
+     And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
+     On lips that are for others; deep as love,
+     Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
+     O Death in Life, the days that are no more!"
+
+
+                             L'ENVOI.[54]
+
+     "When Earth's last picture is painted
+          and the tubes are twisted and dried,
+     When the oldest colors have faded,
+          and the youngest critic has died,
+     We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it--
+          lie down for an aeon or two,
+     Till the Master of All Good Workmen
+          shall put us to work anew!
+
+     "And those that were good shall be happy:
+          they shall sit in a golden chair;
+     They shall splash at a ten-league canvas
+          with brushes of comets' hair;
+     They shall find real saints to draw from--
+          Magdalene, Peter, and Paul;
+     They shall work for an age at a sitting
+          and never be tired at all!
+
+     "And only the Master shall praise us,
+          and only the Master shall blame;
+     And no one shall work for money,
+          and no one shall work for fame;
+     But each for the joy of the working,
+          and each, in his separate star,
+     Shall draw the Thing as he sees It
+          for the God of Things as They Are!"
+
+  Avoid Hackneyed Phrases.
+
+Much like general terms, which mean something or nothing, are
+expressions that have become trite and hackneyed. At some time they
+were accurate phrases, saying just what was needed. By being used for
+all sorts of purposes, they have lost the original thought of which
+they were the accurate expression. They have no freshness. The
+sounding phrases repeated in the pulpit, or the equally empty phrases
+of the scientist, however good they were at their inception, are, in
+the writing of many persons, but theological and scientific cant
+relied upon by ignorant people to cover up the vacuity of their
+thought. One's own expression, even though it be not so elegant and
+graceful, is better than any worn-out, hackneyed phrase. Think for
+yourself; then say what you have thought in the best language you can
+find yourself.
+
+  "Fine Writing."
+
+"Fine writing," the subjection of noble words to ignoble service, is
+to be avoided. Mr. Micawber was addicted to this pomposity of
+language; and Dickens, by the creation of this character, has done
+literature a real service, by showing how absurd it is, how valueless
+for anything more than humor. "'Under the impression,' said Mr.
+Micawber, 'that your peregrinations in this metropolis have not as yet
+been extensive, and that you might have some difficulty in penetrating
+the arcana of the Modern Babylon in the direction of the City Road--in
+short,' said Mr. Micawber, in another burst of confidence, 'that you
+might lose yourself--I shall be happy to call this evening, and
+install you in the knowledge of the nearest way.'" Here are great
+words in profusion to dress out a little thought. "Fine writing" is as
+much out of taste as over-dressing. When the thought calls for noble
+expression, then all one's energies should be bent to finding noble
+phrases; but for common things common expressions are the only ones in
+good taste.
+
+  In Prose avoid Poetical Words.
+
+Much like "fine writing" is the use of poetical words in prose. _Enow,
+erstwhile, besprent, methinks, agone,_ and _thine_ are examples of a
+large class of words which, though in perfectly good taste in poetry,
+are in extremely poor taste in prose. They are out of place; and so
+attract attention to themselves, not to the thought they express. When
+writing prose, avoid poetical words.
+
+All of this comes at last to one rule: be exact, be accurate in the
+choice of words. Not a word that half expresses the thought, not even
+one that is pretty near, but the only word that exactly expresses the
+meaning, that word must be used. It is not a question of long or
+short, of Latin or Saxon, of general or specific; it is a question of
+accuracy or inaccuracy, the whole or a part, the whole or too much, of
+just right or about right. No one would entirely misunderstand the
+following sentence; and just as certainly no one would derive from
+these words the impression the author had when he wrote it. He has
+phrased it as follows: "Another direction in which free education is
+most valuable to society, is the way in which it removes the gulf
+affixed between the rich and poor." The boy wanted the opening
+sentence to sound big, and forgot that the first use of words is
+accurately to express the thought. In this sentence are the commonest
+errors in the choice of words. "Most valuable" says more than truth;
+"direction" says less than truth; and "affixed" does not say anything.
+Had the boy studied the dictionary, had he been familiar with the
+Bible, had he carefully considered the figure he introduced with the
+word "gulf," he would not have written this incongruous sentence; he
+would not have been inaccurate. Spare no pains in your effort to be
+exact. Search through the words of your own vocabulary; if these fall
+short, find others in the dictionary. Get the word that exactly
+expresses the thought. Let no fine-sounding or high-born word trick
+you into saying what you do not mean. Be master of your words; never
+let fine expressions enslave you. In a word, be accurate.
+
+Such painstaking labor has its reward not alone in the increased power
+of expression; there is also a corresponding growth in the ability to
+observe accurately and to think clearly. No man can write such
+descriptions as Ruskin and Stevenson have written without seeing
+accurately; nor can a man speak with the definite certainty of Burke
+without thinking clearly. The desire to be accurate in expression
+drives a writer to be accurate in thinking. To think is the highest
+that man can hope from education. Anything that contributes to this
+highest attainment should be undertaken with joy. Whether planning a
+story or constructing an argument; whether excluding irrelevant matter
+or including what contributes to the perfection of the whole; whether
+massing the material so that all the parts shall receive their due
+emphasis; whether relating the parts so that the thought advances
+steadily and there can be no misunderstanding,--in all this the
+student will find arduous labor. Yet after all this is done,--when the
+theme, the paragraphs, and the sentences contain exactly what is
+needed, are properly massed, and are set in perfect order,--then comes
+the long labor of revision, which does not stop until the exact word
+is hunted out. For upon words, at last, we are dependent for the
+expression of our observation and thought. He is most entirely master
+of his thoughts who can accurately express them: clearly, that he
+cannot be misunderstood; forcefully, that he will not be unread; and
+elegantly, that he give the reader joy. And this mastery he evinces in
+a finely discriminating choice of words.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER X
+
+                          FIGURES OF SPEECH
+
+
+  Figurative Language.
+
+There is a generally accepted division of language into literal and
+figurative. Language that is literal uses words in their accepted and
+accurate meaning. Figurative language employs words with meanings not
+strictly literal, but varying from their ordinary definitions.
+
+Much of our language is figurative. When a person says, "He is a
+bright boy," he has used the word "bright" in a sense that is not
+literal; the use is figurative. In the following there is hardly a
+sentence that has not some variation from literal language.
+
+     "Down by the river there is, as yet, little sign of spring.
+     Its bed is all choked with last year's reeds, trampled about
+     like a manger. Yet its running seems to have caught a
+     happier note, and here and there along its banks flash
+     silvery wands of palm. Right down among the shabby burnt-out
+     underwood moves the sordid figure of a man. His hat is
+     battered, and he wears no collar. I don't like staring at
+     his face, for he has been unfortunate. Yet a glimpse tells
+     me that he is far down the hill of life, old and
+     drink-corroded at fifty." (Le Gallienne.)
+
+In the second sentence there are at least three figurative
+expressions. "Bed," "choked," and "trampled like a manger" are not
+literal. So, too, in the next sentence there are two beautiful
+variations from literal expression. Going on through the
+selection the reader will find frequently some happy change from
+literalness,--sometimes just a word, sometimes a phrase.
+
+Figurative language is of great value. It adds clearness to our
+speech; it gives it more force; or it imparts to literature beauty.
+The last use is the most common; indeed, it is so common that
+sometimes the other uses are overlooked. However, when such a sentence
+as the following is read, the comparison is of value in giving
+_clearness_ to the thought, although it does not state the literal
+truth.
+
+     "In the early history of our planet, the moon was flung off
+     into space, as mud is thrown from a turning wagon wheel."
+
+_Force_ is often gained by the use of figurative language. The
+following is a good illustration:--
+
+     "Neither the perseverance of Holland, nor the activity of
+     France, nor the dextrous and firm sagacity of English
+     enterprise, ever carried this most perilous mode of hardy
+     industry to the extent to which it has been pushed by these
+     people [Americans]; a people who are still, as it were, but
+     in the gristle, and not yet hardened into the bone of
+     manhood."
+
+The next is an illustration of a figure used for _beauty:--_
+
+     "Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
+     Having some business, do entreat her eyes
+     To twinkle in their spheres till they return."
+
+_A figure of speech is any use of words with a sense varying from
+their literal definition, to secure clearness, force, or beauty of
+expression._
+
+Figures add so much to the attractiveness of literature, that every
+one would like to use them. Yet figures should never be sought for.
+When they come of themselves, when they insist on being used, and are
+a part of the thought itself, and seem to be its only adequate
+expression, then they should be used. In most cases figures are
+ornaments of literature; it must be remembered that ornament is always
+secondary, and that no ornament is good unless it is in entire harmony
+with the thing it is to beautify. (See Preface, p. viii.)
+
+When a figure suggests itself, it must be so clearly seen that there
+can be no mixing of images. Some people are determined to use figures,
+and they force them into every possible place. The result is that
+there is often a confusion of comparisons. The following is bad: "His
+name went resounding in golden letters through the corridors of time."
+Just how a name could resound "in golden letters" is a difficult
+question. Longfellow used the last phrase beautifully:--
+
+     "Not from the grand old masters,
+     Not from the bards sublime,
+     Whose distant footsteps echo
+     Through the corridors of time."
+
+Of the two hundred or more figures of speech which have been named and
+defined, only a few need be mentioned here. And the purpose is not
+that you shall use them more, but that you may recognize them when you
+meet them in literature.
+
+  Figures based upon Likeness.
+
+There is a large group of figures of speech based upon likeness. One
+thing is so much like another that it is spoken of as like it, or,
+more frequently, one is said to be the other. Yet if the things
+compared are very much alike, there is no figure. To say that a cat is
+like a panther is not considered figurative. It is when in objects
+essentially different we detect and name some likeness that we say
+there is a figure of speech. There is at first thought no likeness
+between hope and a nurse; yet were it not for hope most persons would
+die. Thackeray was right when he said that "Hope is the nurse of
+life."
+
+The principal figures based upon likeness are metaphor, epithet,
+personification, apostrophe, allegory, and simile.
+
+_A metaphor is an implied comparison between things essentially
+different, but having some common quality._ Metaphor is by far the
+most common figure of speech; indeed, so common is it that figurative
+language is often called metaphorical.
+
+     "Tombs are the clothes of the dead; a grave is but a plain
+     suit, and a rich monument is one embroidered."
+
+               "Let me choose;
+     For as I am, I live upon the rack."
+
+     "The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep."
+
+Only a little removed from metaphor is epithet. _An epithet is a word,
+generally a descriptive adjective or a noun, used, not to give
+information, but to impart strength or ornament to diction._ It is
+like a shortened metaphor. It is very often found in impassioned prose
+or verse. Notice that in each epithet there is a comparison; that the
+figure is based on likeness.
+
+               "Here are sever'd lips
+     Parted with _sugar_ breath."
+
+     "Base _dog!_ why shouldst thou stand here?"
+
+_Personification is a figure that ascribes to inanimate things,
+abstract ideas, and the lower animals the attributes of human beings._
+It is plain that there must be some resemblance of the lower to the
+higher, else this figure could not be used. Personification, like the
+epithet, is a modification of the metaphor. Indeed, in every
+personification there is also a metaphor.
+
+     "When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees
+     And they did make no noise."
+
+     "But ever heaves and moans the restless Deep."
+
+_Apostrophe is an address to the dead as if living; to abstract ideas
+or inanimate objects as if they were persons._ It is a variety of
+personification.
+
+     "O Caledonia! stern and wild,
+     Meet nurse for a poetic child!"
+
+     "Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower,
+     Thou's met me in an evil hour;
+     For I maun crush amang the stoure
+                 Thy slender stem."
+
+     "Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour."
+
+_Allegory is a narrative in which material things and circumstances
+are used to illustrate and enforce high spiritual truths._ It is a
+continued personification. Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress" and Spenser's
+"Faerie Queene" are good examples of allegory.
+
+All these figures are varieties of metaphor. In them there is always
+an implied, not an expressed, comparison.
+
+_A simile is an expressed comparison between unlike things that have
+some common quality._ This comparison is usually indicated by _like_
+or _as._
+
+     "Ilbrahim was like a domesticated sunbeam, brightening moody
+     countenances, and chasing away the gloom from the dark
+     corners of the cottage."
+
+(Does this figure change to another in its course?)
+
+     "How far that little candle throws its beams!
+     So shines a good deed in a naughty world."
+
+Of retired Dutch valleys, Irving wrote:--
+
+     "They are like those little nooks of still water which
+     border a rapid stream; where we may see the straw and bubble
+     riding quietly at anchor, or slowly revolving in their mimic
+     harbor, undisturbed by the rush of the passing current."
+
+  Figures based upon Sentence Structure.
+
+There are a number of figures that express emotion by simply changing
+the normal order of the sentence. Among these are inversion,
+exclamation, interrogation, climax, and irony.
+
+_Inversion is a figure intended to give emphasis to the thought by a
+change from the natural order of the words in a sentence._
+
+     "_Thine_ be the glory!"
+
+     "_Few_ were the words they said."
+
+     "He saved others; _himself_ he cannot save."
+
+_Exclamation is an expression of strong emotion in abrupt, inverted,
+or elliptical phrases._ It is among sentences what the interjection is
+among words.
+
+     "How far that little candle throws its beams!"
+
+     "Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!"
+
+_Interrogation is a figure in which a question is asked, not to get an
+answer, but for the sake of emphasis._
+
+     "Do men gather grapes from thorns, or figs from thistles?"
+
+     "Fear ye foes who kill for hire?
+     Will ye to your homes retire?"
+
+     "Am I a coward?"
+
+_Climax is a figure in which the intensity of the thought and emotion
+gradually increases with the successive groups of words or phrases._
+(See p. 211.)
+
+     "Your children do not grow faster from infancy to manhood
+     than they [the American colonists] spread from families to
+     communities, from villages to nations."
+
+_Irony is a figure in which one thing is said and the opposite is
+meant._
+
+     "And Job answered and said, No doubt but ye are the people,
+     and wisdom shall die with you."
+
+     "O Jew, an upright judge, a learned judge!"
+
+Four other figures should be mentioned: metonymy, synecdoche,
+allusion, and hyperbole.
+
+_Metonymy calls one thing by the name of another which is closely
+related to the first._ The most common relations are cause and effect,
+container and thing contained, and sign and the thing signified.
+
+     "From the cradle to the grave is but a day."
+
+     "I did dream of money-bags to-night."
+
+_Synecdoche is that figure of speech in which a part is put for the
+whole, or the whole for a part._
+
+     "Fifty sail came into harbor."
+
+     "The redcoats are marching."
+
+_Allusion is a reference to something in history or literature with
+which every one is supposed to be acquainted._
+
+     "A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!"
+
+     Men still sigh for the flesh pots of Egypt; still worship
+     the golden calf.
+
+     There is no "Open Sesame" to the treasures of learning; they
+     must be acquired by hard study.
+
+Milton and Shakespeare are full of allusions to the classic literature
+of Greece and Rome.
+
+_Hyperbole is an exaggerated statement made for effect._
+
+     "He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders,
+     long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his
+     sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his
+     whole frame most loosely hung together."
+
+     "And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
+     Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
+     Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
+     Make Ossa like a wart!"
+
+  Exercises in Figures.
+
+Name the following figures. Of those that are based upon likeness,
+tell in what the similarity consists. In many of the selections more
+than one figure will be found.[55]
+
+     1. "The long, hard winter of his youth had ended; the
+     spring-time of his manhood was turning green like the
+     woods."
+
+     2. A pig came up to a horse and said, "Your feet are
+     crooked, and your hair is worth nothing."
+
+     3. "The words of his mouth were smoother than butter, but
+     war was in his heart; his words were softer than oil, but
+     they were drawn swords."
+
+     4. "The lily maid of Astolat."
+
+     5. "O Truth! O Freedom! how are ye still born
+        In the rude stable, in the manger nursed!"
+
+     6. "The birch, most shy and ladylike of trees,
+        Her poverty, as best she may, retrieves,
+        And hints at her foregone gentilities
+        With some saved relics of her wealth of leaves."
+
+     7. "O friend, never strike sail to a fear! Come into port
+     grandly, or sail with God the seas!"
+
+     8. "Primroses smile and daisies cannot frown."
+
+     9. "How deeply and warmly and spotlessly Earth's nakedness
+     is clothed!--the 'wool' of the Psalmist nearly two feet
+     deep. And as far as warmth and protection are concerned,
+     there is a good deal of the virtue of wool in such a
+     snow-fall. It is a veritable fleece, beneath which the
+     shivering earth ('the frozen hills ached with pain,' says
+     one of our young poets) is restored to warmth."
+
+     10. "We can win no laurels in a war for independence.
+     Earlier and worthier hands have gathered them all. Nor are
+     there places for us by the side of Solon and Alfred and
+     other founders of States. Our fathers have filled them."
+
+     11. "I put on righteousness, and it clothed me; my
+     judgment was as a robe and diadem.
+
+     "I was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame.
+
+     "I was father to the poor; and the cause which I knew not I
+     searched out.
+
+     "And I brake the jaws of the wicked, and plucked the spoil
+     out of his teeth."
+
+     12. "His head and his heart were so well combined that he
+     could not avoid becoming a power in his community."
+
+Spenser, writing of honor, says:--
+
+     13. "In woods, in waves, in wars, she wonts to dwell,
+         And will be found with peril and with pain;
+         Nor can the man that moulds an idle cell
+         Unto her happy mansion attain:
+         Before her gate high God did Sweat ordain,
+         And wakeful watches ever to abide;
+         But easy is the way and passage plain
+         To pleasure's palace: it may soon be spied,
+         And day and night her doors to all stand open wide."
+
+     14. "Over the vast green sea of the wilderness, the moon
+     swung her silvery lamp."
+
+     15. "The peace of the golden sunshine was supreme. Even a
+     tiny cloudlet anchored in the limitless sky would not sail
+     to-day."
+
+     16. "A short way further along, I come across a boy
+     gathering palm. He is a town boy, and has come all the way
+     from Whitechapel thus early. He has already gathered a great
+     bundle--worth five shillings to him, he says. This same palm
+     will to-morrow be distributed over London, and those who buy
+     sprigs of it by the Bank will know nothing of the blue-eyed
+     boy who gathered it, and the murmuring river by which it
+     grew. And the lad, once more lost in some squalid court,
+     will be a sort of Sir John Mandeville to his companions--a
+     Sir John Mandeville of the fields, with their water-rats,
+     their birds' eggs, and many other wonders. And one can
+     imagine him saying, 'And the sparrows there fly right up
+     into the sun, and sing like angels.' But he won't get his
+     comrades to believe _that._"
+
+     17. "We wandered to the Pine Forest
+           That skirts the Ocean's foam;
+         The lightest wind was in its nest,
+           The tempest in its home.
+         The whispering waves were half asleep,
+           The clouds were gone to play,
+         And on the bosom of the deep
+           The smile of heaven lay;
+         It seemed as if the hour were one
+           Sent from beyond the skies
+         Which scattered from above the sun
+           The light of Paradise.
+
+         "We paused amid the pines that stood
+           The giants of the waste,
+         Tortured by storms to shapes as rude
+           As serpents interlaced,--
+         And soothed by every azure breath
+           That under heaven is blown,
+         To harmonies and hues beneath,
+           As tender as its own:
+         Now all the tree-tops lay asleep
+           Like green waves on the sea,
+         As still as in the silent deep
+           The ocean woods may be."
+
+     18. "When a bee brings pollen into the hive, he advances to
+     the cell in which it is to be deposited and kicks it off as
+     one might his overalls or rubber boots, making one foot help
+     the other; then he walks off without ever looking behind
+     him; another bee, one of the indoor hands, comes along and
+     rams it down with his head and packs it in the cell as the
+     dairy-maid packs butter into a firkin."
+
+     19. "For thy desires
+         Are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous."
+
+     20. "What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how
+     infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and
+     admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how
+     like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of
+     animals!"
+
+     21. "And in her cheeks the vermeil red did shew
+         Like roses in a bed of lilies shed."
+
+     22. He betrayed his friend with a Judas kiss.
+
+     23. "A true poet is not one whom they can hire by money and
+     flattery to be a minister of their pleasures, their writer
+     of occasional verses, their purveyor of table wit; he cannot
+     be their menial, he cannot even be their partisan. At the
+     peril of both parties let no such union be attempted. Will a
+     Courser of the Sun work softly in the harness of a
+     Dray-horse? His hoofs are of fire, and his path is through
+     the heavens, bringing light to all lands; will he lumber on
+     mud highways, dragging ale for earthly appetites from door
+     to door?"
+
+     24. "Hath a dog money? is it possible
+         A cur can lend three thousand ducats?"
+
+     25. "Kind hearts are more than coronets,
+         And simple faith than Norman blood."
+
+     26. They sleep together,--the gray and the blue.
+
+     27. "Have not the Indians been kindly and justly treated?
+     Have not the temporal things--the vain baubles and filthy
+     lucre of this world--which were apt to engage their worldly
+     and selfish thoughts, been benevolently taken from them? And
+     have they not, instead thereof, been taught to set their
+     affections on things above?" (Quoted from Meiklejohn's "The
+     Art of Writing English.")
+
+     28. "Poetry is truth in its Sunday clothes."
+
+     29. "His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine,
+         And they fell on Sir Launfal as snows on the brine,
+         That mingle their softness and quiet in one
+         With the shaggy unrest they float down upon."
+
+     30. Too much red tape caused a great amount of suffering in
+     the beginning of the war.
+
+     31. "Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll!
+         Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain."
+
+     32. "The old Mountain has thrown a stone at us for fear we
+     should forget him. He sometimes nods his head, and threatens
+     to come down."
+
+     33. "But pleasures are like poppies spread:
+         You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;
+         Or like the snow falls in the river,
+         A moment white--then melts for ever;
+         Or like the borealis race,
+         That flit ere you can point their place;
+         Or like the rainbow's lovely form
+         Evanishing amid the storm."
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI
+
+                           VERSE FORMS[56]
+
+
+     Preparer's note: In this chapter, the rhythms of the sample
+     poetry lines were indicated with musical notes and rests.
+     In this text version, an eighth note is indicated by e, a
+     quarter note by q, and an eighth rest by r.
+
+No pupil has passed through the graded schools without being told that
+he should not sing verses, though no one is inclined to sing prose.
+One can scarcely help singing verse, and one cannot well sing prose.
+
+What is there about the form that leads a person to sing verses of
+poetry? For example, when a person reads the first lines of "The Lady
+of the Lake," he falls naturally into a sing-song which can be
+represented by musical notation as follows:--
+
+     |      ^  |    ^ |      ^  |     ^   |
+     |  e   q  | e  q | e    q  | e   q   |
+      "The stag at eve had drunk his fill,
+     |        ^   |     ^  |    ^ |      ^   |
+     |  e     q   | e   q  | e  q | e    q   |
+      Where danced the moon on Mon an's rill,
+     |     ^  |     ^ |       ^  |     ^  |
+     | e   q  | e   q |  e    q  | e   q  |
+      And deep his mid night lair had made
+     |    ^  |     ^ |      ^ |     ^     |
+     | e  q  | e   q | e    q | e   q     |
+      In lone Glenart ney's ha zel shade."
+
+The second, fourth, sixth, and eighth syllables in each of these lines
+are naturally accented in reading, while the other syllables are read
+without stress. The eight syllables of each line fall naturally into
+groups of two, an unaccented syllable followed by an accented
+syllable, just as in the musical notation given, an unaccented eighth
+note is followed by an accented quarter.
+
+In "Hiawatha" the accented syllable comes first, and the unaccented
+follows it.
+
+     | ^     |  ^      | ^     | ^    |
+     | q   e |  q    e | q  e  | q e  |
+      "By the shores of Gitchee Gumee,
+     | ^    | ^     | ^     | ^    |
+     | q  e | q   e | q   e | q e  |
+      By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
+     |  ^      | ^    | ^   | ^    |
+     |  q    e | q  e | q e | q e  |
+      Stood the wigwam of No komis,
+     |  ^     | ^    | ^      | ^     |
+     |  q   e | q  e | q    e | q e   |
+      Daughter of the Moon, No komis."
+
+So, too, there are groups in which there are three syllables. The
+accent may fall on any one of the three. In the following stanza from
+"The Bridge of Sighs," the accent falls on the first syllable of each
+group.
+
+     |   ^          | ^         |
+     |   e    e   e | e    e  e |
+      "Touch her not scornfully;
+     |  ^         |  ^        |
+     |  e   e   e |  e   e  e |
+      Think of her mournfully,
+     | ^        | ^      |
+     | e   e  e | e e  e |
+      Gently and humanly,
+     | ^        |  ^           |
+     | e  e   e |  e    e   e  |
+      Not of the stains of her;
+     | ^         | ^          |
+     | e   e   e | e    e   e |
+      All that re mains of her
+     | ^         | ^       |
+     | e  e   e  | e e e   |
+      Now is pure womanly."
+
+The accent may be upon the second syllable of the group. This is not
+common. The following is from "The Three Fishers."
+
+     |        ^     |      ^     |    ^   |     ^  |
+     |   e    e   e | e    e   e | e  e e | e   q  |
+      "Three fishers went sailing out into the West,
+     |    ^   |     ^     |     ^ |      ^   |
+     | e  e e | e   e   e | e   q | e    q   |
+      Out into the West as the sun went down;
+     |        ^      |     ^   |       ^      |     ^  |
+     | e      e    e | e   e e | e     e    e | e   q  |
+      Each thought on the woman that loved him the best;
+     |          ^       |        ^     |      ^    |     ^    |
+     | [e]   e  e    e  |  e     e   e | e    e  e | e   q    |
+      [And] the children stood watching them out of the town."
+
+Or the accent may be upon the last syllable of the group. This form is
+very common. It is found in the poem entitled "Annabel Lee."
+
+     |     ^     |   ^     | ^     ^|    |
+     | e   e   e |e  e   e |e e  e  |e q |
+      "It was man y and man y a year ago,
+           |      ^  |    ^ |     ^  |
+           | e e  e  | e  q | e   q  |
+            In a king dom by the sea,
+     |        ^  |           ^  |      ^ |     ^  |
+     | e   e  e  |e    e     e  | e    q | e   q  |
+      That a maid en there lived whom you may know
+           |        ^  |    ^|       ^  |
+           | e  e   e  | e  q| e e   e  |
+            By the name of An nabel Lee;
+     |          ^  |        ^   |     ^ |         ^   |
+     | e   e    e  |e   e   e   | e   q | e e     e   |
+      And this maid en she lived with no other thought
+           |         ^  |         ^  |   ^   |
+           |  e  e   e  | e  e    e  |e  q   |
+            Than to love and be loved by me."
+
+  Poetic Feet.
+
+If all these verses be observed carefully, it will be seen that in
+each group of syllables there is one accented syllable combined with
+one or two unaccented. Such a group of syllables is called a foot. The
+foot is the basis of the verse; and from the prevailing kind of foot
+that is found in any verse, the verse derives its name.
+
+_A foot is a group of syllables composed of one accented syllable
+combined with one or more unaccented._ It will be noticed further that
+if musical notation be used, all of these forms are but variations of
+the one form, represented by the standard measure 3/8. They are:--
+
+     |   ^ |  | ^   |  | ^     |  |   ^   |      |     ^ |
+     | e q |; | q e |; | e e e |; | e e e |; and | e e e |.
+
+Accordingly there are five forms of poetic feet made of this musical
+rhythm. Of these, four are in common use.
+
+_An Iambus is a two-syllable foot accented on the last syllable. Verse
+made of this kind of feet is called iambic._ It is the most common
+form found in English poetry. Example:--
+
+     "The stag at eve had drunk his fill."
+
+_A Trochee is a two-syllable foot accented on the first syllable.
+Verse made of this kind of feet is called trochaic._ Example:--
+
+     "Stood the wigwam of Nokomis."
+
+_A Dactyl is a three-syllable foot accented on the first syllable.
+Such verse is called dactylic._ Example:--
+
+     "Touch her not scornfully."
+
+_An Amphibrach is a three-syllable foot accented on the middle
+syllable._ It is uncommon. Example:--
+
+     "Three fishers went sailing out into the West."
+
+_An Anapest is a three-syllable foot accented on the last syllable._
+Example:--
+
+     "It was many and many a year ago."
+
+A Spondee is a very uncommon foot in English. It consists of two long
+syllables accented about equally. It occurs as an occasional foot in a
+four-syllable rhythm. No English poem is entirely spondaic. The
+four-syllable foot and the spondee are so uncommon that there is
+little use in the pupil's knowing more than that there are such
+things. The example below is quoted from Lanier's "The Science of
+English Verse."
+
+             | ^              | ^          |  ^     ^  |
+             | e  e   e    e  | q    e   e |  q     q  |
+     "Ah, the autumn days fade out, and the nights grow chill
+           | ^             | ^          | ^   ^ |
+           | e   e   e   e | e e   e  e | q   q |
+     And we walk no more to gether as we used of yore
+     When the rose was new in blossom and the sun was on the hill,
+     And the eves were sweetly vocal with the happy whippoorwill,
+     And the land-breeze piped its sweetest by the ocean shore."
+
+  Kinds of Metre.
+
+_A verse is a single line of poetry._ It may contain from one foot to
+eight feet.
+
+_A line made of one foot is called monometer._ It is never used
+throughout a poem, except as a joke, but it sometimes occurs as an
+occasional verse in a poem that is made of longer lines. The two lines
+which follow are from the song of "Winter" in Shakespeare's "Love's
+Labour's Lost." The last is monometer.
+
+     "Then nightly sings the staring owl
+               Tu-whit."
+
+_A line containing two feet is called dimeter._ It also is uncommon;
+but it does sometimes make up a whole poem; as, "The Bridge of Sighs,"
+already mentioned. Another example is:--
+
+           ^        ^
+     "I'm wearing awa', Jean,
+           ^              ^
+     Like snaw when it's thaw, Jean,
+            ^        ^
+       I'm wearing awa'
+               ^           ^
+       To the land o' the leal."
+
+It is frequently met as an occasional line in a poem. Wordsworth's
+"Daisy" shows it.
+
+     "Bright _Flower!_ for by that name at last,
+     When all my reveries are past,
+     I call thee, and to that cleave fast,
+               Sweet, silent creature!
+     That breath'st with me in sun and air,
+     Do thou, as thou art wont, repair
+     My heart with gladness, and a share
+               Of thy meek nature!"
+
+_A line containing three feet is called trimeter._ Example:--
+
+           ^          ^           ^
+     "The snow had begun in the gloaming,
+              ^      ^        ^
+         And busily all the night
+               ^        ^        ^
+     Had been heaping field and highway
+                 ^       ^         ^
+         With a silence deep and white."
+
+_A line containing four feet is called tetrameter._ "Marmion" is
+written in tetrameters. See the extract on p. 276.
+
+_A line containing five feet is called pentameter._ This line is very
+common in English poetry. It gives room enough for the poet to say
+something, and is not so long that it breaks down with its own weight.
+Shakespeare's Plays, Milton's "Paradise Lost," Tennyson's "Idylls of
+the King,"--indeed, most of the great, serious work of the
+master-poets has been done in this verse.
+
+_A line containing six feet is called hexameter._ This is the form
+adopted in the Iliad and the Odyssey of the Greeks, and the Aeneid of
+the Romans; it has been used sometimes by English writers in treating
+dignified subjects. "The Courtship of Miles Standish" and "Evangeline"
+are written in hexameter.
+
+Verses of seven and eight feet are rare; they are called heptameter
+and octameter, respectively. The heptameter is usually divided into a
+tetrameter and a trimeter; the octameter, into two tetrameters. Poe's
+"Raven" and Tennyson's "Locksley Hall" are in octameters, and Bryant's
+"The Death of the Flowers" is in heptameters.
+
+A verse is named from its prevailing kind of foot and the number of
+feet. For example, "The Merchant of Venice" is in iambic pentameter,
+and "The Courtship of Miles Standish" is in dactylic hexameter.
+
+  Stanzas.
+
+A stanza is a group of verses, but these verses are not necessarily of
+the same length. Monometer, dimeter, and trimeter are not often used
+for a whole stanza; but they are frequently found in a stanza,
+introducing variety into it. A stanza made up of tetrameter
+alternating with trimeter is very common. The stanzas from "Annabel
+Lee" and "The Village Blacksmith," found on pages 278 and 279, are
+excellent examples.
+
+  Scansion.
+
+_Scansion is the separation of a verse of poetry into its component
+feet._ Poetry was originally sung or chanted by bards and troubadours.
+The accompaniment was a simple strumming on a harp of very few
+strings, and was hardly more than the beating of time. The chanting
+must have been much like the sing-song that some people fall into when
+reading verses now. The first thing in scanning a line of poetry is to
+drop into its rhythm,--to let it sing itself. When the regular accent
+is felt, the lines can easily be separated into their metrical feet.
+Read these lines from "Marmion," and mark only the accented syllables.
+
+            ^         ^       ^        ^
+     "And there she stood so calm and pale,
+           ^        ^        ^       ^
+     That but her breathing did not fail,
+     And motion slight of eyes and head,
+     And of her bosom, warranted
+     That neither sense nor pulse she lacks,
+     You might have thought a form of wax
+     Wrought to the very life was there;
+     So still she was, so pale, so fair."
+
+The marked verses have an accented syllable preceded by an unaccented
+syllable. Such a foot is iambic. There are four feet in each verse; so
+the poem is written in iambic tetrameter. In the same way, one decides
+that "The Song of Hiawatha" is written in trochaic tetrameter.
+
+  Variations in Metres.
+
+In music the bar or measure is not always filled with exactly the same
+kind of notes arranged in the same order. If the signature reads 3/8,
+the measure may be filled by any notes that added together equal three
+eighth notes. It may be a quarter and an eighth, an eighth and a
+quarter, a dotted quarter, or three eighth notes. So, in poetry the
+verses are not always as regular as in "Marmion" and "Hiawatha,"
+although poetry is more regular than music and there are usually few
+variations of metre in any one poem. A knowledge of the most common
+forms of variation is necessary to correct scansion.
+
+The commonest variation in verse is the substitution of three eighths
+for the quarter and the eighth, or the eighth and the quarter. And the
+very opposite of this often occurs; that is, the substitution of the
+two-syllable foot for the three-syllable foot. The following, from
+"The Burial of Sir John Moore," illustrates what is done. Notice,
+however, that the beat is quite regular, and the lines lilt along as
+if there were no change.
+
+     |        ^  |      ^   |       ^ |      ^
+     |  e  e  e  | e    q   | e  e  e |e e   e  |
+      "Not a drum was heard, not a fun eral note,
+       |         ^  |        ^ |         ^       |
+       | e  e    e  | e  e   e | e   e   e  [e]  |
+        As his corse to the ram part we hur[ried];
+     |       ^ |           ^   |     ^  |      ^  |
+     | e  e  e | e    e    e   | e   q  | e    q  |
+      Not a sol dier discharged his fare well shot
+       |           ^  |           ^|       ^        |
+       | e    e    e  |  e    e   e| e e   e  [e]   |
+        O'er the grave where our he ro we bur[ied]."
+
+In reading this the first time, a person is not likely to notice that
+there are three feet in it containing but two syllables. The rhythm is
+perfectly smooth, and cannot be called irregular. The accent remains
+on the last syllable of the foot.
+
+In the following selection from "Evangeline," trochees are substituted
+for dactyls, yet there is no break in the rhythm. It does not seem in
+the least irregular.
+
+                | ^       | ^          |  ^       |
+                | q    e  | e   e    e |  q    e  |
+             "Be hind them followed the watch-dog,
+    | ^      | ^        | ^           |  ^         |  ^         | ^
+    | q  e   | e   e   e| e   e     e |  e   e   e |  e   e   e | q  e    |
+     Patient, full of im portance, and grand in the pride of his instinct,
+     Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and superbly
+     Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the stragglers."
+
+These examples are enough to illustrate the fact that one kind of foot
+may be substituted for another and not make the rhythm feel irregular.
+So long as the accent is not changed from the first syllable to the
+last, or from the last to the first, there is no jar in the flow of
+the lines. _The trochee and the dactyl are interchangeable; and the
+iambus and the anapest are interchangeable._
+
+We may take a step further. There are many times when some sudden
+change of thought, some strong emotion forces a poet to break the
+smooth rhythm, that the verses may harmonize with his feeling. Such a
+variation is like an exclamation or a dash thrown into prose. The
+following is taken from "Annabel Lee." The regular foot has the accent
+on the last syllable. It is anapestic, in tetrameters and trimeters.
+But note the shudder in the third line when the accent is changed on
+the word "chilling." The music and the thought are in perfect harmony.
+
+      "And this was the reason that, long ago,
+        In this kingdom by the sea,
+     |   ^  |      ^ |       ^   | ^      |
+     |e  q  | e    q |e  e   e   | q   e  |
+      A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
+        My beautiful Annabel Lee;
+      So that her highborn kinsman came
+        And bore her away from me
+      To shut her up in a sepulchre
+        In this kingdom by the sea."
+
+Another beautiful example is found in the last stanza of the same
+poem. It is in the first two feet of the fifth line. Here the regular
+accent has yielded to an accent on the middle syllable and there are
+two amphibrachs. Notice, too, how it is almost impossible to tell in
+the next foot whether the accent goes upon the second or upon the
+third syllable. It is hovering between the form of the first two feet
+and the anapest of the last foot.
+
+      "For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
+          Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
+      And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
+          Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
+     | ^         |      ^        |   ^   ^  |        ^  |
+     | e  e    e | e    e    e   |e  e   e  | e  e   e  |
+      And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
+      Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride,
+          In her sepulchre there by the sea
+          In her tomb by the sounding sea."
+
+As has already been said, the iambus is the common foot of English
+verse. It is made of a short and a long syllable. At the beginning of
+a poem an unaccented syllable seems weak; and so very frequently the
+first foot of a poem is trochaic; often the first two or three feet
+are of this kind. At such a place the irregularity does not strike
+one. The following is an illustration:--
+
+     |  ^   |    ^   |      ^  |     ^  |
+     |  q e |e   q   | e    q  | e   q  |
+      "Under a spread ing chest nut tree
+       |     ^ |       ^  |    ^    |
+       | e   q | e     q  |e   q    |
+        The vil lage smith y 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."
+
+In this stanza the prevailing foot is iambic, but the first foot is
+trochaic. In the following beautiful lines by Ben Jonson, there is the
+same thing:--
+
+     |   ^     |    ^|    ^  |       ^  |
+     |   q   e |e   q|e   q  |  e    q  |
+      "Drink to me on ly with thine eyes
+        And I will pledge with mine;
+      Or leave a kiss but in the cup
+        And I'll not look for wine.
+      The thirst that from the soul doth rise
+        Doth ask a drink divine;
+      But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
+        I would not change for thine."
+
+A similar substitution may occur in any other verse of the stanza; but
+we feel the change more than when it is found in the first verse. The
+second stanza of Jonson's song furnishes an example of the
+substitution of a trochee for an iambus:--
+
+     "I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
+      | ^    |      ^ |       ^  |
+      | q  e | e    q |e  e   e  |
+       Not so much hon oring thee
+     As giving it a hope that there
+       It could not withered be,
+     But thou thereon didst only breathe
+       And sent'st it back to me;
+     Since when it grows and smells, I swear,
+       Not of itself, but thee."
+
+Of all the great poets, but few have been such masters of the art of
+making musical verse as Spenser. The following stanza is from "The
+Faerie Queene;" and the delicate changes from one foot to another are
+so skillfully made that one has to look twice before he finds them.
+
+         ^      ^     ^    ^       ^
+     "A little lowly hermitage it was,
+      ^         ^         ^     ^        ^
+     Down in a dale, hard by a forest's side,
+      ^          ^       ^      ^        ^
+     Far from resort of people that did pass
+         ^     ^       ^      ^      ^
+     In travel to and fro; a little wide
+            ^     ^    ^     ^   ^
+     There was a holy chapel edified,
+          ^     ^      ^    ^       ^
+     Wherein a hermit duly wont to say
+          ^     ^          ^       ^    ^
+     His holy things each morn and eventide;
+          ^     ^        ^         ^      ^
+     Thereby a crystal stream did gently play,
+       ^           ^      ^        ^      ^       ^
+     Which from a sacred fountain welled forth alway."
+
+  First and Last Foot.
+
+From the lines on "The Burial of Sir John Moore," another fact about
+metres may be derived. The second and fourth lines apparently have one
+too many syllables. _This may occur when the accent is upon the last
+syllable of the foot;_ that is, when the foot is an iambus or an
+anapest.
+
+Again, the last foot of each line may be one syllable short. _This may
+occur when the accent is on the first syllable of a foot;_ that is,
+when the foot is trochaic or dactylic. The scheme is like this:
+
+     |  ^     | ^    |  ^     | ^     |
+     |  q   e | q  e |  q   e | q  e  |
+      "Tell me not in mournful numbers
+       | ^     | ^    | ^   |  ^      |
+       | q   e | q  e | q e |  q    r |
+        Life is but an empty dream."
+
+The last foot of a verse of poetry, then, may have more or fewer
+syllables than the regular number; still the foot takes up the regular
+time and cannot be deemed unrhythmical.
+
+The first foot of a line, too, may contain an extra syllable; a good
+example has been given in the lines on page 273, beginning,--
+
+     "Ah, the autumn days fade out, and the nights grow chill."
+
+And the first foot of a line may lack a syllable, as in the first line
+of "Break, Break, Break," by Tennyson.
+
+In a line like the following, it is sometimes difficult to tell
+whether the syllable is omitted from the first or the last foot. If
+from the first, the verse is iambic, and is scanned like this:--
+
+     |      ^  |     ^ |     ^ |         ^    |
+     | r    q  | e   q |e    q | e   e   e    |
+         "Proud and low ly, beg gar and lord."
+
+If the last foot is not full, the line is trochaic.
+
+        |   ^      | ^     | ^         | ^      |
+        |   q    e | q  e  | e   e   e | q    r |
+         "Proud and low ly, beg gar and lord."
+
+Now if the whole of "London Bridge," from which this line is quoted,
+be read, there will be found several lines that are trochaic beyond
+question; and the last line of the chorus is iambic. The majority of
+trochaic lines leads us to decide that the verse is trochaic. From
+this example one learns to appreciate how nearly alike are trochaic
+and iambic verses. Both are composed of alternating accented and
+unaccented syllables; and the kind of metre depends upon which comes
+first in the foot. In Blake's "Tiger, Tiger," there is not a line that
+clearly shows what kind of verse the poet used. If the unaccented
+syllable is supplied at the beginning the poem is iambic; if at the
+end, it is trochaic.
+
+     "Tiger, Tiger, burning bright
+     In the forests of the night,
+     What immortal hand or eye
+     Framed thy fearful symmetry?"
+
+Silences may occur in the middle of a verse of poetry as well as at
+the beginning or the end. In the following nursery rhyme it is clear
+that the prevailing foot is anapestic, though several feet are iambic,
+and in the first two lines and the last line a single syllable makes a
+foot. Silences are introduced here as rests are in music.
+
+     | r   q  | r   q  | r  q   |
+        "Three    blind    mice!
+     | r  q | r  q | e    q  |
+         See    how they run!
+     |    ^  |    ^ |         ^  |      ^   |
+      Hurrah, hurrah for the farm er's wife!
+     |     ^ |            ^  |        ^  |      ^   |
+      She cut off their tails with a carv ing knife!
+     |        ^ |    ^ |         ^  |         ^  |
+      Did you ev er see such a sight in your life
+     |e    q  | r   q  | r  q    |
+      As three    blind    mice!"
+
+Like this is the scansion of Tennyson's "Break, Break, Break."
+
+        | r   q   | r   q   | r   q   |
+           "Break,    break,    break!
+     On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
+     And I would that my tongue could utter
+     The thoughts that arise in me."
+
+In scanning, then, it is necessary--
+
+_First._ To determine by reading a number of verses the kind of foot
+that predominates, and to make this the basis of the metrical scheme.
+
+_Second._ To remember that one kind of foot may be substituted for
+another, at the will of the poet, introducing into the poem a delicate
+variety of rhythm.
+
+_Third._ To keep in mind that the first foot of a verse and the last
+foot may have more or fewer syllables than the regular foot of the
+poem.
+
+_Fourth._ That silences, like rests in music, may be introduced into a
+verse and give to it a perfect smoothness of rhythm.
+
+  Kinds of Poetry.
+
+It is a difficult thing to give a definition of poetry. Many have done
+so, yet no one has been fortunate enough to have his definition go
+without criticism. In general, it may be said that poetry deals with
+serious subjects, that it appeals to the feelings rather than to the
+reason, that it employs beautiful language, and that it is written in
+some metrical form.
+
+Poetry has been divided into three great classes: narrative, lyric,
+and dramatic.
+
+Narrative poetry deals with events, real or imaginary. It includes,
+among other varieties, the epic, the metrical romance, the tale, and
+the ballad.
+
+_The epic is a narrative poem of elevated character telling generally
+of the exploits of heroes._ The "Iliad" of the Greeks, the "Aeneid" of
+the Romans, the "Nibelungen Lied" of the Germans, "Beowulf" of the
+Anglo-Saxons, and "Paradise Lost" are good examples of the epic.
+
+_The metrical romance is any fictitious narrative of heroic,
+marvelous, or supernatural incidents derived from history or legend,
+and told at considerable length._ "The Idylls of the King" are
+romances.
+
+The tale is but little different from the romance. It leaves the field
+of legend and occupies the place in poetry that a story or a novel
+does in prose. "Marmion" and "Enoch Arden" are tales.
+
+_A ballad is a short narrative poem, generally rehearsing but one
+incident._ It is usually vigorous in style, and gives but little
+thought to elegance. "Sir Patrick Spens," "The Battle of Otterburne,"
+and "Chevy Chase" are examples.
+
+Lyric poetry finds its source in the author's feelings and emotions.
+In this it differs from narrative poems, which find their material in
+external events and circumstances. Epic poetry is written in a grand
+style, generally in pentameter, or hexameter; while the lyric adopts
+any verse that suits the emotion. The principal classes of lyric
+poetry are the song, the ode, the elegy, and the sonnet.
+
+_The song is a short poem intended to be sung._ It has great variety
+of metres and is generally divided into stanzas. "Sweet and Low," "Ye
+Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon," "John Anderson, My Jo, John," are
+songs.
+
+_An ode is a lyric expressing exalted emotion; it usually has a
+complex and irregular metrical form._ Collins's "The Passions,"
+Wordsworth's "Intimations of Immortality," and Lowell's "Commemoration
+Ode," are well known.
+
+_An elegy is a serious poem pervaded by a feeling of melancholy._ It
+is generally written to commemorate the death of some friend. Milton's
+"Lycidas" and Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard" are examples of
+this form of lyric.
+
+_A sonnet is a lyric that deals with a single thought, idea, or
+sentiment in a fixed metrical form. The sonnet always contains
+fourteen lines._ It has, too, a very definite rhyme scheme. Some of
+the best English sonnets have been written by Shakespeare, Wordsworth,
+and Mrs. Browning.
+
+Dramatic poetry presents a course of human events, and is generally
+designed to be spoken on the stage. Because such poetry presents human
+character in action, the term "dramatic" has come to be applied to any
+poetry having this quality. Many of Browning's poems are dramatic in
+this sense. In the first sense of the word, dramatic poetry includes
+tragedy and comedy.
+
+_Tragedy is a drama in which the diction is dignified, the movement
+impressive, and the ending unhappy._
+
+_Comedy is a drama of a light and amusing character, with a happy
+conclusion to its plot._
+
+  Exercises in Metres.
+
+Enough of each poem is given below so that the kind of metre can be
+determined. Always name the verse form and write the verse scheme.
+Some hard work will be necessary to work out the irregular lines, but
+it is only by work on these that any ability in scanning can be
+gained. Always read a stanza two or three times to get the swing of
+the rhythm. Remember the silences, and the substitutions that may be
+made.
+
+     1. "I stood on the bridge at midnight
+        As the clocks were striking the hour,
+        And the moon rose over the city,
+        Behind the dark church tower.
+
+        "Among the long black rafters
+        The wavering shadows lay,
+        And the current that came from the ocean
+        Seemed to lift and bear them away."
+
+     2. "All things are new;--the buds, the leaves,
+        That gild the elm-tree's nodding crest,
+        And even the nest beneath the eaves;--
+        There are no birds in last year's nest!"
+
+     3. "Meanwhile we did our nightly chores,--
+        Brought in the wood from out of doors,
+        Littered the stalls, and from the mows
+        Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows;
+        Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
+        And, sharply clashing horn on horn,
+        Impatient down the stanchion rows
+        The cattle shake their walnut bows;
+        While, peering from his early perch
+        Upon the scaffold's pole of birch,
+        The cock his crested helmet bent
+        And down his querulous challenge sent."
+
+     4. "You know, we French stormed Ratisbon:
+        A mile or so away,
+        On a little mound, Napoleon
+        Stood on our storming day;
+        With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,
+        Legs wide, arms locked behind,
+        As if to balance the prone brow
+        Oppressive with its mind."
+
+     5. "Come, read to me some poem,
+        Some simple and heartfelt lay,
+        That shall soothe this restless feeling,
+        And banish the thoughts of day.
+
+        "Not from the grand old masters,
+        Not from the bards sublime,
+        Whose distant footsteps echo
+        Through the corridors of Time.
+
+        "For, like strains of martial music,
+        Their mighty thoughts suggest
+        Life's endless toil and endeavor;
+        And to-night I long for rest.
+
+        "Read from some humbler poet
+        Whose songs gushed from his heart,
+        As showers from the clouds of summer,
+        Or tears from the eyelids start;
+
+        "Who through long days of labor,
+        And nights devoid of ease,
+        Still heard in his soul the music
+        Of the wonderful melodies."
+
+     6. "Hickory, dickery, dock,
+        The mouse ran up the clock;
+        The clock struck one,
+        And the mouse ran down;
+        Hickory, dickery, dock."
+
+     7. "Two brothers had the maiden, and she thought,
+        Within herself: 'I would I were like them;
+        For then I might go forth alone, to trace
+        The mighty rivers downward to the sea,
+        And upward to the brooks that, through the year,
+        Prattle to the cool valleys. I would know
+        What races drink their waters; how their chiefs
+        Bear rule, and how men worship there, and how
+        They build, and to what quaint device they frame,
+        Where sea and river meet, their stately ships;
+        What flowers are in their gardens, and what trees
+        Bear fruit within their orchards; in what garb
+        Their bowmen meet on holidays, and how
+        Their maidens bind the waist and braid the hair.'"
+
+(In this quotation we have blank verse; that is, verse that does not
+rhyme. It is iambic pentameter,--the most common verse in great
+English poetry. What poems are you familiar with that use this
+verse-form?)
+
+     8. "A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
+        A wind that follows fast
+        And fills the rustling sails
+        And bends the gallant mast;
+        And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
+        While like the eagle free
+        Away the good ship flies, and leaves
+        Old England on the lee.
+
+        "O for a soft and gentle wind;
+        I heard a fair one cry;
+        But give to me the snoring breeze
+        And white waves heaving high;
+        And white waves heaving high, my lads,
+        The good ship tight and free--
+        The world of waters is our home,
+        And merry men are we.
+
+        "There's tempest in yon horned moon,
+        And lightning in yon cloud;
+        But hark the music, mariners!
+        The wind is piping loud;
+        The wind is piping loud, my boys,
+        The lightning flashes free--
+        While the hollow oak our palace is,
+        Our heritage the sea."
+
+     9. "Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
+        Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
+        While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
+        As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door--
+        ''T is some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door--
+                  Only this, and nothing more.'"
+
+     10. "Somewhat back from the village street
+         Stands the old-fashioned country-seat,
+         Across its antique portico
+         Tall poplar trees their shadows throw;
+         And from its station in the hall
+         An ancient timepiece says to all,--
+               'Forever--never!
+               Never--forever!'"
+
+     11. "Listen, my children, and you shall hear
+         Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
+         On the eighteenth of April, in seventy-five;
+         Hardly a man is now alive
+         Who remembers that famous day and year."
+
+     12. "Sweet and low, sweet and low,
+         Wind of the western sea,
+         Low, low, breathe and blow,
+         Wind of the western sea!
+         Over the rolling waters go,
+         Come from the dying moon, and blow,
+         Blow him again to me;
+         While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
+
+         "Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
+         Father will come to thee soon;
+         Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
+         Father will come to thee soon;
+         Father will come to his babe in the nest--
+         Silver sails all out of the west
+         Under the silver moon:
+         Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep."
+
+     13. "See what a lovely shell,
+         Small and pure as a pearl,
+         Lying close to my foot,
+         Frail, but a work divine,
+         Made so fairily well
+         With delicate spire and whorl,
+         How exquisitely minute,
+         A miracle of design!"
+
+(If the pupils have Palgrave's "Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics,"
+they have a great fund of excellent material illustrating all
+varieties of metrical variation. There are very few pieces of
+literature that illustrate so many varieties of metre as Wordsworth's
+"Ode on the Intimations of Immortality.")
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                               APPENDIX
+
+
+                     A. SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS.
+
+The Course of Study on pages xx-xxvi contemplates five days a week for
+the study of English. The text which is to be the subject of the
+term's work should first be studied for a few weeks. After it has been
+mastered, three days of each week should be given to literature and
+two to composition. In practice I have found it best to have the study
+of literature occupy three consecutive days,--for example, Tuesday,
+Wednesday, and Thursday. This arrangement leaves Monday and Friday for
+composition. Friday is used for the study of the text-book and for
+general criticism and suggestion. On Monday the compositions should be
+written in the classroom. To have them so written is, at least during
+the first year, distinctly better. The first draft of the composition
+should be brought to class ready for amendment and copying. During the
+writing the teacher should be among the pupils offering assistance,
+and insisting upon good penmanship. Care at the beginning will form a
+habit of neatness, and keep the penmanship up to a high standard.
+
+The arrangement suggested is only one plan. This works well. Many
+others may be adopted. But no plan should be accepted which makes the
+number of essays fewer than one a week; nor should the number of days
+given to literature be smaller than three a week.
+
+During the second year, if the instructor thinks it can be done
+without loss, the compositions may be written outside of school hours
+and brought to class on a definite day. A pupil should not be allowed
+to put off the writing of a composition any more than a lesson in
+geometry. On Monday of each week a composition should be handed in;
+irregularity only makes the work displeasing and leads to shirking.
+Writing out of school gives more time for criticism and study of
+composition, and during the second year this extra time is much
+needed.
+
+By the third year the pupils certainly can do the work out of school.
+As the compositions increase in length, more time will be necessary
+for their preparation. The teacher should, however, know exactly what
+progress has been made each week; and by individual criticisms and by
+wise suggestions she should help the pupil to meet the difficulties of
+his special case.
+
+In order that the instructor may have time for individual criticism,
+she should have two periods each day vacant in which to meet pupils
+for consultation. To make this clear, suppose that a teacher of
+English has one hundred pupils in her classes. She should have no
+more, for one hundred essays a week are enough for any person to
+correct. If there be six recitation periods daily, place twenty-five
+pupils in each of four sections for the study of literature,
+composition, and general criticism. This leaves two periods each day
+to meet individuals, giving ten pupils for each period. These should
+come on scheduled days, with the same regularity as for class
+recitation. The pupil's work should have been handed in on the second
+day before he comes up for consultation, in order that the teacher may
+be competent to give criticisms of any value. The inspiration of the
+first reading cannot be depended upon to suggest any help, nor is
+there time for such a reading during the recitation.
+
+There will be need of class recitation in argument. Ten days or two
+weeks are all that is necessary for text-book work. This should be
+done before pupils read the "Conciliation." In the reading constantly
+keep before the pupils the methods of the author.
+
+Every teacher should be able to do what she asks of the pupils. No
+person would dare to offer herself as a teacher of Latin or algebra
+until she could write all the translations of the one and solve all
+the problems of the other. Yet there are persons who have the audacity
+to offer their services as teachers of English, when they cannot write
+a letter correctly, to say nothing of a more formal piece of
+composition. If an instructor in physics, who had asked his pupils to
+solve a problem in electricity, should say to each unfortunate person
+as he handed in his solution, "No, that isn't right; you'll have to
+try again," without offering any help or suggestion, and should
+continue this discouraging process until some bright pupil worked it
+out, or perhaps some one guessed it, we should say that such a person
+was no instructor at all. We might go so far as to question his
+intellectual competency. We certainly should think him quite deserving
+of dismissal. Still many teachers of English do nothing more than say,
+"It isn't right. Make it so." If the teacher does not know how to do
+the thing she asks the pupils to do, she should not be teaching. And
+even when she can do it, she will often benefit herself and the pupils
+by actually writing the composition. In this way not only does she
+gain command of her own powers of expression, but she finds out the
+difficulties with which the pupils have to contend. Every teacher of
+English composition should be able to do some creditable work in
+English; and every teacher of English should put this talent into
+actual use.
+
+Numerous examples of correct paragraphs, well-made sentences, and apt
+words have not been included in the text. They have been omitted
+because they can be found in the literature study. It is better for
+pupils to find these for themselves. It will put them in the way of
+reading with the senses always alert for something good; and all good
+paragraphs and sentences lose something of their beautiful adaptation
+when torn from the place of their birth and growth.
+
+So, too, there are no long lists of errors. One hundred pupils in a
+term make enough to fill a volume. When a teacher knows that Sentences
+is to be her next subject she should begin three months in advance to
+get a good collection of specimens. These should be classified so that
+they may be most usable. By the time the class comes to the study of
+Sentences some new, live material will be on hand for illustration.
+
+In the pupils' exercises each week those errors should be singled out
+and dwelt upon which are the special subject of text-book work. If the
+pupils are studying Coherence in sentence structure, select all
+violations of this principle in the week's exercises, and by means of
+them nail that one principle down instead of trying to lay down the
+whole set of principles given in the chapter on Sentences. Alongside
+of this collection of mistakes in Coherence of sentences show the
+pupils the best examples of tight-jointed sentences to be found in the
+literature they are studying. Point out how these sentences have been
+made to hold together, and how their own shambling creations can be
+corrected.
+
+Some teachers will fear the amount of literature required. It may seem
+large, especially in the first two years. It certainly would be quite
+impossible to read aloud in class all of this. However, that is not
+intended. There would be but sorry progress either in the course of
+study or in the power to analyze literature if the class time were
+taken up with oral reading of narration and description. The whole of
+a short story or one or two chapters of a novel are not too much for a
+lesson. The discussion of the meaning and the method of the author
+should take up the largest part of the time. Then such portions should
+be read aloud as are especially suited to an exercise in oral reading.
+In this way the apparently large list will be easily covered within
+the time.
+
+Moreover, there is distinct gain in reading much. If only three or
+four pages be given for a lesson, the study of literature degenerates
+into a study of words. A study of words is necessary, but it is only a
+part of the study of literature. Such a method of study gives the
+pupil no sense of values. He does not get out into the wide spaces of
+the author's thought, but is eternally hedged about by the dwarfing
+barriers of etymology and grammar.
+
+
+                    B. THE FORM OF A COMPOSITION.
+
+THE MARGIN. It is the custom to leave a margin of about an inch at the
+left side of the page. In this margin the corrections should be
+written, not in the composition. There should be no margin at the
+right. The device of writing incomplete lines, or of making each
+sentence a paragraph, is sometimes adopted by young persons in the
+hope of deceiving the teacher as to the length of the composition.
+Remember that pages do not count for literature any more than yards of
+hideous advertising boards count as art. Write a full page with a
+straight-lined margin at the left.
+
+INDENTION. To designate the beginning of a new paragraph, it is
+customary to have the first line begin an inch farther in than the
+other lines. This indention of the margin and the incomplete line at
+the end mark the visible limits of the paragraph.
+
+THE HEADING. The heading or title of the composition should be written
+about an inch and a half from the top of the page, and well placed in
+the middle from left to right. There should be a blank line between
+the title and the beginning of the composition. Some persons prefer,
+in addition to the title, the name of the writer and the date of
+writing,--an unnecessary addition, it seems to me. If they are to
+appear, the name should be at the left and the date at the right, both
+on one line. The title will be on the next line below.
+
+          Jay Phillips.                       Jan. 27, 1900.
+
+                        The Circus-Man's Story.
+
+     "There was once an old man whom they called a wizard, and
+     who lived in a great cave by the sea and raised dragons. Now
+     when I was a very little boy, I had read a great deal about
+     this old man and felt as if he were quite a friend of mine.
+     I had planned for a long time to pay him a visit, although I
+     had not decided just when I should start. But the day Jim
+     White's father brought him that camel, I was crazy to be
+     after my dragon at once.
+
+     "When bedtime came, I had made all my plans; and scarcely
+     had Nurse turned her back when I was on my way. It was
+     really very far, but I traveled so swiftly that I arrived in
+     a remarkably short time at the wizard's house. When I
+     rapped, he opened the door and asked me in.
+
+     "'I came to see if you had any dragons left,' I told him. 'I
+     should like a very good, gentle dragon,' I added, 'that
+     would not scare Nurse; and if it is isn't too much trouble,
+     I should want one that I could ride.'"
+
+THE INDORSEMENT. When the composition is finished, it should be folded
+but once up and down the middle of the page. The indorsement upon the
+back is generally written toward the edges of the leaves, not toward
+the folded edge. I prefer the other way, however; and for this reason.
+If in a bunch of essays a teacher is searching for a particular one,
+she generally holds them in the left hand and with the fingers of the
+right lifts one essay after another. Indorsing toward the folded edge
+insures lifting a whole essay every time; while if the edges of the
+leaves be toward the right hand, too many or too few may be lifted.
+
+The indorsement should contain: first, the name of the writer; second,
+the term and period of his recitation; third, the title of the essay;
+and fourth, the date. In describing the class and period, it is well
+to use a Roman numeral for the term, counting two terms in each year,
+and an Arabic numeral to denote the period of his recitation.
+
+                  ||=============================
+                  ||                             |
+                  ||        Jay Phillips.        |
+                  ||                             |
+                  ||            II, 3.           |
+                  ||                             |
+                  ||   The Circus-Man's Story.   |
+                  ||                             |
+                  ||        Jan. 27, 1900.       |
+                   |                             |
+                    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
+
+PENMANSHIP. The penmanship should be neat and legible. Not all persons
+can write elegantly; but all can write so that their work can be
+easily read, and all can make a clean page. Scribbling is due to
+carelessness. A scribbled page points to a scribbling mind; clean-cut
+handwriting, perhaps not Spencerian, but a clear, legible handwriting
+is not only an indication of clear-cut thinking but a means and
+promoter of accurate thought. Moreover, as a business proposition, one
+cannot afford to become a slovenly penman. Every composition should be
+a lesson in penmanship, and by so much improve one's chances in the
+business world. And last, the teacher who has to read and correct the
+compositions of from one hundred to two hundred persons each week
+demands some consideration. No one but a teacher knows the drudgery of
+this work; it can be much lightened if each pupil writes so that the
+composition can be read without difficulty. By doing this, the pupil
+is sure of better criticism; for the teacher can give all her
+attention to the composition, none being demanded for the penmanship.
+
+
+               C. MARKS FOR CORRECTION OF COMPOSITIONS.
+
+In correcting compositions certain abbreviations will save a teacher
+much time. Some of the common ones are given below. Underscore the
+element that needs correcting, and put the abbreviation in the margin.
+In case the whole paragraph needs remodeling, draw a line at its side
+and note the correction in the margin.
+
+     Cap.    Use a capital letter.
+     l. c.   Use a small letter.
+     D.      See the dictionary for the correct use of the word.
+     Sp.     Spelling.
+     Gr.     A mistake in grammatical use of language.
+     Cnst.   The construction of the sentence is awkward or
+             unidiomatic.
+     Cl.     Not clear. The remedy may be suggested by reference to
+             certain pages of the text.
+     W.      Weak. As above, point out the trouble by a page
+             reference.
+     Rep.    Repetition is monotonous; or it may be necessary for
+             clearness.
+     p.      Punctuation.
+     Cond.   Condense.
+     Exp.    Expand.
+     Tr.     Transpose.
+     ?       Some fault not designated. It is well to use page
+             reference.
+     P       Make a new paragraph.
+     No P    Unite into one paragraph.
+     [Greek lower-case delta]   Cut out.
+     ^       There is something omitted.
+
+         [Transcriber's note: The paragraph symbol cannot be displayed
+          with ascii characters. It is best described as a reversed
+          "P" with two vertical lines. We have substituted an upper
+          case "P".]
+
+In addition to the above very common corrections, many others should
+be made. Instead of abbreviations, it will be better to refer the
+pupil to the page of the book which treats of the special fault. For
+instance, if there be an unexpected change of construction, underscore
+it, and write in the margin "226;" on this page is found "parallel
+construction" of sentences. It may be well to use the letters U., C.,
+and M., in connection with the page numbers to indicate that the fault
+is in the unity, coherence, or mass of the element to be corrected.
+The constant reference to the fuller statement of the principles
+violated will serve to fix them in the mind.
+
+
+                           D. PUNCTUATION.
+
+Punctuation seeks to do for written composition what inflections and
+pauses accomplish in vocal expression. It makes clear what kind of an
+expression the whole sentence is: whether declarative, exclamatory, or
+interrogative. And it assists in indicating the relations of the
+different parts within a sentence. While there is practically
+uniformity in the method of punctuation at the end of a sentence,
+within a sentence punctuation shows much variety of method. Where one
+person uses a comma, another inserts a semicolon; and where one finds
+a semicolon sufficient, another requires a colon. It should be
+remembered that the parts of a sentence have not equal rank; and that
+the difference in rank should, as far as possible, be indicated by the
+marks of punctuation. Keeping in mind, also, the fact that the
+internal marks of punctuation,--the colon, the semicolon, and the
+comma,--have a rank in the order mentioned, from the greatest to the
+least, a writer will use the stronger marks when the rank of the parts
+of a sentence demands them, and the weaker marks to separate the
+lesser elements of the sentence. The sentences below illustrate the
+variety which may be practiced, and the use of punctuation to show the
+relation and rank of the elements of a sentence.
+
+1. Internal punctuation is largely a matter of taste but there are
+definite rules for final punctuation.
+
+2. Internal punctuation is largely a matter of taste; there are,
+however, definite rules for final punctuation.
+
+3. Internal punctuation, the purpose of which is to group phrases and
+clauses which belong together and to separate those which do not
+belong together, and to indicate the relative rank of the parts
+separated, is, to a great extent, a matter of taste: on the other
+hand, there are definite rules for final punctuation, the object of
+which is to separate sentences, and also to assist in telling what
+kind of a sentence precedes it; that is, whether it be declarative,
+interrogative, or exclamatory.
+
+Looking at the first sentence, we find two elements of equal rank
+separated by a comma. Some authors would prefer no punctuation at all
+in a sentence as short as this. Again, if one wished to make the two
+elements very independent, he would use a semicolon. There would be
+but little difference in meaning between no punctuation and a comma;
+but there is a wide difference in meaning between no punctuation and a
+semicolon. The independence caused by the use of the semicolon is felt
+in the second sentence, where the words are the same except one. In
+this sentence a colon might be used; and one might go so far as to
+make two sentences of it. Notice that in these two sentences the
+question is how independent you wish the elements to be, and it is
+also a question of taste. In the third sentence, there are elements of
+different rank. To indicate the rank, punctuation of different value
+must be introduced. The two independent elements are separated by a
+colon. A semicolon might be used, if a semicolon were not used within
+the second independent element. This renders the greater mark
+necessary. Look at the commas in the first independent element. The
+assertion is that "internal punctuation is a matter of taste." This is
+too sweeping. It is modified by an explanatory phrase, "to a large
+extent;" and this phrase is inclosed by commas. Moreover, the long
+clause indicating the purpose of internal punctuation is inclosed by
+commas. The use of a semicolon in the second part falls under the
+third rule for the semicolon. If one should substitute for this
+semicolon a comma and a dash, he could use a semicolon instead of a
+colon for separating the two main divisions of the sentence. However,
+the method in which they are first punctuated is in accord with the
+rules generally accepted. The simplest of these rules are given below
+but one must never be surprised to find a piece of literature in which
+the internal punctuation is at variance with these rules.
+
+                           CAPITAL LETTERS.
+
+1. A capital letter begins every new sentence.
+
+2. A capital letter begins every line of poetry.
+
+3. All names of Deity begin with a capital letter.
+
+4. All proper names begin with capital letters.
+
+5. All adjectives derived from proper nouns begin with capital
+letters.
+
+6. The first word of every direct quotation begins with a capital
+letter.
+
+7. Most abbreviations use capital letters.
+
+                               COMMAS.
+
+8. A series of words or a series of phrases, performing similar
+functions in a sentence, are separated from each other by commas,
+unless all the connectives are expressed.
+
+           "Her voice was ever soft,
+     Gentle, and low,--an excellent thing in woman."
+
+                             "Good my lord,
+     You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I
+     Return those duties back as are right fit,
+     Obey you, love you, and most honor you."
+
+But, "shining and tall and fair and straight," because all the
+connectives are expressed.
+
+9. Words out of their natural order are separated from the rest of the
+sentence by commas.
+
+     "To the unlearned, punctuation is a matter of chance."
+
+10. Words and phrases, either explanatory or slightly parenthetical,
+are separated from the rest of the sentence by commas.
+
+                 "Then poor Cordelia!
+     And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love 's
+     More richer than my tongue."
+
+However when phrases and clauses are quite parenthetic, they are
+separated from the remainder of the sentence by parentheses, or by
+commas and dashes. The comma and dash is more common, and generally
+indicates a lesser independence of the inclosed element.
+
+     "Then Miss Gunns smiled stiffly, and thought what a pity it
+     was that these rich country people, who could afford to buy
+     such good clothes (really Miss Nancy's lace and silk were
+     very costly), should be brought up in utter ignorance and
+     vulgarity."
+
+11. The nominative of direct address, and phrases in the nominative
+absolute construction are cut off by commas.
+
+                              "Goneril,
+     Our eldest born, speak first."
+
+     "The ridges being taken, the troops advanced a thousand
+     yards."
+
+12. Appositive words and phrases are separated from the remainder of
+the sentence by commas.
+
+     "In the early years of this century, such a linen weaver,
+     named Silas Marner, worked at his vocation, in a stone
+     cottage that stood among the nutty hedgerows near the
+     village of Raveloe, and not far from the edge of a deserted
+     stone-pit."
+
+13. When words are omitted, the omission is indicated by the use of a
+comma.
+
+           "Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;
+     Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despis'd!"
+
+14. A comma is used before a short and informal quotation.
+
+     "In the bitterness of his wounded spirit, he said to
+     himself, '_She_ will cast me off too.'"
+
+15. A comma is used to separate the independent clauses of a compound
+sentence sufficiently involved to necessitate some mark of
+punctuation, and yet not involved enough to require marks of different
+ranks.
+
+     "But about the Christmas of the fifteenth year a second
+     great change came over Marner's life, and his history became
+     blent in a singular manner with the life of his neighbors."
+
+6. Small groups of more closely related words are inclosed by commas
+to indicate their near relation and to separate them from words they
+might otherwise be thought to modify.
+
+     "In this strange world, made a hopeless riddle to him, he
+     might, if he had had a less intense nature, have sat
+     weaving, weaving--looking towards the end of his pattern, or
+     towards the end of his web, till he forgot the riddle, and
+     everything else but his immediate sensations; but the money
+     had come to mark off his weaving into periods, and the money
+     not only grew, but it remained with him."
+
+                             SEMICOLONS.
+
+17. A semicolon is used to separate the parts of a compound sentence
+if they are involved, or contain commas. It is also used to give
+independence to the members of a compound sentence when not very
+complex.
+
+     "The meadow was searched in vain; and he got over the stile
+     into the next field, looking with dying hope towards a small
+     pond which was now reduced to its summer shallowness, so as
+     to leave a wide margin of good adhesive mud."
+
+     "As for the child, he would see that it was cared for; he
+     would never forsake it; he would do everything but own it."
+
+18. Semicolons are used to separate a series of clauses in much the
+same way as commas are used to separate a series of words.
+
+     "I love you more than words can wield the matter;
+     Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty;
+     Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
+     No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor;
+     As much as child e'er loved, or father found;
+     A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;
+     Beyond all manner of so much I love thee."
+
+19. A semicolon is generally used to introduce a clause of repetition,
+a clause stating the obverse, and a clause stating an inference.
+
+(Many examples of the last two rules will be found in the discussion
+of compound sentences on pages 202, 203.)
+
+                               COLONS.
+
+20. A colon is used to introduce a formal quotation. It is frequently
+followed by a dash.
+
+     "Under date of November 28, 1860, she wrote to a friend:--
+
+     "'I am engaged now in writing a story--the idea of which
+     came to me after our arrival in this house, and which has
+     thrust itself between me and the other book I was
+     meditating. It is Silas Manner, the Weaver of Raveloe.'"
+
+     "On the last day of the same year she wrote: 'I am writing a
+     story which came across my other plans by a sudden
+     inspiration, etc.'"
+
+21. A colon is used to introduce a series of particulars, either
+appositional or explanatory, which the reader has been led to expect
+by the first clause of the sentence. These particulars are separated
+from each other by semicolons.
+
+     "The study of the principles of composition should include
+     the following subjects: a study of words as to their origin
+     and meaning; a study of the structure of the sentence and of
+     the larger elements of discourse--in other words, of
+     concrete logic; a study of the principles of effective
+     literary composition, as illustrated in the various
+     divisions of literature; and also a study of the aesthetics
+     of literature."
+
+     "What John Morley once said of literature as a whole is even
+     more accurate when applied to fiction alone: its purpose is
+     'to bring sunshine into our hearts and to drive moonshine
+     out of our heads.'"
+
+22. A colon is used to separate the major parts of a very complex and
+involved sentence, if the major parts, or either of them, contain
+within themselves semicolons.
+
+     "For four years he had thought of Nancy Lammeter, and wooed
+     her with a tacit patient worship, as the woman who made him
+     think of the future with joy: she would be his wife, and
+     would make home lovely to him, as his father's home had
+     never been; and it would be easy, when she was always near,
+     to shake off those foolish habits that were no pleasures,
+     but only a feverish way of annulling vacancy."
+
+23. A colon is sometimes used to mark a strong independence in the
+parts of a compound sentence.
+
+     "He didn't want to give Godfrey that pleasure: he preferred
+     that Master Godfrey should be vexed."
+
+                              THE DASH.
+
+24. A dash is frequently used with a colon to introduce a formal
+quotation. The quotation then begins a new paragraph.
+
+     (Example under colon.)
+
+25. A dash is used alone or with a comma to inclose a phrase or clause
+which is parenthetic or explanatory.
+
+     "'But as for being ugly, look at me, child, in this
+     silver-colored silk--I told you how it 'ud be--I look as
+     yallow as a daffadil.'"
+
+     (Example under comma.)
+
+26. A dash is used to denote a sudden turn of the thought.
+
+     "I've no opinion of the men, Miss Gunn--I don't know what
+     _you_ have."
+
+     "'It does make her look funny, though--partly like a
+     short-necked bottle wi' a long quill in it."
+
+27. A dash is frequently used when the composition should be
+interrupted to indicate the intensity of the emotion.
+
+     "No--no--I can't part with it, I can't let it go,' said
+     Silas abruptly. 'It's come to me--I've a right to keep it.'"
+
+     "And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!
+     Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
+     And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,
+     Never, never, never, never, never!--
+     Pray you, undo this button:--thank you, sir.--
+     Do you see this? Look on her,--look,--her lips,--
+     Look there, look there!"--
+
+28. A dash is sometimes used alone before an appositive phrase or
+clause.
+
+     "For the first time he determined to try the coal-hole--a
+     small closet near the hearth."
+
+            PERIOD, EXCLAMATION POINT, INTERROGATION MARK.
+
+29. A period closes every declarative sentence.
+
+30. A period is used after abbreviations.
+
+31. An exclamation point follows an expression of strong emotion.
+
+32. An interrogation mark follows a direct question.
+
+33. An interrogation mark is sometimes used in the body of a sentence,
+when the writer wishes to make the assertion forceful and uses a
+rhetorical question for the purpose.
+
+     "The shepherd's dog barked fiercely when one of these
+     alien-looking men appeared on the upland, dark against the
+     early winter sunset; for what dog likes a figure bent under
+     a heavy bag?--and these pale men rarely stirred abroad
+     without that mysterious burden."
+
+34. Quotation marks inclose every quotation of the exact words of
+another. When one quotation is made within another, the inner or
+secondary quotation is inclosed with single marks, the main or outer
+quotation is included within the double marks.
+
+     (Examples of both may be found above.)
+
+                SUGGESTIONS FOR TEACHING PUNCTUATION.
+
+At the time the pupils are studying the rules for punctuation they are
+reading Hawthorne or some other author equally careful of his
+punctuation. In his writing they will find numerous examples of the
+rules for punctuation. Let them take five rules for the comma, finding
+all the examples in five pages of text. In the same way furnish
+semicolons, colons, and dashes. When the rules have all been learned,
+they should be able to give the reason for every mark they find in
+literature. Next place upon the board paragraphs not punctuated, and
+have the pupils punctuate them. Remember that there is not absolute
+uniformity in the use of the comma, semicolon, and colon; though in
+each author there is a general adherence to the principles he adopts.
+Punctuation should be consistent. Insist that the pupil punctuate his
+written work consistently.
+
+
+               E. SUPPLEMENTARY LIST OF LITERATURE.[57]
+
+HAWTHORNE . . . . . . . A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys.
+TENNYSON. . . . . . . . Enoch Arden.
+LONGFELLOW. . . . . . . Tales of a Wayside Inn.
+WHITTIER. . . . . . . . The Tent on the Beach.
+MACAULAY. . . . . . . . Lays of Ancient Rome.
+DICKENS . . . . . . . . A Christmas Carol.
+KIPLING . . . . . . . . Wee Willie Winkie, and Other Stories.
+KIPLING . . . . . . . . The Jungle Books.
+HAWTHORNE . . . . . . . Twice-Told Tales.
+HAWTHORNE . . . . . . . Mosses from an Old Manse.
+DICKENS . . . . . . . . The Cricket on the Hearth.
+BROWN . . . . . . . . . Rab and his Friends.
+OUIDA . . . . . . . . . A Dog of Flanders.
+HALE. . . . . . . . . . The Man without a Country.
+DEFOE . . . . . . . . . Robinson Crusoe.
+POE . . . . . . . . . . The Gold-Bug.
+SCOTT . . . . . . . . . Marmion.
+SCOTT . . . . . . . . . The Lady of the Lake.
+BROWNING. . . . . . . . Herve Riel, an Incident of the French Camp,
+                          and other Narrative Poems.
+FRANKLIN. . . . . . . . Autobiography.
+COOPER. . . . . . . . . The Last of the Mohicans.
+LONGFELLOW. . . . . . . Evangeline.
+LONGFELLOW. . . . . . . Miles Standish.
+DAVIS . . . . . . . . . Gallegher, and Other Stories.
+MAUPASSANT. . . . . . . Number Thirteen.
+MISS WILKINS. . . . . . Short Stories.
+MISS JEWETT . . . . . . Short Stories.
+POPE. . . . . . . . . . The Iliad.
+ALDRICH . . . . . . . . Marjorie Daw.
+LOWELL. . . . . . . . . The Vision of Sir Launfal, and Other Poems.
+IRVING. . . . . . . . . Tales of a Traveller.
+IRVING. . . . . . . . . The Sketch Book.
+POE . . . . . . . . . . The Fall of the House of Usher.
+WHITTIER. . . . . . . . Snow-Bound.
+BURROUGHS . . . . . . . Sharp Eyes; Birds and Bees; Pepacton.
+GOLDSMITH . . . . . . . The Deserted Village.
+SCOTT . . . . . . . . . Ivanhoe.
+DICKENS . . . . . . . . David Copperfield.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . Julius Caesar.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . The Merchant of Venice.
+IRVING. . . . . . . . . Rip Van Winkle.
+IRVING. . . . . . . . . The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.
+BRYANT. . . . . . . . . Selected Poems.
+GRAY. . . . . . . . . . An Elegy in a Country Churchyard.
+TENNYSON. . . . . . . . The Princess; Idylls of the King.
+DICKENS . . . . . . . . The Pickwick Papers.
+BURNS . . . . . . . . . Selected Poems.
+DRYDEN. . . . . . . . . Alexander's Feast.
+BYRON . . . . . . . . . Childe Harold.
+GEORGE ELIOT. . . . . . Silas Marner.
+COLERIDGE . . . . . . . The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.
+MACAULAY. . . . . . . . Essay on Milton.
+RUSKIN. . . . . . . . . Sesame and Lilies.
+EMERSON . . . . . . . . Friendship; Self-Reliance; Fortune of the
+                          Republic; The American Scholar.
+ARNOLD. . . . . . . . . On the Study of Poetry; Wordsworth and Keats.
+LOWELL. . . . . . . . . Emerson, the Lecturer; Milton; Books and
+                          Libraries.
+HOLMES. . . . . . . . . The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table.
+ADDISON . . . . . . . . The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers.
+WORDSWORTH. . . . . . . Intimations of Immortality, and Other Poems.
+KEATS . . . . . . . . . Selected Poems.
+SHELLEY . . . . . . . . Selected Poems.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . Macbeth.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . A Midsummer Night's Dream.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . As You Like It.
+WEBSTER . . . . . . . . Bunker Hill Monument Oration; Adams and
+                          Jefferson.
+GOLDSMITH . . . . . . . The Vicar of Wakefield.
+MILTON. . . . . . . . . L'Allegro; Il Penseroso; Comus; Lycidas.
+DE QUINCEY. . . . . . . Confessions of an English Opium Eater, and
+                          Other Papers.
+JOHN HENRY NEWMAN . . . Selected Essays.
+THACKERAY . . . . . . . Henry Esmond.
+STEVENSON . . . . . . . Virginibus Puerisque.
+STEVENSON . . . . . . . Memories and Portraits.
+SCHURZ. . . . . . . . . Abraham Lincoln.
+GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS . Selected Addresses.
+CHARLES LAMB. . . . . . Essays of Elia.
+STEVENSON . . . . . . . Travels with a Donkey.
+STEVENSON . . . . . . . An Inland Voyage.
+BURKE . . . . . . . . . Conciliation with the Colonies.
+LINCOLN . . . . . . . . Cooper Union Address; Gettysburg Speech.
+CHAUCER . . . . . . . . Prologue, and Two Canterbury Tales.
+MILTON. . . . . . . . . Paradise Lost, and Sonnets.
+CARLYLE . . . . . . . . Essay on Burns.
+TENNYSON. . . . . . . . In Memoriam, and Lyrics.
+BROWNING. . . . . . . . Rabbi Ben Ezra; Saul; A Grammarian's Funeral.
+THOREAU . . . . . . . . Walden.
+AUSTEN. . . . . . . . . Pride and Prejudice.
+GEORGE ELIOT. . . . . . Romola.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . King Lear.
+SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . Hamlet.
+MACAULAY. . . . . . . . Essay on Johnson.
+THACKERAY . . . . . . . Vanity Fair.
+LOWELL. . . . . . . . . Democracy; Lincoln.
+STEVENSON . . . . . . . Lantern Bearers; A Humble Remonstrance; Gossip
+                          about Romance.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                                INDEX
+
+
+Abstract vs. concrete, 89, 90.
+
+"Adams and Jefferson," Webster's, quotation from, 176.
+
+Adjectives, 78.
+
+"Alice in Wonderland," a story without facts, 25.
+
+Allegory, 261.
+
+Allusion, 263.
+
+Amphibrach, 273.
+
+Analogy, use of, 137.
+
+Anapest, defined, 273;
+  interchangeable with iambus, 278.
+
+"And," use of, 192.
+
+Andersen, Hans Christian, his "Tannenbaum," 12.
+
+Anecdotes in exposition, 97.
+
+"Annabel Lee," quotations from, 271, 278, 279.
+
+Anti-climax, 210.
+
+Antithesis, 227.
+
+"Apologia," Newman's, quotation from, 160.
+
+Apostrophe, 261.
+
+Argument, 4, 128-137;
+  from cause, 133;
+  sign, 133-137;
+  example, 137.
+
+Arnold, Matthew, quotation from, 159;
+  quotation to illustrate repetition, 167;
+  to illustrate sentence structure, 222.
+
+Arrangement, in narration, 29-32;
+  description, 74, 75;
+  exposition, 108-114;
+  argument, 138-141;
+  sentence, 222, 223.
+
+Association of ideas, 103.
+
+"Autumn Effect, An," quotation from, 17.
+
+
+"Baa, Baa, Black Sheep," its purpose, 7;
+  beginning, 29;
+  length of sentences in, 33;
+  time for the action, 36.
+
+Balanced sentences, 227, 228.
+
+Ballad, defined, 285.
+
+"Barbara Frietchie," a narrative poem, 4.
+
+Bates, Arlo, quoted, 35.
+
+Beauty, gained by use of figurative language, 258.
+
+Beginning of a story, 29.
+
+Bellamy, Edward, his "Looking Backward," 7.
+
+"Biglow Papers," quotation from, 51.
+
+"Birthmark," Hawthorne's, 24.
+
+Blake, William, "Tiger, Tiger," quoted, 282, 283.
+
+"Bonnie Brier Bush, Beside the," 25.
+
+Bookish words, 242.
+
+"Break, Break, Break," quotation from, 283.
+
+"Bridge of Sighs, The," quotation from, 270.
+
+Brief in argument, 138, 139.
+
+Browning, Robert, vivid narration of, 23.
+
+"Burial of Sir John Moore, The," quotation from, 277.
+
+Burke, Edmund, quotation from his speech on "Conciliation with the
+     Colonies," 116;
+  that speech analyzed, 142-147;
+  quotations to illustrate paragraph structure, 171, 175, 177, 188;
+  quotations to show sentence structure, 200, 209, 214, 226.
+
+Burroughs, John, his knowledge of his field, 9;
+  quotations from, 158, 160.
+
+"But," use of, 192.
+
+
+Capital letters, 303.
+
+Cause and effect, 133-136.
+
+Characters, number of, 35.
+
+Chaucer, Geoffrey, quotation from, 245.
+
+Choice of subject, 8-12.
+
+Choice of words, 78-80, 239-255.
+
+"Cinderella," 12.
+
+Clearness and coherence, 180-193, 224, 225.
+
+Clearness gained by use of figurative language, 258.
+
+Climax, 139-141, 211, 218;
+  defined, 262.
+
+Coherence, 20;
+  in narration, 31, 32;
+  in description, 74, 75;
+  in exposition, 116-118;
+  in paragraphs, 180-193;
+  in sentences, 224, 225.
+
+Colons, 306, 307.
+
+Comedy, 286.
+
+Commas, 303, 304.
+
+Comparisons, use of, 77, 98;
+  paragraph of, 165;
+  confusion of, 259.
+
+Composition, 1;
+  oral and written, 2;
+  conventions of, 2.
+
+"Conciliation with the Colonies," Burke's speech on, quoted, 116, 171,
+     175, 177, 188, 214, 226;
+  analyzed, 142-147.
+
+Conclusion of a story, 23.
+
+Concrete facts, use of, 89, 90.
+
+Conjunctions, use of, 190, 191.
+
+Connectives in sentences, 228, 229.
+
+Consistency, 25.
+
+Cooke, Josiah P., his essay on "Fire," 8.
+
+"Copyright," quotations from Macaulay's speech on, 159, 172.
+
+Correction, marks for, 300.
+
+Curtis, George William, quoted, 111.
+
+
+Dactyl, defined, 272;
+  interchangeable with trochee, 278.
+
+"Daisy, The," Wordsworth's quotation from, 274.
+
+"Darkness and Dawn," 8.
+
+Dash, 307, 308.
+
+"David Copperfield," description quoted from, 65.
+
+"David Harum," its construction criticised, 22.
+
+Davis, Richard Harding, small number of characters in his books, 35;
+  simple plot in his "Gallegher," 36.
+
+Deduction, 129.
+
+Definition, a, 91-94.
+
+Description, 4, 49-80;
+  an aid to narration, 34;
+  and exposition, 91.
+
+Description and painting, 50.
+
+Details, in narration, 22-25;
+  paragraph of, 163.
+
+Dickens, Charles, his "Nicholas Nickleby" as an exposition, 5;
+  description from his "David Copperfield" quoted, 65;
+  quotations from Mr. Micawber's conversation, 253.
+
+Dictionary, use of, 237.
+
+Differentia, 92, 93.
+
+Digression, 22.
+
+Dimeter, 274.
+
+Discourse, forms of, 3-7.
+
+"Discussions and Arguments," Newman's, quotation from, 97.
+
+Dramatic poetry, 286.
+
+Dynamic point of sentence, 221.
+
+
+Elegy, the, 285.
+
+Eliot, George, her "Silas Marner," 13;
+  quotation from, 152-156.
+
+Emerson, Ralph Waldo, primarily an essayist, 9.
+
+Emotional statement, 115.
+
+Emphasis, how secured, 110-112, 115, 116, 217-219.
+
+End of a paragraph, 175-179;
+  of a sentence, 208-212.
+
+"English Composition," Wendell's, quotation from, 94.
+
+Enthymeme, 130.
+
+Enumeration _vs._ suggestion, 52.
+
+Enumerative description, 54.
+
+Epic, the, 284.
+
+Epithet, 260.
+
+"Evangeline," quotation from, 277, 278.
+
+Events, order of, 29, 30.
+
+Everett, Edward, description from, quoted, 71.
+
+Examples, paragraph of, 171.
+
+Exclamation, 262.
+
+Exclamation point, 308.
+
+Exclusion of details, 22, 23, 26.
+
+Exposition, 4, 89-120;
+  and description, 91.
+
+
+Facts in stories, 25.
+
+"Faerie Queene, The," quotation from, 281.
+
+"Fall of the House of Usher, The," descriptions in, 34;
+  quotation from, 69, 71.
+
+Familiar images, 76.
+
+Farrar, Canon, as a writer of sermons, 8.
+
+"Feathertop," 13.
+
+Figurative language, 257;
+  value of, 258.
+
+Figures of speech, 77, 250, 257-268.
+
+Fine writing, 253.
+
+"First Snow-Fall, The," quotation from, 274.
+
+Fiske, John, his "History of the United States," 25.
+
+Foot, a, in poetry, 272;
+  one kind may be substituted for another, 277-281;
+  first and last foot of a verse may be irregular, 281, 282.
+
+Force, gained by use of figurative language, 258.
+
+Foreign words, 243.
+
+Francis I. quoted, 113.
+
+"Function of Criticism at the Present Time," Arnold's, quotation from,
+     222.
+
+
+"Gallegher," simple plot of, 36.
+
+General terms, 89, 248-252.
+
+Genung, J. F., on paragraph structure, 162.
+
+Genus and differentia, 92, 93.
+
+"Gold Bug," length of sentences in, 33.
+
+Good usage, 222, 223, 239-245.
+
+Grant, U. S., his "Memoirs" have no plot, 16.
+
+
+Hackneyed phrases, 253.
+
+Haggard, Rider, 12.
+
+Hawthorne, Nathaniel, a story writer, 9;
+  his "Feathertop," 13;
+  his descriptions in "The Marble Faun," 34;
+  quoted, 50;
+  quotations from, about "The Old Manse," 58, 59;
+  descriptions from his "House of the Seven Gables" quoted, 66;
+  from "The Old Apple Dealer," 67.
+
+Heading of essay, 297.
+
+Heptameter, 275.
+
+"Herve Riel" as a piece of narrative, 23.
+
+Hexameter, 275.
+
+"Hiawatha," quotation from, 270.
+
+"Historical Sketches," Newman's, quotation from, 52-54.
+
+Hood, Thomas, "The Bridge of Sighs" quoted, 270.
+
+"House of the Seven Gables," descriptions quoted from, 66.
+
+Hugo, Victor, his description of Waterloo quoted, 67.
+
+Huxley, Thomas, example of his use of comparison, 98;
+  quotation from, to illustrate paragraph structure, 161.
+
+Hyperbole, 263.
+
+
+Iambus, defined, 272;
+  the common foot of English verse, 272, 279;
+  interchangeable with anapest, 278.
+
+"Idea of a University," quotations from, 95, 171, 193, 203, 210, 247.
+
+Illustrations, their value, 97.
+
+"Impressions de Theatre," quotation from, 63.
+
+"Incident of a French Camp, An," as an example of a short story, 23.
+
+Incident, the main, 20, 21.
+
+Incidents, order of, 29, 30.
+
+Inclusion of material, 24.
+
+Indention of paragraph, 297.
+
+Individual arrangement of paragraph, 181-188.
+
+Individuality of author, 8.
+
+Indorsement of essay, 298.
+
+Induction, 128, 132.
+
+Interest, 11, 12.
+
+Interrogation, 262.
+
+Interrogation point, 308.
+
+Introduction of story, 23.
+
+Inversion, 262.
+
+Irony, 262.
+
+Irrelevant matter, 22, 23.
+
+Irving, Washington, as a story writer in the third person, 27;
+  description from, quoted, 54;
+  short characterization quoted, 70;
+  description of a coachman quoted, 75;
+  quotations to illustrate paragraph structure, 164, 183;
+  to illustrate sentence construction, 202, 203, 219, 220, 229.
+
+
+Jonson, Ben, quotation from, 280.
+
+"Jungle Books," 12;
+  quotation from, 78.
+
+
+"Kidnapped," quotations from, 15, 165;
+  its unity, 27.
+
+"King Lear," its plot, 16;
+  quotation from, 60.
+
+Kingsley, Charles, "The Three Fishers" quoted, 271.
+
+Kipling, Rudyard, his "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep," 7;
+  his "Jungle Books," 12;
+  his use of climax, 21;
+  as a story-teller, 22, 27;
+  small number of characters in his stories, 35;
+  quotation from his "Light that Failed," 60;
+  description quoted from his "Jungle Books," 78;
+  quotation to illustrate sentence construction, 201;
+  his "L'Envoi" quoted, 252.
+
+
+"Lady of the Lake, The," quotation from, 269.
+
+Language _vs._ painting, 49-52.
+
+Lanier, Sidney, "The Science of English Verse," cited, 269;
+  quoted, 273.
+
+Latin words, 245-248.
+
+Le Gallienne, Richard, his essay on pigs, 10;
+  quoted, 257.
+
+"Legend of Sleepy Hollow, The," 27, 29;
+  description in, 34;
+  quotation from to show paragraph structure, 163, 183;
+  to show sentence structure, 202, 219.
+
+Lemaitre, Jules, criticism of Zola quoted, 63.
+
+Length, of a description, 63, 64;
+  of a paragraph, 151-156;
+  of a sentence, 178, 179, 204, 205.
+
+"L'Envoi" to "The Seven Seas," quoted, 252.
+
+"Les Miserables," its intricate plot, 16;
+  quotation from, 67.
+
+"Light that Failed, The," quotation from, 60.
+
+"Little Dorrit," large number of characters in, 35.
+
+"Little Red Riding Hood," 12.
+
+Logical definition, 91.
+
+"London Bridge," quotation from, 282.
+
+Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, "Hiawatha" quoted, 270;
+  "Evangeline" quoted, 277, 278;
+  "The Village Blacksmith" quoted, 279, 280.
+
+"Looking Backward," as a novel with a purpose, 7.
+
+Loose sentences, 212, 214, 215.
+
+Lovelace, Richard, quoted, 112.
+
+Lowell, James Russell, his "Sir Launfal," 13;
+  quotation from "Biglow Papers," 51;
+  from a "Song," 52;
+  from "To W. L. Garrison," 89;
+  from "The First Snow-Fall," 274.
+
+Lyric poetry, 285.
+
+Lytton, Lord, quotation from, 241.
+
+
+Macaulay, Lord, quotation on Milton from, 96;
+  quotation to illustrate comparison, 98;
+  his essay on "Milton" analyzed, 106;
+  last sentence of that essay quoted, 111;
+  that essay as an example of proportion in treatment, 114;
+  his denunciation of Charles I. quoted, 115;
+  further quotations from his "Milton," 117;
+  his speeches on "Copyright" and the "Reform Bill" quoted, 159, 172,
+       193;
+  quotations from the "Milton" to illustrate paragraph structure, 164,
+       166, 168, 178, 182, 184.
+
+"Macbeth," 13.
+
+Maclaren, Ian, 25.
+
+Main incident, 20-26.
+
+Major term, 129.
+
+"Marble Faun, The," description in, 34.
+
+Margin of composition, 296.
+
+"Marmion," 27, 29;
+  quoted, 276.
+
+Mass, 20;
+  in description, 64-75;
+  in exposition, 108-114;
+  in paragraphs, 174-178;
+  in sentences, 207-212.
+
+Masson, David, 104.
+
+Maupassant, Guy de, quotation from his "Pierre et Jean," 56;
+  from his "Odd Number," 156.
+
+Meredith, George, quotation from, to illustrate paragraph structure,
+     161;
+  sentence structure, 205.
+
+Metaphor, 77, 260.
+
+Metonymy, 250, 263.
+
+Metre, kinds of, 273-275;
+  variations in, 276.
+
+Metrical romance, the, 284.
+
+Middle term, 130.
+
+"Milton," Macaulay's essay on, quotations from, 96, 98, 111, 115, 117,
+     119, 164, 166-168, 178, 184;
+  analyzed, 106.
+
+Milton, John, quotations from, 241, 245, 248.
+
+Minor term, 129.
+
+Monometer, 273.
+
+Mood in description, 59-62, 67-69.
+
+"Mosses from an Old Manse," quotation from, 50.
+
+Movement of story, 32, 33.
+
+
+Narration, 4, 13-37.
+
+Narrative poetry, 284.
+
+National usage, 242.
+
+"New Testament," quotation from, 241.
+
+Newman, Cardinal, quotation from, about Athens, 52;
+  quotation on theology, 95;
+  quotation to illustrate the use of specific instances in exposition,
+       97;
+  to illustrate paragraph structure, 160, 171, 177, 193;
+  to show sentence construction, 203, 210;
+  to show use of words, 247.
+
+"Nicholas Nickleby," as an exposition of school abuses, 5.
+
+Nouns, 78.
+
+Number of characters, 35.
+
+
+Observation, its value, 55.
+
+Obverse statement, 95, 96;
+  paragraph of, 169-171.
+
+Octameter, 275.
+
+"Odd Number, The," quotation from, 156.
+
+Ode, defined, 285.
+
+"OEnone," quotation from, 51.
+
+"Old Apple Dealer, The," quotation from, 67.
+
+Omniscience of an author, 27.
+
+Order of events in stories, 29;
+  of words in sentences, 217-219.
+
+Outline, use of, 32, 109, 110, 138, 139, 174.
+
+
+Palmer, Professor G. H., quotations from, on composition writing, 101,
+     112.
+
+"Paradise Lost," quotations from, 241, 245, 248.
+
+Paragraphs, 151-195.
+
+Parallel construction, 192-194, 226, 227.
+
+Particulars in exposition, 96;
+  paragraph of, 163.
+
+Penmanship, 300.
+
+Pentameter, 274.
+
+"Pepacton," 9;
+  quotations from, 158, 160.
+
+Period, 308.
+
+Periodic sentences, 212-216.
+
+Personification, 77, 260.
+
+Persuasion, 4.
+
+Philippians iv. 8, 241.
+
+"Physical Basis of Life," Huxley's, quotations from, 98, 161.
+
+"Pierre et Jean," quotation from, 55.
+
+"Pilgrim's Progress," 13.
+
+Place of a story, 29.
+
+Plot, 15-20, 36.
+
+Poe, Edgar Allan, his sentences, 33;
+  his use of description in "The Fall of the House of Usher," 34;
+  quotations from that work, 68, 71;
+  "Annabel Lee" quoted, 271, 278, 279.
+
+Poetic feet, 272.
+
+Poetical words, 254.
+
+Poetry, kinds of, 284-286.
+
+Point of view, 56-59;
+  change of, 58;
+  mental, 59.
+
+Position of words in sentences, 217.
+
+"Praeterita," Ruskin's, quotations from, 169.
+
+Premises, 129;
+  false, 131.
+
+"Present Position of Catholics in England," Newman's, quotation from,
+     177.
+
+Present usage of words, 244, 245.
+
+"Prince Otto," quotations from, 72, 73.
+
+"Princess, The," quotation from, 251.
+
+Pronouns, use of, 188, 189.
+
+Proportion in description, 73;
+  in exposition, 104-108, 114;
+  in paragraphs, 179.
+
+"Prose Fancies," 10.
+
+Provincialisms, 242.
+
+Purpose, of an author, 6, 7;
+  in description, 59-62.
+
+
+Quotation marks, 308.
+
+"Quo Vadis," 7.
+
+
+Rapidity of movement, 32.
+
+"Reform Bill," quotation from Macaulay's speech on, 193.
+
+Refutation in argument, 141.
+
+Repetition, its value, 94;
+  paragraph of, 167.
+
+Reputable words, 239-241.
+
+"Richard Feverel," quotations from, 161, 205.
+
+"Richelieu," quotation from, 241.
+
+"Robinson Crusoe," has little plot, 16.
+
+Royce, Josiah, quotation from, 242.
+
+Ruskin, John, 49;
+  quotation to illustrate building up a paragraph, 169;
+  his "Sesame and Lilies," 239.
+
+
+Saxon words, 245-248.
+
+Scale of treatment, 104-108.
+
+Scansion, 275-284;
+  requisites for scanning, 283, 284.
+
+"Science of English Verse, The," quotation from, 273.
+
+Scott, Sir Walter, as a story-teller in the third person, 27;
+  his dull introductory chapters, 31;
+  "The Lady of the Lake" quoted, 269;
+  "Marmion" quoted, 276.
+
+Selection of material in narration, 21-28;
+  in description, 56-62;
+  in exposition, 102-104;
+  in argument, 138.
+
+"Self-Cultivation in English," quotation from, 101, 112.
+
+Semicolons, 202, 203, 305, 306.
+
+Sentences, 200-230;
+  simple and compound, 200, 201;
+  long or short, 204, 205.
+
+Sequence of events, 29, 30.
+
+Serial arrangement of paragraph, 181-188.
+
+"Sesame and Lilies," 239.
+
+Sienkiewicz, Henry, his "Quo Vadis," 7.
+
+"Silas Marner," written for a purpose, 13;
+  example of a plot, 20;
+  time consumed in the story, 36;
+  quotation to show paragraph length, 152-156.
+
+Simile, 77, 261.
+
+Sing-song, natural tendency toward, 269, 276.
+
+Slang, 240.
+
+Slowness of movement, 33.
+
+"Snow-Bound," narrative or descriptive?, 4.
+
+Song defined, 285.
+
+Sonnet defined, 285.
+
+Specific words, 248-252.
+
+Spencer, Herbert, on the philosophy of the periodic sentence, 212.
+
+Spenser, Edmund, "The Faerie Queene" quoted, 281.
+
+"Spirit of Modern Philosophy," Royce's, quotation from, 242.
+
+Spondee, 273.
+
+Stanza, 275.
+
+Stedman, E. C., an authority on literature, 9.
+
+Stevenson, Robert Louis, his "Treasure Island" and "Travels with a
+     Donkey" as narratives, 4;
+  quotation from "Kidnapped," 15;
+  his "An Autumn Effect" quoted, 17;
+  unity in his stories, 27;
+  descriptions from, quoted, 62, 72;
+  examples of personification from, 77;
+  his unusual use of words, 79;
+  quotation to show paragraph structure, 165.
+
+Subdual of subordinate parts, 219.
+
+Subject, 8-12;
+  common, 11;
+  interesting, 11;
+  in exposition, 99, 100.
+
+Suggestion _vs._ enumeration, 52.
+
+Suggestions to teachers, 257-260.
+
+Suggestive description, 55.
+
+Summary, a, 119.
+
+Superlatives, 80.
+
+Syllogism, 129-132.
+
+Synecdoche, 250, 263.
+
+
+"Tannenbaum," 12.
+
+Technical words, 242.
+
+Tennyson, Lord, quotations from, 51, 251, 283.
+
+Terms of syllogism, 129, 130.
+
+Testimony, 136.
+
+Tetrameter, 274.
+
+Thackeray, W. M., quotation from, 157.
+
+Theme in exposition, 100, 101.
+
+"Three Fishers, The," quotation from, 271.
+
+"Tiger, Tiger," quotation from, 283.
+
+Time of story, 35.
+
+Title in exposition, 102.
+
+"To W. L. Garrison," quotation from, 89.
+
+Topic-sentence, 157;
+  its position, 157-161.
+
+Tragedy, 286.
+
+Transitions, 118, 119.
+
+"Travels with a Donkey," narrative or descriptive? 4;
+  absence of plot, 17;
+  quotations from, 62, 65, 157.
+
+"Treasure Island," a narrative, 4;
+  plot simple, 16.
+
+Trimeter, 274.
+
+Trochee, defined, 272;
+  interchangeable with dactyl, 278.
+
+Type-form of paragraph, 162.
+
+
+"Ugly Duckling, The," 25.
+
+Undistributed middle, 131.
+
+Unity, 20;
+  in narration, 21, 22;
+  in description, 56-64;
+  in exposition, 102, 103;
+  in argument, 138;
+  in paragraphs, 173;
+  in sentences, 205.
+
+"Uses of Astronomy, The," quotation from, 72.
+
+
+Value of observation, 55.
+
+"Vanity Fair," example of a plot, 19;
+  quotation from, 157.
+
+Variations in metre, 276-284.
+
+Verbs in description, 79.
+
+Verne, Jules, 12.
+
+Verse, a, definition of, 273;
+  how named, 275.
+
+Verse forms, 269-291.
+
+"Village Blacksmith, The," quotation from, 279, 280.
+
+"Vision of Sir Launfal, The," 13;
+  quotation from, 67.
+
+Vocabulary, need of, 236.
+
+Vulgarisms, 240.
+
+
+"Wake Robin," 9.
+
+Webster, Daniel, quotation from, to illustrate paragraph structure,
+     176;
+  his use of words, 247.
+
+"Wee Willie Winkie," its climax, 21.
+
+Wendell, Barrett, quotation on printed words from, 94.
+
+Whittier, John G., his "Barbara Frietchie" and "Snow-Bound" as
+     narratives, 4.
+
+Wilkins, Miss, small number of characters in her books, 35.
+
+Wolfe, Charles, "The Burial of Sir John Moore" quoted, 277.
+
+Words, 235-256;
+  choice of, 78, 79, 80, 254-260;
+  reputable, 240, 241;
+  national, 242;
+  in present use, 244, 245;
+  Latin and Saxon, 245-248;
+  general and specific, 248-252.
+
+"Wordsworth," Arnold's essay on, quotations from, 158, 167;
+  "The Daisy" quoted, 274.
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+                              FOOTNOTES
+
+
+1. See pp. 13, 14, of the Report of Committee on College Entrance
+   Requirements.
+
+2. See the first essay in _Prose Fancies._
+
+3. Unless otherwise stated, all page references are to the Riverside
+   Literature Series.
+
+4. _Biglow Papers,_ No. X.
+
+5. Tennyson's _OEnone._
+
+6. _Historical Sketches,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+7. _Pierre et Jean,_ by Maupassant. Quoted from Bates's _Talks on
+   Writing English._
+
+8. _Impressions de Theatre,_ by Jules Lemaitre.
+
+9. _The Marble Faun,_ by Nathaniel Hawthorne.
+
+10. _Travels with a Donkey,_ by R. L. Stevenson.
+
+11. _Les Miserables,_ by Victor Hugo.
+
+12. _The Stage Coach,_ in Irving's _Sketch Book._
+
+13. _The Jungle Book,_ by Rudyard Kipling.
+
+14. _To W. L. Garrison,_ by J. R. Lowell.
+
+15. _Idea of a University,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+16. _Essay on Milton,_ by Lord Macaulay.
+
+17. _Discussions and Arguments._
+
+18. _Essay on Milton._
+
+19. _The Physical Basis of Life,_ by T. H. Huxley.
+
+20. _Self-Cultivation in English,_ by Professor G. H. Palmer.
+
+21. Speech on _Conciliation with the Colonies,_ by Burke.
+
+22. A text-book on Logic, such as Jevons's, should be used to
+    illustrate the kinds of argument more fully.
+
+23. _Silas Marner,_ by George Eliot.
+
+24. _The Odd Number,_ by Guy de Maupassant.
+
+25. _Vanity Fair,_ by W. M. Thackeray.
+
+26. _Idyl of the Honey-Bee,_ from Burroughs's _Pepacton._
+
+27. _Essay on Wordsworth,_ by Matthew Arnold.
+
+28. Speech on _Copyright,_ by Lord Macaulay.
+
+29. _Idyl of the Honey-Bee,_ from Burroughs's _Pepacton._
+
+30. _The Physical Basis of Life,_ by T. H. Huxley.
+
+31. See Scott and Denney's _Composition-Rhetoric._
+
+32. _Legend of Sleepy Hollow,_ by W. Irving.
+
+33. _Essay on Milton,_ by Lord Macaulay.
+
+34. _Kidnapped,_ by R. L. Stevenson.
+
+35. _Praeterita,_ by John Ruskin.
+
+36. Speech on _Conciliation with the Colonies,_ by Burke.
+
+37. Barrett Wendell's _English Composition._
+
+38. Oration on _Adams and Jefferson,_ by Daniel Webster.
+
+39. _Present Position of Catholics in England,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+40. Speech on _Conciliation with the Colonies,_ by Burke.
+
+41. Speech on the _Reform Bill of 1832,_ by Lord Macaulay.
+
+42. _Idea of a University,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+43. _Legend of Sleepy Hollow,_ by W. Irving.
+
+44. _Idea of a University,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+45. _Idea of a University,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+46. _Speech on Conciliation with the Colonies,_ by Burke.
+
+47. _Legend of Sleepy Hollow,_ by W. Irving.
+
+48. _Function of Criticism at the Present Time,_ by Matthew Arnold.
+
+49. _Speech on Conciliation with the Colonies,_ by Burke.
+
+50. _The Spirit of Modern Philosophy,_ by Josiah Royce.
+
+51. See Lowell's _Biglow Papers,_ Introduction to Second Series.
+
+52. _Idea of a University,_ by Cardinal Newman.
+
+53. From _The Princess: a Medley,_ Part IV.
+
+54. From _The Seven Seas,_ published by D. Appleton & Co., New York.
+    Copyright, 1896, by Rudyard Kipling.
+
+55. In any piece of literature there are many figures. The following
+    should be used only to make pupils familiar with varieties of
+    figures. They will find many more in the literature they read.
+
+56. The treatment of this subject is based upon Lanier's _The Science
+    of English Verse._
+
+57. See p. xix.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH: COMPOSITION AND
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